A.I. Apocalypse Read Free Page A

loved the way you linked biological evolution to game theory.”
    Leon felt his face growing red. If there was one thing worse than having to stay late to talk to a teacher, it was having them gush over your work. How embarrassing was she going to make this?
    “Just think about it. Please. Being a member of the team would really help you when it came to college scholarships.” Mrs. Gellender held out a shiny pamphlet.
    Leon took the pamphlet, and heard the words coming out of his mouth. “OK, I’ll do it.”
    He walked away from the room. College scholarships. If he was going to college, any college, he’d have to get a scholarship. His mother was a manicurist, and his father was a graphic artist. They weren’t exactly rolling in money.
    He finally walked down the now empty hallways of the school towards the main entrance. As he passed through the doors, he was assaulted from both sides. “HAIYAA” came the kung-fu style cry, and Leon jumped back.
    James and Vito stood laughing. Heart pounding, Leon said, “You idiots, you’re gonna give me a heart attack.”
    “You want a heart attack, look at this.”
    James reached into his coat pocket and pulled out an ebony slab. He held it out for Leon to take. Leon unconsciously licked his lips and gingerly took it from him. It was the darkest, most matte black Leon had ever seen. It felt slightly warm, like a piece of wood that had been sitting in the sun. Leon turned it over and over in his hands. There was not a seam or mark anywhere on the case. An absolutely perfect surface.
    “The Gibson,” Leon muttered in awe.
    James nodded proudly. “I got the delivery notification and skipped class to run home and get it.”
    Leon couldn’t stop marveling at the hunk of electronics in his hands, feeling the dense weight of it. The Gibson had the first carbon graphene processor. Two hundred fifty-six processing cores at the lowest power consumption ever manufactured. Full motion sensitive display. It had taken Hitachi-Sony six years to perfect the technology.
    “OK, give it back already.”
    As James took back the phone, it came to life in his hands. Each square inch of the case was a display, and the patterns rolled as James swiped at it. “Come on, let’s go back to your place and play Mech War. I want to see how this puppy does.”
    Leon just nodded, his six month old Chinese copy of Hitachi-Sony’s Stross phone feeling ancient.
    *   *   *
    Late that night, Leon cleaned the mess of plates and glasses out of his bedroom and brought them back to the kitchen as quietly as possible to avoid waking his parents. James and Vito had stayed right up until dinner time finishing out a Mech War mission together. James's new Gibson phone blew them out of the water. It rendered video in such incredible detail that time after time Leon and Vito would ignore their own screens to watch James's screen.  
    But when his mother announced that dinner was cabbage soup, it had sent James and Vito scrambling for their own homes, suddenly remembering that they were expected by their parents.  
    Three hours later, his parents were finally asleep and Leon had time to look at the message he was trying so hard to ignore. So why was he cleaning his bedroom? Anything to avoid that message.  
    He gave up, and slumped down on his bed. With a flick on his phone, he plunged the room into darkness so he could see the city lights out his sliver of a window. He brought the phone back up.  
    Leon, I think you do know thing or two about programming. I saw your school grades, your assessment test scores, and remarks from your teachers. I think you can help me, but perhaps out of moral quandary you refuse to. Well, consider this, I will likely be dead in few days if you do not help me.
    So if you must consider what is right and what is wrong, think how your father would feel if he knew you could help me but didn’t.
    Leon felt sick to his stomach reading the message. His father would not want him to do