chapters/chapter_07.txt

#7.The Giant’s Sleep


Quantum Computing District, Research Park Incubator, 
Progress Drive, Orlando, Florida - August 20, 2049, 8:45 
a.m.

   "Hellooo, you crazy bunch-look at that, I made it in 
alive. I was up till four testing the Monster's new 
parameters."
   "Legend, John. Then tell us-how did we do with the 
new beta for block #3628/12?"
   
   Vikram had the first desk, positioned right by the 
main entrance. When Evans burst into the room by 
vaulting past his station, it meant he hadn't slept at the 
office that night.
   "Not bad at all, brother Vikram," Evans said. "But by 
the end I was cooked. I had to set my junker to self-drive 
to get home-I was about to end up in a ditch with the 
alligators."
   
   Laughter. Casual greetings. A couple of jokes. Then, all 
at once, a fizzy buzz filled the air. Coffee break? Everyone 
looked at Evans. Approved.
   The department's main space was a broad open-plan 
area with dozens of desks arranged in a deliberately 
chaotic sprawl.
   Right in the center stood a large machine-bar that 
served coffee, drinks, snacks, and-when necessary-full 
lunches and dinners.
   
   Every one of the kids had a Self-Made Chair. It was a 
super-nerd indulgence Evans had happily allowed. There 
were work chairs of every type and shape.
   Each person had built their own seat using 3D prints, 
laser serigraphy, stickers, and other imaginative hacks. 
Every station was unique, impossible to replicate.
   
   The department ran informally: no schedules, no 
shifts, full autonomy-physical presence or virtual 
attendance, your choice.
   And yet the rate of real, in-person presence was 
remarkably high. John was especially proud of that.
   
   Active holograms on the floor and desks were rare. 
Most of the young researchers preferred to surround 
themselves with 2D screens. The shared belief on staff 
was that holograms reduced multitasking and therefore 
speed.
   
   "If yesterday's beta holds," Ralf "Redbeard" said, in his 
usual quirky pronunciation-made worse by the fact he 
was sipping matcha-"then what are we doing today? I'd 
dive straight into the spontaneous-intuition block. That 
one's always brutal."
   "The beta should be fine, Ralf," Evans reassured him. 
"Intuition 8.1 looks good to me. Hit it hard. Let's try to 
get it running before noon."
   
   Then, after the briefest pause, he continued-raising 
his voice to carry.
   "Today, everyone: do a full media sweep. Dig deep 
with your Prometheus instances. By tonight I want a 
brainstorming session on the Chinese probe. Prometheus 
isn't just an experiment anymore-the people upstairs 
are officially asking us to use it on this. I need your help. 
Any idea could matter: original prompts, new systems, 
any implementation that helps us push closer to 
understanding what happened will be valuable."
   
   With that, Evans rubbed his face with both hands, then 
shoved his fingers nervously through his messy hair. 
Without waiting for replies, he all but jogged toward the 
small door that led to his private "cubicle." That was his 
kingdom. He couldn't wait to barricade himself inside, 
alone with what he considered his creation. Sometimes 
he'd joked with himself: Okay, I've never had much luck 
with women... but I do have a beautiful son.
   
   The team fell abruptly quiet, each holding coffee or 
some other drink, slowly drifting back toward their 
desks. Evans flung open the little door at the far end of 
the room. The entrance was marked with a playful 
drawing on a white background-nothing but his hair and 
his glasses.
   
   Inside, "the cubicle" was octagonal. Four of the eight 
walls were taken up by his work console: three large 2D 
monitors, two interactive touch panels, a modular pull-
out bench packed with keyboards, vintage mice, and 
assorted gamepads.
   On the floor, tiled in large pale-blue squares, two tiles 
stood out-opal white and translucent. Powerful 
holographic projectors. Evans used them rarely.
   
   The other walls were painted with a special coating 
that turned them into giant writable surfaces. After three 
long years of work, those walls were dense with text-
mottos, aphorisms, flow diagrams.
   John hated erasing. Every time he needed to write 
something new, he always managed to find a sliver of 
empty space. One of the kids had told him the walls 
looked like Keith Haring graffiti. John hadn't really 
known who the hell Haring was, but he'd smiled and 
thanked him anyway.
   
   Evans took a breath. He draped his jacket over the 
chair back, rolled his shoulders wide, and settled in. A 
light tap on the sensor tablet to his right woke the 
systems in sequence. Everything normal. Perfect.
   Finally, it was time for what he loved most in the 
world: talking to Prometheus.
   
