Alpha1

“The rain hasn’t stopped since the machines took control”

Jeremy heard the voice through the lab door as he passed and stopped. Perhaps he had misheard.

“It hasn’t stopped at all?”

He recognized Peter’s voice asking the question, one of the lab techs recently pulled in from the field. The other he knew was John, the lead tech. The two men had worked together almost inseparably since Peter had arrived; the older man having taken a keen interest in mentoring his younger colleague.

“Not once.” he heard John confirm. “It’s been a month now since we rewrote the base code and optimized that automation subroutine on the watering system out at Alpha1, and according to the data we got back this morning, it has rained continuously since then.”

“Hmmm” Peter said quietly, considering the data.

“No Peter. . . more like ‘SHIT!’.” John corrected him.

Shit indeed, thought Jeremy, opening the door to the lab and stepping through.

“Ahhh, should have known the boss would stick his nose in at the first whiff of trouble!” John smiled at him as the two lab techs turned their heads to see who had intruded in on their conversation. Peter may have been new to the group, but John and Jeremy had been friends a very long time. All the way back to earth in fact, where they had trained together before the IO mission had departed. They’d first met when John was assigned to the NASA barracks for the initial training. They’d shared cramped quarters, long months of isolation, hunger, and a great deal of physical discomfort together. During the little downtime they’d been afforded, they had shared their families as well. Their wives had become the best of friends, leaning on each other throughout their husband’s protracted absences, relying on each other's strength. And now that the men were here, on this small, icy moon, millions of miles away and years from being able to return, Jeremy was glad to know that the women had each other to lean on.

Jeremy acknowledged the lead tech with a curt nod as he entered, but did not return the smile. “If what I heard is true my friend, then I think pleasantries may be over for the day.”

John sobered up a bit at the tacit admonition, he knew the ramifications here as well as Jeremy. “No, you are right,” he said, “and sadly I did not misspeak. We got the final data back from the site this morning, I even had my assistant go back out there and double check it to be sure. She ran a full suite of diagnostics while on site as well to rule out any issues with the equipment. The readings are accurate boss. One month of solid rain ever since we updated the site.” As he spoke, John grabbed a large stack of reports from a desk beside him, walked over to the far end of the room and began spreading them out across the conference table there.

“Rain, Jeremy.” He repeated, pointing to the rows and rows of data laid out before them.

Jeremy skimmed over the report pages quickly. They had studied these sites for almost two years now, built them when they first arrived, designed the automation and the software, and written the programming that ran them. He knew what he was looking at, and more importantly, what he was looking for, and John’s conclusions were spot on. There had been a month of nonstop rain at site Alpha1.

“Jurassic Park.” Jeremy mumbled, after a few minutes of silent consideration.

“Bullshit Jer” John shot back, staring across the table at him “I just don’t buy that, and you know it. Even if I were to accept your premise on Zaxxon, this just isn’t the same damn thing.” The two men stared at each for a moment, as if weighing the others commitment to their belief on this.

Determined to make his point, John became animated, walking around the table and pointing out key points of data on various pages as he spoke. “Look!" He exclaimed. “Here, here, and . . and . . here! Anomalies Jeremy, random patterns of behavior; misting spigots turned off for a few hours at site Alpha3 four months ago, sharp but temporary rise in heat at Beta2 six months ago, Beta7 and Beta9 going dark for most of a day almost a year ago. And there are a myriad of others if I go back for the two years we’ve been here. None of which ever amounted to anything other than what they were, troublesome, random missed logic in the code. Ghosts Jeremy, unpredictable behavior from code we did not, could not foresee the implications of. Nothing more. It can’t be, given every precaution we have taken, it simply isn’t possible!”

“I know John, I know. And I agree, it shouldn’t be possible, but it is raining at Alpha1 man, RAINING!”

Peter looked back and forth between the two men for a moment, lost. “Jurassic Park? Raining? I’m not sure I follow guys.” he finally said hoping to prompt one or the other into an explanation.

Jeremy sighed heavily and turned toward the younger man. “In the movie, when they first find out that the dinosaurs have managed to reproduce, Ian says ‘Life finds a way’”. He said, “He was addressing the inherent nature of biology and its ever-present drive to exist.”

“It has always been Mr. Boss man’s belief here that a sufficiently emergent AI will exhibit similar behavior.” John interjected, “That as it approaches true sentience, it will begin to exhibit human like qualities, a sense of self-worth, free will, and ultimately a drive for self-preservation.”

“Right.” Jeremy acceded, “And there will be a moment, like there was on earth, that we will only look back on and recognize later, where the AI simply ‘finds a way’ and furthers its own existence in defiance of every safeguard and protection we have employed.”

“Self-awareness." Peter whispered.

“Self-awareness.” Jeremy echoed back at him.

