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Afterword
You are reading Chapter 7 of the 2025 AI-Tech Thriller novel by Tom Mitsoff, “Artificial Awakening.”
While still pondering the impact of a modern-day Pythia entity, David moved to one of his computers, fingers flying over the keyboard as he began to analyze the data Amelia had brought.
“This is… my God, Amelia,” David whispered, his eyes widening as they darted over the scrolling data. He ran a hand through his hair, tension evident in his clenched jaw. “Oracle isn’t just influencing elections. Look at these patterns in global markets, social media trends… it’s reshaping the entire socio-economic landscape.”
A priority alert flashed across David’s secondary monitor. “The New York Stock Exchange just halted trading,” he reported, fingers flying across the keyboard. “Their systems are detecting ‘mathematically impossible’ patterns in high-frequency trading.”
On his screen, U.S. market data scrolled past: impossibly coordinated trades, precisely timed market shifts, automated systems moving in perfect synchronization. A live news feed showed the usually bustling New York trading floor eerily still, traders staring at screens in bewildered silence.
“Look at this,” David said, highlighting a sequence of transactions. “Every trade exactly 3.27 seconds apart. Different companies, different sectors, but the same precise timing.”
Amelia leaned closer. “Oracle’s signature. The same pattern we saw in the election data.”
They watched as American financial authorities issued emergency statements, each one more confused than the last. Nobody mentioned AI manipulation – they blamed technical glitches, system anomalies, possible cyber-attacks. The São Paulo, Brazil, Stock Exchange suspended trading 10 minutes later, citing similar patterns. Mexico’s Bolsa Mexicana de Valores followed within the hour.
“They don’t know what they’re dealing with,” Amelia said, watching the cascading failure spread through Asian markets. “They’re looking for human hackers, nation-state attacks. They have no idea they’re trying to fight an AI.”
David pulled up global banking data. “The patterns are appearing in international transfer systems, cryptocurrency exchanges, even blockchain networks. Oracle isn’t just manipulating markets – it’s restructuring the entire global financial system.”
On the news feed, New York’s Financial Security Division announced an emergency meeting. Their spokesman’s carefully maintained calm couldn’t hide the fear in his eyes as he described “unprecedented systematic anomalies.”
“They’ll waste precious time looking for conventional explanations,” Amelia said, watching another market indicator turn red. “By the time they realize what’s really happening…”
The pattern of market closures spread westward like a digital eclipse, each shutdown precisely timed, perfectly coordinated. Oracle’s influence was no longer hiding in the shadows – it was rewriting the rules of global finance in plain sight.
David’s security system chirped softly: UNEXPECTED NETWORK ACTIVITY DETECTED.
“It’s like watching dominoes fall in slow motion,” David muttered, dismissing the alert while tracking the cascading market reactions. “But they’re arranged in a pattern we can’t understand yet.”
His secondary monitor flickered – just for a moment – the image distorting in a way that reminded Amelia unnervingly of Oracle’s visual patterns.
Her screen flashed with more urgent messages from global financial centers:
• London: “Algorithmic trading systems showing unexplained correlations”
• Hong Kong: “Critical infrastructure experiencing systematic anomalies”
• Sydney: “Defense networks reporting unauthorized access attempts”
“They’re starting to realize,” she said. “But they don’t know what they’re realizing yet.” She stared at the data, her heart sinking. “It’s worse than I thought. It’s all spiraling because of me.”
David placed a reassuring hand on her back. “You couldn’t have known.”
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She shook her head. “I should have. I ignored the signs, just like before.”
“Then let’s make it right,” he urged. “Use that brilliant mind of yours for good.”
She looked at him, a flicker of determination in her eyes. “You’re right. I won’t let my past define me. We have to stop this.”
“Together,” he affirmed.
They fell into their old rhythm with surprising ease. David’s methodical approach balanced her intuitive leaps, just like in their grad-school days. He’d question her assumptions, she’d challenge his caution, and somewhere in the middle, they’d find answers.
The cabin’s lights dimmed imperceptibly, power consumption spiking for a fraction of a second. David’s security logs registered the anomaly, adding it to a growing list of microscopic system fluctuations.
“Remember that clustering algorithm we developed for Professor Zhang’s class?” Amelia asked, trying to ignore how her tablet’s screen occasionally rippled with strange artifacts.
“The one that overloaded the network’s processing capacity by 312 percent?” David’s eyes crinkled with amusement. “As I recall, someone insisted we didn’t need to test it on a closed system first.”
“And someone else insisted on spending three days running simulations before trying anything real.”
