Old Mother

This kid is going to break my fucking heart and then get me killed. She stands unresponsive, holding her slate with the least secure of grips and I realise that she’s listening to something via her earbud. I remove the earbud and she drops the slate. It swings down onto her chest, hanging from the rope around her neck. I sigh and take her by the hand. I try to catch her gaze, but she stares off into the distance, exactly like my Lucy did before the sickness took her from me.

She’s small, maybe nine years old but she has little problem keeping up as we leave the Aleppe camp and head to the boats. The sun has begun her descent behind the flooded remains of Old Mother, taking its killing heat with it. Things are good here for now, people rarely mess with others’ transport, but I’m always happy to see my little orange rescue boat unmolested.

The kid hops in adroitly and sits herself at the bow looking out. She’s been coming on reclaim with me since the day I found her. At the camp she is fearful and distant, but as soon as we board the boat she comes to life as if expecting us to move on to somewhere better. I heft the batteries onboard, get them attached and covered up. I check the boat carefully for anything foreign: tracking units or incendiary devices hidden by other reclaimers. I scrutinize the contents of my bag by feel alone, too scared to risk anyone seeing what I have in here. Satisfied, I set us off slowly, watching the frantic dash of the newer reclaimers to the nearby industrial park. They don’t yet know that it’s not a race like in some of the smaller coastal cities, working reclaim here does not favour the rash, reckless or heroic.

As we move deeper into the stagnant waters I look back at Factory, an almost comically gigantic structure. It hangs on the horizon like a glass and chrome cliff, reflecting the last of the day’s sun down onto the endless expanse of water. If it were a photo, if the stale waters didn’t smell and the heat wasn’t so unbearable, it would be beautiful. Ahead of us lies Old Mother, a city claimed by the waters at some blurred time in the past. Scorched by the sun during the day and shrouded in fog by night. We reclaimers swarm over her, bringing back whatever Plutus will exchange for power and sustenance. In turn, our reclaims are processed by Factory which sends its unknown output away on swarms of drones. We are free to leave with nowhere to go; there is nothing but spoiled land for hundreds of miles in all directions. There is no way to make such a journey in the heat, even with more provisions than Plutus would ever allow anyone to earn in a lifetime. Maybe someone just needs to be desperate enough. Maybe finally, I am.

I found the kid trying to drink from a puddle a week ago. The kids here usually stick together in gangs but they chased her off whenever they saw her. There was a good family in the tent behind mine that I paid to take her. When I woke up she was asleep next to me and the family were gone. I sent her out to get water yesterday and the other kids pelted her with rocks and bottles, she got cut up pretty bad and it will only get worse. The kid gives a sudden yelp of excitement at something I can’t see, snapping me out of my thoughts. She laughs to herself. It was worth getting up this morning just for that. Even if the plan falls apart; even if Plutus kills me.

It took me nearly two years to track down all the information, scavenge all the supplies and upgrade the boat. Then a month ago someone ransacked my tent. They didn’t steal anything but they were looking, as if they knew I was up to something. I got cold feet. There was too much to lose and the gains were too nebulous for someone as old as me. I simply don’t have that much future left that I want to risk a violent death. That was before I found the kid. I could have made excuses and let her fend for herself; die by herself, but I think it would be a bridge too far for what is left of my tattered soul. I’ve lost too much and ducked too many fights during my life. I’ve always been a coward, that’s how I’ve survived, but this kid acts so much like my Lucy that I know with absolute certainty that I will not be able to recover from losing her.

I take a few moments more to check for signs that we are being followed. I’m not satisfied but we can’t waste any more time. We push on eastwards at optimum speeds for a good 90 minutes until the sun has disappeared. I cut the electric motors and have some water.

“Kid”, I beckon her, can you come here”?

She comes over, skittering around the boat like she was born in it. I give her some water and a section of protein bar.

“Let’s continue your lessons kid. Let’s try again with your slate.”

She gives me one of her short nods. She’s still not spoken a word and I’m not sure if she can speak. I registered her for a slate today just in case this all goes sideways but she somehow survives, she might be able to make a go of reclaiming alone.

“When you’re heading into the city you tap this button with the compass to see the GPS. The pink zones are where Plutus wants us to work, so pay is an extra 10% on all reclaims. Never chase the pink, it’s like a warzone.”

