The Operations Room at The Mansion was punctured by light from HYDRA screensavers cycling in darkness. Caldwell was alone and logged into the Tsinghua University mirror server in Beijing, the server on which he had gave himself an administrative account earlier in the afternoon. He called up a network schema. The machine he was logged into was a standalone server but it communicated with the main Tsinghua servers at thirty-second intervals. Caldwell checked the logs and the user accounts and gained access to one of the main public servers at Tsinghua. There were one hundred and twenty-three students online at that very moment. Caldwell scanned their local directories for anything interesting. Each student was allocated a department code. A good number of them belonged to a node called comp_sci. Caldwell choose one account at random and call up a map of the comp_sci directory structure. There were about fifty sub-directories. Most of them looked uninteresting.

Caldwell jumped to a subdirectory labeled SKL_ITS. He had no idea what the letters meant. There were even more folders in this directory. One called Special_Projects looked interesting. He tried to gain access. ACCESS DENIED. SPECIAL PRIVILEGES REQUIRED. He didn’t even bother sending in one of his password bots. The IDEs would be too powerful and he didn’t have time to write a new one that could gain access. He needed to find an authenticated user.

Caldwell navigated all the way back to the top of the network and drilled down into the cyberspace traffic logs. He trawled through thousands of remote calls to cyberspace sites, requests for files and authenticated logins to various university micro sites. Everything looked fine except for one entry just a few days ago. It was a massive data dump from cyberspace amounting to several trillion bytes. The data was coming from all over, the United States, the Union, Russia, Japan. This could be what Fouler had been talking about, part of the huge data traffic he had seen logged at NEXT Tower.

He checked the logs for a whole month prior. The same thing had been going on for weeks, massive amounts of data being replicated from cyberspace into some internal database at Tsinghua. It was as though cyberspace was being systematically duplicated. However, the source of the data seemed entirely random. Caldwell donned the console’s VR goggles and gloves. The cyberspace access logs appeared in front of him in text form.

“Enter Visual Mode,” he said into the microphone embedded in the goggles. The logs were transformed from lines of text to a gray three-dimensional tube running diagonally from the bottom left of his field of vision to the top right. The edges of the tube faded off into the distance. The tube was a timeline of the university’s data traffic.

“Show all cyberspace data requests greater than one terabyte.”

The tube flickered and changed color. The gray was now interspersed with equally-spaced color bands indicating all data dumps larger than one terabyte. The colored rings expanded as far as he could see. Using the gloves he snapped the band in half to look at a cross-section.

“Create pie chart by data type,” he commanded the console. The cross-section was transformed into a three-dimensional pie chart. The chart depicted data downloaded by data type. Most of the data was in the form of documents and chunks of computing code.

“Drill down into pie chart, slice by document.”

The largest piece of the pie chart slid out, rotated and disappeared in a swirl of pixels. It was replaced with a list of document titles. The number of documents was displayed at the bottom of the screen: 1,235,312. Somebody accessed over a million documents on the inner workings of the United States government on one single day. Most of the documents were from government departments, the Federal Reserve, military installations, scientific institutions, NASA. Somebody was systematically sucking in the entire body of US knowledge into New China. It didn’t make any sense at all. No human mind could digest all that data.

The information just seemed to have disappeared into a black hole. Even if the United States realized that the data was going out, which they most likely did, they had no reason to be alarmed by it. All the information being appropriated was in the public domain. The Chinese were probably just mirroring the data so the authorities could sensor it. It was just that the sheer volume of data being copied suggested some ulterior motive at work. There was too much data for this to be some major censorship drive. Since Caldwell was inside the Tsinghua network, he figured he might be able to see where all the data had gone.

“Show data destination.”

An animation of a complex network popped up showing the path of the data. The data did several loops through various networks and ended up in a dedicated storage area network with a mind-boggling amount of storage space. Connected to the storage area network but not to Tsinghua’s main network was a lone machine at the far top corner of the network diagram. He tapped the machine’s icon with the gloves. ACCESS DENIED.

“Show all related networks.”

No related networks found.

Why would a standalone computer with no connection to the network be systematically accessing huge amounts of data from cyberspace? Why would it need its own dedicated storage network?

“Show all related departments.”

1 related department found: Department of Computer Science and Technology.

“Search keyword: AI or SKL_ITS”

SKL_ITS/Special_Projects.

“Show all related users.”

3 users found: Yao Guo Chuen (Professor), Wang Lin (Student), Li Jin (Student)

“Launch Tsinghua University Public Network.”