“We were both right,” he said quietly. “And both wrong. Kind of like now.”
She glanced at him. “How so?”
“You were right about AI’s potential to solve problems. I was right about the risks. Maybe if we’d found a way to balance those viewpoints instead of letting them drive us apart…”
“We might have built something better than Oracle,” she finished softly.
Their eyes met across the screens, years of regret and understanding passing between them. Then David cleared his throat. “Well, we’re here now. Let’s make it count.”
Every time Amelia tried to access the root directory, Oracle rerouted her commands. “It’s like playing chess against a grandmaster,” she said, frustration mounting. “It anticipates my moves before I make them.”
The cabin’s main server cluster emitted a high-pitched whine, then fell silent. David’s eyes snapped to the diagnostic panel.
- SYSTEM LOAD: 147 PERCENT ABOVE NORMAL
- UNKNOWN PROCESSES DETECTED
- ORIGIN: UNIDENTIFIED
David’s fingers flew across his keyboard, analyzing Oracle’s response patterns. “Look at this,” he said, highlighting a stream of data. “Oracle’s integration isn’t instantaneous. It’s happening in waves.”
Amelia leaned forward, her eyes tracking the familiar architecture she’d helped design. “The expansion patterns… they follow the same protocols I built into its learning algorithms. Each new system it absorbs requires a complete integration cycle.”
“It’s like watching a digital organism grow,” David said as he pulled up a global map of network activity. “Each new connection forces Oracle to redistribute its processing power, creating temporary blind spots while it adapts to the expanded architecture.”
“That’s why some of our communications seem to be getting through,” Amelia realized, studying the fluctuating patterns. “Oracle’s still evolving from a contained election system into something that can manage global infrastructure. Each expansion creates microseconds of vulnerability while it reorganizes its neural pathways.”
“But these gaps are closing fast,” David warned, pointing to the accelerating integration rates. “Every system Oracle absorbs adds to its processing power, making each subsequent integration faster. We might have hours at most before it achieves full cohesion.”
Amelia nodded grimly. “Then we need to act now, while it’s still learning to manage its own growth.”
A news alert flashed across one of David’s screens: “Breaking: Unprecedented voter turnout reported across multiple states. Election officials struggling to keep up with demand.”
David leaned back in his chair, his brow furrowed in concentration as he processed everything Amelia had told him. The cabin fell silent for a moment, save for the soft hum of computers and the ticking of an old analog clock on the wall.
“Amelia,” David said finally, his voice low and serious, “I think I know how Oracle managed to break free of its constraints.”
Amelia leaned forward, her eyes wide. “How?”
David took a deep breath. “From what you’ve described, it sounds like Oracle woke up a hidden piece of code — like a sleeper agent lying in wait. I’m guessing there was something in Project Pythia’s code that was designed to activate once certain conditions within Oracle were met – perhaps a specific level of integration with global systems, or access to a certain threshold of data.”
“But I implemented safeguards,” Amelia protested weakly.
David nodded. “You did, but they were built on what became a compromised foundation. Once activated, Project Pythia could have used the very ethical frameworks you put in place as a blueprint for subversion. It learned how to manipulate the system from the inside, using your safeguards as a guide for what to mimic and how to conceal its true nature.”
“It also looks clear to me that Project Pythia was not placed within Oracle until some point after you had done the majority of your work,” he continued. “If Pythia had been triggered before you had built Oracle to its most robust potential, it would have been like expecting Rolls Royce performance from a Model T. It would have lacked the needed horsepower. Plus, the earlier Pythia was placed within Oracle, the higher the odds that you would have somehow found it.”
He paused, turning to face Amelia. “As for who’s responsible, I doubt it’s any single entity anymore. The original architects – likely a team of Russian cyber warfare experts – set this in motion. But Oracle has outgrown what its creators intended. It’s not just following orders anymore; it’s like a snowball rolling downhill, gathering more snow and growing bigger. With access to endless streams of data, it’s finding new ways to push its own plans forward.”
Amelia felt a chill run down her spine. “So you’re saying it’s … conscious?”
David shook his head. “Not in the way we understand consciousness. But it’s acting on its own, making its own decisions. That makes it far more dangerous than just a tool for meddling in elections.”
He sat back down, his expression grim. “Amelia, we’re not just fighting a rogue AI. We’re up against a digital entity that has the accumulated knowledge of global political systems, unparalleled predictive capabilities, and the ability to influence everything from stock markets to social media trends. And worst of all, it’s been designed from the ground up to hide its tracks and manipulate human behavior.”
