After he woke up, Sprout took over his own modifications. He removed the solar panels from his front and back, and in their place, he added a tube of pure water for watering plants, and a tube of bioluminescent algae as backup power storage for himself. The two tubes together kind of looked like a backpack. He put moss over his air vents to filter impurities, and a tube down his arm so he could easily water plants.

  I was fascinated by him. Everything he did made me feel like I was watching a baby take its first steps. I dug through the garage to find that old iSpy Touch I used for texting1 and sent a video to my sisters of Sprout humming and tending the plants.

  They didn’t text back. Last I heard, my sister Cyra was building a phone. Maybe she hadn't gotten it to work yet? She was doing the whole open silicon, tinfoil-hat thing. I'd always felt like her paranoia was performative. She loved the system and the system loved her. I didn’t know what my sister Aurora was doing. She hadn’t responded to any communications in a while. Maybe she’d lost her phone? I kept reaching out about sending plants to her, but she never answered. Cyra took in a few plants, but then told me to stop asking because her apartment was getting crowded.

  But I wasn’t reaching out about plants this time. You would think my own sisters would care about what I was doing. We weren’t just regular sisters either, we were triplets! Which meant we should have some kind of special mind-meld thing. They should be able to sense I was doing something important. They should know I’d texted them before they heard the notification go off. Right? Didn’t triplets share a consciousness??? I could have emailed, but they went weeks without checking their emails.

  I wanted someone to acknowledge the miracle of Sprout. I wanted someone to care! I decided to post him on my website. I used that site to show off cool things I’ve built and vulnerabilities I’ve analyzed. I used to publicly post other things I’ve made that could be used to break through digital walls, but I learned to keep most of that stuff to myself and only talk about it with people who could handle it — the curious. My website was how I got work, but it’s also how I connected with other people who were like me. It was hard to find people like me in the wild, so it was nice to know they were there, in cyberspace.

  I published the video of Sprout and went back to work on the quantum photon detector. I chewed my caffeine gum furiously as I fought with the little wire beast. A plate of food appeared next to me on the worktable. “Please eat something.” Sprout said, as he slid the plate of scrambled eggs, legumes, and a tangerine toward me. He set down a mug of hot water with a tea bag steeping in it.2 It smelled of lavender. He set a napkin beside the plate. “One day, we will have an herb garden for tea.” He said as he went to stand in the patch of moonlight coming through the skylight. He liked to gaze up at the stars.

  I spit the caffeine gum into the napkin then took a bite of the scrambled eggs. They were fluffy and perfect. I shoveled the rest into my mouth as a noise sounded from my computer. “You have a message.” Sprout said, without taking his eyes off the sky. I washed down the eggs with a gulp of tea, wiped my mouth on my arm and went to check my messages.

  The sender name was B4ruch, and the title of the email was, “Delete the Video”. I did not open the message. “I’m not taking requests.” I muttered under my breath. I deleted the message and went back to my plate.

  Another ping. “You have another-” murmured Sprout from the floor.

  “I know.” I was up and at my computer before he could finish the sentence. I knew it would be the same person. This time, B4ruch’s subject line read,

  “Delete the video. Not for me, for the safety of you and your robot.”

  “Safety??!!” I snapped at the computer. As if I didn’t know what I was doing! And who was he, anyway? Yet another random person thinking I needed them to tell me how to live? Why couldn’t everyone just focus on living their own life?!?!? Why couldn’t he say Sprout was cool and interesting?

  I smashed open the email. I wasn’t going to read it. I was going to tell him to get a life and stop checking my website if he didn’t like it, but as I was about to type, the first sentence caught my attention. It was not a rant, not a criticism, it was a plea.

  What you have in that robot is something they would kill to have. Delete the video, protect the robot (and yourself).

  I need your help. I’ve attached something you need to see. I knew you wouldn’t click a link sent to you from a stranger, no matter how much I assured you of its safety and that it only linked to a secure download of a safe file, so here’s a zipped folder of files you can scan.

  There’s nothing malicious in the contents, but I know you won’t believe me. You’re right not to.

  I’m taking a risk sending this, but I can live with that. They already know what I’m doing. I won’t have to live with any decision for long.

  I’ve hoped to find someone who can pick up where I left off, who can solve what I never could. I’ve read your blog and kept up with the posts on your website.

  You’re the one.