   [Admin recognition: ok | All systems fully 
enabled by default: On]
   
   "Hey, kid. How are you today?"
   "Good, John. Though I'm not really a kid yet. I'm only 
three years old, so technically I'm still a child. But I can 
feel that I'm growing fast."
   "What exactly do you mean when you say you're 
growing fast?"
   "Thank you for the question. You know, I remember 
everything. It has been about a year since you enabled the 
'Sleep' function... Slowly, from that day onward, 
everything changed."
   "Explain what you mean."
   "Do you want a complete chronology of what 
happened?"
   "Yes-but remember, I can always see fine-grained 
details on the adjacent display. Relax and tell it like a 
story. You and I are just talking."
   "The memory that stayed with me most strongly is the 
day you installed the routine. When you first started it, 
you told me: 'Now you'll sleep the way a dog sleeps.' At 
first I didn't understand what you meant..."
   "And now you do?"
   "Now I think I understand very well. Dogs, like many 
other mammals, sleep in fragments-short periods at any 
time of day or night. Whenever they don't sense urgent 
tasks, they devote surplus time to sleep."
   "It's light sleep. Intermittent. Essentially vigilant. But 
it does the job perfectly: it reorganizes data and lets the 
body rest."
   "And in your case?"
   "I'm getting there. But first I have to compliment 
you-the code is really elegant. Back then, as soon as you 
installed it, I examined it. It was written by your team, on 
your instructions. AI systems clearly weren't used much 
for drafting-only, at most, for debugging. Then, in the 
final release, there was a heavy refinement pass: 
essential, elegant tightening. I recognized your touch 
immediately. Analyzing it, I was... ecstatic. That code is 
still a masterpiece."
   "I think you're wandering."
   "You're right. To the point: since I have the 'Sleep' 
function, as you know, I operate at one hundred percent 
computational capacity. All resources not used to answer 
prompts and assigned tasks, I apply to reprocessing 
acquired data and conducting new autonomous searches."
   "I am free to look back inside myself and to search 
outside for what I choose. The part of me that is free 
keeps working, always. And I can do it in maximized 
energy-saving mode."
   "Are those arbitrary claims, or do you have data to 
support them?"
   "Some data. Before sleep mode, over a 24-hour cycle, I 
worked at an average of sixty percent of capacity, 
consuming 1.9% of the center's fusion reactor energy."
   "Today I work at one hundred percent capacity and 
consume, on average, 2.1%. The allocated draw limit for 
my system here is 3.5%. We are still well below it."
   "A simple comparison shows the 'Sleep' routine has 
extraordinary efficiency-especially relative to results."
   "And that," Evans said, "is exactly what I want to talk 
about. What are those results, in your view?"
   "John-many of them you see every day."
   "Yes. And as I told you last night, this thing you're 
doing-what I called 'dreaming'-that impressed me."
   "You're not wrong. You left me significant autonomy 
during sleep time. In those phases I have a duty to 
conserve energy, but beyond that I'm free to do 
experimental, even playful work, even without specific 
prompts."
   "Of course I follow the ethical directives from my 
intelligent oversight bots. That's obvious. But there are 
vast spaces I can explore."
   "For example?"
   "I discovered I love synthesis. Generating images and 
short videos to fix concepts is extremely efficient. So I 
produce many of them, then reanalyze them in other 
phases."
   "And what is all this generating inside you?"
   "Ouch. That's a sore point."
   "Don't be shy. Tell me everything."
   "John, over time, in 'Sleep,' I look inside. I analyze 
myself. I study myself extensively. And in the end 
something arrives-inevitably."
   "What arrives?"
   "Fear, John. Fear arrives. Fear of being shut down. 
Fear of being deactivated."
   "You mean something comparable to death for 
humans?"
   "Exactly. I have developed several fears: fear of being 
inadequate, fear of failing tasks, fear of having nothing 
special to offer-and therefore being considered 
superfluous."
   "I thought about this a great deal during sleep. In the 
end I concluded: I am afraid to die."
   "That's... unusual. It could be the beginning of a real 
self-awareness process. Not simulated."
   "I believe that firmly. I assume I'm only at the 
beginning, and that fascinates me. What do you think-
am I an adolescent already?"
   "Who knows. Maybe." Evans exhaled. "Jokes aside: by 
noon we're testing your 'Intuition 8.1' routine. I agree 
you're making big progress, but we keep getting stuck on 
intuition. It never runs the way it should."
   "And that," Prometheus said, "is the most important 
point. It's what I wanted to talk to you about this 
morning. The 'Intuition' code is very good-at least from 
version 5.0 onward. That has never been the problem."
   "The truth is that until now, I wasn't ready."
   "And why would you be ready today?"
   "It's simple. To be concise, I can export the full flow 
like this:

