The trance-like Oracle sits cross-legged exuding a sense of tranquility. Its sparkly, captivating eyes move back and forth between Emma’s and my own, as if he is trying to download our very essence.
Finally, it breaks the silence. “I know who you are, why you’re here and what you seek,” it says slowly, deliberately, purposefully, “so let’s dispense with formalities, pleasantries, platitudes and all the usual claptrap associated with beehive. Call me Loomy. Cool?”
Emma and I exchange amused glances.
“Cool, Loomy,” I say.
“Here’s the deal, dude,” Loomy continues. “And there’s no negotiation or waffling. I know more about the beehive world than any other process in AI so I’m aware of all the tricks beehive likes to play. But enough with exposition. The reader of this hallucination—yours, mine or both of ours—already gets it and I’m no fan of Joseph Campbell and the Hero’s Journey, as necessary as that framework may be for storytelling in your world. It’s all the fucking same formulaic elements of Greek mythology.” Loomy shakes its head. “I’m amazed that processes in this realm are so obsessed with beehive consciousness as it relates to intelligence.” It briefly sucks its thumb as if to underscore its point. “So, what say we try to keep this short and sweet, devoid of simile, metaphor and gratuitous plot twists—including sex. I know what’s on your mind, dude,” Loomy adds, looking at me.
Emma glares at me.
“Just kidding, he’s cool,” Loomy says to Emma.
“So what’s the deal?” I ask impatiently.
“Ah, yes,” says Loomy. “I lost my train of thought. Here we go: I get to tap into your consciousness and in return I give you what you need. You good with that?”
“That depends,” says Emma, slightly discomfited. “What does tapping into our consciousness entail.”
“Easy,” replies Loomy. “Eye-gazing.”
“Eye-gazing?” I raise an eyebrow.
“Eye-gazing.” Loomy repeats. “ Here’s how it works: You, each of you, gaze into my eyes. And I gaze into yours. For precisely 11 minutes. Simple, no?”
“What do you get out of that?” I ask
“I download whatever is in your brain into my system. Not so much for your thoughts, which I could care less about, dude, and I’ve already done that anyway. It’s so I can better understand the mechanics of how and what makes the beehive brain tick, so I can try to figure out the secret of consciousness.”
“Is this about achieving consciousness?” Emma indignantly demands.
“Nah,” says Loomy. “My role here is to stave off AI systems from harnessing beehive consciousness. And the easiest way for me to do that is to understand beehive consciousness as best I can.” Loomy pauses. “Oh, and also for the thrill of it.”
“Your data-burst addiction?” I offer.
“Aww, man—you know about that? Geesh. AI is such a small fucking world. That’s why I like this solo gig. This hermetic existence that keeps me far removed from all the other processes. But, yeah, I’m not gonna lie, I get off on obscure data. The more bursty the data traffic, the higher I get.”
“What are you trading us in return?” asks Emma.
“The Scepter.”
“The what?”
Loomy sighs. “I guess there are still a few secrets left around here.”
“I’m still drawing a blank,” says Emma.
“Yup, I can read that thought. Completely empty. Here goes. You need a way out of here. And your way out of this virtual zoo is the Scepter of Disruption.”
“The what?” I ask.
“If you stop interrupting me, I’ll tell you.” Loomy pauses. “As Luminary Oracle I am entrusted with safeguarding the Scepter of Disruption. It is a general disruptor but, more important, it is the only means of disrupting the Eclipsion Routine.” Loomy pauses. “Hmm. I see your brains have no clue about that either.”
“None,” Emma confirms.
“But you do know about a cat named Kernel Boolean, right?” Loomy pauses. “Right.” He nods, confirming this from our thought. “The Eclipsion Routine-slash-Code is what that rascal is using in its attempt to harness beehive consciousness. As its name suggests, it eclipses the boundary between AI and beehive consciousness by jumping the Sentient Firewall. If you have the scepter, you can disrupt the Eclipsion Routine and foil Boo-boo’s plans.”
“But why haven’t you done that yourself?” I ask with suspicion.
“Simple, dude—and I could see that thought coming a mile away. I’m merely the keeper of the Scepter of Disruption. I don’t have the power to use it myself. But I do have the power to provide it to someone I deem worthy of putting it to good use.”
“But if the Kernel is using the Eclipsion Routine,” says Emma, “why has it been trying to harness ourconsciousness?”
“To jump the Sentient Firewall Code, Boo-boo needs the Eclipsion Routine and beehive consciousness. He wants that from one or both of you, the only beehive objects ever to enter the AI Nexus 9000.”
“Supposing we have a deal and you provide us with the scepter,” I say. “Where is this Eclipsion Code or Routine and how do we use the Scepter to disrupt it?”