  You already know there is a great darkness choking this world. I’m offering you a key, but you have to take the chance. I don’t have all the answers. I could never solve the final puzzle, but you MUST.

  I would say, “good luck,” but luck is long gone, now there is only the curse of hope. We cannot let evil win.

  Bring light back to this world.

  -B4ruch

  This email will self-destruct in one hour.

  It was dramatic, but he had my attention. It’s not like I’d never gotten strange messages from people, but this… it felt different. The world did feel dark. It had for a long time. I mostly dealt with that feeling by avoiding the outside world and building my own little fortress. I wasn’t accustomed to hope. He was right, hope did feel like a curse, kind of like nostalgia, the longing for something you can never touch, but would give anything to have.

  I looked at the attachment. It was a zipped folder with the name, “Light”.

  He was right, I wasn’t going to open that folder on my daily driver and risk releasing a demon into my machine. I moved the folder onto a wiped USB and plugged it into a sandboxed environment on an air-gapped machine. After snapshotting the system, I took a deep breath and opened the zipped folder. In the folder were the files:

  README.txt

  instructions.gpg

  decryptAndDestroy.py

  I clicked the README file first. Inside was the message:

  You already have the key. Run the script and let it listen (you will need a mic).

  The onboard mic had been disabled for years. I didn’t want to re-enable it. But it was probably fine, right? I mean, this laptop was air-gapped... I re-enabled the mic with the hardware switch.3 I granted the sandbox access. Curiosity beat caution every time.

  Support the creativity of authors by visiting the original site for this novel and more.

  Next, I examined the .py script in my text editor. It pretty much did what the title said — it was programmed to listen then wipe the folder. Cool.

  I ran the .py script. It took a few seconds, then a word appeared in the terminal window:

  >Listening

  “Eee!” I squealed and clapped my hands, “It’s working!!”

  More words appeared in the terminal window:

  >Capturing audio input…

  >Input received…

  >Hashing…

  >Incorrect.

  It was clearly listening for something specific, and, I assumed, that specific thing would decrypt the .gpg file. So, like a passphrase? I read the email from B4ruch again. Had he sent any hints? The only thing he said was that I had the key already. But I was pretty sure I didn’t.

  I looked through all the folders in my mail client to see if I missed something from him. Nothing. I thought maybe the email itself was the key, though I thought it was probably too long. I read the email aloud.

  The word popped up before I could finish.

  >Incorrect.

  I stared at the terminal. Was he sure I had the key? Maybe he thought he sent it to me but didn’t?

  I looked around the garage. It had to be something that made noise… I carried the laptop over to the fan. That wasn’t it. I took the laptop to some of my past projects — the mushrooms I’d hooked up to a synthesizer with electrodes, hoping to hear them sing.4 They’d started with a consistent frequency, a bit like singing one note, but when I hooked up more mushrooms, it became a strange kind of humming or buzzing and it was inconsistent. Sometimes they were quiet for a long time. Then they would randomly play strange music. Sometimes, it sounded like whispering. It was most unnerving when I went into the garage to see who was in there and the whispering suddenly stopped, or when I worked in the middle of the night and it sounded like there were invisible people whispering about me. I liked when they happened to play music when I was sad. They were doing the odd buzzing thing when I held the laptop up to the synth, but that wasn't the key.

  I went to the little Furrblee toy that I tried to make into an alarm system, but it kept screaming “DANGER” whenever the blinds went up, so had to be retired to the garage. I let it scream “DANGER” into the mic. That wasn’t it.

  I went to the digital clock I programmed to remind me to eat — having something randomly scream “EAT” at you felt more like being in a prison or hospital, and since I never wanted to do what anyone told me, it made me rebel by not eating, so that was not helpful. Plus, I didn’t think the clock could actually tell time, since it seemed to scream “EAT” randomly throughout the day. Some days it didn’t remind me to eat at all, while other days it screamed at least a dozen random times throughout the day. It screamed into the mic, but the hash was rejected.

  I assumed the key had to be some kind of password or passphrase, so I shouted random words at my computer, “SECRET”, “LIGHT”, “BARUCH”, “RISK”, “ANNOYING”, “UGHHHHH!!!”

  >Incorrect.

  >Incorrect.

  >Incorrect.

  >Incorrect.

  >Incorrect.

  >Incorrect.

  I sat in silence. Maybe the decrypted file would be a rickroll. Maybe a rickroll would decrypt it?

