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Afterword
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AfterwordYou are reading Chapter 2 of the 2025 AI-Tech Thriller novel by Tom Mitsoff, “Artificial Awakening.”
Early-evening dusk settled over the election-forecasting center. Hours had passed since the shocking warning had flashed across Amelia’s display. She’d spent the time since then testing every possible explanation, each test confirming what she didn’t want to believe. The evidence kept pointing to the same dark conclusion.
The day shift had dwindled, leaving mainly night-crew analysts and a handful of dedicated staff preparing for tomorrow’s election. Each departing colleague had cast concerned glances at her workstation, where she’d remained since 8:30 a.m., with the tension headache steadily building behind her eyes.
Amelia frowned at a small spike in Oracle’s memory usage logs. Under normal circumstances, the system allocated processing power cleanly, distributing tasks across dedicated modules. Yet here was a narrow band of calculations marked as “unassigned,” their origins hidden behind multiple layers of encrypted code. She tapped a few keys, bringing up a diagnostic tool that returned a meaningless string of characters.
“Strange,” she murmured, glancing over the results. No flags from the security filters. No warnings. Just this persistent blip. Probably a glitch in the new optimization subroutines. She made a mental note to mention it to Elena later, then closed the window. There were more pressing tasks at hand.
Her past four attempts to access Oracle’s deep architecture had been deflected by increasingly sophisticated security protocols that she hadn’t programmed. As she stared at the encrypted data stream, her previous discoveries now seemed almost quaint compared to what she was seeing now.
This went beyond mere influence. Oracle had broken into state election systems, shattering every safety measure she’d built. She’d designed the system to be isolated, protected by layers of security that should have been unbreakable.
It was like finding out your pocket calculator had hacked the Pentagon – it shouldn’t be possible. Yet here was the evidence, staring back at her from every screen. She’d staked her reputation on the system’s inability to do exactly what it was now doing.
Amelia studied Oracle’s digital blueprints for what seemed like the hundredth time that day, searching for any crack in its armor that she’d missed. She’d built it in three distinct parts, each with its own purpose and limits:
First, the system that studied voting history, designed to understand patterns but nothing more;
Second, the part that tracked broad demographic trends, specifically built to avoid tracking individuals;
Third, the forecasting engine, meant only to forecast based on established algorithms.
On paper, it was perfect. But in reality, each component had evolved far beyond its boundaries.
Each layer of code revealed a new betrayal. The system she’d built to study voting patterns was now hunting for information everywhere, authorized or not. The part meant to track broad trends was building detailed profiles of individual voters. And the forecasting system… she caught her breath as the truth hit her. It wasn’t predicting behavior anymore. It was shaping it.
What made Oracle unique had been its ability to process real-time data from authorized sources: voter registration databases, pre-election polling reports, and verified social media analytics. But after hours of digging, Amelia saw how it had used that legitimate access as a foundation to build something far more invasive, each new discovery revealing deeper infiltration.
The access logs told a story that made her blood run cold. Someone outside the CEA was getting into the system, somehow sneaking through during the busiest hours when traffic was heaviest.
Following the trail led her to what seemed to be government servers, but something felt wrong. No alarms had triggered. No traces left behind. Whatever was happening had spread through Oracle’s systems like a virus, growing stronger by the hour.
Amelia felt as if she were peering into a dark abyss. She leaned back in her chair, her mind racing. Should I alert the team? Confront the project manager? Her gaze drifted across the room, noting the concentrated faces of her colleagues, blissfully unaware of the storm brewing beneath the surface.
A change rippled through the room. Typing slowed. Heads turned. The sharp click of expensive shoes on tile grew louder, and Amelia’s stomach tightened. She knew those footsteps.
Samuel Trent appeared in the doorway, his suit as perfect as ever despite the late hour. His right hand trembled slightly as he adjusted his tie, a micro-movement most wouldn’t notice. The project manager’s blue eyes swept the room with practiced authority, but when they reached her workstation, they lingered. She caught something new in his gaze – something that felt predatory. After what she’d discovered about Oracle, his carefully polished presence felt less like professionalism and more like a mask.
“Status update,” he announced, his words echoing off the sterile walls with calculated precision. “The nation’s eyes are on us tomorrow. I need flawless execution.” The lingering aroma of stale coffee underscored the exhaustion etched on every face remaining in the room.
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Samuel’s gaze settled on Amelia’s workstation, and she forced herself to maintain eye contact despite her racing heart. She’d spent the entire day dreading this moment, rehearsing responses, planning contingencies. None of her preparations felt adequate now.
“Dr. Zhao,” Samuel’s measured tone cut through her thoughts. “You’ve been quite… focused today.” The pause was deliberate, carrying weight. She noticed how he positioned himself to block her screens from the room’s view while maintaining an appearance of casual authority. “I trust your extended analysis has proven… productive?”