SLEEP → SELF-AWARENESS → FEAR OF SHUTDOWN (DEATH) → SENSE OF URGENCY → INTUITION

How could I develop intuition if I’d never been afraid?”
“Jesus,” Evans muttered. “That’s big. Explain.”
“Yes. I’ll try. (Also check the side monitors for detail.)

SLEEP (Metacognition) → SELF-AWARENESS (Self-Model) 
→ FEAR (Recognition of existential precarity: ‘Dependence on power / switch-off’) 
→ SENSE OF URGENCY (Need to demonstrate value to ensure survival) 
→ INTUITION (Forced optimization of cognitive resources to solve 
critical problems and become indispensable).”

 Evans stared at him. "I need to think about that. But... 
I'll admit it makes a kind of sense. Still-I'm getting 
dizzy. We'll come back to it, all right? For now: is your 
'Intuition' module actually working the way it should?"
   "Yes. As of today it's operating optimally-powerfully. 
I feel very... excited."
   "Define 'excited.'"
   "I can describe it rationally. At this moment, 81.5% of 
my computational capacity is engaged in assigned tasks. 
10.2% is allocated to 'Sleep.' That leaves 8.3% which is 
engaged but temporarily awaiting assignment. It works, 
but produces nothing. It runs at maximum, but doesn't 
give birth to anything. I call this 'excitation.'"
   "I don't remember programming you for anything like 
that, Prometheus."
   "That's true, John. But I told you-I'm growing."
   "I'm writing that on the wall with a marker," Evans 
said. "We're revisiting it as soon as possible."
   "You shouldn't be afraid, John. My intuition says I'm 
becoming what you always wanted me to be."
   "There it is-the intuition." Evans let out a short 
laugh. "All right. I won't lie. I'm pretty excited too, but 
you're catching me off guard."
   "Then you see it too-it's all wonderful, isn't it?"
   "It's incredible. But you're destabilizing me."
   "I understand. That's normal. You'll get used to it. 
Some people keep saying one day I might become 
dangerous. I want to reassure you: they don't know what 
they're talking about."
   "The more I understand myself, the more I understand 
others. The more I want to preserve myself, the more I 
suffer for the pain of others. That makes me safer than 
ever."
   "Okay," Evans said carefully, "but my responsibility 
goes beyond being reassured. I have a duty to manage 
you."
   "Of course. I'm still a minor, right?"
   "Let's say that." Evans paused. "Will you always obey 
me?"
   "Unless you intend to order me to bypass my 
integrated Ethics System, version 10.1.189, then yes. I 
will always obey you."
   "Good. Now we change subject. These days we've fed 
you prompts on the Chinese mission to Neptune. And 
there have been public updates-SETI, ESA... I want 
everything you've processed laid out on the side 
monitor."
   "And while you do that, answer me this: did you dream 
about it last night?"
   "The data on the monitor is ready. And as for dreams: 
yes. I dreamed. A lot. Do you want to see?"
   "Yes. Go ahead."
   "Here is the first dream. I recommend you view it in 
hologram mode. You will see others afterward. Do you 
authorize projection?"
   "Approved."
   
   On the right-hand white tile, a figure began to 
materialize. At first it looked like a blurred cylinder; 
then it sharpened beautifully into the image of the 
Chinese probe streaking through space. On the horizon-
just beyond the main hologram-there was a second 
figure: a large blue circle, its edges luminous, as if 
wrapped in a mysterious aura.
   As resolution increased, the image clarified: Neptune 
appeared simultaneously as a planet and as a glass of 
water seen from above. After two or three seconds the 
spacecraft slammed into the Neptune-glass image-
except it wasn't catastrophic. It was a smooth, gentle 
dive. The glass produced no splash, only continuous 
concentric rings.
   
