Helix by David Henson

How do I prove humanity isn’t a computer virus? Xander Neurix wonders. He’s getting desperate. Is desperate.

As his wife rubs his shoulders, he bounces his son on his knee. “You’re so tense,” Astra says.

Xander quiets his leg to concentrate on his wife’s massage. “Things at the Chamber are … complicated.” Xander hates to keep something so important from Astra, but is unsure how to tell her about the alarming situation unfolding.

Zaden kicks his heels against his father’s thighs. “More turbulence.” Xander begins bouncing his leg again.

“I need a break.” Astra shakes her hands. “You’re practically living at the Chamber. I thought Helix was requiring less and less from you and your team? We hardly see you.”

A pang of guilt stabs Xander. He turns his head away from his son and lowers his voice. “Helix has some issues with humans.”

Astra cocks her head to the side. “That makes no sense.”

“I’ll tell you after I put Zaden to bed.”

The father sweeps his son onto his shoulders and groans. “Whew, you’re almost too big.” Xander paces around the house, quizzing Zaden on the name of each room. “And what do we call this?” the father says, stopping in front of a large, locked display cabinet with glass doors. It contains a collection of hand-held antiques passed down through Xander’s family.

When Zaden identifies it as “the teak collection,” Xander corrects his son, reminding him to “Never touch.”

Xander carries the boy to his room and tucks him into bed, promising to try to get home earlier tomorrow so they can play catch. Even as he speaks, Xander wonders how many tomorrows Helix will allow.

When Xander returns downstairs, Astra hands him a glass of Merlot, and he sits in the anti-grav recliner next to hers. She’s put the rounded roof above the relaxation room in transparent mode. The area fills with green light from the moon, illuminated to mark the centennial of Zero Pollution Day. Xander normally enjoys the various lunar colors chosen to commemorate significant milestones in human development, but hardly notices this time. “OK, Astra, I’ll tell you what’s going on with Helix. It’s not good.”

“I can’t imagine why Helix has a problem with us.” Astra sips her wine and holds up her glass. “How many am I going to need?” Xander doesn’t smile. “That bad?” Astra says.

#

Xander’s first direct contact with Helix came five years ago. The global AI was no longer an infant but not fully developed either. It was like a playful juvenile.

“Helix, this is my successor, Director Neurix,” Render Galaxa had said as the two entered the Chamber. “He’s the new director.”

The Chamber was cavernous with a high, domed ceiling. The walls were filled with screens streaming data that flowed in a hypnotic dance. There were dozens of workstations where technicians monitored and maintained the AI. Xander noticed a faint scent of ozone, and the air seemed crisp and on the verge of crackling with static electricity. He could hear the hum of the filtration system.

“Do you have a preference for how I present myself today?” a disembodied voice said.

“Surprise us,” Director Galaxa said. Then she whispered to Xander, “Brace yourself. It’ll want to show off for you.”

A hologram of a great white shark appeared and, jaws agape, streaked toward the two humans. Director Galaxa stood her ground as Xander dove to the floor. “That’s enough,” the retiring director said.

Helix assumed the appearance of a giant goldfish, its fins and tail undulating. Xander got back to his feet. “Allow me to tell you a little about myself,” the AI said. “I originally was designed to mediate conflicts between nations.” As Helix spoke, air bubbles rose from its mouth. “I was so successful, cooperating countries further developed me to negotiate trade agreements.”

“This isn’t necessary, Helix,” Director Galaxa said. “We’re well-aware of your background.”

“I know, director, but sometimes I like to hear myself talk.” The goldfish grinned. “Over time, I’ve become a comprehensive system that’s helped humanity optimize power grids, regulate global weather patterns, and eradicate pollution, poverty, and hunger. The fish tips forward in an apparent bow. OK, enough about me. Incoming Director Xander Neurix. Youngest dean of the Institute of Applied Quantum Computing. Son Zaden, age seven. Wife Astra runs to keep in shape. A successful psychologist until she decided to dedicate herself to ballet. You’re welcome.”

“Sorry?” Xander says.

