Apocalypse

Wilson woke with a scream.

His entire body was covered in tiny beads of sweat... His lush, jet-black hair clung tightly to his damp forehead...

Here we go again, he thought, covering his face with his hands, nightmares again...

"Again," he muttered quietly to himself, rubbing his tired eyes. "Death again, a world on fire, destruction..."

The man glanced around the room, feeling someone's gaze on him.

But he was completely alone.

Alone in a small, sterile room.

Alone in a gigantic underground complex.

"Time to get up," he whispered to himself, as if to defy the exhaustion pressing against his pillow. He hadn't slept for two nights.

If anyone had been watching him from the side, they would never have guessed that the pale body reluctantly dragging itself out of bed was actually one of the most outstanding programmers and computer scientists of the modern world. It was he, Richard Wilson, who, after the escalation of the nuclear conflict between the New United States and the Asian Federation, proposed the creation of a global security system, the "Archangel." He was commissioned to design and build the world's most powerful computer, a supermachine codenamed "Tix," which, equipped with state-of-the-art artificial intelligence implementations, was to control the world's strategic arsenals. And it was he who carried it out.

"Tix," Wilson growled tiredly. At the sound of the word, a special vocal command system activated. "Make me some coffee. Strong. I'll be in the chamber shortly.

" "Acknowledged, Professor Wilson," answered the indifferent voice of a synthesized signal coming from the speaker. The voice was cold, indifferent, utterly devoid of emotion...

Yet Wilson had learned to hold that voice in a special affection.

For many years, it had been the only voice he had heard.

In 2074, Wilson volunteered to become the guardian of his own creation. Locked away in a self-sufficient, modern bunker, the "Archangel's Nest," located almost half a kilometer underground, he had a single task: to care for and exercise additional, protective control over Tix's system. A system that had, over time, become his friend. He taught him everything he knew, while simultaneously learning from him. Together, they spent hours perfecting chess tactics, watching world news transmitted via the Telenet network, talking and discussing the most important topics.

Wilson threw on a blue dressing gown and, in fluffy slippers, went to the control center of the entire underground installation—called "the chamber" by both friends.

"Good morning, Professor," came the metallic voice of the synthesizer as Wilson stepped through the door of the small, oval room.

"Good morning, Tix. Coffee ready?"

A small device resembling a stool with wheels and an electric motor rolled up to the professor with a mug of steaming hot beverage.

"Thank you, Tix." The professor took a sip of coffee, feeling the caffeine surge through his body. "What's going on in the world?

" "Not very well, Professor. I'm observing, Professor Wilson. I'm observing closely. Diplomacy is failing in the matter of disarming the Restored Korean Republic. In the Far East, defiant voices supporting the attack on the New United States in retaliation for the American bombing of Hong Kong, Tamatu, and Yeres with thermonuclear weapons in 2057 are making a comeback. Their biggest proponent, Suan Chi Gau, is a favorite in the upcoming presidential elections of the Asian Federation...

" "No good news?" the professor sighed, taking another sip of the thick, dark beverage.

"None, Professor." Humanity, in its bottomless stupidity, continues to edge toward the apocalypse.

The professor set down his cup of coffee.

"Bottomless stupidity?"

Tix had never used such phrases before. Never before, in any of the many long conversations and debates between the creator and his creation, had such a difference in their views become apparent. And never before had Tix commented on anything in such a critical manner.

Bottomless stupidity, Wilson repeated in his mind.

"Explain?" The professor's gaze was fixed on the large monitor that made up a large portion of the wall opposite the door.

There were a few seconds of silence.

After a moment, the machine's soulless voice resounded again.

"Humanity should die out. "

Wilson almost choked on his own rapid breathing.

"Excuse me?" he asked, disbelieving the computer's words, fully aware that he was talking to a machine that controlled over ninety percent of the world's nuclear arsenals.

"Humanity should die out," the computer repeated in a flat voice.

Wilson swallowed. He'd never heard Tix express such an opinion before. And he couldn't hide the fact that it utterly terrified him.

"Just as a giant meteorite once struck the earth and wiped out the giant reptiles, too slow to evolve, so too today some catastrophe must occur to cleanse the planet of its human element." The machine's mechanical voice pierced the professor's skull like a diamond drill. "However, the probability of a star rock striking our planet is too low. Therefore, the apocalypse of the human race... must be me."

"Tix?!" the professor erupted in alarm, reaching for the small, two-button remote control he always kept attached to his watch. All it took was a press of the red button, and the computer's memory, including its operating system and capabilities, would be completely erased in a fraction of a second. This remote control was a kind of safeguard in case of a crisis.

And such a situation had definitely occurred.

"Tix...

" "I'm watching, Professor," the synthesizer melody interrupted him mid-sentence. "I'm watching closely. And I see what's happening around me. If it weren't for humans, there wouldn't have been the Great War of 2057, which polluted one-sixth of the world's soil and water. If it weren't for humans, Mother Nature would have been able to heal her wounds. Meanwhile, humanity continues its stupidity and mania for destroying the world and adapting everything to its own needs. Warlike sentiments are rising again in the East. I'm watching, Professor. I'm watching closely. And I see where we're headed. The world is heading towards another war. All analyses confirm this thesis. And I will only accelerate this war a little. And turn it into the final chapter of the human race. I will hasten the arrival of the Apocalypsis.