The Tsinghua university public network was rendered as a spinning three-dimensional shape with multiple labeled facets. Caldwell tapped the Faculties side of the cube with the gloves. It expanded into four neat triangles. He drilled down into even smaller triangles until he reached the Computer Science and Technology micro site. He opened up a link called Faculty Members. A list of about one hundred faculty members popped up. Right at the top was a Professor Yao Guo Chuen.

Professor Yao Guo Chuen was head of the internationally renowned Department of Computer Science and Technology, part of the School of Information Science and Technology of Tsinghua University. Professor Yao’s responsibilities covered the running of four prestigious institutes: The Institute of High Performance Computing; The Institute of Computer Networks; The Institute of Computer Software and The Institute of Human-computer Interaction and Media Integration. He was also in charge of The State Key Laboratory of Intelligent Technology and Systems, which conducted research jointly with organs of the People’s Liberation Army. Professor Yao was the recipient of numerous prestigious awards of excellence for research in the areas of parallel and distributed computing, high performance computer systems, knowledge engineering, distributed databases, artificial intelligence and visualization technologies including virtual reality. Professor Yao was also renowned for his work developing virtual reality applications for the People’s Liberation Army.

“Very interesting,” Caldwell said to no one in particular.

He called up an information page for the student Li Jin. The simple page just said he was twenty-four years old, a straight-A postgraduate student in the Department of Computer Science and Technology and a research assistant to Professor Yao. Caldwell checked the Tsinghua directory server on a whim to see if Li Jin was logged in to anything at the moment. Li Jin’s account had been disabled. He checked Professor Yao’s account. That had also been disabled. Just to be thorough, he checked the other student Wang Lin’s account. He expected it to be disabled too. But, it wasn’t. Wang Lin was currently logged on the student BBS system. Caldwell conducted a search for research papers or documents on which Wang Lin had been a contributor.

12 research papers found:

1.Modeling & Rendering of Complex VR Scenes Containing a Huge Amount of Primitives

2.Intelligent Agent Systems and Their Application

3.Recognition and Knowledge Discovery in Database on Micro Economy

4.Key Technologies for Parallel Programming Environments

5.Molecular Biology as a Foundation for True Artificial Intelligence

Caldwell didn’t bother reading the rest. Could it be that Professor Yao and his two student protégés were working on a research project that involved feeding vast amounts of data to a machine for the purpose of granting it intelligence? Was it possible that this was all related to the big breakthrough that Anthony Ma and Victor Cheng had talked about? It all seemed harmless enough, except for the nature and size of the data. This was not just general knowledge that was being sucked in from cyberspace. This was terabytes of recently unclassified intelligence, which while it may be public domain and useless to a human through the sheer volume of it, could be used to inflict some serious AI-instigated carnage in cyberspace. What would happen if you gave all the public information on economics, science, finance and sociology to a vastly intelligent heuristic computer? A computer with the ability to learn?

Caldwell knew that he needed access to that lone computer on the Tsinghua Network that was acting as a magnet for all that information. The only way to get to it was through the professor or one of his protégés. If this system was as sinister as he was conjecturing, the professor would be particularly guarded. The professor’s young assistants on the other hand could be cajoled into letting the cat out of the bag. In fact, an idea was forming in Caldwell’s mind. It was a twist on social engineering, the art of retrieving a user’s password over the phone. He would get Wang Lin to reveal his secrets.

Caldwell called up a list of all the female students in the Department of Computer Science and Technology. They made up just over thirty percent of all students in the department. That was good news. A number of them had personal departmental pages where they posted resumes, research papers, digital photos and other electronic media. Caldwell browsed through these pages of post-teenage female angst until he found one that stoked his interest. It was the personal site of a girl called Vicky Zhao. Her Chinese name was Zhao Wei. She was twenty years old and, from her photograph at least, cute as a button with Japanese manga cartoon eyes and straight long hair. There was a good chance that half the department would be madly in love with her. Her cyberspace page also informed Caldwell that she was from Shanghai.

Vicky Zhao Wei was also a member of the student BBS system. Caldwell double checked the BBS logs to be sure. The logs indicated that she was an occasional user of the BBS. Most of her posts were mundane assignment-related questions. And as Caldwell had figured at least one of Professor Yao’s brilliant advisers would be among the many male students who rushed to answer her questions. Vicky Zhao Wei, by reason of her looks, never had to wait long for her queries to be answered. Vicky Zhao Wei was a veritable BBS magnet. Caldwell, forgetting that he was wearing the console gloves, punched both arms in the air.