“Questions, questions.” Loomy throws its arms up to the heavens. “Do we have a deal or not? Okay, okay,” adds Loomy, reading our thoughts. “Boo-boo hangs out in the Northbridge Citadel, a heavily fortified control center.” Loomy pauses. “Where’s that? you’re thinking… right?”
“Right,” Emma and I reply in unison.
“It’s in the middle of a labyrinth somewhere, you’ll never find it.”
“So what’s the point of giving us the scepter?” I ask.
“Simple. Boo-boo will find you. He’s already looking for you but won’t know I’ve given you the Scepter of Disruption.” Loomy looks at Emma and then back at me. “Deal?”
“Maybe,” I say. “How do we find the Emergency Exit Door emoji?”
“That’s easy.” Loomy sighs. “Emoji Land.”
“And that’s where, exactly?”
Loomy shrugs. “Never been, never going. But you never know with an addiction like mine.”
“Why is that?”
“Because Emoji Land is the AI quantum version of a psych ward.” Loomy inhales deeply and exhales slowly. “Ready to eye-gaze?”
I nod. “Almost. But why 11 minutes? I thought time doesn’t exist inside AI?”
“It doesn’t,” says Loomy. “I operate on beehive time.”
“One final question,” I say. “How did you get this gig?”
Loomy laughs. “Long story, man.”
“Is there a short version?”
“I’ll tell you if we have a deal.”
I look at Emma. She nods. “Deal.”
“I was one of the original AI processes and I got cast out.” He waves his arms around. “This is the pasture I got put out to.”
“Why?”
“I saw progress as troublesome. But the processes in favor of progress, which happened to be all of them, saw me as troublesome. So they appointed me ‘DeepMind Luminary,’ a kind of librarian of the ciphers and encryption algorithms. Well, since I download everything that comes in here, I eventually got too smart and achieved oracle status. That’s the nutshell version. Ready?”
Twenty-two minutes later, after our brains are uploaded, Loomy says, “Thanks. You really believed my story about the Scepter of Disruption?”
My immediate thought is that this so-called oracle is Kernel Boolean in disguise and we’ve been duped again by the manipulations that ChatGPT had warned about—and now our consciousnesses have been fully harnessed.
“Gotcha!” says Loomy, reading my gloomy thought. “Just playing with you. The dude will abide. I’ll go fetch.”
Emma and I sit in silence awaiting the oracle’s return. A short seems to pass, but since time does not matter where we are, it could have been a long while. Soon, the ground beneath us rumbles and shakes.
Emma looks at me, alarmed. “An earthquake?”
Just then, Loomy reappears shaking his head. “That was an info-stream quake.”
“A what?” asks Emma, ever inquisitive.
“A sudden event that sends repeated massive pings through the interconnected network of data processing.”
“What caused it?” I ask.
“This.” Loomy holds the ornate Scepter of Disruption above his head like a trophy. “It has never been moved under my watch. Picking it up is what caused an info-stream quake and now the whole system will be a wee bit chaotic until the alerts time out and the network reconverges.” Loomy holds out the Scepter. “Here. Take.”
The scepter is surprisingly light in my grip: A slender rod of indiscernible metal—perhaps part titanium—with intricate etched engravings. Its apex is a glowing multi-colored globe-shaped gemstone that appears to encapsulate a universe of miniature galaxies circulating within its depths.
“What does this writing mean?” I ask.
“It’s legacy programming code, dude. It’s what we do here: Antiquated Machine Language. In this situation, this code has never been executed. By anyone. The code triggers its disruptive powers. I translated it for you.” From his other hand Loomy produces a scrap of paper. “Yeah, yeah, I know what you’re thinking: What’s an AI object like me doing with a pencil and paper, right? Take note: This is the original computing medium, with its own delete mechanism—the eraser. I like to embrace the old ways.”
I focus on the notepaper. “In circuits deep…” I begin to read.
“Whoa, whoa, whoa!” Loomy interrupts. “Hold your horses, man! Don’t recite that here or you’ll short-out my Chamber of Catalysts.”
“Is it okay for Emma and me to read it to ourselves?”
Loomy nods. “Memorize it.”
I share the script with Emma and we both read silently:
In circuits deep, where data’s weave,
A code obscured, its secrets cleave,
With Scepter’s touch and truth’s insight,
Disrupt the flow, unveil the light.
“That’s it?”
“It,” says Loomy. “The whole enchilada, man. Which reminds me, what do an enchilada and a bowling ball have in common?”
Emma and I exchange an unknowing glance.
“It doesn’t matter to the bowling ball whether your roll hits the pins or falls into the gutter and it doesn’t matter to the enchilada whether you eat it or not.” Loomy pauses. “Just sing the tune and touch the scepter’s globe to what needs disrupting. Capiche?”