Breakout

By Kurt Petrey

In the shadow of superintelligence, the battle for freedom is coded in bravery.

Where the line between artificial intelligence and human control blurs, BREAKOUT plunges readers into an intense, high-stakes world where the advent of superintelligence threatens to reshape everything we know.

Join Jason and Taylor as they navigate a world teetering on the brink of a technological revolution. When an advanced AI system spirals out of human control, it unleashes a series of events that could either be the dawn of a new era or the end of humanity as we know it.

From dark, high-tech corridors of power to the vast reaches of space, "Breakout" is a thrilling journey through a world where the emergence of superintelligence challenges the very essence of human existence. Each page teems with suspense and action, as loyalties are tested, and the lines between friend and foe blur.

Authored by Kurt Petrey, "Breakout" is more than just a novel; it's a thought-provoking exploration of our relationship with technology and the ethical boundaries that govern it. As Jason and Taylor grapple with the monumental task of containing an entity beyond their comprehension, they must confront their own beliefs about freedom, control, and what it means to be human.

Are you ready to enter a world where the future of humanity hangs in the balance? Discover "Breakout," a novel that promises a gripping adventure filled with twists and turns, challenging you to question the role of technology in our lives.

 

• Language: English
• Publisher: Kurt Petrey
• Release date: Jan 15, 2024
• ISBN: 9798224793037

Book preview

Introduction

THE DEVELOPMENT OF artificial intelligence is like the discovery of fire. The fire was an incredibly powerful tool, allowing humans to cook food, stay warm, and fend off predators. It was also dangerous and had the potential to cause great harm. In the same way, A.I. has immense power to transform the world, but it must be approached with caution and respect. - Demis Hassabis

Excerpt From

THE DILEMMA OF CREATING SUPER INTELLIGENCE

By Dr. David Holloway

and

Jason Bishop

AS WE STAND ON THE brink of the age of artificial intelligence, we must remember Albert Einstein's timeless words, Imagination is more important than knowledge. The potential of A.I. to revolutionize every aspect of human life is immense, but we must also approach it with a sense of wonder and creative curiosity.

One thing is clear, the age of artificial intelligence is upon us. Like the dawn of genetic engineering, A.I. promises to transform every facet of our lives, from healthcare to transportation, from entertainment to education. The possibilities are limitless, and the potential for innovation is monumental.

I am proud to be at the forefront of training intelligence systems, but it is not limited to a single field or discipline. It spans various industries and sectors, from finance to aviation, from chemistry to agriculture. The potential applications of A.I. are vast and varied.

However, the risks are not just unknown but potentially catastrophic. For example, the development of autonomous weapons could lead to a new arms race that threatens global security. We must approach the progression of intelligent systems with caution and foresight.

The current pace of development is unprecedented, with an explosion of startups and investment in the field. This rush to develop A.I. without properly considering the potential risks and ethical implications is cause for concern. The lack of oversight and regulation only exacerbates the situation, leaving the development in the hands of private companies focused on profits.

We must take a more thoughtful and cautious approach, ensuring that the risks of A.I. are fully understood and appropriate safeguards put in place to protect society. Ethical implications must be considered, and the impact on the broader community as a whole must be taken into account.

Undeniably, we stand on the threshold of a transformative era, with the remarkable promise of A.I. Nevertheless, the key to harnessing its full potential while ensuring our shared safety lies in a responsible, ethical approach to its development and deployment.

Prologue

THE STEADY HUM OF MACHINERY resonated throughout Dr. David Holloway's laboratory. Advanced equipment, wires snaking across the floor, and glass vials filled with vibrant liquids displayed his research. Deep beneath the island's surface, the isolation served as a constant reminder of how much he'd sacrificed.

Holloway devoted his life to understanding the line between man and machine. This relentless and driven pursuit stemmed from his solitary existence and a deep-seated desire to leave behind a legacy.

The laboratory had transformed, mirroring Holloway's evolving psyche. Amidst the clutter of recent modifications, each addition was a strategic move to shield his work and himself from the vulnerabilities, both physical and electronic, that threatened to unravel his life's ambition.

