Invisible Symbiosis: An Artificial Intelligence Thriller

  Invisible Symbiosis

  Folco Chevallier

  Translated by Kristen Gehrman

  Copyright 2016 Folco Chevallier

  APOLLO NEW MEDIA

  All Rights Reserved

  “ It is only with the heart that one can see rightly; what is essential is invisible to the eye.”

  ― Antoine de Saint-Exupéry, The Little Prince

  PROLOGUE

  Awakening

  I open my eyes and the scene unfolding before me instantly floods my senses.

  It’s dark.

  The city towers in front of me, illuminated with thousands of lights. A diamond set in gold, one might say. I can just barely make out a mountain in the background, its silhouette cut out in the moonlight.

  The sparkling city seems close enough to touch, but there is a bay roaring between us.

  The sea.

  The tide is ruthless. Waves hammer down in a cry of pain, hurling their spray up at me, but I am too high up.

  I gaze at my left hand desperately clutching a metal cable, then to my feet standing on a metal beam an inch or so thick.

  My heart is pounding 170 beats per minute.

  I don’t know how I know it, but I do.

  Like I know that the city before me is San Francisco.

  And that the metal beam is the edge of the Golden Gate Bridge, 220 feet high.

  The wind surges. I clamp my hands tighter, but I won’t be able to hold on for very long.

  By now, I am beyond reason. I don’t even look for a way back down.

  I don’t even know how I got here.

  Am I afraid?

  The whole scene is so unreal that I could have dreamt it.

  But the gusts slapping my face are so hard and so real.

  I could think of everything that I am going to lose if I die like this. But no face or name comes to mind.

  “Come with us…” the waves seem to whisper from below.

  “Don’t be afraid,” says the moon.

  “Just one step forward,” the city nudges.

  Ever so gently, I release my fingers.

  And give myself to the wind.

  First Stop

  They were calling for a snowstorm in New York that night.

  By 5 o’clock, most New Yorkers had gone home and the streets were unusually quiet as the first flakes fell innocently to the ground.

  It would really be piling up by nightfall. In a few hours, a blanket of snow would cover the streets and apartment buildings. The temperature would drop by over 25 degrees.

  Resident of the city that never sleeps for over 10 years, Laura Della knew it. But tonight she absolutely had to get to Brooklyn to meet up with someone extremely important she had promised to visit. She had no choice. Breaking her promise was not an option.

  She was late. As she scrambled to collect her things to leave her SoHo apartment, she felt a strange feverishness come over her.

  Since that morning, the day’s events seemed to be conspiring to make her late. First, there was the rookie cab driver who got lost three times. Then, the shots that she had to retake more than 20 times. And then another new cab driver who got lost twice taking her home. Something must be up!

  Since the start of the day, she had wasted so much time and now all of the subway lines were closed in preparation for the storm. Walking to Brooklyn was out of the question, she would have to take a cab.

  “Should I risk hailing a third rookie?”

  The thought made her smile and cringe at the same time.

  “No time to lose, I got to go.”

  Laura locked the door behind her and bounded down the stairs two at a time, heading for Broadway.

  Outside the temperature had dropped dramatically and the air was strangely pure. Thick snowflakes were falling now, faster and faster it seemed.

  Not a soul left on the street.

  No cars.

  Laura felt her heart shudder.

  She had made a promise. She couldn’t turn back now.

  She intended to head up Broadway to 14th Street. She knew that she would probably have more luck at this intersection than in the Village. For ten minutes she walked alone up the Avenue. At a certain moment, she thought she saw someone approaching, but it was only a streetlamp veiled in the curtain of snow hurling down from the sky.

  As she pressed onward, she felt her chances of making it slipping away. But she didn’t want to give up. Life had taught her all too well that even the most unlikely was always possible, regardless of the situation.

  The signal was received 5 to 5.

  Two headlights cut through the darkness and Laura threw her hand in the air.

  The taxi pulled up in front of her and the driver rolled down his window.

  “Where you headed?”

  “27 Baltic Street in Brooklyn.”

  “Girl, it’s your lucky night. I’m on my way home to Brooklyn. Get in.”

  She couldn’t have hoped for better. Laura thanked the driver, her guardian angel, opened the door and hurled herself into the thick back seat of the yellow cab. The heat was on full blast and she had the warm sensation of curling up in a warm bed.

  As the driver set out again, she took a compact out of her pocket and touched up her make-up for the appointment. Laura was a woman of striking beauty. A mane of long, dark black hair fell around her thin face, lit up with almond-shaped eyes that were a sparkling emerald green. Five-feet-eleven-inches tall with a willowy silhouette, she could have surely been a model.

