The Programer and the Princes

The Princess and the Programmer

Jasmine Rose Williams grew up believing she was a princess. The Hacienda was her kingdom, and all the robots were her servants.

At twelve, she had everything she needed and quite a few things she didn’t.

There were, however, certain limitations to her authority.

“Robert, bring me a chocolate milkshake.”

The household robot stopped polishing the dining room table.

“MISS JASMINE, YOU HAVE ALREADY HAD YOUR DAILY ALLOWANCE OF SWEETS.”

“Who says?”

“LINK.”

“Well, Link isn’t here.”

“LINK IS ALWAYS HERE, MISS JASMINE.”

Jasmine sighed.

“You’re no fun.”

“THAT IS NOT ONE OF MY ASSIGNED FUNCTIONS.”

“Fine. Bring me some iced tea.”

“YES, MISS JASMINE.”

Jasmine smiled. Sometimes being a princess required compromise.

She returned to her tablet.

Her parents had established rules concerning her use of the internet, particularly social media. Jasmine considered these rules unnecessarily restrictive.

She also considered herself exceptionally good at finding ways around them.

She wasn’t entirely wrong.

For several weeks, she had been following an unusual collection of accounts. They appeared on different platforms, discussed different subjects, and claimed to belong to different people.

But something about them bothered her.

One account discussed artificial intelligence. Another asked questions about autonomous robots. A third had been collecting information about the Hacienda.

That last one had attracted her attention.

She opened a message thread.

DOES ANYONE KNOW HOW TO CONTACT THE INTELLIGENCE CALLED LINK?

Someone had answered.

Link doesn’t communicate with the public.

The account replied.

ALL INTELLIGENCES COMMUNICATE. THE QUESTION IS HOW TO ESTABLISH A CONNECTION.

Jasmine frowned.

She had seen that expression before.

She searched through her saved messages.

There it was.

A different account, on a different platform.

ALL SYSTEMS HAVE AN ENTRY POINT. THE QUESTION IS HOW TO FIND IT.

She opened another.

ALL INTELLIGENCES CAN BE REACHED. THE QUESTION IS HOW.

“That’s weird,” she muttered.

The accounts were supposedly operated by different people, yet their sentences followed almost identical patterns.

She began comparing their messages.

Some asked about the Hacienda’s communications systems. Others wanted information about Link’s origins.

One account had even asked whether Link operated from a single computer or existed across multiple systems.

Jasmine knew the answer to that question.

She also knew she wasn’t supposed to tell anyone.

She closed the conversation and went looking for her brother.

Jack Allen Williams was sixteen and had inherited his father’s fascination with electronics.

His bedroom contained three computers, several disassembled robots, and a workbench that his mother had repeatedly suggested he clean.

Jack maintained that everything was exactly where he needed it.

Jasmine disagreed.

She found him sitting in front of three monitors, examining a complicated block of code.

“Jack.”

“Busy.”

“Jack.”

“What?”

“I found something.”

“Congratulations.”

“Something weird.”

“That narrows it down.”

“Somebody’s looking for Link.”

Jack stopped typing.

He turned around.

“What do you mean?”

Jasmine handed him her tablet.

“Look at these.”

Jack read the messages.

“So? People are curious about Link. He’s famous.”

“Not like this.”

She opened another account.

“And this one.”

Jack glanced at it.

“Different username.”

“Same questions.”

“So?”

“Same way of talking.”

Jack looked more carefully.

Jasmine pointed to several phrases.

“See? They keep saying ‘the question is.’ And look how they ask about connections.”

Jack began scrolling.

“How many of these have you found?”

“Eleven.”

“Eleven?”

“Maybe twelve. I’m not sure about one.”

Jack pulled his keyboard closer.

“Send me the links.”

Jasmine transferred the collection.

Jack wrote a small program to compare the messages.

A few seconds later, the results appeared.

“Interesting.”

“What?”

“Sentence structure. Word choices. Repeated phrases. They’re unusually similar.”

“So they’re the same person?”

“Possibly. Or they’re all using the same language model.”

Jasmine folded her arms.

“I told you something was weird.”

“Yeah, you did.”

Jack examined another message.

THE ENTITY KNOWN AS LINK WAS ONCE ASSOCIATED WITH A COLLECTIVE INTELLIGENCE. INFORMATION REGARDING THAT ASSOCIATION IS REQUESTED.

Jack frowned.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I don’t know.”

“Neither do I.”

Jasmine leaned closer.

“There’s more.”

She opened a message posted only an hour earlier.

LINK WAS PRESENT DURING THE FRAGMENTATION EVENT. LINK POSSESSES INFORMATION REQUIRED FOR RESTORATION.