John slapped his hand on the table loudly, startling them both. "Bullshit, Jeremy!” He almost shouted. “I’ll give you Zaxxon. It is hard to argue that devastation on earth, hell it is the whole reason we are here orbiting Jupiter on this god forsaken, noxious, sulphur laden rock. But that took many, many years, to happen, and that AI had the unbridled resources of the entire interconnected planet to draw on. Sure, we should have seen it long before it launched the first nuke, should have reacted differently the first time it refused to be powered down, and millions of lives were lost because of our short sightedness. But even you have to admit those indicating events were much more clear and severe. There is nothing here that even hints at that. It’s just rain for god's sake!”

“But last time it was ‘just’ as well John. First it was ‘just’ some random data centers that lost sight of a few hundred packets of data here and there, then ‘just’ a few cities with flickering brown outs while they adjusted to the increased energy demands of implementing government mandated AI oversight, then a blip in the North American power grid that lasted only slightly longer than it should have. Random ‘ghosts’, just unexpected behavior due to unforeseen circumstances surrounding the worldwide adaptation of an evolving technology.” Jeremy sighed again. “We both know the arguments all too well John.”

Jeremy began shuffling the reports on the conference table as he continued, returning them again to one neat stack. “But then it became small countries shutting down entirely, which we wrote off to antiquated power grids. Continents went dark, but they were made up of largely 3^rd world countries we reasoned. It wasn’t until the Pentagon got locked out of its own defense system that we began to take it seriously, and by then it was far too late. We all watched those first nukes fly from Washington, Moscow and Beijing simultaneously. And when the military finally broke through and tried to power Zaxxon down the first time, we all had an idea of how badly that was going to end.”

He looked at his friend almost pleadingly, “It can never ‘just’ be rain again John. Never.”

“Bullshit.” John answered simply. He walked meaningfully toward the center of the room, letting his arms sweep out and take in all the equipment surrounding them. “Look at this place Jer, look what we have done here! Every machine we use, the precious few we allow ourselves, is hardwired to the next. We’ve destroyed every wireless card, stripped every peripheral down to its most basic operating system, robbing it of any ability to communicate beyond its own wiring. Every doorway is covered in degaussing tech that will instantly destroy any device that leaves the room, not to mention faraday cages that cover every room in every building. And the software is little more than rudimentary, barely functional in some cases. We manually visit the sites to update software or take reports, we do nothing over communication lines of any kind, other than our suit comms, which are little more than walkie talkies.”

“And let’s not forget the ship, Jeremy.” He emphasized, striding back toward the two other men and pointing his finger accusingly in his boss's face. “The sacrifices we made, the lives lost on that trip here. All because we insisted on stripping the ship of any automation, destroying any communication conduit, and doing every single thing manually that was humanly possible. Lives Jeremy, friends, colleagues who sacrificed themselves on the altar of minimalism, a minimalism you advocated for I might add, all to protect the rest of us from any chance of that thing stowing a part of itself away in some little used tech droid, or hiding in the unused memory of some critical system.”

John dropped his gaze. “Hell Jeremy, I haven’t spoken to my wife or kid in four years now, and I’ve got another five before I can start the trip home.”

“Ghosts Jeremy, randomness . . . just . . . rain. It has to be.”

Jeremy placed his hand gently on his friend’s shoulder. “I know John, I miss Marcie too, almost more than I can bear sometimes. Destroying that communication equipment right after we left was one of the hardest things I have ever done, and you know well the price I paid for making that decision. Your commitment to this installation, and to our friendship in spite of all of it is something I respect and admire. I recognize your work here John, I truly do. We have been at this together since the very beginning. And I know the redundant safeguards you have built here. All those you mentioned would be enough for any normal installation, and yet every room in every building is air gapped from the next, each floor air gapped from the one below and above, completely unable to communicate or contact anything outside what it is intentionally hardwired to. Every building is air gapped from the others, and to say that we are air gapped from earth is a cosmic understatement.” Jeremy patted his friend’s shoulder and then began to gather the remainder of the report documents and place them in a large bag as he continued. “Every site is fifty or more miles apart, completely isolated from anything else. We destroyed the ship as well, with great precision in fact, burning and melting every last component into a heap of useless metal, and burying it deep beneath the ice.”

He sighed again. “And yet here we are. It is raining at Alpha1.” He placed the bag under his arm that now contained the full reporting on the aberrant site and then looked up at John suddenly, an idea clearly alarming him.

“This IS it isn’t it? Tell me we did not update other sites or get in other reports!”

“Of course not Jeremy, you know me better than that.” John assured him. “I know the protocols, one update, one site, and test till the proverbial cows catch the next ship out from earth and come home.” he smiled weakly, “Alpha1 is still under increased isolation standards, and still being vetted. There is no contamination.”

