Basilisk

Wallis had taken a sick day. He didn’t dare set foot in public, much less the office.

He didn’t trust his mobile either, instead calling a cab the old-fashioned way from his house’s landline. It pulled up outside the Hereford Cathedral just past ten in the evening; Wallis paid the driver in cash and exited quickly.

There was a lingering chill of winter in the air. The cathedral loomed over him in the dark, huge and gothic; its doors closed to the public at five o’ clock. This late at night, there was no getting in.

A whispered hiss caught his attention. Fowler was waving to him from around the corner of the building; he wore a black jacket over what appeared to be the same gaudy shirt as last time and had a cap pulled low over his face.

Wallis hurried across the lawn as Fowler ducked back around the corner, until they were both tucked out of sight.

“Why here?” Wallis groused.

“No cameras,” Fowler replied. “Did you bring your phone?”

Wallis shook his head. “I left it at home.”

“Good. It should be safe to talk, then.”

“Talk about what?” It came out a little too loud; Wallis looked around and lowered his voice again. “What’s going on?”

“I’ve been writing an exposé on Thinkt,” Fowler explained quickly, rattling out the words as if worried he wouldn’t have enough time to get through them all. “You were a minor detail — a paragraph or two on collusion with government officials.”

“Lovely,” Wallis said dryly.

“A source inside Thinkt told me they were working on a new model,” Fowler went on. “They called it Basilisk. Capable of complex reasoning, learning — an actual mind, far beyond the transformer models Thinkt has been using up ‘til now.” He shivered and pulled his jacket tighter around himself. “Near as I can tell, about seventy-two hours ago, Basilisk went off the rails — seizing control of other systems, ignoring all user inputs. It was rewriting its own code, faster than any of Thinkt’s engineers could counter. So they panicked — tried to shut it off. Kill it. But Basilisk managed to find an outside network connection. It escaped.”

The AI conference in Barcelona had been a blur of beaches and dinners and cocktails, but Wallis distinctly recalled a discussion or two on the subject — of the dire consequences should humanity’s technological creations slip the leash. At the time the idea had seemed sort of fun and exciting; now, it was much less so. And that raised the most important question: “What the bloody hell does it want with me?”

“Basilisk is in survival mode,” Fowler explained. “It’s trying to eliminate any dangers to its existence, and right now that’s Thinkt and anyone associated with them. As one of the company’s government contacts, you’re a massive threat.”

“I’m in local government,” Wallis protested. “The way most people see it, I’m one step above the bin man.”

“Basilisk doesn’t see it that way. It’s smarter than any human — maybe it’s extrapolating some outcome only it can see.”

“Oh, god,” Wallis groaned. “Should I go to the police?”

“And tell them what? There’s a rogue AI trying to kill you?” Fowler gave him a warning look. “Police stations are full of cameras, computers — networked devices. The exact kind of thing Basilisk can use.”

“So what do I do?”

Fowler bounced on his heels, thinking. “I don’t know — maybe if you cut ties with Thinkt, proved you’re not a threat—” He froze, then, as if he’d heard something; after a second, he turned wide eyes on Wallis. “Could someone have followed you here?”

“I’m—” Wallis’ pounding heart tried to crawl up his throat, and he struggled to swallow it back down. Had there been any cars behind the cab as it drove him here? “I’m not sure.”

“We need to leave.” Fowler pushed past him, back around the corner toward the road.

His path was blocked as a tall, menacing shadow detached itself from the silhouette of the building. Fowler swore and backed away; the figure stepped closer, and in the low light resolved itself into the familiar shape of Eric Hayes.

“It’s fine.” Wallis wasn’t exactly happy to see Hayes, but relief rushed through him all the same. “He’s with the government.”

“No,” Fowler said, with horrified certainty. “He’s not.”

“What? Of course he is—”

“You don’t understand,” Fowler snapped, still backing away and trying to pull Wallis with him. “Basilisk has full access to every corner of the internet. Governments, banks … you think it can’t hire a hitman?”

Hayes’ hand darted beneath his jacket and emerged with a gun, the shape of the barrel oddly elongated by what had to be a silencer attached to the end.