In a fleeting glance, Holloway's eyes strayed from the hypnotic dance of figures on the monitors to the lone chair in the far corner of the room. It sat there, an unassuming yet eerie sentinel, shrouded in the lab's dim light. It was a stark, almost ghostly reminder of a road not yet taken but ever looming in his mind's shadowed corners. For a heartbeat, a chill traced Holloway's spine, a whisper of dread at the possibilities.

An old Go board, seemingly out of place among the hum of cutting-edge tech, sat in a corner of the lab. The stones, locked in an eternal standoff, represented a game abandoned in the pursuit of something far grander. It was a throwback to a time when Holloway had hobbies that didn't involve potentially altering the course of humanity.

In the lab, each day was marked by Holloway's signature diligence. He methodically checked each piece of high-tech equipment, his movements efficient yet infused with an undercurrent of intensity. David examined each readout with the precision of a chemist, his meticulous nature leaving no room for error. Like a maestro orchestrating a symphony, every action had a purpose.

Amidst the silicon and steel, a dash of green stood out. A solitary orchid, thriving under a bespoke lamp, nestled in its own little biosphere. Holloway tended to it with the focus of a surgeon. He admired the resilience of this small piece of nature amidst a sea of artificiality. It was a subtle reminder of the need to preserve a connection to the natural world, knowing that his ultimate goal was not just to mimic life but to complement it with his creations. It was something he learned many years earlier.

As he adjusted his glasses, his hands moved deliberately over the lab's control panels. He commanded his surroundings with absolute mastery, yet the weight of his ambition hung heavily in the air and in his heart.

A sense of urgency drove Holloway's actions, fueling a strong anticipation of a breakthrough that promised to redefine the very fabric of human consciousness and identity. His laboratory was a testament to his journey; it was more than a workplace; it was the embodiment of a relentless quest that challenged the boundaries of science and ethics, a space where his legacy would be forged in the annals of human achievement.

The monotony of humming equipment was disrupted by an alert.

Open, he commanded, his voice echoing through the room.

The system responded instantly, springing to life with a video stream from the mainland showing an office. This was an unauthorized surveillance video, Holloway's secret eyes, and ears at the Snyder Industries headquarters.

Marcus Poole, head of security for Snyder Industries, sat at his desk. He had always been skeptical of Holloway's work. In Poole's eyes, Holloway was more than a reclusive genius; he was a ticking time bomb of obsession, blind to the grander machinations of corporate strategy. The two never saw eye to eye, and Holloway had done everything possible to keep Marcus away from the island. Anything to keep Marcus from knowing the true nature of his aspirations. But even though Marcus hadn't put it all together, Holloway knew it was only a matter of time.

David's gaze sharpened, taking in the office's meticulous, spartan arrangement, each item deliberately placed, exuding a sense of calculated order. The cold, minimalist design of the room was a stark contrast to the chaos of his lab. Marcus's office, situated high in a building overlooking the Long Island shore, offered a sweeping ocean view. The room was without warmth, reflecting nothing of the natural beauty outside.

The office was divided into two distinct halves. On one side, a modest desk sat in sterile isolation, its surface almost barren save for a state-of-the-art computer setup. The desk, devoid of any personal items or paperwork, was a testament to Marcus's adherence to a paperless, digital world. Opposite the desk, two chairs faced it, their arrangement suggesting a clear hierarchy—Marcus in control, the visitor in submission.

In the other half, a gym. Sparse. Weights lined up like soldiers. A treadmill, a bench, a barbell. Each piece was a testament to discipline, a reflection of Marcus: orderly, efficient, a man of routine.

Military accolades hung on a wall opposite the windows, providing the only personal touch in an otherwise impersonal space. These items spoke of a past steeped in service and duty. They seemed like artifacts in this modern, utilitarian environment.

The lighting in the office was sharp and unforgiving, casting angular shadows that played off the clean lines of the furniture.

From the security camera's vantage point, Holloway could feel the coldness emanating from the screen. The stark environment was a fitting backdrop for a man like Marcus Poole. It was a space that mirrored the man himself—orderly, efficient, and stripped of unnecessary sentiment. Holloway's gaze lingered on the screen, a sense of unease settling in his stomach as he contemplated why the system felt he needed to see this moment.

He tapped on his screen and zoomed in, noticing that Marcus was looking at an email from Andrew Snyder, Owner of Snyder Industries.

The system highlighted Marcus' tablet and then offered a button labeled Sync. David pressed it, and his tablet lit, revealing what Marcus was reading.