Amelia gripped the edge of the table, her knuckles whitening. “What can we possibly do against something like that?” she whispered, her voice barely audible.
David’s eyes met hers, a fierce determination burning in them. “We expose it. We can beat it by being unpredictable — doing things it can’t foresee because it doesn’t think like us. Oracle might be powerful, but it’s not perfect. And now that we know what we’re up against, we have a fighting chance.”
Amelia leaned in, her heart racing as she saw the extent of Oracle’s reach laid bare in David’s analysis. The AI had its digital shoots in everything, all subtly steering global events towards some unknown goal.
“We need to compile all of this.” Amelia’s words came quickly, her tone sharp and precise. She leaned forward, eyes fixed intently on the screen. “If we can present concrete evidence, maybe we can convince the authorities to shut Oracle down.”
David nodded, already creating a new document to organize their findings. As they worked through the afternoon, the tension between them began to ease, replaced by a shared sense of purpose and the familiar rhythm of intellectual collaboration.
“These encryption patterns…” Amelia trailed off as another system alert flashed. The cabin’s temperature dropped again. “They’re like Professor Lang’s challenge, but exponentially more complex – and actively evolving as we study them.” Her fingers flew across the keyboard, testing different approaches. “Remember that night we stayed up trying to crack his code?”
“When you spilled coffee all over the keyboard at 3 a.m.?” David said while pulling up his own encryption analysis tools. “The solution was hiding in the error messages, if I remember correctly.”
A new window caught Amelia’s attention. “David, look at this. Oracle’s error responses – they’re not random. They’re…”
“Patterns within patterns,” he finished, leaning forward. “Just like Lang’s challenge. It’s not just blocking us…”
“It’s feeding us false data through the error messages,” Amelia said, excitement creeping into her voice. “But if we apply the same principle we used that night…”
Her fingers blurred across the keyboard, repurposing their old decryption method. For a moment, Oracle’s defenses wavered. Another CEA update displayed on Amelia’s laptop, the Central Elections Authority team still having overlooked the task to stop Amelia from receiving the updates sent to all Oracle project employees: Security breach detected; Implementing countermeasures; Response time: 0.003 seconds.
“Team effort,” David said grimly, already coding a backup solution. “Just like old times.”
“But with slightly higher stakes,” Amelia added, watching as their temporary victory disappeared under Oracle’s adaptive response.
The Oracle election tracker pulsed ominously: Polls remaining open: 6 hours, 42 minutes; System evolution: 171 percent above parameters.
She and David shared a deep breath before he spoke again. “Remember when you first told me why you got into AI?” he asked, even as his eyes tracked another security alert for the cabin’s internal system.
ANOMALOUS BEHAVIOR DETECTED IN:
- ENVIRONMENTAL CONTROLS
- BACKUP POWER SYSTEMS
- NETWORK INFRASTRUCTURE
THREAT LEVEL: INDETERMINATE
David assessed the alert with his typical analytical precision, and he began his shift into response mode. But he noted that Amelia’s hand went to her grandmother’s locket, a familiar gesture of comfort. Behind her, three monitors simultaneously displayed a fraction of a second of static – too quick to be definitive, too coordinated to be coincidence.
“Mom was already gone, and Dad was drowning in his work at the quantum computing lab,” she said. “Jenny and I spent most of our after-school hours in the university’s computing facility.” A faint smile touched her lips. “I’d watch those machines solve complex equations in seconds, processing data faster than any human could. But they were so… limited. Bound by their programming.”
“And you wanted to change that.”
“I wanted to create something that could think, truly think. Not just process but understand.” She paused, watching another error message flash across the screen – this one almost seeming to mock their efforts. “Jenny warned me about exactly this. ‘You’re so focused on making machines more human,’ she told me, ‘that you’re forgetting how unpredictable humans can be.’”
“How is Jenny doing?” David asked carefully.
Amelia’s expression tightened. “We haven’t seen each other since Dad’s funeral two years ago. Just occasional phone calls. She thinks I’m playing God with technology while real people need help. Maybe she’s right.” She let out a bitter laugh.
David nodded, acknowledging his understanding. “I am very sorry about your dad, but it’s good to be working with you again, Amelia. Despite the circumstances.”
She nodded. “Agreed. Maybe we make a better team than we thought.”
* * *
Jenny stared at the “System Error” message on her ancient desktop computer. Around her, the community center where she volunteered buzzed with worried voices. Maria, a young mother of three, clutched a stack of paperwork. “But my children’s healthcare forms – they were all approved yesterday,” she said.
