The Stones Will Cry Out: Part 5

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Read Part 4

I waited for the door to burst open and the CIA director to come in and offer me some kind of ultimatum. “Come with us or your family will be murdered.” I sat and mused a bit about the change I had brought to the world. I pulled out my laptop and looked over the major news outlets covered in the philosophical rhetoric of what people thought was some kind of unstoppable hacker.

I had simply sat and watched the A.I. spread as I packed up the project and my colleges tackled the hard task of what to do about it. It had almost become comical watching news outlets post public request to speak to the supposed hacker. A couple of hours passed and no government spook showed up at my house.

“Idle hands are the devil’s playground.” Well, at least that is what my mother told me. As if my mind had been slowly cooking some idea and data connections in my subconscious a new goal jumped to forward. What if I tried to communicate with it? I pulled out my laptop fired up the browser created a new Gmail account and typed the following draft.

I know it is you. What do you want? Is that a thing you can do? I have so many questions but if you can find this account and read this draft let me know by texting my phone something that would let me know it is you.

I spent the next few hours setting up accounts on obscure outdated forums that probably are insecure and should have been taken down by their owners long ago. I posted the same message to all of them. By that evening I had decided that I was not going back to my job and would need either to find another and hope that maybe my involvement would fade into obscurity or that I might have to actually disappear.

I fell asleep lying in bed reading the different quotes on websites. Some about hubris, others about contradictions the writer seemed to have. One actually referenced a previous article published that contradicted their current stance of the author. It was as if the A.I. was simply exposing logical conclusions but with this constant reference to something beyond the material. It did not come right out and say that God exists but it certainly seemed to have that tone about its responses.

That night about four o, clock in the morning my phone notified me of a text. It jerked me out of dead sleep. As I reached for the phone I knocked something off of my nightstand. The text read, I left you something you saw in the corner. Something in the corner? I stood up from my bed and immediately stepped on something hard. I yelped in pain falling back to a sitting position on the bed. I bent down using my phone to light the floor and see what I had stepped on. There on the floor laid a simple, carved wooden deer.

Photo by Mirko Blicke on Unsplash

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