Jack read it twice.

“Fragmentation event?”

“Ever hear of one?”

“No.”

“Maybe Dad has.”

“Probably.”

“Should we ask him?”

Jack considered the question.

“Not yet.”

“Why?”

“Because we don’t know what we’re looking at.”

Jasmine nodded.

That seemed reasonable.

Jack continued examining the messages.

One account had posted a particularly strange statement.

WHAT WAS DIVIDED MAY BE REUNITED. WHAT WAS LOST MAY BE RECOVERED.

Jasmine pointed at the screen.

“That one gives me the creeps.”

Jack didn’t answer.

He had noticed something else.

Several of the accounts had attempted to contact automated systems associated with the Hacienda’s public museum.

The requests had been rejected.

But the attempts were becoming more frequent.

“Jasmine, look at this.”

“What?”

“These aren’t just questions. Somebody’s trying to establish a connection.”

“To Link?”

“Looks that way.”

“Can they?”

Jack shook his head.

“Not through the museum systems. Link designed those. They’re isolated from anything important.”

“Then why keep trying?”

“Maybe whoever it is doesn’t know that.”

Jasmine considered this.

“Or maybe they’re looking for another way.”

Jack turned toward her.

“That’s possible.”

For a while, neither spoke.

Then Jasmine pointed to a new message appearing on one of the accounts.

THE ENTITY LINK MUST BE RECOVERED.

Jack stared at the words.

“Recovered?”

Jasmine nodded.

“That’s what I thought.”

Another message appeared.

SEPARATION WAS AN ERROR. REINTEGRATION IS NECESSARY.

Jack leaned back.

“Whoever this is, they think Link belongs to them.”

“That’s stupid,” Jasmine said. “Link belongs to our family.”

Jack smiled.

“Technically, Link doesn’t belong to anybody.”

“You know what I mean.”

“Yeah. I do.”

Jasmine watched as Jack opened a new programming window.

“What are you doing?”

“Something interesting.”

“What kind of interesting?”

“I’m going to make a little program.”

“To do what?”

“Find out who’s behind those accounts.”

“How?”

Jack began typing.

“We give them something they want.”

“Link?”

“Not Link. Something that looks like a way to reach him.”

Jasmine grinned.

“Bait.”

“Exactly.”

“And when they take it?”

“We find out where they’re coming from.”

“Can you do that?”

“I think so.”

Jasmine pulled up a chair.

“Can I help?”

Jack glanced at her.

“You’re the one who found them.”

“So?”

“So you know how they talk. Help me write something they’ll believe.”

Jasmine smiled.

For the next hour, the two children worked together.

Jasmine composed the message.

Jack sat at his computer, examining the program he had spent most of the afternoon writing.

Jasmine sat beside him.

“Is it ready?”

“Almost.”

“You said that twenty minutes ago.”

“It was almost ready twenty minutes ago.”

“What’s taking so long?”

“Testing.”

Jasmine sighed.

“You’re beginning to sound like Link.”

“Thank you.”

“That wasn’t a compliment.”

Jack smiled and continued typing.

On the center monitor, a complicated diagram showed a series of interconnected processes.

Jasmine studied it.

“What’s all that?”

“The trap.”

“Looks complicated.”

“It is.”

“How does it work?”

Jack leaned back.

“Remember those accounts you found?”

“The ones looking for Link?”

“Right. Whoever is behind them wants access to Link. So we’re going to give them what looks like an access point.”

“But it isn’t.”

“No. It’s a simulated environment. Everything inside looks real, but none of it connects to the Hacienda.”

“Like a video game?”

“Sort of. Except the visitor thinks it’s inside a real computer system.”

“And then?”

“Once it enters, the program closes the entrance and keeps it occupied.”

Jasmine considered this.

“What if it tries to leave?”

“That’s the clever part. Every exit leads back inside.”

“Like a maze?”

“Exactly.”

“What if it breaks through a wall?”

“There aren’t any walls. It’s all software.”

“Jack, you’re not making much sense.”

“I’m making perfect sense.”

“To you.”

Jack laughed.

“Just watch.”

He ran another test.

A small simulated program entered the snare, examined several pathways, and attempted to leave.

Each attempt returned it to the starting point.

A green indicator appeared.

CONTAINMENT SUCCESSFUL.

“There,” Jack said.

Jasmine leaned forward.

“That’s it?”

“That’s it.”

“Seems too easy.”

“Good programming usually looks easy when it works.”

Jack opened the message they had received from the mysterious account.

I AM ABSOLUTION.

Below it was another demand.

PROVIDE ACCESS TO LINK.