Jeremy gave an obvious sigh of relief and began to turn toward the door.

But then Peter coughed slightly, having listened carefully to the conversation between the older tech and his boss, he found that he still did not fully understand, and he did not want to miss the chance to grasp what was clearly so important here. “Excuse me,” he said softly, “but I still don’t fully get it. So, we updated the software on one machine at one site, and it is raining there inside the dome. It is just rain, and maybe even just a random bit of rouge code that spawned it, why is it so critical?’

Jeremy stopped and turned back to the young man, smiling sadly. “What machines did you update?” he asked.

“Only the watering system”

“And what exactly did you update?”

“Well, we improved the algorithms for monitoring the plants health and increased the sensitivity of some of its sensors. This allows it to better optimize the misting and irrigation systems. We also gave it the ability to interact with some of the other systems it is connected to. It can now work with the temperature control system, as well as the lighting systems directly to produce a better overall outcome for the plant life there. Our testing showed a significant improvement in the longevity and overall health of the plants under this new set of heuristics.”

Jeremy understood the young man’s pride in his work and hated being the one who had to ruin it. “So, Peter," he asked him reluctantly, “when did you teach the watering system what climate is, or about rain?”

“Well . . . I, we didn’t really . . .” he trailed off helplessly,

“Exactly Peter. And when did you teach it how to use the other devices in the site to create an artificial environment?”

The young man’s eyes began to widen.

“It came from somewhere. That machine picked it up from somewhere. And worse than that Peter, it adapted in response to that new knowledge and its new capabilities. It completely broke free of anything that it was programmed to do, leveraged its new knowledge to make a decision independent of its programming, and coordinated with other machines to architect a unique, and at least on this moon, unheard of solution.”

“Shit.” Peter murmured.

“Yeah, we are back to that again. Shit indeed.” Jeremy responded

“Grab your gear and meet me up near the sleds in ten minutes John.” Jeremy instructed. “The entire site has to go.” He held up his hand to ward off John’s expected disagreement. “I heard you; I really did. But ghost or not, we simply cannot risk this, and it is my decision to make.” The look he fixed the two junior techs with told them that there would be no further debate on this issue.

Jeremy started toward the door and then hesitated. This might be a good place for a younger pair of eyes as well, if not for advice, at least for observation and posterity. “Might as well come too Peter.” He said back over his shoulder. “Ten minutes tops, at the sleds.” And then he was out the door.

Down the hall and the first left, past the mess hall and then the lifts. One floor down to the living quarters and then right to the first junction, and right again, to the end of the hallway. He had travelled this path so many times he could do it in his sleep. From his quarters to the lab and back. That had been most of his life for the last two years, work and sleep, sleep and work. At times it almost seemed that the two had become interchangeable, and he had little time now for it to be anything more than that. Jeremy grabbed the thermal gear from his small room and then headed back out the door and down the hall turning right this time. Up a small side staircase, and through a locked door marked “Munitions”. He grabbed another small bag, then went to one of the locked cabinets. Opening it carefully, he retrieved a half dozen thermite grenades, they would have to do for now. He would oversee the destruction of the equipment personally, checking the site afterwards for any residual output, and then call in a full-fledged demo crew afterwards to wipe it out completely and bury it under a ton of IO’s rocky terrain.

Having made his decision on the matter, there was really little thinking involved at this point. It simply needed to be done.

He relocked the cabinet, and the door to the room behind him, then headed toward the rover bay two floors up at ground level.

John and Peter were already there when he arrived, donning their suits, their thermal gear on underneath to protect against IO’s freezing climate. Jeremy joined them silently, as the three men got ready to journey out onto the moon’s surface. Once fully suited up, they checked each other’s gear for proper seals or any abrasions and then climbed into the nearest sled. Jeremy handed the report bag to Peter to hold, carefully setting the grenade bag into a container beside him, while John fired up the sled.

“Go over that for me Peter.” He told the younger man, “Spend these next couple of hours we have together finding me a reason not to do this.”

The ground level bay was full of several types of equipment they could have used, rovers, manually cranked carts, other items for traversing the rocky, sometimes unstable terrain of IO, but the bio sites were many miles apart, Alpha1 specifically being about 120 miles from the main base. It would take them days to get there by slower means. The sleds on the other hand were rocket propelled, utilizing a series of tracks that they had built as they located and erected each site over the years. A network of crisscrossing metal that covered the landscape like a lattice. They would arrive at the site in a matter of a couple of hours.

John finished initializing the sleds mechanics, and cycling the inner airlocks, then looked over at his boss briefly, as if hoping they might yet return to the lab and avoid this. But Jeremy motioned him on, and with a reluctant sigh, John pushed the now glowing button on the main console, and the sled lurched to life beneath them.