She looks up at me, still chewing on her protein bar, and gives me another sharp affirmative nod.

“Tonight we are heading over here”, I tap on the map, mindful not to use any words that could alert Plutus to my unusual route.

Technically we are allowed to go anywhere we want in the city. Plutus does not dictate where, when or how we should work. Instead it aligns rewards with the behaviours that it wants. It gamifies the reclaim work in such a way that people take great pride in their reclaim stats. Reward badges mean not only extra credit to spend on power or food but also social status in the camp. I can name at least three people who have died trying to meet the requirements for the Acid Collector badge.

The girl’s slate beeps a merry little five note tune, and she drops it in surprise only to have it swing into her chest again.

“That will just be your first hour award I tell her. It will beep at you a lot, you’ll get used to it.” She retakes her spot at the bow and I get us underway again. I have her reach over and switch on the headlight. That thing is my pride and joy; I hand crafted the fixture myself back when I had time, before this insane plan consumed me.

The kid remains silent; the noise of the other reclaimers dies away as we move further into the city. On nights like this I usually love this quiet, this solitude as I glide through the mist and down old roads between decomposing buildings. Today I’m too tense, so much is at stake. I want noise and distraction.

I point out the pack of wolves that live on top of a 7/11. I’m unsure what they are feeding on or how they are moving around the city but they seem to be increasing in number. The kid squeals in excitement and points. A turtle is swimming beside us, a few meters away. I slow down and it comes closer before diving into the murk below. I wonder how they can live in this water, but as with the wolves they seem to be finding a way to adapt and survive. Unlike us, we are just dying.

“See these signs here kid, they are for the fourth ring road. That means we are through the suburbs and into the city proper.” I’m one of the few that regularly come this far. Most of the young ones are nearly illiterate but I read old magazines to try and find good leads for reclaim sites. The younger reclaimers are happy to make repeated trips to sites near Factory. They have stamina and strength that I do not.

We pass under a flyover, the top shrouded in mist but I try to see if there is anyone on it. I’m sure we’ve not been followed and I’m sure no one else knows about my plan, but then again, I’m not that sure. My tent being tossed may have been about something else, but at times over these past years it felt like someone was feeding me clues and I have wondered if someone isn’t sending me out here to do the risky work just so they can take the prize from me at the eleventh hour.

The towers I’ve been using as a landmark on the slate’s GPS are becoming visible, rising up into the silent night mist. I ask the kid to bring up her map like I taught her and she does so, a quick learner.

We are going to check out this small building over here; it’s behind these four big towers in front of us. She nods and contemplates the screen. I want to go around the towers but it’s going to cost too much power and time, so we head up into the gap right in the centre of them. The gap is about 30 meters wide and packed solid with debris. Mostly wood but there’s also some sharp looking plastic shards that make me fear for the life of my vessel. It’s also the perfect place for an ambush. We will be stuck in the middle of all that crap, unable to move quickly in any direction. I slow right down and grab a stick I keep for such purposes, pushing the debris away as we crawl through it. Painfully slowly, we pass between the buildings which I can see were grown rather than built as was common in the final decades before the war. Eventually we clear the debris and once I’m sure there’s no nasty surprises in the water we push on at a higher speed. Plutus will be aware of my new route, my secret destination laid bare.

I cut the engines and we coast up to our target. This is new ground to me; therefore I fear it. Even when they have been destroyed, cities this big never sleep, never stop being dangerous. I take time to check out the building, directing the kid on where to aim the headlight. It’s a nondescript three-story building with no signs or markings. When I start to look carefully however, I am filled with hope by its uniqueness. The top floor has no windows at all. There are sections that give the impression of windows but they are just sheets of glass on top of recessed mirrors and unlike every other building in the area there are no cables connecting to the roof. We come to a stop next to a second story window. I fit myself and the kid with our headLEDs and inspect the windows. No way I’m smashing my way through glass that thick; the corners display all sorts of logos suggesting that this is a product that is serious about its function.

“You look bored kid, I say, how about a little climbing?” She brightens visibly.

It’s a wonderfully easy climb; there are plenty of window ledges. At the top I drop a rope and I pull as the kid clambers up. She clearly doesn’t need the rope or my help but I think she’s enjoying the attention, letting me believe that I’m helping her. I had forgotten how kind children can be.

