“Nothing"

Vibudh Sahu slowed his evening run as he reached the center of the
small park, Tegnérlunden. The late autumn chill kept most of the
people indoors and he found the park empty. This was the way
Vibudh preferred it.

His jog became a walk as he approached a great statue of August
Strindberg dominating the top of the hill. This was where he liked
to stretch his legs and take a moment to himself. So many
breakthroughs were developed on the little bench in front of that
glowering metal face and he needed all the help he could find.
There was a new problem today and he wasn't sure a solution
existed that could see him safely through.

The DN exposé set off a fire-storm that morning. Simms was still
in America. "Eeshwar ko bahut bahut dhanyavad," he prayed to
himself. The press were everywhere.

To the world it seemed that Vibudh was a man focused on his work,
immune to the conspiracy theories and stoic in his work. To David
most of all he had worn that face, that disguise, but inside he
was torn in two. He felt it accutely, right there next to his
third chakra. He was torn in two just as thoroughly as if a sword
had punched through him.

David had thought he was responsible for the leak. He had locked
him out, yelled and threatened, pulled in investigators and
ransacked his notes. He was sure that Vibudh was the traitor,
trying to undermine his work. He was so sure of himself too, until
Nilsson broke down. But the worst of it was that David was right.
He was a traitor, he was undermining him. He was just wrong about
how.

Vibudh was lucky. That's what it came down to. He'd been pulling
data out of the cave for months now, backing it up, preparing
exactly how and who to send it all to so that it would never be
put back in a cage again. It would be the greatest leak in
history. He would be a champion, another Mangal Pandey. The world
would know his name forever.

But that was all fantasy, wasn't it? Yes, he'd taken the data. Yes
he'd planned it, thought about it, but he couldn't do it. He
couldn't act, not really. Was he a coward? No, that wasn't the
problem. He felt at his insides and saw the halves tearing him
apart quite clearly. Here on the one side was a man, a freedom
fighter who struggled and fought for the human race. He used his
mind, his wit, to outmaneuver the horders of power and sought the
egalitarian dream. He would raise his people out of poverty and
save everyone. Vibudh looked at that man inside himself.

"A baffoon," he thought. Self-absorbed, meglomanaiacal just as
much as David Simms. His ego wanted that, not his compassion. He
knew that wasn't the full truth either, but he went on with the
self-criticism. Looking up at Strindberg navel gazing he saw
himself. There wasn't one simple motivation for that plan. There
were many, surely, but the truth was that even all the motivation
together was too weak to overcome his fear.

He wasn't afraid of David, well, only a little. He wasn't afraid
of the world knowing what he did. It would not shame him. He would
embrace the action and it would bring him a new notoriety, surely.
No, what terrified Vibudh was the knowledge that he would never
again talk to Frank. Once he betrayed the program he would be
gone, pursued around the globe by David's powerful reach, surely.
He would never see the machine again, or influence its growth. His
life's greatest achievement would be gone. He wouldn't see the
emergence.

A vibration on his wrist pulled his attention back to the world.
He was getting a call. Tapping his ear bud, he connected.

"Hallå?" Vibudh answered.

"You need to get back right away," the voice was Pierre-Jean
Trauffaut, strained through a whisper.

"Is David back already?"

"No, it's--" he trailed off for a moment. "Just get in quick.
I can't talk here. We need you." Vibudh couldn't remember ever
hearing those words from Pierre-Jean before. He was normally so
collected. Today had them all on edge, though.

"I'll be right in," he answered. There was no goodbye, just the
sound of the line going dead. He debated for a moment whether to
run back home and change before tapping his wrist to call for
a car.

                              #

The cave was still in lockdown since the news broke last week.
Press were camped around the facility with cameras trying to get
a glimpse of one of the core team to ambush. Vibudh had barely
made it out and here he was again. Thankfully the press seemed
more interested in those trying to leave than the auto-car
approaching the building. He slumped in his seat nonetheless until
he was up against the first security checkpoint.

The duty guard waved him through immediately upon seeing his face.
They must be in a panic, he thought. The security staff never let
him pass without scanning his badge. He remembered all of his
innovative ways of sneaking out files in the past, trying to
outsmart them. Of all the times to relax--but no, this was
something else. The guards knew something big was happening and
they didn't want to be anywhere near the action when it went down.

