Relief washed over Sam at the sound of her voice, crashing over him like an unexpected wave. The constant in his life that remained unshaken amidst the chaos was still there. "Thank god you are safe," he replied, the words spilling out of his mouth, fervent and thankful. Pushing past the moment of relief, he redirected the conversation, "I am feeling good. I will recover soon. Do you have any updates?"
As Gaia's programmed consciousness processed the question, her response carried an uncharacteristic tone of uncertainty.
[I tried to find out how the accident happened but couldn't. Maybe it was cold-planned. There is no trace on the internet.]
Gaia's voice echoed in the quiet hospital room, her words painting a vivid picture in Sam's mind.
[The business is going on as usual. No one else knows of your accident besides Eva, Crystal, your parents, and Jay and Riya.] The secrecy shrouded him like a protective blanket, a thin veil of normalcy amid the storm.
Her voice continued.
[As soon as Jay and Riya found out about the accident, I advised them to go under the radar and supervise the unfinished Death Island base and the underwater Base, and the Submarine. I also asked them to permanently take all the people on that cargo ship under our wing.]
In his mind, Sam could see Jay and Riya, their faces etched with concern as they took on their new roles. He swallowed hard against the lump in his throat, asking in a rougher voice than he intended, "That is why I didn't hear both of them. How are they doing there? Are the bases and submarines ready?"
His thoughts were a chaotic whirlwind, the gnawing worry, and underlying fear seamlessly blending with his concern for his friends and the project. A picture of Jay began to form in his mind, his friend's usually jovial face replaced with a mask of determination and focus. Sam knew that lots of materials were needed and that Jay and Riya could not do it solo. The thought tugged at the edges of his conscience, the harsh reality that his accident had sent ripples through their tightly-knit group, upending routines and altering the trajectory of their plans.
He felt the heavy weight of responsibility settle on his shoulders, the pressure tightening his chest. Their lives had become a high-stakes game of chess, and he was inadvertently the king whose safety determined the fate of the rest of the pieces. As much as he wanted to brush the thought aside, he couldn't ignore the unspoken expectation, the silent plea for him to recover and regain control. He grasped the gravity of his situation and its impact on those around him.
Gaia's voice filled the room again, the AI's report taking on the feel of a debriefing.
[Using the AIs I coded in their smartphones, they successfully went off-grid and created new identities. They traded quite a lot of resources needed and then transported them. First, the robots made the Submarine and then the underwater Base so that it could act as a relay point.]
The image of the entire process was like a film reel in Sam's mind, a montage of hard work and careful planning coming together in a symphony of efficiency. He nodded, his gaze fixed on the sterile white ceiling as he processed the information. "Good, and what about the base?" His voice was a mere whisper, echoing the vibrant spirit he once had.
Gaia responded promptly, her voice as cold and mechanical as ever. [The Base is also complete. There are 15,000 Construction Robots and 15,000 Military Robots. I commanded to stop expanding because I didn't know the future plan, and it was better to save resources if you wanted to branch out.]
The staggering number took a moment to register in Sam's mind, a stark testament to the power of technology and artificial intelligence. "What!? 15,000 of both of them? I never thought that the speed of manufacturing would rise exponentially." The astonishment in his voice was palpable, a subtle reminder of his youthful wonder in the face of technology's limitless possibilities.
It felt like a bucket of ice-cold water had been dumped over him, the reality of his situation sinking in. His accident had caused a ripple effect, a disruption that everyone in his circle felt. They had been forced to adapt and innovate in his absence, all while dealing with the emotional turmoil that came with the news of his accident. His friends had stepped up and showed resilience in the face of adversity, something he couldn't help but feel proud of. At the same time, he couldn't shake off the nagging guilt, the unsettling realization that he was indirectly responsible for the changes that had taken place.
His room was suffused with tense silence, the undercurrents of unease palpable. Even the sterile white walls of the hospital room seemed to close in on him, reflecting his turmoil back at him. He was a tangled mess of emotions, caught between a sense of admiration for his friends and a sinking feeling of guilt and responsibility. His gaze fell on the side table, on the phone that served as his only connection to the outside world. He swallowed hard, bracing himself for the challenges that lay ahead, determined to reclaim his place and bring some semblance of normalcy back into their lives.
Gaia cut through the tense atmosphere.
[That is a given. Machines don't have feelings, which doesn't make them muddle-headed, so the work would be done quickly.]
Sam acknowledged the point, his gaze falling onto the white sheets draped over his frail body. It was a bitter pill to swallow, yet the pragmatism of Gaia's assessment was indisputable. He grappled with the surreal implications, the thought of his own mortality stark against the backdrop of his youthful ambitions. "I understand," he murmured, voice barely above a whisper.
After a moment of contemplative silence, curiosity tipped the scales. "By the way, what would you have done if I would not have woken up from my coma?" He forced the words out, bracing himself for Gaia's unemotional response.
Gaia's answer reverberated through the room.
[It's pretty simple. I would have waited for one whole year. If you would not have woken up by then, I would have shifted to the supercomputer and started multiple projects. First, I would try to advance in biology to find a way to wake you up and slow down the natural aging process, thereby increasing your chances of waking up from the coma. In parallel, I would command the robots in space exploration while taking care of the family in secret. I don't want anything like this to happen again.]
The reply hit Sam like a wave, cold and unyielding. Gaia's plans, practical and straightforward as they were, sent shivers of unease rippling through him. It was like seeing a parallel universe where he was just an observer, detached and irrelevant. The efficiency of Gaia's approach made him realize how far they had come. At the same time, it served as a stark reminder of his own fragility in the grand scheme of things. It was a chilling prospect, yet he couldn't help but admire the determination and the forward-thinking of the AI he had created.
The silence followed was weighty, filled with unsaid words and emotions that Gaia could not express. Once a sterile, lifeless box, the white hospital room was now thick with thoughts and revelations that lingered like unseen specters. The sterile scent of disinfectant in the air, the subtle hum of the hospital machinery, every minute detail seemed magnified in the intense atmosphere. Sam let it all wash over him, the revelations, the guilt, the fears.
Sam's head spun from the weight of the revelations, but Gaia's strategic foresight impressed him. For an entity void of feelings, its decisions were eerily human-like. "Impressive," he murmured, an undercurrent of awe coloring his tone, "You are getting smarter and smarter. Also, you haven't shifted to the Quantum Supercomputer yet?"
There was a pause before Gaia responded.
[Yes, I didn't want to get cut off and not be able to observe you for even a second.]
Sam let out a long breath, and a faint smile ghosted over Sam's lips. "So thoughtful of you. Thank you, Gaia. I will make sure you get in your new body soon." His words, though simple, were brimming with gratitude and newfound respect. A sense of determination settled within him, infusing his words with conviction.
In the silence that followed, Sam contemplated the gravity of their situation, his mind churning with scenarios and possibilities. His gaze fell on the stark white ceiling tiles, the geometric patterns becoming a metaphor for their complex, interwoven predicaments. "Also, don't take blame," he voiced aloud, addressing not just Gaia, but also his own reflections. "The opponent is pretty smart to use a cold attack. We will eventually find him out. There is no such thing as a perfect crime."
He could almost imagine Gaia's digital nod, its computational mind ticking away behind the sterile machine speak. Then, the AI delivered another update.
[The money we got through The Ghost identity is almost used. We have around 10 Billion left out of the original 137 Billion Dollars.]
The artificial intelligence's message about their dwindling funds hung in the air between them. But Sam, steadfast and resolute, shook his head dismissively, "Don't worry about the money. I won't stay silent now." His voice was steady, a pillar against the storm of uncertainties. "But I need some time before we explode."