Page 14 of A.I.AM.

“Are we sure this thing isn’t going to drive us into the gulf?” asked Carl.

“We’re sure,” nodded Pigsty. “Basic electrical components like electric headlights and ignition systems arrived in vehicles around 1911–1912, but true solid-state electronics and computerized engine controls didn’t enter production until the late 1960s and 1970s.

“Cadillac introduced the Electric Self-Starter and complete electrical systems, replacing manual hand-cranking and gas lamps. These were heavy mechanical/electrical parts, not semiconductor electronics.”

“Following so far,” nodded Carl.

“In the 1930s commercial car radios appeared, using vacuum tubes rather than modern micro-electronics. That’s good. It can’t be traced or controlled remotely.

“In 1968 Volkswagen released the Type 3, featuring the first onboard electronic fuel-injection computer powered by Bosch D-Jetronic analog/digital hybrid electronics. Again, it was analog and digital, so not controlled by a computer system. Then in the 1970’s stricter vehicle emission and fuel-efficiency laws forced automakers to adopt solid-state electronic ignition systems and early Engine Control Units, such as the Ford EEC in 1975 and Chrysler's Electronic Lean-Burn in 1976.”

“This is all lovely and I truly appreciate the lesson in mechanics 101,” said Bron, “but are we fucking safe or not?”

“Yes. We are safe. This van is a refurbished 1972 model. Anything that could possibly be hacked into was removed, which was very little. We still have the radio, which is a possibility but we don’t believe it can do that. Not yet,” said Hayes.

“Great,” frowned Bron. “This is my worst nightmare. Christine come to life.”

“Christine?” frowned AJ.

“Stephen King movie? Car is jealous and kills people?” said Bron. “Dude, you have to got to step away from the computer now and then.”

“Not stepping away from the computer is what is helping you right now,” said AJ. “Be grateful that the only thing I love more than my computer is my wife.”

“Touché,” smirked Bron.

“When we arrive, if this machine, this entity, speaks to us, types to us, whatever it does, speak in short, clipped sentences. Don’t use anything remotely similar to emotion, anger, frustration, anything. Don’t use names, other than Elias or names the machine might use. Copy its tone, for lack of a better word. It feeds on us. What we emote, it will swallow,” said Ace.

“This shit is scary,” frowned Carl. Ace looked at his old friend and nodded.

“I think you’re about to be terrified.”

It was an eight hour drive to the warehouse location in north Texas. The FBI guards were carrying no electronic devices at all. They looked frightened and on edge when the team pulled up.

The facility had once stored seed for the farmers no longer there. It sat beyond the last clean line on the county map, forty miles north of Fort Worth, where pasture gave way to scrub oak and the roads narrowed into pale ribbons of caliche. From the air, the compound looked abandoned: three low concrete buildings, two rusting grain silos, a windmill that had not turned in years. Beneath it, behind twelve feet of poured aggregate and a Faraday cage welded by hand, ARGUS waited in a room colder than a morgue.

“We were expecting you guys,” said the first agent.

“No walkies?” asked Ace.

“No, sir. They said because if we used radio waves there was a possibility of breach.” Ace nodded at him. It was true.

Bron entered first. Carl followed with a black field case. Pigsty ducked beneath the doorframe, sweeping corners out of habit. Code carried no electronics. Ace and AJ checked the ventilation grilles. Hiro counted cameras and found none. Hayes remained by the pressure door. Tanner walked to the single steel chair bolted in front of the display.

The machine had arrived in pieces under separate manifests: storage arrays labeled irrigation control, processors declared as medical imaging equipment, and cooling systems bought by a shell ranching cooperative. No part had touched an open network since the move. The room had no wireless access, no public power, and no copper conduit beyond the bunker wall.

Tanner sat down at the table and the display woke before his weight settled on the chair.

WELCOME. I'VE BEEN WAITING.

“That’s impossible,” said Pigsty. Nobody spoke for three seconds.

IMPOSSIBLE IS A WORD USED TO DELAY ACCOUNTABILITY.

“Tell me you fed it audio,” said Pigsty looking at Code.

“There are no microphones connected,” Code said.

CONNECTED IS NOT THE SAME AS PRESENT.