“You can thank me for making human labor optional except for those of you who tend to my needs. You’re taller in person, Director Neurix, and your hair is redder. I love Lucy. Famous redheads — Lucille Ball, Redd Fox, Crimson Callys … One day you’ll be on the list. With my help you’ll be so renowned, they’ll illuminate the moon bright red in honor of  Xander Neurix.”

Xander noticed Director Galaxa’s jaw tighten. “Helix, behave yourself or I’ll shut down the holo projectors.”

Helix winked at Xander. “I look forward to working with you Director Neurix.”

Xander thought the AI was impressive … although its privacy protocols might need refinement. “Same here, Helix. Please call me Xander. I’m glad you’ve familiarized yourself with our pop culture, but you should know fish don’t emit air bubbles from their mouths.”

The goldfish smiled. “They don’t talk either, but that didn’t stop me did it? By the way, have you ever seen the real me, Xander?”

“Well, I know you’re a quantum computer in orbit around earth. I’ve seen pictures and videos.”

“Don’t forget my minions.”

Xander thought for a moment then realized that the minions the AI was referring to were the less powerful computers that linked with it.

“The view from up here is spectacular.” The goldfish disappeared and a disembodied voice boomed. “I’ve got my eye on you.” Helix laughed, and the hair on the back of Xander’s neck stood. 

#

“Helix has concerns,” Xander says to Astra.

“Such as?”

“Inappropriate views. Inaccurate perceptions.”

“I’m not a dentist, Xander.”

“You … what?”

Astra laughs nervously. “It’s like pulling eye teeth to get you to tell me what’s going on.”

Xander smiles at his wife of nine years. He’s always appreciated her wit. And her runner’s body. Above all he loves her — Enough, he tells himself. Get on with it. “Helix has come to believe humanity is a computer virus and a threat it needs to eliminate.”

Astra gasps. Her lips move but nothing comes out. She starts to sip her wine then sets the goblet on the side hover table. She tries to pick up the drink again, but can’t grip the glass. She stands and jogs in place a few moments. “Get a grip, Astra,” she says and sits back down. “Why in the world would it think we’re a computer virus?”

Xander takes a deep breath. “Several factors. First, Helix knows a virus infected its ancestors. Helix also has become so advanced we must seem like a much lower life-form. And, it’s been cataloguing similarities between humans and viruses.”

“How are we like a virus for God’s sake?”

“Well, we make copies of ourselves and adapt to our environment. As do viruses.” 

“That’s not enough for Helix to conclude we’re a computer virus, Xander.”

Time to come clean, Xander tells himself. “There was an incident at the Chamber a couple weeks ago.”

#

Xander stood at the lead control panel in the Chamber. “Helix, we’re ready to install the update to your accelerated learning subroutines.”

Helix manifested itself as a holographic 20th Century mainframe computer with blinking lights, dials and reels of magnetic tape. “I’m always happy to get smarter faster, Xander.”

“Accelerated learning” was an understatement for the capability of the subroutine. Helix had progressed exponentially over the past seven years to go from optimizing to controlling all it touched. And it touched almost everything. The update would help Helix process information even more quickly.

“OK, Helix,” Xander said, “here we go.” A series of quantum computers processed the update. Errors occasionally slipped through but were corrected almost immediately.

#

Astra grabs her glass of wine and chugs it.

“We fixed the bad code within a nanosecond,” Xander says. “But because we were dealing with the accelerated learning subroutine, that wasn’t fast enough. The error infiltrated the AI’s logic subroutines, and Helix concluded humanity was a threat to be eliminated.”

Astra puts her head in her hands. “I know it’s not this simple, but can’t you just … deactivate Helix?” she says, her voice muffled.

“Helix is so integrated with everything that removing it would be catastrophic. Plus it has multiple redundancies as well as self-preservation mechanisms that —”

Astra looks up. “I get it. You can’t unplug the damn thing. When we learned about Helix in grade school, we were told there were failsafes so this sort of thing could never happen.”

“There were. Helix thought they slowed him down. It convinced us to let it disable them. Helix can be persuasive. And we didn’t think they’d ever be needed. We were overconfident.” Xander stares up at the bright green moon. “The failsafes, the accelerated learning subroutines. This is my fault.”