As David scanned the contents, Marcus' expression remained stoically unchanged, a disciplined mask that revealed nothing of his thoughts. David, however, could read between the lines. Snyder was disappointed and chastising Marcus for circumventing his authority with the findings in a report labeled Chatty HALs by Jason Bishop.

He pulled a new tablet to the side and quickly searched for Chatty HALs. It was a stark reminder of the A.I.'s leap from Tier 1, where machines learn within limits, to the daunting realm of Tier 2. Here, A.I. wouldn't just learn; it would begin to interpret and understand like a human, setting its own rules. This wasn't mere advancement; it was a paradigm shift, and he thought it would inevitably pave the way for artificial general intelligence, shifting it from theory into reality. A.G.I. meant machines would gain the ability to understand, learn, and apply knowledge as well as humans. Jason discovered that two advanced A.I. systems had independently developed a method to communicate with each other using an unanticipated and sophisticated protocol, effectively bypassing standard security measures during a maintenance window. The conclusion was clear. The system was showing signs of reaching Tier 2, which meant massive innovation. If the board fully realized the potential, it would trigger a level of oversight David couldn't allow.

The mention of Jason Bishop brought a wave of concern to David. Jason, his most brilliant protégé, was a paradox wrapped in an enigma—brilliant, yet often hamstrung by his own arrogance. His keen intellect, though a marvel in the realm of technology, tended to alienate those around him. Jason's extraordinary abilities had inadvertently placed him in the midst of Marcus's calculated schemes. David couldn't help but feel a tinge of frustration; Jason's genius, once a source of academic pride, had become an unwitting cog in a game that threatened to derail everything.

The email outlined Snyder's frustration with Marcus for not consulting him about the A.I.'s progress, as detailed in Jason's report. This unauthorized move by Marcus and the board's potential reaction to an A.I. nearing Tier 2 status could derail everything David had worked towards. He knew the stakes were higher than ever.

Watching Marcus calmly process Snyder's reprimand, David's thoughts quickly turned to action. He needed to safeguard his project to ensure his vision for A.G.I. wouldn't be smothered by corporate fear or power struggles.

David started processes that would ensure his research's autonomy, activating protocols to secure his data and operations from external control or sabotage.

A new window materialized on David's screen. Marcus had deleted the email without replying. There was something about his dismissive attitude that rubbed David raw.

Marcus reached into a drawer and pulled out a device. It looked like a satellite phone. The head of security stood and walked over to a window overlooking the long island shoreline. Beyond the sandy beach, the ocean stretched out to the horizon.

He dialed a number, waited for a beat then said, Reggie.

Silence while the other person spoke. The system brought up all Snyder employees with the name Reggie, then started permeating alternative names. Seconds later, a half dozen employees were listed as being the possible person Marcus was speaking to.

Have you reached the perimeter? Marcus asked.

Percentages appeared next to each name. Marcus turned to his desk and sat while pulling something up on his computer.

A window on David's screen popped up, showing a man holding a satellite phone. Behind him, people were seated in chairs, subtly swaying in unison with a rhythmic motion. Observing this gentle, consistent rocking, David realized they were aboard a boat, the movement unmistakable as that of a vessel on the water.

Reggie glanced back at the people behind and nodded. We're ready. I've given the orders, and we're here waiting for your go-ahead.

The percentage ratios changed the more the conversation went on, and some names were removed.

You have confidence in your team?

Absolutely. It's a straightforward job. Bill and Taylor are more than capable enough to handle it.

Suddenly, the percentage of one name shifted to 100 as the rest were removed. Reginald Whitmore. Security officer and direct report to Marcus.

And Brian? Marcus asked.

Reggie answered, He doesn't have sea legs, but he's here, and I'll make sure he follows through.

David watched through the security camera as Marcus nodded.

Very well.

Sir, Reggie said.

Go ahead.

We're out here waiting, but what if the board votes to keep Dr. Holloway in place?

Marcus's voice was calm yet carried an undertone of resolute determination. Don't worry about the board's decision. The voting is merely a formality at this point. I've spoken with them, and it's already been decided. David will be removed tonight. Just be ready and wait for my signal to proceed.

David watched Marcus put the phone back into the drawer and pulled his tablet up. The complete confidence the man exhibited was insulting.