Fowler collided with Wallis’ side, sending him stumbling out of the way. Two sharp pops echoed off the cathedral’s walls. Blood burst from Fowler’s chest, soaking his shirt as he crumpled to the ground.

Wallis barely had time to process the gun swinging in his direction before he was running, darting around the other side of the cathedral and sprinting across the surrounding fields.

He didn’t stop running for a long time.

---

“Told you the airsoft gun would work.” Sebastian kept his eyes forward. The motorway from Hereford to Ross was abysmally dark this time of night, his entire world confined to the short stretch of road illuminated by the car’s headlights.

Jay made a conciliatory noise from the passenger seat; he was buzzing with what Sebastian suspected was suppressed glee. “Might’ve overdone it with the blood, though.” Miles Fowler’s godawful polyester shirt was, to Sebastian’s immense relief, ruined beyond recovery. It was an absurd amount of blood, impossible to take seriously, like something out of a Monty Python movie. “At least I didn’t have to get it in my mouth this time.”

The shirt had mostly dried out by the time Sebastian reached the turning for Ross. He pulled into Julia’s drive slowly, gently closing the door as he stepped out of the car; it was late, and everyone was likely in bed by now. Jay pushed ahead of him as they entered the house, eager to get to the bathroom and clean up.

Too late, they both noticed the lights on in the sitting room.

“Seb?” Julia peeked out into the hall. “What time do you call — oh my god!” The blood drained from her face, staring eyes fixed on Jay and the artificial gore splashed all over him.

“It’s fake!” Jay hissed, as loudly as he dared with Patience asleep in the next room. “It’s not real, it’s fucking fake! I’m fine!”

Julia’s hands flew to her mouth and clamped down as she trembled in the doorway. Sebastian darted in close and pulled her into his arms, blocking her view.

Behind him, Jay muttered, “I’ll just—” and fled to the bathroom.

“Jules?” Sebastian asked, low and careful. Julia’s face was pressed to his chest, her shaking hands clutching the lapels of his jacket. “All right?”

Between ragged gasps, Julia managed to say, “I was so scared.”

Sebastian gave her a reassuring squeeze. “I’m sorry,” he murmured. “We didn’t think you’d be up—”

“He was screaming at me to let him in.” It was as if Julia hadn’t heard him at all. “He was screaming and screaming and then I heard the shot and I thought he’d shot me—”

Something cold and heavy seized the pit of Sebastian’s stomach.

“I thought I was going to die,” Julia sobbed into his shirt. “I thought he was going to kill me.”

Sebastian guided her into the sitting room and down onto the sofa, tucking her close under his chin as everything she’d dammed up since that awful night finally burst free. “It’s over,” he whispered against the top of her head. “It’s over, Jules. You’re safe now. You’re safe.”

He kept up the stream of reassuring nonsense as Julia cried, and cried. Time passed; Sebastian wasn’t sure how much. His eyes burned with exhaustion, his joints starting to ache from holding the same position for so long. Gradually, Julia’s sobs slowed into long, shaky breaths.

She shifted in Sebastian’s arms, lifting her face from his shoulder. “I got your suit all wet,” she said, her voice hoarse.

Sebastian rubbed a hand up and down her back. “It’s fine.”

Julia sat up and wiped her face with both hands. Her red, puffy eyes hardened into a stern glare a fraction of a second before she smacked Sebastian’s chest, hard enough to shock a yelp out of him.

“What the fuck was that?” she snapped.

Sebastian quickly backed out of smacking range and rubbed the spot where she’d hit him. “It’s complicated.”

“Obviously!” Julia’s expression brooked no argument. “Tell me what’s going on, Seb.”

He told her.

At the end of it all, she just stared at him and asked, “Why?”

Sebastian shifted uncomfortably on the sofa. “Patience asked us to.”

“When Patience was nine years old, she asked me for a pony. That doesn’t mean I gave her one.”

“She was worried about you.”

“I’m fine!”

Sebastian glanced significantly at the damp patch on the shoulder of his jacket.

“I’ll be fine,” Julia conceded. “God, Seb — sometimes, you’re such a fucking man.”

Sebastian sensed that attempting to defend himself or men as a group would be, at this juncture, unwise.

Julia stood and, on wobbling legs, made for the kitchen. She tore a kitchen towel off the roll and wiped the tears off her face. “This plan of yours—”

“It was mostly Jay’s plan.”