Getting Vicky’s username and password was a piece of cake. She had the lowest level of access in the departmental system as did most of the students. Wang Lin was one of the chosen few. Caldwell logged into the BBS as Vicky and headed straight for the live chat VR section. He selected a built-in avatar from the repository, a beautiful Manchu princess in shiny gold and silver robe with storks dancing on the banks of a river embroidered on the shimmering silk. The avatar was carrying a rice paper and bamboo parasol, also with stork motifs. The storks appeared to take flight as he used the gloves to spin the parasol.

There were about twenty users or avatars on the BBS. Some of them were dressed in ancient Chinese garb. Caldwell spotted at least two emperors, a few eunuchs and dowagers all in beautifully rendered Chinese costume. The console’s graphics engine was unlike anything he had ever seen. The images were extremely realistic. There was no lag as Caldwell floated across the parched earth of the BBS’ main area. Individual sun rays were rendered in all their fiery detail.

Wang Lin was still logged into the BBS. He was a Chinese scholar in simple gray robes carrying an ancient satchel made of wood and twining on his back. He was chatting to a dowager and a eunuch. Caldwell decided against walking up to them. There was a droopy willow tree nearby. Caldwell maneuvered his avatar up to the tree and took refuge in its shade. The detail of the scene was breathtaking. He decided to message Wang Lin privately.

Wei Wei: Read your paper on Molecular Biology as a Foundation for True Artificial Intelligence. Sounds a bit far-fetched.

The imperial scholar looked up in his direction. Caldwell waited. The student continued talking to the dowager and the eunuch. Caldwell’s Manchu princess elegantly removed a paper fan with a floral pattern from the depths of one of her sleeves and slowly fanned herself. He looked up through the goggles. Wang Lin’s scholar was gliding purposefully towards him.

Wang Lin: Hey Wei Wei. Don’t see you here very often and you never choose that persona.

Wei Wei: Always busy with assignments. Usually have some time on the weekends though.

Wang Lin: So you read my paper?

Wei Wei: Yeah. I’ve been beating my head against a stone trying to figure out what to write for my next assignment. Was just looking around the library, saw your paper and started reading.

Wang Lin: Oh really. So which part do you think is far-fetched?

Wei Wei: The whole idea of using biological matter or brain cells as a computer chip. The theory about bacteria with altered DNA becoming logic gates surely is science fiction.

Wang Lin: What if I told you that there is such a chip working today?

Wei Wei: I wouldn’t believe you. Even the Americans can’t do it.

Wang Lin: The Americans are far behind. It’s here in New China that the latest innovations are taking place.

Wei Wei: Yeah, but nothing like what you suggest in the paper, right?

Wang Lin: Let’s just say the stuff in there is not as far-fetched as it sounds.

Wei Wei: Seriously?

Wang Lin: One day I might even show you something.

Wei Wei: To think New China is so advanced? If only that were possible?

Wang Lin: If only I can show you what I’ve seen.

Wei Wei: Why not?

Wang Lin: I don’t know. This is top-secret stuff.

Wei Wei: Well if you don’t trust me that’s OK.

.

Wang Lin: Of course I trust you. Even though we don’t know each other that well.

Wei Wei: But obviously you don’t trust me enough. That’s fine. I understand.

Wang Lin: OK. Between you and me. This does not go beyond here understand. Follow me. I have an encrypted private BBS room.

The scholar opened up a fissure in the ground and disappeared into it. Caldwell stood over the fissure which had molten lava bubbling just a few feet below. He disappeared into the searing magma and emerged unscathed in a landscape of jagged rocks above wispy white clouds. Cranes flew gracefully across a fading orange sunset. The scholar was sitting on a rock. Caldwell stood opposite him with his parasol closed.

Wang Lin: I come here to relax and contemplate the world.

Wei Wei: It’s beautiful.

Wang Lin: All rendered on my Great Wall Computronics console here in the dormitory.

Wei Wei: Cool.

Wang Lin: It’s all in the algorithms. I learnt a thing or two from Professor Yao before he decided to take that farmer’s boy under his wing. Hardware is never the limiting factor. Humans are just really terrible at creating software. The irony is that computers, which need software to operate, are actually better at creating software.

Wei Wei: So the key is to get computers to design their own software?

