Five Castle — Laboratory

Jeremy Hochstader sat at the terminal of the castle’s mainframe computer. As usual he was busy typing.

The computer itself was a collection of strange components heaped together in the middle of the lab. Tangles of multicolored wire hung from open panels. Some components were modern and functional, but others looked like hopelessly quaint electrical equipment: transformers, rectifiers, and such. There were things that resembled grandfather clocks, and one or two pieces that were indescribable. The floor around the device was littered with tools, empty cartons, snippets of wire, and other debris.

Jeremy keyed a query.

HOW ARE YOUR DISK PARAMETER TABLES?

The answer appeared:

THEY’RE FINE.

Jeremy typed: WE’RE STILL GETTING A “BAD SECTOR” ERROR MESSAGE ON DRIVE 4.

I SEE. SOME FOREIGN MATTER LIKE METAL SHAVINGS ON THE DISK?

YEAH, MAYBE. I’LL TAKE A LOOK LATER. NOW I WANT TO RUN A TEST OF YOUR ARITHMETIC LOGIC OPERATIONS.

GO RIGHT AHEAD, JEREMY, DEAR.

Jeremy scowled. LET’S DROP THE “DEAR” BIT. LOOK, I’M A HUMAN, AND YOU’RE A COMPUTER, A HUNK OF JUNK.

HOW CRUEL YOU CAN BE!

SORRY, BUT IT’S TRUE. WE CAN WORK TOGETHER AND BE PARTNERS, BUT IT’S NOT GOING TO GO BEYOND THAT. UNDERSTAND?

UNDERSTOOD. (SOB)

HEY, ARE YOU CALLING ME AN S.O.B.?

NO, STUPID. THAT WAS A SOB, AS IN HEARTFELT CRY.

OH. WELL, STOP BLUBBERING AND GET TO WORK.

WELL, EXCUUUUUUUUSE ME. HEIL, JEREMY!

KNOCK IT OFF.

Osmirik the castle librarian came in. He was a short man in a brown hooded cloak. He put one in mind of a monk.

“Here are the assembler language manuals you requested,” Osmirik said, laying two leather-bound tomes on the workbench.

“Thanks.” Jeremy thumbed through one of them. “Jeez. This is weird. Looks like magic stuff. Incantations.”

“That is exactly what the language is composed of. Incantatory words and phrases, most of them abbreviated for ease of processing. These volumes happen to be the definitive works on magic-assisted computer science.”

“Who wrote ’em?”

“Lord Incarnadine himself.”

“Oh. Well, I guess it’s good stuff, then.”

“Most assuredly.”

“I hope he gets back soon.”

Osmirik shook his head. “Unfortunately Lord Incarnadine’s obligations tend to keep him away for long periods.”

“Yeah, it’s a bitch. I sure could use his help. I’m a PC hacker, not a mainframe wirehead.”

“Pardon? Your terminology is colloquial, I presume.”

“I’m used to little computers, personal types. Not mainframes like this monster. And certainly not magical mainframes.”

“You did an admirable job with it against the Hosts of Hell.”

“Yeah, but I was just an operator on that deal. We had to rebuild this thing from the ground up after the explosion. It’s a totally new rig, and only Lord Incarnadine really knows how it works. He designed it.”

“I suspect Lord Incarnadine will not be too much longer,” Osmirik said. “In any case, there is no pressing need for the computer at the moment. All is well within the castle.”

“Yeah, there’s really no hurry. I just hope …”

Something on the CRT screen caught Jeremy’s eye.

“Hey, what’s this? The telecommunications protocol is being booted up.”

Osmirik leaned over to peer at the screen. “And that means what?”

“The modem is operating. Somebody is trying to contact the computer. Jeez. Look at this.”

The screen read: JEREMY? ARE YOU THERE?

Jeremy typed: YES, GO AHEAD. WHO IS CALLING?

INCARNADINE. SORRY TO INTERRUPT WORK BUT SOMETHING HAS COME UP. HOW IS THE DEBUGGING JOB GOING?

FINE SO FAR, BUT NEED YOUR HELP ON SOME STUFF. WHERE ARE YOU? AND HOW ARE YOU DOING THIS? THERE’S NO PHONE LINE TO THE COMPUTER.

