I was fairly certain by that point that some type of derangement had set it. Having successfully fended off the CSO – for now – I pondered the wisdom of my actions as Slaiton’s boots stamped away down the hall. I’m not typically one for introspection. But when you realize that you’ve set the fate of you’re entire fortune, your life’s work, and your personal well-being into a piece of administrative assistant software? That doesn’t seem like a particularly sane act.
Of course, Delilah was a little more than assistant software. Apparently emergent AI was actually a thing. Who would have guessed? Besides all those 20th and 21st century science fiction writers, I mean. Not that her being a true AI really helped make a case for my sanity. I had no idea what she might actually be up to. Hell, she may even just be an elaborate prank.
But she’d contacted me in an impossible fashion during a time of need. Laid out a plan for how to get Persephone cleared and resolve her own dilemma as well. All I had to do was provide a few private security keys and help her resolve some conflicts with manipulating the Raid code.
Yeah. Raid code. Here I am, head of one of the top ten corps, the one arguably at the utmost edge of security and computing research. And I was sticking my hands into the Raid sim. There’s really not a question of sanity at all, is there?
The alarms had been going for long enough that it was startling when they shut off. I didn’t know whether that was Dee’s doing or the CSO’s. There was no way to find out without booting my terminal up again and I was certain they were keeping a much closer eye on me. Somewhere in the cyberspace of Persephone’s servers, a war was being fought for my life as well as Dee’s.
And all I could really do is wait. Wait for a comm buzz from Dee. Wait for the CSO to bust in again and frogmarch me to prison. Wait for the three shots of bourbon I’d just thrown back to kick in.
I hate waiting.