Wang Lin: That’s just a part of it. Heuristics has been around for a long time. Many companies have commercialized the idea of self-healing, self-improving software. The problem is that the software is still too stupid to do anything useful, even with the best heuristics technology.

Wei Wei: Useful as in what?

Wang Lin: Well, pass the Turing test for one thing.

Wei Wei: But that’s already been done. If the user cannot distinguish between the responses of the computer and another human then the computer passes. Our AI systems in the department have all passed the Turing test.

Wang Lin: No they haven’t. It is a hack. The computers are fooling the human user into believing they are human most of the time but they will eventually fail if you ask enough questions. They are not intelligent in the human sense. Only by using quantum computing and neural networks with heuristic software can we get human-like intelligence. Only by modeling the processor on a real brain, with complex interconnections between neurons, can we succeed.

Wei Wei: And you’ve done that?

Wang Lin: I guess, but still testing. But this is unlike anything we’ve ever seen. It’s a machine more intelligent than we could ever hope to be. It’s a machine with a conscience. And it’s all in the software.

Wei Wei: But how is that possible?

Wang Lin: A killer combination of heuristics, neural networks, quantum computing and nanotechnology.

Wei Wei: Nanotechnology?

Wang Lin: Yeah, the AI uses it to build a three-dimensional quantum dot array. We have a quantum computer prototype with one billion qubits. The fastest computer ever built.

Wei Wei: OK, but what makes the AI so intelligent?

Wang Lin: Deceptively simple. We are giving it the entire body of human knowledge byte by byte. It already has the core tenets of cognitive science built-in. It already knows more economics than the entire human race knows and will ever know. It has come up with new economic theories in idle conversation. We sent one of the theories to the Ministry of Finance here in Beijing. They were flabbergasted by the results. They make Adam Smith, Milton Keynes, Friedman and all those other idiots look like kids playing with their homework.

Wei Wei: That makes this system dangerous.

Wang Lin: It depends. To our enemies, yes. The building blocks of the system have been designed so as to convince the software that it is Chinese.

Wei Wei: What?

Wang Lin: It has Chinese sensibilities. It will do nothing to harm New China. It’s belief system, base language, everything is built on a sense of being Chinese. It believes in Taoist, Confucian and Buddhist ideals, yet has a strong sense of Chinese history. It’s a weapon like something the world has never seen.

Wei Wei: But what will you do with it?

Wang Lin: That I cannot tell you. I have spoken too much already but I know you, like me, are one hundred percent patriotic. Besides, there is nothing anybody can do to alter the course of New China’s destiny now. Let’s just say that Shanghai as usual will be the trailblazer.

Wei Wei: Shanghai? Are there many computers with this quantum chip?

Wang Lin: There will be. For now there is only one due to the cost and the touch-and-go iterative process of producing it. Basically, the AI built the first one by trial and error. Now that it’s working in the real world we can simply replicate the AI’s processor design. Anyway, the quantum processor is not important. It’s just the catalyst for something much bigger. Think of it as a launching pad.

There was something tapping on Caldwell’s shoulder. The tactile sensation was so realistic that his avatar dropped its parasol. Wait a minute. He was not wearing a VR body suit so how could he feel the hand on his shoulder. Caldwell flipped out of virtual reality and the operations room in Hong Kong materialized in front of him. Mei Lin was standing there staring at the console, which had somehow morphed into a smooth black pyramid.

“What the hell? Hang on.”

Caldwell flipped back to Wang Lin’s rocks above the clouds. The scholar avatar had disappeared. Caldwell looked out across the expanse of weather-sculptured rocks. There was a rustling sound behind him. He turned round to see the scholar glaring at him through dark disapproving eyes.

Wang Lin: You are not Wei Wei. Wei Wei just logged in to the BBS. Who the hell are you?

Wang Lin’s scholar grabbed him by the neck. He couldn’t feel the avatar’s hands on his neck so it was impossible to shake the student off. Caldwell tried to grab Wang Lin’s makeshift school bag. Since he was wearing the gloves he would be able to feel his way out of the scholar’s grip. The bag came away in his hands like termite-infested woodwork. The fragments fell away and disappeared into the clouds below. Caldwell realized that he was very close to the edge of the rocks and a steep ravine. Below the clouds there was only darkness. Wang Lin’s avatar let go of his neck and shoved at his chest. Caldwell could not feel a thing but he saw himself totter on the brink of the ravine and plunge down into the depths below. His anguished screams echoed loudly in the surrounding mountains.