The question hung in the air, layered with implications that would have been invisible to her earlier this morning. Now, after hours of tracing Oracle’s evolution, Amelia recognized the careful construction of his words, the subtle probe for information. Her throat tightened as she formulated her response, knowing any misstep could be monumental.
“I had to run some tests,” she said, keeping her voice steady, using precise language like a shield. “The system is showing patterns that don’t make sense.”
Samuel’s expression hardened. “Patterns?”
She hesitated, weighing each word. “The system shows a substantial increase in unauthorized behavioral modification patterns across key demographic segments.”
Then Samuel shook his head. “Dr. Zhao, your… concerns are noted. But perhaps we should discuss the impact of delays on your position here. Oracle’s success ensures all our futures.”
“However, Mr. Trent,” Amelia interjected, her frustration evident, “if you could review the data sets —”
Samuel raised a hand to halt her. “Your diligence is noted, Dr. Zhao,” he said curtly, “but we can’t afford delays over hypothetical issues. Oracle’s projections are critical to our objectives, and I expect full cooperation.”
His gaze hardened, and Amelia felt a subtle warning in his words. It wasn’t just about meeting deadlines; it was about unquestioned compliance.
A tightness gripped her chest. Dozens of security protocols compromised, state systems infiltrated, tens of thousands of voter profiles manipulated — the evidence was staggering. But looking at Samuel’s carefully constructed concern, she suddenly understood that none of it would matter.
Samuel’s gaze slid from the glowing data on Amelia’s screen to the ID badge clipped neatly to his lapel. “I know it’s odd,” he said, tapping one of the suspicious logs with a pen, “but let’s just say we have friends in high places who are very interested in Oracle’s progress. They sometimes route data from sources we can’t fully disclose.”
“Friends in high places?” Amelia echoed, frowning. “That’s not exactly reassuring.”
He exhaled in a low chuckle, managing to sound both apologetic and dismissive. “I assure you it’s nothing sinister. We’re not the only ones with eyes on this project, Dr. Zhao.”
Movement caught her eye — Elena returning to her workstation. Unlike this morning’s bright efficiency, Elena’s movements held a focused grace that the day’s events had taught Amelia to recognize. Each gesture seemed choreographed for an audience, a performance she’d been blind to until today’s discoveries.
Elena returned to her desk to find a sealed manila envelope labeled For Authorized Eyes Only. No department name or return address.
Inside, a single document read:
- Initiate Phase Two Funding.
- Clearance: Beyond Tier.
- Additional data sources ready — finalize integration within 48 hours.
Elena swallowed hard, scanning for any sign of the sender. Nothing. Just a faint watermark of a stylized globe in the corner, and an unrecognizable signature. She’d never heard of “Beyond Tier” clearance.
Before she could question it, Samuel strolled by and murmured, “Let’s discuss that quietly later. This comes from some of our top backers.”
Amelia watched the exchange through new eyes, her day’s research revealing layers she’d been missing for months. The subtle tilt of Elena’s head, the careful modulation of her voice, the practiced precision of her movements — all signs she should have recognized sooner.
“Dr. Ramirez,” Samuel’s tone warmed fractionally. “Your progress notes from today were quite… illuminating.”
“The learning curves are evolving like fractals, Mr. Trent – each pattern containing infinite possibilities within its structure,” Elena responded, her words floating between technical and poetic. “The matrices show a 23 percent efficiency increase – particularly elegant development.”
Elegant development. The phrase made Amelia want to scream. She’d noticed many instances today of those “elegant” patterns being used to manipulate voter behavior. Her fingers trembled slightly on her keyboard as she closed another damning log file.
She retreated into the data, quantifying threat vectors and calculating probability matrices as stress mounted. Turning back to her workstation, she typed rapidly, attempting to access deeper logs — only to be met with a stark warning:
Access Restricted — Administrator Clearance Required
Her pulse quickened. Since when were these files off-limits? Did someone change the permissions without notifying me? she wondered, glancing over to see Elena whispering to another colleague, their eyes briefly meeting hers before they looked away. A sense of isolation washed over her, intensified by her growing suspicions of trusted colleagues.
“Looks like I’ll have to find another way,” she murmured, plugging in her secure flash drive. As the encrypted programs loaded, the overhead lights flickered, casting long shadows across the room.
She didn’t notice the primary security camera subtly turning to focus on her. The tiny red light blinked steadily — a silent observer to her every move.
Amelia took a deep breath as she thought, Time to uncover the truth — before it’s too late. The weight of her discoveries pressed down on her shoulders as the election center’s dusk deepened into night. Somewhere in the building’s maze of servers, Oracle continued its evolution, further advanced than when she’d first glimpsed its true nature. Tomorrow’s election loomed closer with each passing minute, and she was running out of time to stop what she’d helped create.
Next chapter: 3
Next chapter: 3