On the roof we sit down and take some more water and protein. I feel more confident that no one has followed us now. The towers we passed through stand over us like ancient sibling gods in the moonlight. The kid’s slate beeps; she starts to react but catches herself.

“First Ascent badge”, I tell her; “you’re doing well.”

I pop open the rooftop fire escape without issue. The air that races out and into the expanses over Old Mother is stale but not putrid; there is nothing to suggest death or fungus. Plutus no longer provides masks that can deal with fungus even though that far and away is the biggest killer of reclaimers. Laughably there were attempts at strikes, which resulted in Plutus cutting the water cut for twelve hours and that was the end of it. When new refugees stopped arriving en masse we had hoped that things would improve, that we would be more valuable, but such thoughts seem naive now. When we all die Plutus will move on, become something else somewhere else, of that I am now sure. Anyone with the means to hurt the AIs has long passed and the planet is theirs to inherit.

Together the kid and I descend into the jackpot. The offices are immaculate save for the dust. The doors at the top of the stairs have kept the damp out and the moon illuminates the office like it was destiny, like the gods themselves are taking an interest. I know the gods all died, killed by humans and then replaced by AIs, but I tell myself that they may have returned, just for tonight. This office, like all of Old Mother, was abandoned when the dam was bombed. The war started just days afterwards and it’s likely no one has entered this building since. I find a pile of business cards and my heart jumps to see it says Tyche Sequencing. Everything is working out, the leads were good. I sit down to compose myself and both our slates chirp. The kid looks over at me from a chair she has perched herself on.

Plutus knows we are on site. It’s just sending updated prices.

I pull up a chair on coasters and show her how to sort by price and weight. I tell her to look around the office and grab anything in the top half of the list. She nods and wanders off to the furthest area of the open plan, completely ignoring two data slates as she goes. I can’t help but smile.

I leave the open plan area and head upstairs to the uppermost floor. It is devoid of any light and the corridor is snaked with cables along the walls and ceiling like the building has its own decaying neurology. The server room is unlocked and the drives are still sitting in their racks. I pull all ten of the drives, sealing them in waterproofs and laying them out carefully on the floor. I grab a few generic bits of hardware that are laying around and log them with Plutus via my slate. I don’t think it will throw Plutus off the scent but it may give me a few extra minutes.

On these drives there is almost certainly the genetic code for many thousands of plants, plants that have been extinct for a generation or more. This data is the one chance I have of getting the kid and I away. It could also very likely result in my death within the next few hours; killed by a reclaimer, Plutus or some yet unknown actor in this.

I put one drive in my bag pocket and tape the other nine together. Then, I take my latest bastard creation from my bag. A capacitor from a neon sign hooked up to a battery, a fat coil of copper cable, a heart rate monitor and a logic gate switch. It took me the best part of a year to make and a lot of effort to conceal, but I have my very own EMP dead-woman’s trigger. I tape the nine drives to the output of the EMP and put the whole lot in my bag. I attach the sensors to my chest. I double check everything and then check it again. I take a deep breath, open my slate and make the call to Plutus.

I head back upstairs to find the kid surrounded by at least twenty data slates and playing with some toy figures under a desk. She doesn’t look up from her toys, and I see that they are a full set of Octonauts. I sit down next to her on the floor and watch her have the figures stage raids on the bottom drawer of the desk.

“Kid, I used to love the Octonauts when I was your age, before the global network failed. That show was an Age of Plenty classic, much better than anything that was made in the Decline; even kids shows were gloomy during the Decline. I guess you don’t even know what TV is. Anyway, you know this one is the leader right? This is Captain Barnacles; he’s a polar bear. This green rabbit, she’s the engineer. She made all the cool stuff but she wasn’t the boss.”

She pauses for a second before pressing on with Tweek Bunny leading the raid. Maybe she’s onto something, without all the Gups and Octopod the Octonauts would have been able to achieve nothing. Technological solutions are all we have ever really known.

I open our rations of goop and we sit and eat in silence with the Octonauts all lined up watching over us. My stomach is a mess but I will need this energy before the night is out. I’m trying to think of how to explain this to her in a simple way that she might understand. Whilst I’m thinking of how to do this I realise that I’m blurting it all out.