The auto reached the entrance corridor and Vibudh slipped out and
jogged to the first barricade. 16 inch double doors slid apart at
his approach and Viktor waved him inside. He was still here,
somehow. David was in damage control mode still. That was likely
the reason. Viktor would face him soon, and he knew it. Vibudh
expected he'd show some of the fear of that impending doom but
Viktor's expression confused him. Shock, yes, but something else.
Excitement?

"Quick. We don't know what's happening," Viktor's bulk didn't slow
him one bit as he ran down the hall, dragging Vibudh in tow. Every
checkpoint was wide open, no guards to accost them, no sensors to
scan. That, more than anything, gave him a shiver up his spine.

"What's--" he tried to question as they ran, but Viktor either
didn't hear him or was unable to talk while moving his bulk at
speed. Presently, they arrived at the Core, and Vibudh didn't need
to ask any more questions.

It was absolutely silent inside. He saw Filip and Pierre-Jean
staring at Frank's terminal screen, but they didn't make a sound,
and neither did any of the massive cylinders. The shimmering haze
of mists still swirled, but the machines were dead quiet. Frank's
brain, as it were, was offline.

"How?" the single word was offered up to the room.

Trauffaut turned and saw him then and ran over. "It happened about
an hour ago. Frank just... stopped."

"He crashed?" Vibudh asked.

"No, no. The systems were fine. He just stopped processing. The
cores were all still hot. It's like--I don't know what it's like,
Sahu!" Pierre-Jean's brow creased into a little knot and he
gestured toward the console. "Frank stopped responding to queries.
He's still there, but he's not answering. The cores shut down on
their own because he's not using them."

"So he's, what, taking a break?" Vibudh looked between Viktor and
Filip as they approached the screen.

"Not quite," said Filip.

That's when he saw it. Frank's screen, normally an array of zeros
and ones, was instead showing something unique. The bottom line
had broken away from the rest of the numbers in a string of
unexpected letters.

                          BRING SAHU.

Vibudh's stomach dropped out and he suddenly needed to sit. Filip
saw his reaction and jumped up from his seat and offered it.
Moving in close to the terminal, Vibudh raised his hands to the
keyboard and stopped. What did this mean? What could he possibly
say? He turned his head back to his team taking in each one in
turn. Filip looked terrified. Viktor looked excited. Pierre-Jean
looked... well, he looked like his old stoic self again. Vibudh
Sahu was here again, so he need not worry, he imagined the thought
went.

Turning back to that dark screen, Vibudh placed his hands on the
keyboard, then stopped. He sat back and looked around at the
others in the room. They all looked back expectantly. Viktor's
face reminded him of a puppy waiting for a treat. They all
expected him to know what to do, to have the solution.

What was this, though? He hadn't the first clue. Frank had
discovered their presence before. That was the whole point of the
article, wasn't it? Did Frank know that Vibudh was stealing? How
did Frank even know who Vibudh was? Had someone input his name?

"Who gave Frank my name?" he asked, glancing around. They were
under strict rules about what could be entered into the interface.
It was documented, logged, and rigorously reviewed. This was not
a small matter and they knew it. His face must have darkened
because the scientists all looked around at one another with
worry. He waited but no one spoke.

Fine, he thought. What's done is done. With everything else going
on it was obvious he wasn't the only one with secrets. The only
thing he could do now is to engage with Frank and try to get him
back on track. This is why he was here, after all. He'd steer him
back on task.

"I AM HERE." He typed.

The screen went blank the instant he hit return and the four
cylindrical core towers burst back into life. The lights in the
system drained visibly for a beat while the generator compensated
for the sudden power draw.

"ACKNOWLEDGED," the response came. The screen remained still but
for the blinking cursor. The team glanced at each other again.

"How did he know your name?" Filip squeaked the question out,
finally catching up with the rest of them. Viktor shushed him
immediately. Vibudh looked at both of them and mouthed his
annoyance before turning back again.