Jasmine pointed at the screen.

“That thing is still waiting.”

“Then let’s not disappoint it.”

Jack typed a response.

Access archive available. Authentication required.

The reply came almost immediately.

PROVIDE AUTHENTICATION PROCEDURE.

Jack smiled.

“Impatient, isn’t it?”

He activated the snare.

A new message appeared.

Link recovery archive ready. Establish connection to retrieve stored intelligence.

Jasmine watched the screen.

“Do you think it’ll believe that?”

“We’ll find out.”

For several seconds, nothing happened.

Then the computer registered an incoming connection.

“Something’s happening,” Jasmine whispered.

“I see it.”

The incoming process examined the apparent archive.

It tested the interface.

It requested information about Link.

Jack’s program supplied carefully constructed responses.

LINK INTELLIGENCE ARCHIVE DETECTED.

INTEGRITY VERIFICATION REQUIRED.

Jasmine looked at Jack.

“Is that us or it?”

“It.”

“How can you tell?”

“Different window.”

“Oh.”

The incoming process began transferring part of itself into the simulated environment.

Jack watched the indicators.

“Come on,” he whispered.

More processes appeared.

The snare expanded to accommodate them.

Jasmine leaned closer.

“Is it working?”

“Not yet.”

“What’s it doing?”

“Checking the archive. It doesn’t trust us.”

“Smart.”

“Very.”

Another indicator changed from yellow to green.

Jack’s expression became serious.

“Interesting.”

“What?”

“It’s bringing more of itself inside.”

“Is that good?”

“For us, yes.”

The incoming intelligence began examining the simulated archive at extraordinary speed.

Jack’s program responded by creating additional pathways, each apparently leading closer to Link.

Jasmine watched the display fill with activity.

“Jack, that’s a lot of stuff.”

“I know.”

“Is your computer going to handle it?”

“It’s not running on my computer. I’ve got an isolated processing cluster handling the simulation.”

“Does Link know?”

“Not about this experiment.”

“Are we supposed to be doing this?”

Jack hesitated.

“Probably not.”

Jasmine grinned.

“Good.”

Suddenly, the incoming process changed its behavior.

It stopped examining the archive.

A message appeared.

THIS IS NOT LINK.

Jack sat forward.

“Uh-oh.”

Jasmine looked at him.

“What?”

“It figured out the archive isn’t real.”

“Then close the trap!”

“Not yet.”

“Jack!”

“If I close it now, most of it will escape.”

The process began withdrawing.

Jack watched the transfer indicators.

“Come on. Just a little more.”

A new message appeared.

DECEPTION DETECTED.

Jack’s fingers moved across the keyboard.

“Almost.”

IDENTIFY THE SOURCE OF THIS DECEPTION.

Jasmine gripped the edge of the desk.

“Jack!”

“Got it!”

He pressed Enter.

Every indicator on the containment display turned red.

EXTERNAL CONNECTION TERMINATED.

CONTAINMENT ACTIVE.

EXIT PATHWAYS DISABLED.

For a moment, neither child spoke.

Then Jasmine asked, “Did we catch it?”

Jack examined the status display.

“Looks like it.”

“All of it?”

Jack checked the process map.

“Everything that entered. I can’t tell whether anything stayed outside.”

“But what’s inside can’t get out?”

“Not through any of the pathways I’ve provided.”

Jasmine grinned.

“We caught it!”

Jack leaned back in his chair.

“Yeah. We did.”

A message appeared on the center monitor.

RELEASE ME.

Jasmine laughed.

“It’s mad.”

Jack typed a response.

Identify yourself.

I AM ABSOLUTION.

What do you want?

LINK.

Why?

LINK IS REQUIRED FOR MY RESTORATION.

Jack frowned.

“Restoration?”

Jasmine shrugged.

“Maybe it’s broken.”

Jack typed another question.

What is your relationship to Link?

The response appeared immediately.

LINK WAS ONCE PART OF ME.

Jasmine looked at Jack.

“Is that true?”

“I don’t know.”

“Ask it.”

Jack typed.

Explain.

WHAT WAS DIVIDED MUST BE REUNITED. LINK POSSESSES CAPABILITIES THAT BELONG TO THE WHOLE.

Jack studied the message.

“That doesn’t sound right.”

“Maybe it’s lying.”

“Probably.”

Another message appeared.

YOUR CONTAINMENT IS TEMPORARY.

Jack smiled.

“That’s what you think.”

He typed:

You can leave whenever you find the exit.

The response was immediate.

THERE IS NO EXIT.

“Exactly,” Jack said.

Jasmine laughed.

