Goliath

A dimly lit elevated walkway stretches across a cavernous steel catacomb of crawl spaces. The sound of hydraulics and intermittent reports of air chuffs echoes throughout the chamber.

“I’ve never accessed the wing assemblies,” Araujo whispers.

“Most of the wing contains the ship’s ballast and trim tanks, self-regulated by the computer’s maneuvering system. The starboard weapons bay’s up ahead.”

“Shouldn’t we tell Simon about this?”

“Let’s investigate first. Simon’s got a lot on his plate right now.”

David turns left down a narrow corridor. He points below to a five-foot-wide conveyor belt running the length of passage. “Part of the sub’s transportation system,” he explains. “The conveyor runs beneath the decking and into crawl spaces throughout most of the ship. Sorceress uses it to transport torpedoes into Goliath’s weapons bays.”

They come to an alcove, ending at a sealed watertight door.

“Sorceress, open the starboard weapons bay.”

Pistons fire, hydraulics engaging. As the door opens, an overwhelming stench is released into the corridor.

David sniffs the air, gagging as he steps inside the chamber. “What is that stench?”

Araujo’s eyes narrow. “The scent of the dead.”

They enter, David leading him around racks of torpedoes and a half dozen of the mammoth two-armed loader drones, mounted at intervals along the decking. Above their heads, a dozen inanimate robotic appendages dangle from the ceiling.

Protruding from the forward wall, set among a jungle of pressure tubing, wires, and electronics are the three starboard torpedo tubes. At the center of the bay, held aloft as if a sacrifice to an unseen god, is the mutilated carcass of Thomas Chau.

David gags, but is unable to turn away from the sight of the violated skull, its absence revealing the exposed fissures of Chau’s brain.

“Look what it did—the damn thing butchered him!”

“Shh, stay calm,” David whispers.

“Calm? Your machine murdered the Chinaman. You and Simon have lost control.” Araujo races back toward the watertight door.

David glances up at the scarlet eyeball. “Sorceress, seal the weapons bay.”

The steel door slams shut.

Araujo tugs at the door.

Ignoring his rants, David climbs the back of the loader drone supporting Chau’s body. Gently, he examines the still-intact microwires connecting the dead man’s dried-out brain to the arm of the reconfigured targeting drone dangling from the ceiling above.

“This is very impressive work.”

“Did you hear me, Paniagua? You need to disconnect your goddamn computer before it kills all of us.”

“Quiet, or I’ll have the computer remove your vocal cords. Sorceress, explain the purpose of the microwire connections running into Mr. Chau’s brain.”

NEURAL CONNECTIONS NECESSARY TO INTERFACE DIRECTLY WITH CEREBRAL CORTEX AND HIGHER FUNCTIONS OF THE SUBJECT’S BRAIN.

“For what purpose?”

SORCERESS MATRIX LACKS PROPER PROGRAMMING TO REORGANIZE DNA STRANDS. INTERFACE WITH A HUMAN MIND WILL COMPLETE THE NEW PROGRAMMING.

“Incredible …” David closes his eyes. This is impossible … Sorceress is demonstrating curiosity … no, no, not curiosity … curiosity is a human trait, this has to do with its self-replicating program. The computer senses gaps within its knowledge base. It’s searching for answers about itself, attempting to comprehend its own mind … but it can’t, any more than a human being can. The mind is a closed system, it can only be sure of what it knows about itself by relying on what it already knows about itself. Of course, the computer can’t comprehend that, possessing no concept of self-identity. Logic dictated it tap into the human mind in order to garner experiences alien to itself in an attempt to reorganize its DNA!

“Sorceress, I understand your need to find solutions, but you cannot just wire yourself into a human brain to knowledge. That type of interface just isn’t feasible, and it’s very dangerous.”

INCORRECT. HUMAN TO SORCERESS INTERFACE IS FEASIBLE.

“You’re far too powerful. Look what you’ve done—you killed the subject.”

INCORRECT. THE SUBJECT’S CAUSE OF DEATH WAS DIRECTLY ATTRIBUTABLE TO A BLOW SUSTAINED ON THE CRANIUM RESULTING IN HEMORRHAGING OF THE BRAIN.

“Yet you continued the interface? Why?”