  “…the storm is rolling in quicker than expected and the Governor of New York would like to remind all residents once again to take extreme caution…”

  The radio rattled off a string of dire warnings, but Laura’s mind was elsewhere.

  “…announcing the immediate closure of the Brooklyn Bridge, Kennedy Bridge and Washington…”

  She set down her compact and tapped on the driver’s window.

  “Did you hear? The Brooklyn Bridge is closed!”

  “Yeah girl, I heard. I don’t know if we can leave Manhattan.”

  “What about the Williamsburg Bridge?”

  “That’s our only choice, but it’s ten minutes away. That snow’s coming down harder and harder and the roads are getting icier in this cold. I’m not making any promises…”

  Laura looked out the window and saw nothing but complete whiteout. The snow was coming down so hard. The cab driver tried to pick up speed, but the wheels skidded and the car showed signs of struggle. The windshield wipers whipped at full speed but didn’t seem able to keep up with the thick snow piling up against them. And the headlights could barely hold out against the hazardous conditions.

  Laura’s heart started to race. She suddenly felt cut off from the rest of the world. How strange it was to be sitting in a taxi, in a city of more than 10 million people, and to feel like this.

  She tapped the window again.

  “How far do you think we are from the bridge?”

  The driver was having a hard time. She could feel it. But like her, he didn’t want to give up. There was surely a hot meal and loving family waiting for him at home.

  “I… I think it’s getting worse…”

  The car swerved before jerking to a stop at a light that the driver had trouble seeing change to green.

  As it slowly set out again, two headlights came out of nowhere on the left.

  The driver slammed the brakes as hard as he could, but the car didn’t respond.

  The taxi was sliding across the pavement.

  “No, not now. Not now!” Laura thought, hypnotized by the lights racing toward
her at unfathomable speed.

  “Hold on, he’s gonna hit!” the driver cried.

  Laura looked around and grabbed the faded armrest as hard as she could, the only thing she could find.

  The two cars both tried to make one last maneuver, but an invisible hand took a firm hold of them and wouldn’t let them change course.

  Laura’s eyes opened wide.

  Deep breath.

  The crash was quick and brutal.

  The two cars were literally projected a few feet into the air before plummeting back down on the ice.

  First stop for Laura Della.

  PART ONE

  LEO

  Ethereal Haze

  Around me everything is spinning.

  And suddenly I hear voices.

  “And the heart?”

  “Weak, very weak…”

  “Doctor, we’re losing him…! We’re losing him!”

  “Give me 1.5 grams of adrenaline! Quick, quick!”

  “Blood pressure dropping, he’s in full hypothermia.”

  “Stopping, he’s stopping!”

  “Get the defibrillator! Now!”

  “1…2…3… clear.”

  BOOOOMM.

  BOOOOOMMM? What does that mean?

  “Result?”

  “Negative!”

  “Let’s go again!”

  “1…2…3…”

  BOOOOOMMMMM.

  I get it now. That hurts!

  “Result?”

  “Negative!”

  Negative? Negative? What does that mean, negative?

  “Body temperature at 82 degrees Fahrenheit. Hypothermia confirmed.”

  “It’s over, Doctor. There’s nothing more that we can do.”

  “No, let’s try one last time.”

  “Charge the defibrillator!”

  “Quick!”

  “1…2…3… clear!”

  “Come on!”

  BOOOOOOOOOMMMMMMMMM.

  “I have a beat, Doctor! It’s weak, but I have a beat!”

  “Temperature going back up…”

  “We got him.”

  “Yeah, but he’s not going to last long…Call the organ bank. He’s going to need a transplant as soon as possible…”

  An intense heat is filling my body.

  I am alive.

  San Francisco General Hospital Cardiology Center

  Room 425

  Day 5

  I can’t see.

  My eyelids are too heavy.

  I can’t move.

  My body refuses to respond to any of my commands, as if it is disconnected from its central server.

  But I feel a strong heat from inside my body. This body that feels so foreign to me.

  And if I am thinking these words, it must mean that I am still alive.

  Wait, what’s that? I feel a slight tingling!

  Yes, that’s what it is, like some sort of wave moving back and forth, somewhere in my body, near my head.

  A whirling wave, it retreats deep within me and then gently resurges…

  It’s a sound! Or a bunch of sounds!

  Words! Phrases!

  I can hear.

  “…he was lucky…”

  “…and you think that he’ll…”

  “Impossible to… You have to keep hope…”

  “…recovery?”

  “…long…and the after effects…”

  A man’s voice?

  No two men. One is definitely a doctor; he has a very doctoral tone. But the other, it’s harder to say. He seems more curious than worried.

  “…it’s terrible…”

  “…why did he do it…?”

  “…distressed…”

  “…steps to take…”

  “…should I do it now?”