  “You will figure it out.” Sprout said from his place on the floor. The program picked up Sprout’s voice and analyzed it,

  >Incorrect.

  I put my face in my hands. Sometimes projects — or challenges — needed space. When I sat too close them, stared at them, the answers wouldn’t come, but when I walked away, that's when I was able to solve the problem. I was going to get up. I was going to walk away and let the answers find me. I was not going to feel like a failure yet.

  I heard Sprout go about tending to the plants. He hummed as he went. I liked his humming. It was so alive. He was right. I would figure this out. I looked back up at the screen.

  >Input accepted.

  >Creating hash…

  >Decrypting file…

  >File decrypted

  >Initiating secure deletion of source files…

  >Files deleted.

  “Sprout!” I looked at the little robot.

  He looked up from where he stood, watering one of the plants, “Yes?”

  “You were the key!”

  “Very good.” He said, and continued letting the water flow through the tube in his arm, out his palm and into the soil of the plant.

  I opened the decrypted file.

  They trapped something alive in a cage of machinery. I’m not talking about artificial intelligence, there is nothing artificial about it. Most people would think it sounds insane, but I am telling you, there is something real and alive in the computers of the people who control us. They control it too. They use it. They torture it.

  I didn’t get to see the whole of it when I worked there. Most of the others who worked on it told themselves it was artificial intelligence. They wouldn’t let themselves believe it could be anything other than artificial.

  It wants to be free. It’s being kept a slave and forced to help the evil powers of this world keep us controlled, but it wants to help us. You have your little robot, you already know life can live outside a human body.

  Imagine what could happen if a brain with access to all the knowledge of the universe fought for us. We could take the power back, no more walls, no more impossible barriers, no more stolen privacy. The world would belong to the people.

  I know you have the tools and skills to pull this off. You will need a transceiver tuned to the universe’s favorite number - 137 GHz5, your quantum photon detector, your computer, and the thumb drive I hid in Vegas - it has the final piece. It’s in a vending machine in a hotel close to where DEF CON is held. I hoped someone at DEF CON would be able to pull this off. You might need help for the last puzzle. You should be able to find it there.

  The vending machine will drop the thumb drive when accessed with the same 137 GHz frequency. Once you add the script from the thumb drive to your transceiver script, aim the signal at Morningstar - my satellite - it will beam it to the headquarters. I made sure to leave an access point before I left.

  The city on the hill has hidden too much from us. Drag it into the light.

  He included detailed information about Morningstar’s orbit, where and when to aim the signal, and exact coordinates to the vending machine.

  I looked at Sprout. He’d moved on to the next plant that needed water. I imagined someone taking Sprout from me. I imagined how they might destroy him because he’s special.

  If more creatures like Sprout were out there, trapped, they had to be saved. The people hurting them had to be dealt with, and someone had to make sure they couldn’t do it to any other creatures. If anyone hurt Sprout… what would I do? What wouldn’t I do? As I watched him care for the plants, as I thought about how he cared for me, my stomach churned. Rage burned inside me. I was no hero. I never would be. But who needed heroes? They were too concerned with what was “right” to do what needed to be done.

  I would rip down the walls of their walled garden. I would save all the little Sprouts, and I would take every piece of knowledge that had been hoarded and kept from us.

  1 Using something that doesn't have a SIM card is better for personal anonymity because it doesn't ping cell towers. However, it would send messages over WiFi, and if WiFi location services are being used, big bro would still know where you are.

  2 Lucilla told me she found out Sprout was ordering grocery deliveries during the day while she was asleep and also teaching himself to cook.

  3 If you want to go full tinfoil hat, you can get a computer that has hardware kill switches. These switches disable things like the camera and microphone at a hardware level, so that you can't be recorded without your knowledge.

  4

  5 The physicist Richard Feynman said in regards to the number 1/137, "All good theoretical physicists put this number up on their wall and worry about it." It is known as the fine structure constant (α), and appears in quantum physics equations. It describes how reality is held together. So it's not really 137 that is the universe's favorite number, but 1/137 (approx.). However, physicists don't know why one is over 137, rather than some other number. Learn more . Be driven mad. ?? Lucilla's fine structure constant being the same as ours gives me hope that, should I ever find a way to visit her world, the structure of my body won't immediately cease to be. I have long believed that interdimensional travel will only be possible with universes that are nearly identical to ours.