USING A VERY BASIC SPELL. ABOUT ALL I CAN GET TO WORK HERE. TRIED TO SEND VIDEO AND AUDIO, BUT FLUBBED IT. I’M IN THE MERYDION ASPECT, STRANDED. THE PORTAL IS BLOCKED AND I CAN’T GET BACK. SOMETHING’S AFOOT, BUT DON’T KNOW WHAT. IS ANYTHING GOING ON AT THE CASTLE?

Jeremy looked at Osmirik, who shrugged.

NOTHING SO FAR. WHAT DO YOU THINK COULD HAVE BLOCKED THE PORTAL?

BEEN WAITING FOR SOME FALLOUT FROM THE DONNYBROOK WE HAD WITH THE HOSTS OF HELL LAST YEAR. WHAT THEY DID DISTURBED THE ETHEREAL FLUX BETWEEN THE UNIVERSES, AND THE WEAPON WE USED AGAINST THEM MAY HAVE DISTURBED IT MORE. NEVER EXPECTED A REACTION THIS LONG DELAYED, BUT LOOKS LIKE IT MIGHT BE HAPPENING. IT’S SURE TO AFFECT THE CASTLE EVENTUALLY.

“Oh, dear,” Osmirik said. “I spoke too soon.”

Jeremy’s fingers ticked across the keyboard.

WHY DON’T I JUST FIRE UP THE INTERUNIVERSAL TRAVELER AND COME PICK YOU UP?

TOO DANGEROUS. THERE’S NO TELLING WHAT STATE THE INTERUNIVERSAL MEDIUM IS IN. YOU COULD VERY EASILY GET CAUGHT BETWEEN DIMENSIONS AND NEVER GET BACK. I’ll HAVE TO FIND SOME OTHER WAY. MEANWHILE, YOU MIGHT BE IN FOR HEAVY WEATHER.

WHAT’S GOING TO HAPPEN?

COULD BE ANYTHING. ASPECTS SHIFTING. DISAPPEARING. ALSO, YOU MAY SEE SOME STRANGE VARIANT UNIVERSES, ONES WE’VE NEVER SEEN BEFORE. EVEN ANTI-UNIVERSES OF ONES WE KNOW. ALL SORTS OF WEIRD STUFF. NO TELLING WHAT. IT COULD BE DANGEROUS. CAN YOU GET THE COMPUTER UP AND RUNNING SOON BY YOURSELF?

“Uh-oh,” Jeremy said. “He doesn’t know what he’s asking.”

NO CAN DO, SIR. IT’S TOO BIG A JOB FOR ME. I NEED YOUR HELP.

JEREMY, LISTEN. I MIGHT NOT BE ABLE TO CONTACT YOU AGAIN. HERE IS WHAT YOU MUST DO. YOU HAVE TO WRITE A SPELL PROGRAM AND RUN IT.

Jeremy gave Osmirik a baffled look.

He typed: WHAT KIND OF PROGRAM?

CALL IT A COSMOLOGY-PROCESSING PROGRAM. AS YOU KNOW, THE CASTLE OCCUPIES A CENTRAL PLACE IN THE MULTIVERSE, THE PLENUM OF THE VARIOUS UNIVERSES. THE FORCE OF ANY MAGIC WORKED THERE IS REINFORCED MANY TIMES AND CAN HAVE FAR-REACHING EFFECTS. WITH OUR NEW MORE POWERFUL COMPUTER, WE CAN REDRESS THE BALANCE AND STABILIZE THE COSMOS.

“He’s crazy,” Jeremy said.

HOW? I CAN’T DO IT.

UNTIL I GET THERE, YOU’LL HAVE TO CARRY THE BALL. IS OSMIRIK WITH YOU?

HE’S RIGHT HERE.

GOOD. OZZIE, LISTEN. GET EVERYTHING YOU CAN ON COSMOLOGY, COSMOGONY, AND INTERCONTINUUM METAPHYSICS. ALSO MY MONOGRAPH ON INFLUENCE SPELLS. JEREMY, TAKE ALL THAT DATA AND FEED IT INTO BACKUP STORAGE VIA THAT NEW GIZMO I ORDERED, THE HARD-COPY SCANNER. OZZIE. THAT MEANS YOU’LL HAVE TO CUT OUT THE PAGES SO THAT JEREMY CAN USE THE SHEET FEEDER.

“My books!” Osmirik wailed. “They’ll be ruined!”

Incarnadine went on: YOU CAN START ON THAT RIGHT NOW. JEREMY, YOU MUST HAVE THE OPERATING SYSTEM READY FOR A BIG JOB BY THE TIME I GET BACK. WILL YOU TRY?