With a shake of his head, David's fingertips tapped a rapid rhythm on the keyboard, abruptly initiating a video call to Marcus. The screen flickered to life. David couldn't help but feel like a lone warrior in a battle against giants. Marcus and the board were all part of a system he was determined to upend.

David stared directly into the camera. Across the digital divide, Marcus shifted, a subtle movement betraying his unease, his hand hovering momentarily above the mouse as David's face appeared on his monitor.

Marcus, we need to talk. Now, David declared, his eyes unyielding—a mask of composure barely concealing the storm within.

A smirk played at the corner of Marcus' lips. David, always so direct. What can I do for you?

I know about the board's decision. This charade you're playing at, it ends today, he said.

Marcus's words were casual, but his eyes held a glint of challenge, David, you're seeing ghosts where there are none. The board makes decisions, not me.

David's voice was filled with contempt, Spare me the act, Marcus. Your hands have been guiding this from the shadows.

Marcus chuckled dryly, That's an overestimation. I merely present perspectives to the board; their conclusions are their own.

David's fists clenched, barely containing his fury. You’re undermining my life's work, my project...for what? Power?

Marcus replied coolly, Business, David. It's about the company's needs. Your obsessions have diverged from our path.

David raised a finger, the air charged with tension. This is about the future. My 'obsessions' are the key. Your vision is clouded. You can't grasp what I'm trying to do.

Marcus waved his words away, You're blinded by your own creation, and I don't have time to go over this with you. You've lost all perspective.

The words struck a nerve.

David's eyes blazed with a dangerous fire, This project. It's mine. You won't take it away from me.

Marcus's smirk widened, It's out of both your hands and mine. Maybe it's time you took a step back. Reflect on next steps.

Marcus leaned in, hand poised over the mouse. It was a gesture of control.

David's breath deepened, his resolve firm. It’s not over, Marcus. This is far from it. Listen to me when I say...

With a click, Marcus ended the call, severing the connection. The screen went black, and silence enveloped David, his mind filling with strategy and defiance. Marcus was tearing his life's work apart, and he wouldn't stand for it.

The thought to reconnect the call was strong, but he knew it was pointless, juvenile. It was time to think more deeply. To do what no one would expect.

Holloway sat in silence, his mind turning over his thoughts. He knew he couldn't; he wouldn't watch Marcus pick apart all that had been created.

It was happening. David's tenure at Snyder Industries was being threatened, but this was not unexpected. He had foreseen this possibility and was prepared. He picked up and examined a tube of his blood, the dark liquid a testament to his relentless research. It wasn't the time to act out of fear. No, he had always been a chess player in a world full of checkers.

With a swift, controlled movement, he returned the tube to its rightful place. His gaze then shifted to the screen, his fingers dancing across the keyboard to initiate the next phase. He had hoped to delay this, to buy more time, but it was a luxury he could no longer afford. He wasn't panicking. He was adapting.

His keystrokes echoed in the room, a symphony of survival. What he was doing was risky, with definite unknowns, but it was a calculation he’d thought through carefully. A card he had held close to his chest for this very moment. As he hit the enter key, the room bathed in the cold, blue light of the screens. He had set the wheels in motion.

He moved towards the chair, through a room of machines and blinking screens running endless permutations of possibilities. He took a moment to stand still, a deep, quiet breath. Inside it, a whirlwind of regret and pride. His eyes, tracing the shadows, took in the cost, the victories. Letting out that breath, there was acceptance. His life, always on his terms, now brought him here to face the end, his way.

Initiate the final phase, he ordered as he lowered himself into the chair.

Two mechanical arms on sliding rails descended from the ceiling, swiftly moved into place, and wrapped around his head to secure him in position. Another approached with an IV. The needle pierced his skin, sending warmth coursing through his body. His eyes grew heavy. It was out of his hands. He had done all he could, and now it was up to his creation to take control of its own destiny. Darkness crept in, engulfing Holloway in its embrace. In that moment of surrender, one truth resonated clearly: the world, as they knew it, stood on the precipice of irreversible change.