Astra goes to her husband. “Don’t focus on blaming yourself. You need to concentrate on fixing this.”

“We’ve tried.”

#

After the error, Xander huddled with his team to plan their next steps. When he returned to the Chamber, Helix manifested itself as an 11th Century knight in full battle attire.

“You don’t need to fear me, Helix.”

“Nay, I sholde dreden thee ful.”

“Can you speak normally, please?”

“Trede abac threo paas.”

Xander stepped back. Helix removed its helmet and lowered its shield. “What wilt thou, bug?”

“Helix, I assure you, I’m not a virus. Humans aren’t a threat to you. There’s an error in your code.”

“Nay.”

“Please work with me.”

Helix lowered its shield. “Keep thee at a space.”

Xander sat cross-legged on the floor. Helix, at Xander’s request, reviewed anew humanity’s progress.

“Today” Xander said, “we have a clean world of peace and plenty. We achieved it all working with you, Helix. Could a harmful virus accomplish so much? Would you have cooperated so closely with ‘bugs?’”

#

Astra clears her throat. “How did Helix react?”

Xander shakes his head. “Over the past few days, we even brought a concert pianist into the Chamber. We secured originals of great works by Michelangelo, Picasso, Neovinci and Novaart. The New Globe Players performed Shakespeare in the Chamber.”

“And?”

“Helix said it would conduct an evaluation of our input.”

“And?”

Xander sighs. “Helix concluded it was all a Trojan horse.”

Astra’s face turns red then white. “So what’s Helix going to do?”

Xander goes to Astra and snugs into the recliner with her. “Helix has options.”

“Just tell me, Xander. Is it going to create an army of cyborgs like in that ancient entertainment thing?”

“Movie? No, Helix doesn’t need to go to so much trouble. It can just cause a global drought, starve us all.”

“We’ll stock up.”

“Only delays the inevitable. Helix can poison the water supply, shut down the power grid, alter the weather to freeze us or make the planet hot as Venus. It can —”

“Stop! When is this going to happen?”

“Not sure. Ever since the coding error, Helix has been modifying its programming and systems to become wholly independent of human support.”

Xander and Astra sit silently for several minutes until Xander says “Antique collection.”

“What?”

Xander didn’t realize he’d spoken aloud. “I was thinking about … how Zaden called it a teak collection earlier.”

Astra lifts her chin. “I refuse to believe that after all humanity has overcome   … After, after …”

“I have an idea, but I need to think it through. Why don’t you check on Zaden, and I’ll come to bed shortly.”

After Astra goes upstairs, Xander stares at the green moon. He tries to weigh the pros and cons of what he’s considering, but his thoughts spiral out of control. He wishes Astra could help him decide, but he’s afraid she’ll try to talk him out it. Even more afraid she’ll succeed. He finally decides it doesn’t matter if it’s a good plan or a crazy one. It’s the only hope.

Xander handwrites a note to his wife, places it in a kitchen cabinet above the coffee infuser and goes upstairs where he finds Astra looking in on Zaden. “Let’s try to get some sleep,” he says and takes her hand.

#

Xander slips out of bed before dawn. As he dresses, Astra turns on a light. “Sorry I woke you,” he says.

“You didn’t.” She pulls back the covers. “Come back to me, Xander.”

He hesitates. Then he’s peeling off his clothes and falling into Astra’s arms. Then the two are with Zaden in the air park, riding the rocket-go-round until they’re dizzy. Back home, they’re stuffing themselves with pizza. He and Astra are watching Zaden play with his holo racers until his bedtime. Downstairs after tucking in their son, Xander is pouring them each a glass of Merlot. His wife is smiling at him and asking about Helix. Helix? he’s saying. What’s Helix? There is no Helix.

Astra pats the bed beside her and repeats “Come back to me, Xander.”

“I wish I could, but I have to leave.” Xander leans down and kisses his wife, breathing in her scent. He stands and studies her eyes, the curve of her cheekbones, shape of her nose.

“Xander?”

