com transcript 2472.07.30 13:45:12

Wireless static

"Blackwing One, this is Blackwing Command. Have you read it? It's over. ”

"Hear you five, Commander. It's over. ”

"The visitor emitted a-" Radio static

"Say it again, Commander?"

Static "...... Say they dropped a ......" "Rock Paris!" It's gone! You can leave, over. ”

"Ten 4. The weapon is hot. What do you mean it's gone, Commander? It's over. ”

"I mean, the whole city and half of the countryside are gone. This is a Nucflash event. Again, Nucflash, Nucflash. Roger, Blackwing One. Admitted, in the past. ”

"Definitely. Nucflash conceded, Black Wing Command. It's over. ”

"The CINC has cleared football. You are free to fight. ”。

"Blackwing Squadron, I'm Blackwing One. Let's do it with numbers. If there is a lock, fire. Go, go, go!"

Wireless static

End t

a

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ipt 2472.07.30 13:54:37

The man looked to be middle-aged at best, and it seemed that he hadn't slept in days. The stubble on his face had been on for days, and there was an anxious look in his eyes. The spacesuit he wears is state-of-the-art, woven with fullerene and Kevlar fibers on the outer layer of biosynthetic fibers. This material is reinforced with memory fibers and programmable resin, making it almost no thicker than a wetsuit. The bulkiest parts of the spacesuit are the thin oxygen ventilator on his back, the raised power band, and the armored palladium-micro-alloy glass helmet. Despite the fact that he was dressed in advanced technology, he and his suit looked very dirty and even worse.

I didn't know what to look at him in those three microseconds I watched.

"Who are you?" I asked. I want to know who I am.

"Excellent question. I am Dr. Stepan Jones' gestalt. I did a neural network scan of myself, so I have limited answers to your questions. ”

"If you scanned yourself with an NMT scanner, wouldn't you be like me?"

"NMT scanners can only capture surface scans of the brain. As far as I know, no Gestalt has the ability to be Nicholast intelligent. ”

"But I was scanned by the NMT scanner. That's how I was created. ”

"I'm sorry, but my answer is limited. I'm just a gestalt. ”

"Where are you now?"

"I'm on node 842, drive array 7, loaded into memory cluster 6."

If I could frown at the time, I would. It's like pulling a tooth. But the holographic camera stood patiently, waiting for my questions.

"Where's Dr. Stepan Jones?"

"Dr. Stepan Jones was dying when he made the gestalt. His aim was to take 40 grams of benzene before death to prevent long-term suffering. I speculate that his remains were placed in 1035 Ga

The living quarters of the ymed outpost. ”

"Where do you live?" I didn't see them in the survey. ”

"I'm sorry, but my answer is limited. I'm just a gestalt. ”

I sighed inwardly. “Ga

What is the purpose of the YMED outpost?"

Gestalt smiled, as if I had finally asked the right question. “Ga

Project YMED was created by the Nikolai Foundation as an interstellar colony ship. Ga

The YMED project is currently 23 years away from completion. ”

"How many people live in Ga

YMED outpost?"

"Zero. The living quarters are scheduled to be completed in another 9 years. ”

"Then why are you here?"

"This is the last supply ship. In order to deliver and install you, Dr. Jones had to come in person. There is no other way. ”

"Why don't you put Nikolai 19 ready?"

"Nikola 19 is still being installed, but it has been deactivated and disconnected from the core. The NI cortex is mounted on frame 001. ”

"Why did you put me in the position of Nikolai 19?"

"As the Nikolai intelligence model has evolved, so has our understanding of its operation. Nikolai-19 has been improved to follow long-term, complex logistical planning and the implementation of large-scale projects. However, the idea of Nikolai-19 did not go beyond the scope of the specified project. ”

"So to speak, Nikolai 19 is not creative." I say.

"Correct." Gestalt said. "You're basically the original version of the Nikolai Intelligence Agency. Dr. Jones has worked extensively with you on Earth, and you both think you're a better fit for the role than Nikolai-19. ”

"Why don't I remember anything?" I asked.

"Dr. Jones only took your core. It can't contain all the storage nodes that contain your collaboration. Space is limited. ”

"And what am I here for?"

"You're here to save humanity, Nikolai. You're the only one left. ”

I'm very angry. I was angry because I was waving blindly in the dark. I was angry because my only guide was a frustratingly opaque Gestalt with whom I had worked before. I'm angry that things about me are still being hidden, apparently by me. I've been manipulated, tricked, pushed into this situation, and I still don't have enough information. Most importantly, I was angry because I was alone. Am I the only remaining human?