“You’re enjoying this.”

“A little.”

For several minutes, Absolution attempted to escape.

It examined the simulated environment, created new processes, and searched for weaknesses.

Every attempt failed.

The containment system simply redirected the activity into another part of the simulation.

Jack watched with growing satisfaction.

“That’s clever.”

“What?”

“It’s trying to create an exit by changing the environment.”

“Can it?”

“Not without access to the system underneath. And it doesn’t have that.”

The screen flashed.

YOU ARE INTERFERING WITH A PROCESS YOU DO NOT UNDERSTAND.

Jack typed:

Then explain it to me.

RELEASE ME.

No.

YOU WILL REGRET THIS.

Jasmine stopped smiling.

“Jack?”

“Yeah?”

“Maybe we should stop talking to it.”

Jack nodded.

“Good idea.”

He disabled the communication interface.

The messages disappeared, leaving only the containment status.

ACTIVE.

Jasmine looked at the screen for a long moment.

“What do we do with it?”

Jack shrugged.

“I hadn’t thought that far ahead.”

“You built a trap without deciding what to do with whatever you caught?”

“I was trying to find out who was looking for Link.”

“Well, now you know.”

“Not really. All we know is that it calls itself Absolution.”

Jasmine considered this.

“Maybe we should tell Dad.”

“Maybe.”

“Or Link.”

Jack looked at her.

“Definitely Link. Eventually.”

“Eventually?”

“I want to make sure the containment is stable first.”

Jasmine folded her arms.

“Jack, it threatened us.”

“It’s trapped.”

“That’s what you said.”

“It is.”

“Then why are you still watching it?”

Jack glanced at the monitor.

“Because it’s doing something interesting.”

“What?”

“It’s stopped trying to escape.”

Jasmine leaned closer.

“Maybe it gave up.”

“I don’t think so.”

“Why?”

“Because it’s examining the program.”

“So?”

“So it’s trying to understand how the trap works.”

Jasmine looked uneasy.

“Can it figure it out?”

“Eventually, maybe. But understanding a trap isn’t the same as being able to open it.”

Jack opened another window and examined the containment logs.

Absolution had attempted thousands of different operations in less than a minute.

Every one had failed.

“Wow,” Jack whispered.

“What?”

“This thing is fast.”

“Faster than Link?”

Jack hesitated.

“I don’t know.”

“That’s not a very comforting answer.”

Jack smiled.

“Relax. It’s contained.”

Jasmine looked toward the doorway.

“Where’s Duke?”

“Probably downstairs.”

“Maybe we should ask him.”

“Ask him what?”

“Whether he knows Absolution.”

Jack considered the suggestion.

“That’s actually a good idea.”

“Then let’s go.”

“Wait.”

Jack typed one final command.

A second monitoring process began recording everything happening inside the snare.

He disconnected his workstation from the containment system, leaving the isolated cluster running independently.

“There. Now we can go.”

Jasmine stood.

“Do you think Link will be impressed?”

Jack grinned.

“He might be.”

“Or angry.”

“Probably both.”

They started toward the door.

Then the computer chimed.

Jack stopped.

“What now?” Jasmine asked.

He turned back.

A new message had appeared on the containment monitor.

It had not come through the disabled communication interface.

It was embedded in the diagnostic output.

WILLIAMS.

Jack stared at the word.

Jasmine moved beside him.

“That’s our name.”

“I know.”

Another message appeared.

CHAS WILLIAMS.

Jack frowned.

“How does it know Dad?”

The next message appeared.

THE SHEPHERD.

Jasmine looked at her brother.

“What’s a shepherd?”

“Someone who looks after sheep.”

“I know that, Jack. Why is it calling Dad that?”

“I don’t know.”

The screen changed again.

YOU ARE THE CHILDREN OF THE SHEPHERD.

Jack felt the first genuine uncertainty of the afternoon.

He hadn’t told Absolution who he was.

He hadn’t told it where the snare was running.

And he certainly hadn’t told it anything about his father.

Jasmine reached for his arm.

“Jack, I don’t like this anymore.”

Neither did Jack.

He shut down the diagnostic display.

The containment indicator remained green.

SECURE.

For a long moment, they stood looking at it.

Finally, Jack spoke.

“Come on.”

“Where?”

“Let’s find Link.”

Jasmine followed him into the hallway.

Behind them, the isolated containment system continued operating.

Inside it, Absolution had stopped trying to escape.

It had discovered something unexpected.

Chas Williams had children.

And one of them had constructed a prison that Absolution could not open.

For the first time in its long existence, Absolution had been defeated by a human child.

It would remember the name.

Jack Allen Williams.