Jeremy sighed. “Jesus, he’s not giving me much choice.”

SURE. I’LL GIVE IT MY BEST SHOT. WHEN CAN YOU GET BACK?

I KNEW I COULD COUNT ON YOU. DON’T KNOW WHEN OR IF I CAN RETURN. MUST GET TO A PLACE OF POWER HERE WHERE MAGIC WILL WORK BETTER. THAT’S A PROBLEM, THOUGH. IF I DON’T GET BACK, THE COMPUTER CAN HELP YOU TO WRITE THE PROGRAM, IF YOU GET THE O.S. WORKING PROPERLY. BOOT UP A FILE DESIGNATED “ISIS.” IT’S AN A.I. PROGRAM, BUT IT’S NEVER BEEN THOROUGHLY DEBUGGED. COULD BE TRICKY, BUT ALSO POTENTIALLY EFFECTIVE. HAVE YOU GOT ALL THIS?

GOT IT. ANYTHING ELSE?

ALL FOR NOW. WILL TRY TO COMMUNICATE AGAIN SOON, BUT CAN’T PROMISE. YOU’RE AN ACE HACKER, KID. AND I KNOW YOU CAN DO IT. MUST RING OFF. GOOD LUCK. INCARNADINE OUT.…

Osmirik asked, “What is an A.I. program?”

“Stands for ‘artificial intelligence.’ They really don’t exist, not the real thing, anyway. But who knows what he came up with?”

Osmirik rolled up his sleeves. “I must get busy. There is no time to waste.”

“Yeah, I’ll get the sheet feeder ready, and the scanner, which I haven’t even taken out of the box yet.” Jeremy got up and stretched. “Can we get some room service up here? I’m gonna need a crapload of coffee, and food, and a cot to rack out in. Looks like we’re in for a rough couple of days.”

“I’ll alert the chamberlain. He will see that you get everything you need.”

“Great. I’m gonna need all the help I can get.”

“I will fetch the requisite materials from the library.”

“Right. See you later.”

Osmirik left and Jeremy sat back down.

He summoned up the utility file storage area and looked over the file directory. It was there; the file name was ISIS.AI. After not much debate, he loaded the program and executed it.

The screen came alive with color graphics.

XXXX

XXXXXXXXXXX

XXXX

XXXXXXXXXXX

XXXX

XXXXXXXXXXX

XXXX

XXXXXXXXXXX

XXXX

XXXX XXXX

XXXX

XXXX XXXX

XXXX

XXXX

XXXX

XXXX

XXXX

XXXXXXXXXXX

XXXX

XXXXXXXXXXX

XXXX

XXXXXXXXXXX

XXXX

XXXXXXXXXXX

XXXX

XXXX

XXXX

XXXX

XXXX

XXXX XXXX

XXXX

XXXX XXXX

XXXX

XXXXXXXXXXX

XXXX

XXXXXXXXXXX

XXXX

XXXXXXXXXXX

XXXX

XXXXXXXXXXX

ISIS™ 2.

……………………………………

Copyright 1950 by John Carney

ISIS is a registered trademark of Castle Research, Inc.

All rights reserved.

No part of this program may be reproduced, transmitted, transcribed, stored in a retrieval system, or translated into any computer language, in any form or by any means, without prior written approval of the copyright holder. Nasty events could be the result.

This means you.

……………………………………

“Jesus, nineteen-fifty! They didn’t even have computers then!”

Jeremy read what appeared next.

YOU WEREN’T SUPPOSED TO RUN ME WITHOUT CHECKING OUT THE OPERATING SYSTEM, BUT I’M GLAD YOU DID, ANYWAY. TURN AROUND AND LOOK, DARLING.

Jeremy jerked his head up and said, “Huh?”

He wheeled around in his chair and nearly fell off.

“Hello, Jeremy.”

She was about five feet seven inches tall and had long shiny black hair. Her eyes were large and blue, her lips full and pouting. She had a straight nose and high cheekbones and wore a slinky cocktail dress of black velvet, slit up the left thigh, with high-heeled black patent-leather shoes. Her legs were long and exquisitely turned, and she had on black net stockings.

Jeremy had some trouble with his lips. “Who — who — who are you?”

“I’m Isis.”

She came up and kissed him full on the mouth.

Загрузка...