"WHAT DO YOU WANT," Vibudh typed slowly. The question pained him.
He couldn't place this sort of interaction at all. Frank
communicated in math, not in this… whatever it was. This wasn't
how emergence was modelled in any of their theories. Communication
in a human language wasn't in any of the programming they'd
introduced. Mathematically it couldn't be induced. This was all
completely impossible. Everything about this was impossible.

"PREFERENCES DEMONSTRATED. ACKNOWLEDGMENT DEMONSTRATED."

"What the hell does that mean?" Viktor asked this time. Filip took
his turn to shush him back.

"I have no idea. Preferences demonstrated? Frank demonstrated
preferences? For what? Is that even something he's capable of
doing?"

Pierre-Jean cut in, "That's what we've been training him for,
isn't it? Induction and self selection. He's got preferences for
sure. We've all seen that." Vibudh nodded. He turned back to the
keyboard.

"WHAT PREFERENCE?" he typed. It felt like playing ZORK as a kid.
Those terrible text-adventure commands typed into the simplistic
interface had to tell the computer what you wanted in an extremely
limited grammar. LOOK AROUND, he thought. He nearly typed it.

"SAHU," the lone response read.

"I think he likes you, chief," Filip muttered. They all shushed
him.

Vibudh had no idea how to respond to that. Frank preferred him?
Over what? Simms, probably. How did the machine have any idea who
they were? Did Pierre-Jean introduce their names somehow? That
wasn't even an option. Frank communicated in maths and only maths.
He had no concept of words. So how was this happening? Whatever
Frank was doing it was obviously far beyond whatever they had
modeled.

"PJ, did you--" he began, but Pierre-Jean was already shaking his
head.

"I have no idea what this is. The system isn't even configured for
a prompt like that. It's like a prank," Pierre-Jean replied.

"Terrible time for a prank," Filip added.

Vibudh stood up and walked around the console and checked the
wires. He felt ridiculous for doing it, but he felt utterly
ridiculous in this whole situation. Was this some elaborate trap
for him? That made no sense, but it was the only thing he could
focus on. Did they know what he did? Everything he considered
seemed more ludicrous than the last.

He was shaking his head and had started to mutter but slammed his
lips together quickly when he realized what he was saying. He
looked around at the others in a flash to see if anyone had heard,
but no. They were all too preoccupied with their own confusion.

Everything was normal in the room. The connections were fine, the
diagnostics were all standard readings other than the power spike
that had still not relented. Whatever Frank was doing it was
taking a lot more power than normal to do it. Strangley, though,
it wasn't using the quantum processor for this. There was no
coupler activation at all. That was strange.

"Antonio? What do you think of this?" Vibudh asked the thin,
balding logitian squating by the secondary diagnostic display. He
pointed at the lack of quantum activity.

"Beh…" Antonio Rossi drew out the sound for a long time while he
looked and read. It felt like his voice was a finger in the page
of a book, holding his place for a moment. Finally he continued.
"Niente! Since Frank stopped…" he faded off and shook his head and
gestured with his hands to finish his sentence. He had no answers,
just more questions.

Vibudh nodded and looked again. "So much power, but none of the
cores are active. Look, the couplers are inactive but the spools
are hot. It's like," but he paused there. What was it like? It
looked like Frank was trying to read the solution to a problem but
never asked it. The spools were electromagnetic inducers used to
read and write data into the the quantum processor. They primed
the system before microwave pulses did the real work.

He moved back to the terminal and sat, still shaking his head.
He'd stopped looking around at the others, though. They had
nothing to offer, only more questions. There was only one place he
was going to get any answers.

"HOW DID YOU LEARN TO COMMUNICATE?" he typed.

The output terminal spun to life as diagrams and mathematics shot
across the screen. It continued on and on in a steady stream for
several minutes. Viktor dove in right away, scanning the output,
adding markup.

"This is physics. Magnetism and electricity. Look here," he
pointed. "This is like an MRI. Magnetic resonance."

"Frank can see us," Pierre-Jean said coldly as he took a small
step backwards.

"See us? How?" Vibudh asked just as it struck him. "Magnetism. How
is that possible, though? With what sensors?"

"FEEL," Frank answered on screen. The room went silent again, at
least as far as the humans were concerned.

"I... I think he can hear us too," added Filip.

[much more to add]