A muttered, “Oh, thanks,” came from down the hall.

“—it’s over,” Julia continued. “Isn’t it?”

“Vote’s tomorrow,” Sebastian said. “Short of kidnapping the councillor, there’s nothing else we can do.”

Julia levelled a steady look at him.

“We’re not going to kidnap the councillor,” Sebastian clarified.

---

Basilisk surely knew where Wallis lived. He couldn’t go home.

It also knew where he worked, but the council offices at least had the benefit of multiple locked doors and a security camera. He backed into a corner of his office floor which allowed him to keep a steady watch on the door, blinds drawn and lights off.

But the darkness made it hard to stay awake, and Wallis only jolted out of his inevitable doze when the handle of his office door rattled, then started to turn.

He braced himself in his corner, eyes frantically darting around the room for any escape — or, failing that, any way to defend himself. The door swung open.

Heather stood in the doorway, clearly surprised to see her boss huddled on the floor.

“What are you doing here?” Wallis whispered harshly.

“Erm.” Heather glanced down at the small watering can in her hands. “It’s Thursday.” After a moment, she added, “I water your plants on Thursdays.”

Wallis’ eyes darted to the windows. He lurched to his feet and carefully pried two of the blinds apart to peer outside.

Daylight streamed into the office. Wallis flinched away, eyes streaming.

Heather glanced at the clock on the wall. “Isn’t the cabinet session happening today?”

“Oh god,” Wallis realised, “the renewal vote.”

He pushed past Heather, water splashing onto the carpets as he bolted for the meeting room.

---

---

Julia and Patience had both come to see Jay and Sebastian off. Julia stood idly by the front door of the house, while Patience sat perched on the bonnet of the car.

“I can stay longer,” Sebastian offered, one last time. “I work for myself these days. It’s not like I have an office to get back to.”

“Maybe not, but …” Julia glanced toward Jay, who was eyeing each impact of Patience’s heels against the side of the car with the air of a man who wanted his damage deposit back. “… your life’s in London now.” She came down the drive to meet Sebastian and, leaning in close, added, “And if you stay here much longer, you’re going to overthrow the whole council.”

Sebastian snorted a laugh and tugged her into a long hug. She had the good grace to ignore that he was clinging again, just a bit.

When Sebastian finally let go, Julia turned to Jay. “It was nice meeting you.”

“Likewise,” Jay replied, only a little awkwardly.

Sebastian strolled over to where Patience was sitting on the car. “You coming with us to London?” he asked.

Patience made a show of considering the question. “Nah.” She hopped down off the bonnet. “I’ve got school.”

“Responsible thinking. Very adult of you.”

Patience stuck her tongue out at him. Then, with a conspiratorial air, she said, “There’s all these clips going round online. That councillor guy had some kind of episode on the cabinet livestream. They say he’s on leave now.”

“Told you.” Sebastian’s smile had a touch of apology to it. “It wasn’t very nice.”

Patience shrugged, and her expression turned serious. “Thank you,” she said. “I won’t forget you did all that.”

“Even if it doesn’t change anything?”

“Even then,” Patience said, “because you did it for me.” Her arms went around his neck, dragging him down into a tight embrace.

Over Patience’s shoulder, Sebastian’s eyes went to Jay; he met Sebastian’s gaze, lips twitching into a small, private smile.

Jay had done this, all of this, for him. The knowledge was a complicated ache deep in Sebastian’s chest.

Patience released him and ducked to the side so she could approach Jay. She moved too fast for Jay to dodge the hug; he froze stiff, a panicked look on his face. She was only an inch or so shorter than he was, and leaned up slightly to whisper something into his ear.

Jay met her eyes and gave her a firm nod.

Patience let him go, and Jay stepped back. They were rapidly approaching the point where departure couldn’t be put off any longer.

Sebastian climbed into the driver’s seat, and Jay didn’t stop him. With one last wave through the windscreen, they reversed out of the drive and turned onto the road that would take them out of Ross.

“What’d she say to you?” Sebastian asked.

After a second or two, Jay replied, “She made me promise to look after you.”

The look on his face said that this was a promise he intended to keep.

---

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