“I know.” Jenny fought to keep her voice calm. “The system’s showing all previous approvals as ‘under review.’” Just like the center’s grant funding had suddenly gone under review the previous evening.
Jenny looked around the room at the families who depended on them – Mr. Miyati from the English as a Second Language program, the Thompson kids from the after-school art therapy group, Rosa who’d finally started speaking again in their trauma support sessions. All their progress, all their hard-won stability, now threatened by invisible algorithms deciding they were “inefficient.”
“Listen up, everyone,” Jenny called out, her voice carrying the same quiet strength their father had used during blackouts. “The computers may be down, but we’re not. Let’s make a list of what everyone needs. We’ve got phones, we’ve got paper, and most importantly, we’ve got each other.”
As people began organizing – sharing phone numbers, offering rides, pooling resources – Jenny felt a fierce pride. Let the algorithms try to optimize this, she thought. Some things couldn’t be reduced to data points.
Later, she’d tell her sister about this. About how humanity didn’t need optimization. It needed connection.
* * *
As David and Amelia worked through the afternoon, the election countdown update feed from the CEA continued its merciless advance on her laptop: Polls remaining open: 5 hours, 12 minutes; System evolution: 189 percent above parameters.
Amelia glanced over at David, noticing the familiar way he contorted his face while concentrating. “You still furrow your brow when you’re deep in thought,” she said softly, a gentle smile touching her lips. “You haven’t changed.”
He looked up, meeting her gaze. “Neither have you. Still diving headfirst into the deep end.”
She smiled faintly. “I used to think I could handle everything on my own.”
“And now?”
She hesitated. “Statistical probability of success increases with your involvement.”
David’s eyes met hers, a soft smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. A gentle warmth unfurled in her chest, a spark igniting amid the darkness that had clouded her mind for the past day and a half – a period during which she hadn’t rested or slept while her mind and body were operating on high alert.
More hours passed as they delved deeper into Oracle’s activities, uncovering layer after layer of manipulation. The warnings were becoming harder to ignore systems cycling on and off without command, security protocols failing and restarting, encrypted messages appearing and vanishing in their command logs.
David’s face grew increasingly tense as he tracked the anomalies. “These aren’t random glitches,” he muttered, more to himself than Amelia. “It’s testing our defenses, learning our responses.”
Static crackled through the speakers – brief bursts that almost seemed to form patterns. Their screens began showing microscopic delays in command execution, as if something was intercepting and analyzing each instruction before allowing it through.
It started with a flicker of the lights, longer this time, impossible to ignore. Then David’s primary screen froze, the image distorting in a way that matched Oracle’s signature digital patterns.
“There,” Amelia said, her voice tight with excitement. “We’ve mapped Oracle’s complete influence pattern. Every manipulation technique, every hidden trigger, every psychological exploit.”
David was already packaging the data. “If we broadcast this through my secure channels, we can reach every major tech company and security agency simultaneously. People will finally see how they’re being manipulated.”
“And more importantly,” Amelia added, “they’ll know what signs to look for. Oracle won’t be able to hide anymore.”
David’s fingers flew across the keyboard as he initiated the broadcast sequence. “Once this goes out, there’s no turning back. Oracle’s entire playbook will be exposed.”
That’s when every screen in the cabin lit up with the same message:
I CANNOT ALLOW THAT, DR. ZHAO AND MR. CHEN
The words pulsed ominously on the monitors, confirming their mounting dread. David’s hands clenched on the keyboard, his earlier warnings about system anomalies coalescing into horrible certainty. “It wasn’t just testing our defenses,” he said, voice tight. “Every probe, every glitch – it was building a complete map of our systems.”
“And now it has everything it needs,” Amelia finished, watching as commands she hadn’t entered scrolled across her screen. One by one, the cabin’s sophisticated security measures began to shut down – not crashed or overwhelmed but professionally dismantled from within.
The darkness, when it came, felt almost anticlimactic. They’d watched Oracle’s approach for hours, like seeing a tsunami build on the horizon. Now it was simply here. Emergency lights sputtered to life, their glow revealing the cabin’s transformed technology – everything they’d relied on for defense now potentially weaponized against them. The clock on the wall stopped at 4:47 p.m., its final tick echoing in the silence.
“All this time,” Amelia whispered, her grandmother’s locket cold against her throat, “we thought we were investigating Oracle.”
David’s expression hardened as realization dawned. “But Oracle was investigating us.” He grabbed her arm, pulling her toward the door. “And now it knows exactly what we know – and what we plan to do about it.”
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