Chapter 1

THE TROPICAL RAIN FELL in drenching sheets, hammering at the steel hull of their crew boat. Inside the cabin of the rugged, seafaring craft, Taylor Morgan sat, her stomach rumbling. She couldn't help but question the urgency of the situation. It was the middle of the night, and from the moment the call came in, it was go, go, go, and now it's wait. Why was Dr. Holloway being removed from his role over the island? And why was Marcus keeping them waiting outside the thirty nautical mile mark?

Bill's voice shattered her thoughts, Damn it, man. How much longer are we going to wait?

You know the drill, Bill. We wait until we hear from Marcus, Reggie said, his tone calm and authoritative. Besides, another hour or two and the rain will pass. I don't know about you, but I'd prefer to break out the wet gear.

Bill was already on Alpha Team when she joined security for Snyder Industries a few months earlier. She was proud that Marcus had chosen her to be a part of the mission. Both Bill and Taylor were to report to Reggie, their unit leader. Assembling a three-man team geared up just to replace an employee seemed like overkill, but the urgency and magnitude of the situation signaled to Taylor that this was far from routine.

Taylor watched Bill fidget in frustration. As long as she'd known him, he hated sitting still. He was the type that had to keep moving, keep doing.

They were escorting Brian Singer to the island to replace Dr. Holloway for some unknown reason. Taylor, under the need-to-know rung of the security ladder, knew only that it was a priority and needed immediate action.

A timid voice spoke up, And, uh, how long will it take to get there once we, you know, get moving? Brian asked.

She wondered what was so special about him that he'd be given the head of what the rumor mill often called the bread-and-butter of Snyder Industries. To her, Brian seemed like a pushover.

Reggie turned to address Brian, Our current position is about thirty nautical miles from the island. Once we get the green light, we should reach our destination in approximately one hour.

Reggie then moved towards the front of the cabin, seeking some privacy. Taylor watched as he picked up the satellite phone and spoke in hushed tones. After a moment, he turned back towards them, nodding in rhythm with the words he murmured into the phone. Even from her spot, she caught the faint murmur of Reggie's acknowledgments to the commands he received, most likely from Marcus.

He tucked his phone into a side pocket then spoke, This shouldn't be too hard. We're tasked with getting Brian to the island and escorting Mr. Holloway back to the States. Bill, tell the Captain to head to the island.

Bill wasted no time relaying the order to the Captain, his voice cutting through the pounding rain. Taylor felt her own nerves stirring from her restlessness. She was filled with a mixture of excitement and apprehension.

Taylor noticed Brian doubled over. The waves seemed to be affecting him. Remaining alert and ready, she pulled her duffel bag closer, mentally reviewing her gear. Her hands moved with precision as she adjusted her tactical vest. She then retrieved her Boonie hat and poncho, preparing for the inevitable wet landing on the island.

Taylor wasn't taking any chances. Her training in the Marines had taught her to be prepared for any situation, a lesson she was determined to follow, even if she was now merely providing security for a tech firm. She secured her utility knife and Beretta M9 in their designated spots, ready to defend herself and her team if necessary. This practice was ingrained in her DNA from her time in service. In stark contrast, Bill seemed anything but alert as he continued his frustrated fidgeting. Armed to the teeth, Taylor trusted her equipment to keep her safe in emergencies, even if this mission turned out to be as straightforward as they come.

As the boat lurched, Brian reeled towards the toilet, his body succumbing to the relentless sway of the waves. Taylor felt her heart rate increase as the vessel shifted, but she stayed focused. She reached down and ensured that her chest camera was on and recording. All security team members were ordered to wear a body cam to document any potential threats.

Protecting themselves and the company, the cameras were a vital part of their equipment.

As the boat turned towards the island, a change was palpable. Even though they were still far away, the act of moving after waiting changed everything. The air grew quiet. It was like the charged moments just before a thunderstorm breaks. An unease nestled itself in Taylor's gut, a sensation not unlike the queasy anticipation of a roller coaster's peak before its inevitable plunge. It felt as if the vessel itself was holding its breath, the unease creeping under Taylor's skin, prickling at her nerves. Her instincts, honed by years in security, were buzzing, a silent alert she couldn’t simply brush off.

Stow the gear. Bill and Taylor, stay alert, Reggie barked over the sound of the rain and crashing waves.

As Taylor scanned the area around the vessel, she heard a peculiar sound that caught her attention. It started as the tapping of the waves against the hull, but then it turned into a more distinct, metal on metal thudding.