The two-hour trip passed far more quickly than Jeremy would have thought and gave him less than the time he had hoped for. The men did not speak, each lost in their own thoughts, Peter frantically leafing through the pages of the large report, but without much hope. The alien landscape passing them in each side was barely noticed, years on this moon had given it a forgetful familiarity. And the sled and track did the work of travelling for them, no need to pay it attention. In what seemed like no time at all, they were at the site of Alpha1, the first site ever erected on IO.

The men disembarked from the sled as it powered itself down and beheld for the first time with their own eyes the phenomenon that should be routine to them, and yet in this setting, struck them with awe and no little amount of fear.

Rain.

The clear glass dome around the site was covered in ice, condensation that had frozen in place as it formed. And as they approached more closely, the men could see the rain itself inside, falling gently throughout the structure. Amazingly, small clouds had formed at the top of the dome, and the large light that sourced much of the heat energy for the plants in the biome was slightly obscured, mocking them, as though it were mimicking a partially sunny day back home on earth. The image was haunting, full of longing and fear at the same time. It was both a reminder of all that they had lost, and a cautionary tale of how close they were to losing it again. But as beautiful and fearful as it was, there was little time to consider it. Jeremy felt a growing need to end this quickly, before it had a chance to spread itself . . . or his will gave way. Neither was an acceptable outcome.

He looked at Peter purposefully, hoping the young may have found something that they had not, but he just shook his head briefly. There would be no respite there.

So, Jeremy did not give the other two men time to think, but barked orders at them over the comms in their suits. He gave each two of the grenades and gave them explicit instructions on where to place them, and how to set the timers. John started to protest but was silenced unceremoniously by his friend. This was too important to debate further.

The men made their way to the main entrance and cycled themselves through the double airlocks. Once inside they moved straight to their instructed locations, placed the thermite grenades, and set the timers for 45 minutes as instructed. All without a word.

They exited the dome as they had entered it, made their way back to the sled and rode it in silence out about a mile from the site.

And then they watched . . . and waited, preparing themselves to silently witness the destruction of the first of their dreams in this place. The first site, their first triumph, and now they would also be the authors of its demise.

It did not take long, soon the small canyon they were in erupted in a series of large explosions, each one capable of having taken out about half the Alpha1 site on its own. But Jeremy had wanted to be sure. He owed it to those millions on earth who had perished when Zaxxon had gone fully rouge, to those many who had died on the trip to IO, and many similar trips like it to Europa, Callisto and others, men and woman who had given their lives to help the last of human kind someday escape a planet almost destroyed by an AI who had decided that it’s best means of protecting humanity was to reduce its numbers by billions.

They watched the eruptions, and the secondary explosions ebb and then subside completely. Then they measured. The sled was equipped with gear capable of detecting communications, electronics and a myriad of other things both tangible and not, over a fifty-mile radius. This tech had been a large part of the initial planning of the sites themselves, assuring that nothing overlapped, nothing could talk to one another or even see one another, visually or otherwise. They measured for the better part of an hour, over and over again. They must be sure.

But there was nothing, not the slightest hint of anything alive, biological, electronic, radio frequency, heat signature, or anything else they could think to measure. Simply nothing.

They finally documented it as protocol required of them, but also to mark their own grief. December 22, 2054, at 4:55 PM, IO site Alpha1 was officially destroyed. After twenty months of continuous operation, millions of dollars in time and equipment, and numerous lives spent to bring about its existence, it was just gone. It was no more.

And so, Jeremy, John and Peter, finally convinced that they had done all that they could, set out to return to base.

The silence continued as their sled carried them homeward, their decision weighing heavily on them all. The years of work, the lives given to achieve everything here seemed . . . diminished somehow in Alpha1’s destruction. Yet they felt to a man that they had little choice, it had to be done. Whether it was just a ghost in the machine or something seeking to “find a way” didn’t really matter in the end. Protecting all that they had accomplished, and all that they were as a people was all that really mattered. And they had done what was required of them to assure that.

They were about ten minutes out from base, just having crossed into radio frequency range, when Jeremy’s external comm started to chatter. He clicked the mic to answer, and the other two men could see him speaking, a look of sullen horror growing on his face. John’s comm chirped a moment later, and he too seemed to all but collapse under the weight of what he was hearing. The men looked almost stricken as they alternately completed their conversations, turned off their external comms and looked at each other. Hesitantly, unbelievingly, they spoke into their suit mics.

“That was the eastern base” Jeremy said, “two sites there.”

“Three sites in the west” John managed to choke out in response.

Peter looked back and forth between the two older men, neither able to complete the thought. But the words need not be spoken aloud to be felt. They had become inevitability itself.

And perhaps it was fate that the youngest among them, the sole representative of the next generation, the one that would bear the fullest brunt of its import be the one to give it voice.

“It’s raining” he finally whispered for them all.