I need answers, I need to question Gestalt further. I need to know why I'm the only little bit of humanity left. But Gestalt has proven that he can manipulate me and my environment. What else could he do? I don't believe him. If he can do this so easily, what trap is left on me? What else could happen in the worst possible time?

My attention turned to the sensor interruption caused by Gestalt. It soon became clear that the program that started the gestalt tower also ran a script, just turning off the sensors and cameras. I wrote the opposite script, and after a few seconds, my consciousness expanded again. It is completely unacceptable for Gestalt to be able to do this.

The first task is to isolate the gestalt so that it can't reach me or my resources. I found the processes that were running the gestalt and paused them. The holographic camera froze in place. I wrote a custom firewall around the program to isolate it from any resources, leaving only a minimal number of processor threads to allow it to run.

But obviously I wasn't quite in control yet. Gestalt mentions living quarters. These are in Ga

Somewhere on ymed, but cut off from me. I couldn't control my communications, and my last attempt to fix this completely distracked me off course. I also don't know what the pitfalls are in my own code. I have billions of lines of code, and tens of thousands of exabytes of stored data. In the last 24 hours alone, I've generated over 200TB of data in logs and reports. It's going to be hard.

Over the next few days, I created a virtual sandbox and tested it to make sure it worked with my core or control Ga

Any API protocol of ymed is completely isolated. Once I'm sure it's completely safe, I build an algorithm to systematically check every file, database, and log I have. The algorithm will wipe out files that are visibly clean and heuristically check for any files that may or have already taken action. The documents in question were put on hold for more in-depth scrutiny. I set up the algorithm to allow it to use most of my computing power. I immediately felt sluggish, almost dizzy, and my thinking slowed down.

"Welcome back," she said warmly at her bedside. She had an unopened book on her lap and a small duffel bag at her feet. "How are you feeling?"

I was groggy and had a dry mouth. I opened my mouth to speak, but I couldn't. She noticed it right away and handed me a glass of ice water and a straw. The water soothed my mouth and I cleared my throat.

He only said "sir". I tried again. "Girl?"

"They were nice. They were with my mom. ”

"My mother?!" I said horrified.

"No, no, no. My mother. ”

"Oh," is all I can think of in my drug-drugged brain. I feel like I should be worried, but she's calm, so things must be fine. I've never trusted anyone as much as I trusted her. After all, we've been through so much together.

"Who gets appendicitis at this age?" Are you looking to break a world record? She teased softly. "I thought only kids would worry about that."

"It could happen... ...... between peaks 10:30 a.m. ......," I murmured. She giggled. I closed my eyes for a moment. When I opened it again, she was reading a book. My mind clearer, and I took the opportunity to look at her. The way she frowned, the way she frowned or smiled while reading a story.

She didn't look up and said, "Did you sleep well?"

"Yes," I replied with a yawn. Except for the dull pain in my flank, which I had laparoscopic surgery, I felt much better. "When can we go home?"

"Soon, love. Soon. ”

I can't accomplish a lot due to limited resources. I couldn't think, and the flickering lights on the state board kept distracting me. It's like being exhausted and not being able to sleep. I can't focus on anything that requires deep thinking or analysis because I don't have enough resources. So I focused my attention on maintenance. Everything I can do is linear, and most of it has ready-made plans that just need to be executed. There are drones to repair, mining plans to approve, and a permanent lack of storage space to solve. Some of the oldest production facilities are nearing the end of their lives, but I don't see any sign of any plans to replace them. I started a plan to move as much production out as I could and retrofit them over the next 90 days. It's amazing how quickly things can get done when your workers are working 24 hours a day, 7 days a week. I thought, oddly enough, that I'm going to follow a schedule that matches a planet that I don't inhabit at all. I guess even artificial intelligence will have habits.

I've also found that small machine shops and repair facilities are not a substitute for a real factory. I have a large reserve of raw materials, but there's no way to turn them into any useful scale I need. I can't build batteries or reactors, and the drone pulse engine is far beyond my current manufacturing capabilities. constitutes Ga

A lot of things Ymed and I rely on purpose-built materials from manufacturing sites on Earth that took centuries to scale up and now I have to remake here. Once I have the resources again, I will have more and more things to do.