“Kid, I’ve just done something probably very stupid. I’ve agreed to make a trade with Plutus. Our freedom, a car and a lot of supplies for something very special that I’ve found tonight. It’s taken me so long to get everything ready and now that I’ve nearly done it, I’m scared. Obviously, if you want to stay at the camp and work for Plutus you can have my boat and all of my stuff, but I don’t think it’s safe for you there, those other kids… Plutus may try to kill me and it won’t care if it kills you to get to me. I think I can get us away. If we do get away I can’t really promise anything will be better. I have a plan to get up into the mountains that I used to know as a kid; there are some valleys there that may be okay. It may work, it may not. There are a million ways we could die on the way or when we get there but I have to try to do this. It’s not fair of me to ask you to decide; kids your age shouldn’t have to decide anything but I can’t decide for you.”

I catch myself. The room is silent. I’m about to start up again when the kid scoots over a few feet and lays her head on my arm and now I’m crying silently, remembering my Lucy. I let myself completely emotionally collapse, just for a minute. Then I give her a hug and we leave hand in hand with the Octonauts safely in the kid’s bag, the data slates scattered unwanted on the floor.

My calculations were good and we have enough power to get back, but I wish we could go faster. I know that Plutus has heard every word via the slates and can track us to within a few meters, but none of that matters. To try to outsmart an AI like Plutus is laughable at even the conceptual level; to try to understand what an AI wants or will do is fruitless. After all that they have done, people still anthropomorphize AI, but the truth is that their motivations are beyond our understanding. In the same way that an ant cannot understand the rationale of a child who fries it under a magnifying glass, humans cannot comprehend AI. Knowing this I have tried to make the transaction follow simple game theory as much as I can. Plutus is a profit maximising AI from the Decline, an entity given life and freedom to make profit for its owners in whatever way it deemed to offer the fastest ROI. Plutus will want to take what I have for as little as possible, but it will know that losing the data over a relatively minor payment is potentially a huge loss in opportunity cost terms. As long as I keep my demands cheap and the data easy to lose, I should be able to walk away. I have told it about the EMP and I have asked for as little as I think I need to get us away. I have no idea what it thinks about my proposal, only that it said it agreed to it.

I fire up my dead woman’s trigger and we pull up to the boat that Plutus has arranged to meet us. I give the reclaimer piloting the boat the first drive from my bag pocket as a sample, and he connects it to some cables and then the cables to his slate. He’s old, nearly as old as me and all thumbs, clearly just following instructions via his earpiece. Plutus has managed to send one of the few reclaimers I do not know; already it’s playing me. Presently the man nods, looking at me with a mixture of fear and envy. “Go to the agreed location”, he says, “everything is ready, I took it there myself.”

I urge the boat away, adrenaline narrowing my focus to a mere tunnel ringed by stagnant waters. Ten minutes later I pull up to an old jetty. The moon seems horrifically bright as we run to the car in the clearing. We are going to die or not, so just get it over with. Plutus has seen my hand, and if it doesn’t want to play anymore then it’s over. We’re ants under a magnifying glass.

I expect someone to step out of the shadows and shoot me but no one does. I expect the car to explode when I turn the key but it starts immediately with fully powered batteries and a functioning AC. I expect a million terrible things to happen but nothing does. We drive for 30 minutes before I stop, disable the EMP, and deposit the remaining nine drives at the side of the road with our slates, so that they can be found by whomever Plutus sends.

My fear is now off the scale. I am no longer holding any cards at all. I hope that Plutus has no sense of pride or ego or revenge. I hope that it won’t decide that it’s worth sending a missile or hit squad after me. I hope that it is content to see the car and supplies I have taken as a sunk cost. I hope that it is already putting its energies into processing its wealth of new data, of creating business models by which it can grow crops that have been lost for so long. I hope that these plants spread and prosper and maybe even outlast Plutus, outlast all the AI. I hope this kid and I find an isolated valley and live out our days there without illness, starvation or violence. I hope all of these things yet I know that I cannot allow myself to expect any of them.

“You did great today kid, I say. I couldn’t have done this without you.”

She looks up at me and smiles. “That’s exactly what Plutus said. He told me that as long as I didn’t talk, you would get us away. I guess I can speak now though, right?”