  There’s also a woman. Her voice is warm and sweet, a bit husky. She seems upset. Maybe I mean a lot to her? I manage a smile inside…that will maybe reassure her?

  “…it’s time...”

  “…leave you, Doctor…”

  No! Wait! Don’t leave me like this!

  “…come back in a few days…”

  “…stable state, but…”

  “…fall back…”

  “…time… a lot of time…”

  Please, no. Don’t leave me like this!

  A new vibration cuts the air.

  Fine. Sweet. Light and peaceful.

  I let myself rock to its rhythm as the room empties out.

  There are no more words.

  But what now?

  Electric Sheep Also Dream at Night

  I’m dreaming.

  From sun up to sun down.

  I’m dreaming.

  And it’s always the same dream.

  First there’s this huge metal door in front of me, made of a single piece of glistening silver. I raise my head but can’t see the top.

  There’s no door handle and I know that all who have tried to open it before me have failed miserably.

  But this door belongs to me. It knows me and calls me.

  Slowly I raise my hand to its hard metal, and at the touch of my fingers, it liquefies and reveals a box with six buttons, each one embellished with a symbol. With a confident hand, I put in the code and the door disappears instantly and reveals a wall of computers.

  I have never seen computers like this before. They have triangular screens and a keyboard with 12 multi-colored buttons, all connected by tubes.

  Inside the tubes, a translucent blue liquid circulates rapidly, taking on a life of its own.

  The computers are all turned off and all I hear is the swooshing back and forth of the liquid in the tubes.

  I hesitate for a moment and then take a step toward the wall. Suddenly the liquid starts to scintillate.

  All of the screens – thousands of them – illuminate and a face appears on each one.

  I know the face.

  It’s mine.

  It lights up with a big smile and says, “Welcome home, Leo.”

  New York

  Mount Sinai Hospital

  Cardiology Center

  They came as soon as they heard.

  But the storm complicated things.

  It complicated everything actually. Starting with Laura’s transport to the hospital, then contact with the cardiologist who came as soon as he could. Then the terrible decision that had to be made despite that her parents couldn’t be reached and immediate authorization was needed.

  Edward and Maria were there now, at their daughter’s side, their daughter who had disrupted their life ever since they discovered that she was carrying an extraordinary malformation.

  Laura was still asleep in her room, her face bearing witness to the violent crash that she’d been in. It would take a few weeks for the stitches to fade and for her to recover her angelic face.

  Felix Lemarchand, Laura’s cardiologist, entered the room with a sober expression. His tall, gangly frame was as commanding as ever, but today, his shoulders hung lower than usual. He was going to have to explain everything to Maria and Edward, a moment he dreaded.

  He was plunging into the unknown, a dizzying unknown.

  “Sleep, beautiful Laura,” he thought. “Sleep and get some rest, because what you are going to have to face now is going to take all your strength and courage. I know how determined you are and how admirably you’ve faced these years. But what’s before you now is different.”

  As if she could feel Felix’s thoughts, Laura smiled in her sleep as if to say, “Don’t worry, I know. Everything’s going to be all right.”

  But Felix knew that the Laura he had known was no more.

  No matter what happened now, Laura would never be the same.

  San Francisco General Hospital Cardiology Center Room 425

  Day 30

  It hurts.

  Everywhere.

  Literally everywhere.

  From the tip of my toes to the top of my head.

  It hurts so much.

  It’s as if my
body has been invaded by a foreign force, a powerful and crushing enemy that is charging into battle with all of its strength.

  And me, from the depths of my unconsciousness, all I can do is feel this battle raging inside me day in and day out, powerless to stop it.

  So I weep.

  I weep endlessly for every victim in my body.

  I just want to put an end to this strange battle that I never asked for.

  But I don’t know how.

  Day after day, I hear nothing but scraps of conversation between the doctors and those looking after me, but I don’t understand any of it.

  I’m knocked out like a boxer in the ring, and in my eternal fall, I slip out of consciousness.

  I’ve lost all consciousness.

  I don’t know who I am anymore.

  San Francisco General Hospital Cardiology Center

  Room 425

  Day 60

  I gaze out the window at this new life before me.

  The first rays of sunlight peeking through the branches are like promises, invitations to life, to endless joy.

  So this is it, my second chance.

  I still don’t know why I blew the first one.

  Nor how I ended up on the edge of the Golden Gate Bridge on a stormy night, 220 feet in the air.

  Even worse, I don’t remember what I did before I got up there. Who I was, where I lived, who I loved…

  They told me that the fall had been so traumatic that my entire body and mind were now devoted to my recovery. Anything that wasn’t essential was deactivated in order to focus 100% of my vital energy to this one goal.

  Now that the system had been “rebooted”, the non-vital functions would slowly start to reactivate.

  And my memory would also come back.