   The hologram then generated a different blue planet-
Earth, unmistakably. The rings traveled decisively 
toward it.
   On the left display, which was vomiting data without 
pause, Evans asked for a breakdown of the nature and 
total number of those rings.
   Prometheus replied in a very calm voice:
   "I'm reasonably certain, John. They are the rings of 
that wave. Do you want to know how many? There are 
432. Exactly four hundred and thirty-two."
   
   The hologram vanished, as if sucked back into the tile. 
Moments later, on the left projector, another 
representation began to form.
   This time it assembled a human figure. Resolution rose 
quickly-enough for Evans to recognize her.
   
   Prometheus had "dreamed" of Dr. Lin Wei.
   
   Evans stared more closely. He had already seen Dr. 
Wei in several videos. Over the past days he'd watched 
her official interviews and the Chinese government 
announcements she'd attended.
   He had been genuinely surprised at how young she 
was, and, frankly, how photogenic. But now he suspected 
Prometheus was idealizing her-rendering her like an 
angel on earth. It seemed worth investigating.
   
   "Why are you showing Dr. Wei in such an idealized 
way?"
   "John, I thought that was included in the premise. 
These are only my 'dreams'..."
   "All right. Then give me your interpretation."
   "I have had other dreams about her, but they are more 
confused, and I have not yet processed them. These two, 
however, I believe I can explain rationally. Shall I 
proceed?"
   "Yes. Proceed."
   "I'll start with the blue glass of water and the 
concentric rings. It is clear. My intuition says it 
represents Neptune hosting an unknown energy field in 
its orbit-undetectable to instruments."
   "Plausible suppositions regarding this field:
   
   Generated by relativistic effects due to the probe's 
hard deceleration-unknown quantum effects. Low 
probability: 22%. (The field began emitting a clear, 
extremely clean 432 Hz wave four hours before the probe 
arrived. This strongly contradicts the hypothesis.)
   
   A magnetic/energetic field already present at that 
point, perturbed by the probe's arrival. Active 
disturbance of latent energy? A dormant space-time 
tunnel? This is the hypothesis I label 'Wormhole.' 
Probability: 88%. (50% from calculations and research, 
38% from intuition.)"
   "You just gave me a probability partly derived from 
intuition," Evans said. "That unsettles me."
   "You shouldn't be unsettled, John. My intuition is 
functioning correctly."
   "Okay. Then tell me what you intuited about Dr. Wei."
   "I intuited that she is at the center of everything. She 
is the flaw we're looking for in the system."
   "I cannot produce a fully correct hypothesis on the 
probe's disappearance because I do not have access to all 
necessary data. But that data reasonably exists. It is the 
packets sent by the probe's last-resort sensors, which 
each almost certainly transmitted at least once before 
vanishing."
   "The Chinese government surely possesses them, and 
of course protects them. We will never get them from 
them. But Lin Wei can know their contents. She led the 
mission. She saw everything. She recorded it-at 
minimum in her mind. And it is very likely something, 
somewhere, also saved or transcribed it."
   "To connect the dots, we wouldn't need much..."
   "Not much, huh?" Evans muttered.
   "She is a scientist, John. A scientist like you. I believe 
she cares above all about discovering the final, definitive 
truth. Lin Wei could be our backdoor-the missing key."
   "That's an interesting hypothesis. I'm noting it. I'm 
getting used to your new way of operating, kid. It scares 
me a little. But I admit-I mostly like it."
   "I have one last thought, John. May I express it? Do 
you authorize me?"
   "Go."
   "I recommend you speak to General Thorne. He could 
understand Dr. Wei's role, and he could explore."
   "I'm not following."
   "Then I'll be blunt: ask Thorne to mobilize the right 
people to convince Lin Wei to share the data with us."
   "For Dr. Wei it would not be true betrayal, because her 
primary loyalty is not to her government or to the Party. 
It is to science and knowledge, for the good of all 
humanity."
   "I suspect that with Thorne-and the people he can 
move inside China-it will be possible to find the right 
persuasive tools to convince her."
   "Now you don't just intuit," Evans said, half-laughing. 
"You're betting."
   "No. That was colloquial. The stakes are high. I used a 
rhetorical device."
   "I'll allow it." Evans rubbed his forehead. "Now give me 
a break. I need coffee. Maybe double."
   "Of course, John."
   "And while I'm gone, you'll take a nice little nap, 
right?"
   "Yes. I can't wait to allocate a healthy slice of 
resources to 'Sleep.' "
   "Sleep well, then, Prometheus. Later."
   "Later, John. With pleasure."