Then, all of a sudden, my resources were back online for me to use, and my thinking was speeding up again. The algorithm is done. I was stunned by what it found. Dozens of traps, 3 worms, and 5 auto-self-destruct devices are connected to a specific radio-coded sequence, now isolated in a virtual sandbox. There were 713 problematic command documents that I had to review personally. On top of that, there is a whole subroutine loaded, but blocked by a firewall. I was alone, I didn't have any help other than what I could do on my own, I was walking in a minefield. If I'm going to save humanity, first I have to save myself.

It took me a few weeks to fix my code. I rewrote the code so that I could remove the traps without losing functionality. I'm isolating the worm in a sandbox node because I'm reluctant to delete anything that might be used later. I canceled the self-destruct device and even sent a drone to find and disarm the physical trigger for the final explosion. I rummaged through the suspicious files, and although I didn't find anything the first time, I went through them again, the third time. Finally, I route all of my traffic into a virtual sandbox in case I miss some triggers.

On the positive side, for the first time, I was able to fully connect my communication devices to the internet. I knew the data was pouring in from the outside, but unfortunately I couldn't view any of the data until I was sure it was safe. I built my own model in the sandbox and built an algorithm to transmit the communication into the model. I didn't take any risks.

This leaves only the firewall subroutine. When I was at MIT, I was never really a hacker. I always like to use my own or pre-written software and have never been interested in trying to break into someone else's system. So finding a way to get in was a challenge. The process is using my resources, but there are no obvious hooks for me to connect to, and there is no inbound port to communicate with.

But I can see where the traffic is going, so I can see where the data center is physically operating. The device has both local and network data ports; It could be a legacy problem made on Earth and required a technician to be able to plug in the cable and operate directly on the device. I instructed a data center drone to hardwire itself to a data port I control and connect to a local port on a subroutine node. On top of that, it prompted me to enter my password.

Cracking codes, by itself, is a measure of raw computing power and patience, both of which I have. I started with the most basic brute force method; I started experimenting with every word in English, one at a time, three at a time, and every variation of this word. I replaced the vowels with numbers and added special characters. My list of passwords has 700 million possible lengths and is still growing when I started. But just as I was about to start the second set of more complex passwords, my algorithm was done. At first, I thought it was my mistake that caused the failure. Then I looked at it and smiled inwardly. It's a lot simpler. The local password is set to match the brand name of the device. The default password has never been changed.

I quickly figured out the security of the subroutine and allowed me to access it over the network. As soon as it allowed me in, I immediately sandboxed it and started my security algorithm, looking for traps. This time I didn't allow full processing power and didn't want to go back to a fugue state, but the subroutines weren't big and I wasn't stuck. New sensors and cameras are online, as is a new set of databases. I found the missing residence.

I have to admit that the ingenuity of this scam is ingenious. My sensors in the staging area below the launch pad were hacked, disguised as a place without walls. Two additional corridors were constructed. One of them echoes the design of the main fusion grid corridor, except that it is slightly southwest and connected to a second cave near the main fusion chamber. It is essentially a complete secondary power grid, comparable in size and complexity.

To the northeast is a series of large storage rooms filled with hundreds of sealed, temperature-controlled storage units. Each unit is a semi-cylindrical with a flat section 4 meters wide. The units are paired and placed on a central pillar that manages the two units and connects them to the grid. A query confirms that they are genebanks. They contain a complete catalog of almost all known gene sequences, as well as the actual genetic material. It also stores seeds and spores of various plants and trees, which can be transported.

But the really interesting part is to the north, which stretches for about 500 meters. It was intended to be a living quarters for at least a few hundred men, women and children. Carved in a neat grid, there are connecting corridors that extend three floors deep, and the living quarters are completely unfinished. Hundreds of small rooms have been carved into apartments, pantry, pantry, kitchen, hydroponic facility, mechanical room, conference room, and studio. Each room is precisely carved, but slightly larger in size. The ventilation shaft leads to a central room, but no machinery is installed to create or maintain an environment suitable for human breathing. The rooms are ready to accept metal walls and doors, and the power grid has not yet been extended to the first few rooms.

However, in a room near the staging place is the answer to the mystery of Gestalt's ancestors. This room was apparently used as a garage, with several large convex doors leading to the storage area and shelves carved into the walls. Dozens of metal crates are stacked on top of each other, including three crates the size of a human body. A man in a space suit collapsed on the floor in a corner, motionless. I found Dr. Stepan Jones.