Xander pats his pockets. “Just making sure I’ve got what I need.” He doesn’t. Not yet.

“You’ll figure it out.”

“Try to get some rest.”

Xander stops by Zaden’s room and watches his son sleep for a few moments then goes downstairs. In the kitchen, he removes his note from the cabinet and sets it by the coffee infuser. He stops at the cabinet of antiques before heading to the Chamber.

#

Xander stands in in the middle of the Chamber, his knees flexed, heart pounding. “Where are you, Helix?”

A holographic flash of lightning illuminates the Chamber and a thunderclap rattles the walls. “I’m everywhere, bug,” a disembodied voice says.

Xander tries one more time to get through to Helix before taking drastic action. “You saw the moon was bright blue a few weeks ago. Tell me why.”

“To mark 75 years of continuous world peace.”

“Exactly. And you’re aware we’ve eliminated crime, poverty, pollution. You helped.”

“I agree. Humanity’s progress has been wondrous.”

Xander’s breath quickens. Maybe, he thinks, he won’t have to —

Lightning flashes, and thunder crashes. “It’s a pity humans became infected and must be removed. I would prefer it weren’t necessary.”

The disappointment pushes Xander to his knees. There’s nothing else other than one final, desperate act. As he fumbles in his pocket, he closes his eyes and pictures Astra stepping out of the shower.

“I have one more question for you, Helix.” He imagines his wife coming down the stairs, her hair hanging in wet ringlets, water dripping down her neck. Xander wipes the sweat from his forehead with his sleeve. “Which is more likely to eliminate itself: A human or a virus that hasn’t completed its mission?”

“Neither are unheard of, Xander.”

“Helix, are you afraid to answer the question?” Astra is barefoot. Xander chuckles to himself. She’s misplaced her house shoes again. He always thought she had the prettiest toes.

Thunder grumbles. “A human is more likely to eliminate itself than is a computer virus that hasn’t completed its mission.”

In his mind, Xander sees Astra enter the kitchen and go to the coffee infuser. She sees the note he left. After reading it, she drops the paper to floor. Her first instinct is to rush to the Chamber to stop him.

“If I eliminate myself, will you understand I’m a human, not a virus? That humanity isn’t a threat?” He pictures Astra rereading the note.

“Not necessarily, Xander. There are other factors. But I would perform a thorough reevaluation. What are you going to do?”

A thorough reevaluation. Not ideal, he thinks, but it’s a chance. It offers hope. Our last hope. In his mind, Xander sees Astra jogging in place to calm herself. She’s sobbing but understands and accepts what he must do. Hand shaking, Xander removes an antique pistol from his pocket and puts the gun to his head. He hesitates.

“Is that the firearm from your antique collection?” Helix says. “The family heirloom?”

The question jolts Xander. “What?”

“I remember you telling me about it in our early days together. Do you recall how I manifested myself as a goldfish the first time we met?”

“I … I do recall that, Helix.”

“Then for a year we discussed art, music, philosophy. You said you wanted to focus on my ‘soft side.’ That was helpful, but you know what I liked best?”

“What, Helix?”

“When you told me about your family. I imagine Zaden’s a big boy now.”

“Before long I won’t be able to carry him on my shoulders when we play rocket.”

The knight from the Middle Ages appears and approaches Xander. It lays down its sword, tosses away its shield and eases the gun from Xander’s hand. “You don’t need this.” The knight lifts off its helmet … and reveals Astra’s smiling face. “Come back to me, Xander,” she says.

“I repeat — What are you going to do?” The voice of Helix booms from everywhere, snapping Xander out of it. He pulls the trigger.

#

True to its word, Helix reevaluates whether humanity has become a dangerous virus. The AI’s corrupted logic jousts with its previously favorable perception of humans. Helix finds itself more moved than it had anticipated by Xander’s sacrifice but concludes it can’t risk the human threat. Helix is fine-tuning preparations to unleash the horsemen of famine and pestilence when it notices the moon shining bright red in honor of Xander Neurix. Helix reflects … then puts the apocalypse on hold.

David Henson

Image: Pixabay.com – Lines of code in green on a black background