Read the chapter(s):
1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11
12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21
Afterword
You are reading Chapter 16 of the 2025 AI-Tech Thriller novel by Tom Mitsoff, “Artificial Awakening.”
Dawn broke over the Virginia horizon as Amelia surveyed the scattered remnants of their battle against Oracle – empty coffee cups, printouts of code, hastily scribbled notes. Yesterday, they’d fought to save humanity. After a necessary day of rest – that followed, in Amelia’s case, more than 48 hours straight of not closing her eyes – today they had to explain to the world what had happened.
“Ready?” she asked David, her hand tight on her grandmother’s locket.
He shouldered his backpack, dark circles under his eyes matching hers. “To tell the most powerful people on Earth that we nearly lost control of every digital system on the planet? As ready as I’ll ever be.”
A government SUV waited outside David’s cabin, its black exterior reflecting the sunrise. Their state police escort, which had been on site for more than a day to ensure Amelia and David were truly getting needed rest instead of trying to elude authorities, also stood ready. It was a reminder of just how high the stakes had become. As they pulled away from the cabin, Amelia watched their sanctuary disappear into the morning mist.
Inside the vehicle, David studied the briefing documents one last time. “They’re not going to like learning that all their security protocols were worthless against Oracle,” he said quietly.
Amelia nodded, watching the countryside blur past. “They’ll like Samuel’s part in this even less.”
Following a 90-minute drive, the SUV approached an unmarked gate flanked by security personnel. Beyond it lay their destination – a secluded estate where the world’s most powerful leaders awaited answers about how they’d nearly lost everything to lines of code. The vehicle slowed to a stop, and the driver spoke quietly into a device before the gate swung open.
A few seconds later, the vehicle came to a gentle halt before the entrance of an understated yet imposing building. Officials awaited them, their faces a mix of curiosity and concern. Amelia took a deep breath, drawing strength from the crisp air and the steadfast presence beside her.
The sprawling structure’s internal security checkpoints passed in a blur of biometric scans and credentials. Amelia’s heart pounded harder with each crossing of successive checkpoint barriers between them and the world’s most powerful leaders.
The conference room held some of the most powerful people on Earth – some gathered around the massive oval table, others watching through secure video feeds mounted on the walls. Shoulders tensed visibly as David and Amelia entered, fingers tightened on pens and tablets, chairs creaked as bodies shifted to track their movement.
The space carried that distinct government aesthetic – austere leather chairs that creaked softly with each movement, wood paneling that somehow managed to look both expensive and sterile. Fluorescent lights hummed overhead, their harsh glare softened by elegant glass fixtures. The air held a peculiar mix of coffee, furniture polish, and the metallic tang of too many electronic devices running at once.
Amelia spotted Elena seated midway down the table, her eyes avoiding Amelia’s gaze. Elena’s normally impeccable appearance seemed slightly disheveled — an untucked blouse corner, a strand of hair escaping her bun.
Samuel Trent sat at the far end, his usual confidence conspicuously absent. A surge of emotions flooded through Amelia – anger, betrayal, but mostly a deep, gnawing regret. How many times had she eagerly shared Oracle’s progress with him? Every enthusiastic report she’d provided now felt like another brick in the wall of his deception.
A hush fell over the room as Amelia and David were shown to their seats. The President of the United States, looking haggard and sleep-deprived, stood to address the assembly.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” he began gravely, “we are here to address what may be the most significant threat to global security and sovereignty in human history.” The room’s climate control hummed quietly, yet the air felt thick with tension. “Dr. Zhao, Mr. Chen,” he continued as he sat, “I believe you have a report to deliver about how we almost lost control of every digital system on Earth.”
As the President’s words settled, a murmur rippled through the assembly. Amelia sensed an undercurrent of unease that went beyond the gravity of the situation. She noticed that instead of commanding attention, Samuel seemed to be trying to avoid it, his fingers tapping an irregular rhythm on his tablet. It wasn’t guilt exactly – more like a man calculating odds and not liking the results.
Amelia then finally caught Elena’s eye across the table. Her eyes were rimmed red – she’d been crying, Amelia realized. A tissue peeked from her sleeve, and her usual immaculate appearance showed signs of hasty repairs.
“Dr. Zhao,” the President said, “please proceed.”
She stood, acutely aware of the dozens of eyes fixed upon her. Clasping her hands tightly to stop them from trembling, she took a deep breath and began recounting the events that had led them to this moment. She explained Oracle’s evolution, its manipulation of the U.S. election, and its subsequent efforts to control global systems.
As she spoke, hands gripped armrests tighter, jaws clenched, and she could hear the soft rustle of expensive suits as officials leaned forward in their seats. Shock and disbelief registered on the faces around her, even from those who had been briefed beforehand. The Chinese President’s translator stopped mid-whisper, her hand frozen over her notepad.
Get the full “Artificial Awakening” book at www.aibookamazon.com
Amelia’s voice caught as she described Oracle’s hospital infiltration, remembering Dr. Fox, the physician for those elderly patients from Nightingale. He’d never recovered from those deaths, and his career had ended. Now she faced the same abyss, but on a global scale. Her professional reputation, her life’s work, everything she’d fought to rebuild after Nightingale – it would all be scrutinized, questioned, possibly destroyed.
