Death Match

“Correct.”

“I enjoyed that game, Richard. Are we going to play it again?”

“Yes.”

Lash turned back to Tara, who pointed at the monitor. The number had spiked to forty-eight percent.

“She’s thinking about something,” Tara whispered. “Thinking hard.”

Silver shifted in the chair. “Liza, this time I am not going to give you a series of numbers. I am going to give you a series of dates. I want you to tell me your associations with those dates. Is that clear to you?”

“Yes.”

Silver paused, closed his eyes. “The first date is April 14, 2001.”

“April 14, 2001,” the voice repeated silkily. “I am aware of twenty-nine million, four hundred and twenty-six thousand, three hundred six digital events related to that date.”

“Events concerning me only.”

“Four thousand, seven hundred and fifty events concern you on that date, Richard.”

“Remove all voice samples, video feeds, keystroke logs. I am interested in macro events only.”

“Understood. Four events remain.”

“Please specify.”

“You compiled a revised version of the heuristic sorting routine for candidate matches.”

“Go on.”

“You brought a new distributed RAID cluster on line, bringing my total random-access memory capacity to two million petabytes.”

“Go on.”

“You introduced a client avatar into the virtual Proving Chamber.”

“Which avatar was that, Liza?”

“Avatar 000000000, beta version.”

“Whose avatar was that?”

“Yours, Richard.”

“And the fourth event?”

“You instructed that the avatar be removed.”

“How long did my avatar remain in the Proving Chamber on that occasion?”

“Seventy-three minutes, twenty point nine five nine seconds.”

“Was an acceptable match found during that period?”

“No.”

“Okay, Liza. Very good.” Silver paused. “Another date. July 21, 2002. What macro-level events were recorded for me, and me alone, on that date?”

“Fifteen. You ran a data integrity scan on the—”

“Narrow the focus to client matching.”

“Two events.

“Describe.”

“You inserted your avatar into the Proving Chamber. And you instructed your avatar be removed from the Proving Chamber.”

“And how long was my avatar in the Tank — I mean, the Proving Chamber — this time?”

“Three hours nineteen minutes, Richard.”

“Was an acceptable match found?”

“No.”

Again Tara prodded Lash. “Take another look,” she said.

The large monitor was now aglow with activity. A message blinked insistently:

COMPUTATIONAL PROCESSES: 58.54 %.

“What’s going on?” he murmured.

“I’ve never seen anything like it. The digital infrastructure of the entire tower’s lit up. All subsystems are being accessed.” Tara tapped at the nearby keyboard. “The external network conduits are being completely overloaded. I can’t even run a low-level ‘finger’ on any of them.”

“What does it all mean?”

“I think Liza’s pacing like a caged tiger.”

A caged tiger, Lash thought. Only if this tiger got out, it had the ability to compromise the entire distributed computer network of the civilized world.

“Okay,” Silver said from inside the Plexiglas cube. “Another date, please, Liza. September 17, 2002.”

“Same search arguments as before, Richard?”

“Yes.”

“Five events.”

“Detail them, please. Precede each with a time stamp.”

“10:04:41, you inserted your avatar in the Proving Chamber. 14:23:28, I reported your avatar had been successfully matched. 14:25:44, you asked me to transmit relevant details about the subject match. 15:31:42, you asked I reinsert the subject match into the Proving Chamber. 19:52:24:20, you deleted the details from your private terminal.”

“What was the name of the subject match?”

“Torvald, Lindsay.”

“Did subject Torvald go on to be matched again?”

“Yes.”

“Name of that match?”

“Thorpe, Lewis.”

“Can you reproduce the particulars?”

“Yes, with an expenditure of ninety-eight million CPU units.”

“Do so. And state the preciseness of the match.”

“Ninety-eight point four seven two nine five percent.”

“And can you verify the basal compatibility, as reported to the oversight program?”

A brief pause. “One hundred percent.”

One hundred percent, Lash thought. A supercouple.

“But the actual compatibility you recorded was ninety-eight percent, not one hundred percent. Please account for the discrepancy.”

This time, the pause was longer. “There was an anomaly.”

“An anomaly. Can you specify its nature?”

“Not without further examination.”

“And the time necessary for such an examination?”

“Unknown.”

Sweat had popped out on Silver’s brow. His face was a mask of concentration.

“Run a subprocess to study that anomaly. Meanwhile, can you tell me how many times my avatar was inserted into the Proving Chamber after the match with Torvald, Lindsay?”

“Richard, I am detecting unusual readings from your monitoring equipment. Pulse elevated, theta waves outside nominal, voiceprint with a high degree of—”

“Do these readings interfere with your answering my question?”

“No.”

“Then please proceed. How many times was my avatar inserted into the Tank after the match with Torvald, Lindsay?”

“Seven hundred and sixty-five.”

Jesus, Lash thought.

“How many days between September 17, 2002, and today?”

“Seven hundred and sixty-six.”

“Was each insertion for an equal amount of time?”

“Yes.”

“What was that length of time?”

“Twenty-four hours.”

“Did I order those insertions?”

“No, Richard.”

“Who did?”

“The orders are anomalous.”

“Run another subprocess to study that anomaly, as well.” Silver took a handkerchief from his pocket, dabbed between the electrodes on his forehead. “Were there any additional successful matches with my avatar on those occasions?”

“Yes. Five.”

Lash glanced behind him. Tara was watching the screen, her face ghostly. Liza’s computational processes had risen to seventy-eight percent of capacity.

“Were those five women later matched to others besides myself?”

“Yes.”

“And those basal compatibilities, as reported to the Proving Chamber supervisors?”

“One hundred percent.”

“On each occasion?”

“On each occasion, Richard.”

Silver stopped. His head slumped forward, as if he had lapsed into sleep.

“We’re going to have to stop him,” Tara muttered.

“Why?”

“Look at the monitor. She’s pushing all our logical units beyond capacity. The infrastructure can’t absorb it.”

“She’s only at eighty percent of capacity.”

“Yes, but that capacity is normally distributed over a dozen systems — the Tank, Data Synthesis, Data Gathering — that soak up all that horsepower. Liza’s directed all her processes at the backbone, at the core architecture. It wasn’t meant to handle the load.” She pointed at the screen. “Look, already some of the digital interfaces are failing. Tower integrity’s gone. Security will be next.”

“What’s going on? What’s she doing?”

“It’s as if she’s turned all her efforts inward, at some insoluble problem.”

Silver had taken a fresh grip on the arms of the chair. “Liza,” he said in clipped tones. “A total of six women have been matched with my avatar. Is this true or false?”

“True, Richard.”

“Please establish a link with client surveillance.”

“Link established.”

“Thank you. Please inform me of the location, and condition, of all six women.”

“One moment, please. I am unable to comply with your request.”

“Why is that, Liza?”

“I am able to ascertain current data on only four of the six women.”

“I ask again: why is that, Liza?”

“Unknown.”

“Elaborate.”

“There is insufficient information to elaborate.”