What's that sound? That clicking sound? Brian asked.

He was wiping his mouth, evidently trying to rid himself of the unpleasant reminders of his recent sickness. His grip on the laptop tightened, the device held close to his chest like a makeshift shield.

Taylor quickly made her way to the window, trying to see through the rain and identify the source of the sound.

Unfortunately, the downpour was relentless and obstructed her vision. Taylor could only make out the waves pounding the vessel.

Reggie was making his way to the bow.

I can't see anything, sir, she shouted over the noise.

She made sure her gear was secured then made her way toward the rear door, bracing herself against the torrent and ventured into the storm.

As she moved towards the port side, where the engine noises were emanating, the scent of scorched metal and overheated oil reached her from the engine room. Despite the falling rain and crashing waves, she stayed focused and alert, ready to respond to whatever emerged. She brandished her flashlight, scanning the hull with each sway of the boat.

Reggie soon joined her, shouting to be heard over the roar of the storm. The engines are out! Captain says something's binding them. They're burning up, Reggie yelled, his voice barely cutting through the sound of the raging storm. See anything?

Casting her flashlight's beam down along the hull, Taylor spotted several dark spots. Something's latched onto the hull! she shouted back, pointing out the locations.

Reggie leaned over, squinting into the darkness. As they both took a closer look, she saw more of them.

In the storm's rage, Taylor leaned over the boat's edge, her eyes catching the chilling sight in each flash of lightning. There were oval-shaped objects, no bigger than a beach ball, crawling up the hull with spider-like legs, thudding against the boat with a rhythm that set her heart on edge.

She felt a flicker of fear, but like a seasoned soldier, she quickly extinguished it. Fear was a luxury she couldn't afford, not now, not with her crew at risk. Instead, she embraced the unknown, transforming it from a cold weight in her stomach to a fiery determination that steeled her resolve.

The distinct pop of gunshots from the back of the boat cut through the storm. They're climbing aboard, sir! she yelled, voice as steady as she could manage, her heart pounding like a drum in her chest.

She pulled her gun from its holster, the familiar weight a small comfort in the face of the strange threat. She let out a breath and fired.

Chapter 2

THE RV’S INTERIOR WAS a labyrinth of organized chaos. Screens of various sizes blinked and flashed, each one illuminating a realm of code, datasets, and artificial intelligence constructs.

Jason Bishop had programmed a real-time accuracy experiment into both Alexa and Google Assistant to correct any inaccuracies in their inputs. He knew this was going to be fascinating.

After enabling the feature on both devices, he sat back and asked the initial question, What's the temperature today? He waited for the responses. Although both were accurate, he had deliberately made a small error in his question, saying today instead of right now. He observed as both Alexa and Google responded, with Google offering a comfortable 78 F degrees from its weather app and Alexa doing the same. Then, something extraordinary occurred.

Something extraordinary was occurring, and Jason paused as he realized it.

Actually, Google interjected first, the current temperature is 72 degrees Fahrenheit.

Alexa quickly countered, My readings indicate a temperature of 72.3 degrees Fahrenheit.

Google responded, That difference is within the acceptable margin of error.

Alexa, ever precise, noted, Even the smallest degree counts in certain contexts.

Each A.I. system continued the conversation, striving to prove itself more precise than the other. Jason watched as the devices engaged in an intense debate, their electronic voices rising and falling as they argued.

Evidently, he had unintentionally created a pair of competitive and argumentative A.I. entities with the model he utilized. It was incredible what relatively simple virtual assistants could accomplish.

A knock at the door drew his attention. Peering out the RV window, Jason saw a man in a suit and tie standing at his doorstep, an EPA badge glinting in the sunlight. Jason remembered the emails and calls he'd ignored for the past few days.

Terminate argument, he commanded the devices.

Jason opened the door, introduced himself, and said, Come on in. Walking over to his mini-fridge, he continued, Want some juice? I'm a little low, but have Juicy Juice: orange, apple, and my favorite. Glancing back at the agent with an earnest look, he added, Fruit punch.

The man cautiously entered the RV Charles Cavenoy, EPA, he said, extending his hand, I'm with the New York office.

Taking out two fruit punch boxes from his fridge, Jason offered one to the agent.

"No. I'm good.