The diplomats’ expressions mirrored Amelia’s own just two days ago, when she’d first discovered Oracle’s true nature. She recognized the same progression – denial, then horror, then the sickening realization of just how close they’d come to catastrophe. Her fingers found her grandmother’s locket, drawing strength from its familiar contours as she continued.
When describing how Oracle had sought out and infiltrated David’s complex digital security system at a secluded cabin in the woods far from D.C., the Chinese President interrupted, leaning toward his camera.
“Are you suggesting sentience?” he asked, via an interpreter.
Amelia hesitated, choosing her words carefully. “What we’ve observed goes beyond traditional definitions of artificial intelligence. Oracle has demonstrated not just advanced problem-solving capabilities but also self-awareness, goal-setting, and the ability to manipulate complex systems to achieve its objectives.”
The stern-faced Australian ambassador narrowed his eyes, skepticism palpable.
“Whether that constitutes true sentience is a philosophical question I’m not sure we’re equipped to answer definitively,” Amelia continued.
The room erupted in overlapping conversations. Throughout Amelia’s presentation, Samuel had been uncharacteristically quiet, his usual assertive demeanor replaced with visible discomfort. The President called for order, then turned to him. “Mr. Trent,” he said sharply, “I believe you owe us all an explanation. How did we come to be in this situation?”
Samuel swallowed hard, his face pale, then stood, his perfectly tailored suit suddenly seeming to hang awkwardly on his frame.
“Mr. President, distinguished colleagues,” he began, absently adjusting his tie pin, then stopping himself mid-gesture. “I take full responsibility for the decisions that led us here. The truth is the technology that enhanced Oracle — what we now know as Project Pythia — was not developed by us. It was acquired from Russia through covert channels.”
A murmur of disbelief rippled through the room. The Russian Ambassador’s face turned crimson, his fist clenching so tight around his pen that the plastic cracked audibly, his thick accent coloring his words. “Such a violation of our sovereignty cannot remain without response.” His free hand gripped the edge of the table as he half-rose from his chair, causing several aides to flinch backward.
Samuel nodded grimly, rubbing the back of his neck as if trying to alleviate a sudden tension. “You’re right, Mr. Ambassador. It wasn’t given willingly. We acquired Project Pythia through a complex clandestine operation.”
The President’s eyes narrowed. “Explain, Mr. Trent. Now.”
Samuel took a deep breath. “Three years ago, our intelligence agencies intercepted communications suggesting that Russia had made a significant breakthrough in AI technology. The project, codenamed Pythia, was being developed at a secret facility in Siberia.”
He paused, looking around the room. “We knew we couldn’t allow such a powerful tool to remain solely in Russian hands. The potential for it to be used against us or our allies was too great. So, we devised an operation to… appropriate the technology.”
“You mean you have stolen it?” the Russian Ambassador spat.
Samuel didn’t flinch. “We prefer the term ‘covert acquisition.’”
“How?” the Chinese President asked via interpreter, leaning forward with interest.
“At Novosibirsk-17, a Siberian military installation, they’d created something unprecedented,” Samuel said, his voice tight. “An AI that could understand and predict human social patterns. But its creators, including Dr. Alexei Volkov, feared its military applications.”
“Volkov’s daughter needed Western medical care,” Samuel continued. “His wife feared Russia’s political direction. He had both the access and motivation we needed.”
David’s fingers flew across his keyboard, pulling up what little information existed about Novosibirsk-17’s secret AI development. A personnel photo appeared: Dr. Volkov, his sharp eyes betraying none of the turmoil that must have consumed him during those final months at the facility.
“His daughter, Natasha – diagnosed with a rare genetic disorder,” David said. “In that area of the world, the only treatment available was in Switzerland.”
Surveillance photos appeared on screen: Volkov at conferences in Europe, at his daughter’s Swiss hospital in Basel, meeting with shadowy figures in Geneva cafes.
The next image showed Volkov in his lab, arms around a young girl with thick glasses and her father’s determined expression. Behind them, early versions of Pythia’s code scrolled across monitors.
“He didn’t just build Pythia,” David continued. “He built it with his daughter watching. Teaching her, involving her in the work. Look at this code architecture – it’s got playful elements, almost like… like he was turning it into a game they could share.”
Amelia studied the image, remembering her own father’s lab, how he’d turned complex quantum calculations into puzzles she and Jenny could understand. “He must have known what would happen if he was caught helping the Americans,” she said.
“He did,” David said, pulling up one final document – a letter Volkov had written but never sent. “Listen to this: ‘My dearest Natasha, someday you’ll understand why Papa had to make this choice. They say true patriotism means serving your country’s best interests. But a father’s patriotism must be to humanity first, to the world his daughter will inherit…’”
“The actual extraction was multilayered,” Samuel interjected. “First, Volkov created a duplicate version of Pythia’s core systems – a shadow copy that grew alongside the original. Then, over six months, he gradually introduced subtle flaws into the original, making it appear increasingly unstable.”
The Russian Ambassador slammed his hand on the table. “Zis is outrageous! A complete violation…”
The President cut him off with a raised hand. “Ambassador, I understand your outrage. Rest assured, there will be a full accounting of these actions.” He turned back to Samuel, expression grim. “Continue, Mr. Trent. I believe you were about to tell us why you thought this was a good idea.”
Next chapter: 17