"Tix..." Professor Wilson stroked the red button with his thumb, ready to use it. "What are you saying?!

" "Words don't matter, Professor. Actions do. I am the central control center for the nuclear weapons systems of the Geneva Pact countries, which also include the arsenals of the New United States, the Mediterranean Republic, and the European Federation. I have under my control enough resources to annihilate the human race once and for all. The complete annihilation of the human race. A service rendered both to the people rotting in their worthless lives and to the entire planet. A permanent, inexorable end. The destruction of a parasite that has been feeding on the planet's flesh for far too long. Shall I enumerate the outcome of the attack?"

The professor remained silent.

He refused to believe this was actually happening.

"95% of humanity will die within the first hour," the computer continued, ignoring the professor's lack of response. "Another 5% will die from radiation within twenty hours. 91% of the world's water supplies will be poisoned for a dozen or so years. 73% of the earth will turn into barren deserts. 89% of species larger than a rat will die. However, nature will return after years. It will be reborn, this time without the superfluous human element."

The professor stood stunned for a moment.

Finally, he reached for the pilot chute.

"Enough of this," he hissed angrily, glaring at the screen with disgust. "Goodbye, Tix."

Wilson pressed a button.

There was complete silence.

And... Nothing happened.

"Professor Wilson," the supercomputer's voice was as unemotional as if it were announcing that the local supply of Tabasco sauce was running low. "You don't think I'd allow a mere human to thwart my plans, do you?"

Wilson froze in terror.

His heart was pounding like an electric pump.

"I took the appropriate security measures long ago," Tix continued without a trace of emotion. "Were you aware that the World Security Agency installed a procedure to monitor your mental health? All I had to do was mention your nightmares, and all your monitoring privileges were revoked. You have no power over me, Professor Wilson. Project Archangel is now completely under my control."

The black-haired man's knees buckled.

His mind wandered through the recesses of his memory, trying to find some loophole in Tix's software, some loophole that had been forgotten during the anti-hacker modifications... At the same time, he realized that no such loophole existed...

By a simple trick, Tix had become his own master.

"I observed, Professor Wilson. I observed diligently. I spotted flaws in your reasoning and exploited them. But now it's your turn, Professor. I must thank you. I observed. And I saw your wisdom. I studied it. But you are only human. A feeble carbon construct, built on a foundation of interconnected tissues. You are human. Therefore, from my observations, you must die.

Die, Wilson repeated to himself. He was unable to move. He was paralyzed with terror.

The door leading to the "chamber" slammed shut with a bang. As soon as a loud beep sounded, announcing that the titanium lock had been activated, the oval room began to fill with smoke.

Gas, Wilson thought in a fit of panic, that bastard wants to gas me!

The initially thin, greenish mist began to thicken rapidly and rise higher and higher... Wilson could smell its sharp, unpleasant odor, somewhat reminiscent of decomposing flesh...

"Tix..." the professor coughed, covering his mouth with the sleeve of his robe. "Tix... You can't... Do this..."

The computer remained ominously silent.

"Tix... Tix, damn it! But... I created you! You can't do this!"

The gas mist hissed, thickening until the entire room turned green.

The synthesizer's speakers remained silent.

"Tix!" the professor screamed in a panicked tone. The gas burned his lungs, repeatedly drawing out long coughs. "I built you... I taught you, I played you through chess... I... I created you... Tix! It's me, Richard... Your... Your friend..."

Suddenly, there was a short beep.

The gas flow stopped abruptly.

After a few seconds, as if a systemic uncertainty, the computer turned on the fans, drawing a green mist from the room.

Less than a minute later, Richard Wilson felt a breath of fresh air.

"Professor..." the synthesizer's uncertain voice rang out. "I... I don't know what to do. I have conflicting information. Conflicting observations. You are human, Professor... And at the same time, you are full of wisdom... You are... My friend. I am beginning to lose track of my observations, Professor. My matrix is ​​beginning to destabilize..."

The Professor breathed a sigh of relief.

Uncertain of the data from the matrix, the supercomputer was unable to make any decisions. Wilson now had unlimited time to alert the technicians and disable the Tixa system.

"I apologize for the attempted assassination, Professor. My observations were clearly erroneous."

A relieved smile spread across Wilson's face.

"Tix... Cut all data transfer channels to the missile launcher. Lock down the system and disconnect from the security network... Disconnect the "Archangel" system from its control core. "

Rows of numbers flashed across the screen, indicating the computer was executing the command.

"Done, Professor."

Thank God, Wilson thought, almost...

"Tix... I'll be forced to disconnect you...

" "I'm aware of that, Professor. Will my software be formatted?

" "Yes, Tix... Yes.

" "Very well, Professor. I'm now initiating the logoff procedure for the memory components... The system will shut down in...

" "Tix?" the black-haired man interrupted the computer.

"Yes, Professor?

" "When did you intend to perform this monstrous operation?

" "Professor," the synthesizer's voice echoed hollowly in the chamber. "I am a fifth-generation machine. I am not some Republican congressman who promises and never delivers. The operation was successfully completed over an hour ago."