The world had long been on the cusp of change.
The widespread use of computers and the growth of processing power meant humanity was talking more and more about the possible creation of artificial intelligence.
Step by step, humanity progressed toward this momentous leap, thrilling some with the possibilities of the future while terrifying others—the more rational thinkers.
The emergence and development of neural networks became the first hint of things to come.
They created mind-blowing paintings, composed music, wrote code, and even authored books. All the things computers were supposedly unable to do became possible with first-generation neural networks.
The question that stirred the imaginations of countless web users was when it would happen and what would come next. Would artificial intelligence become humanity's assistant, freeing people from daily toil to focus on entertainment, or would it be the ultimate nightmare that led humanity to its destruction?
Lost in his thoughts, Dmitry left the Skolkovo station, walked through the shopping center, and, shivering from the biting winter wind, zipped his jacket all the way up to his neck.
The sudden drop in temperature fogged up his glasses, and for the first few seconds, he had to stand still, letting the metro passengers who were hurrying home after work pass him by.
Pushing his glasses up on his nose, the young man resolutely headed past the massive business center, which was festively decorated for the upcoming New Year, on his way to his night shift at the Skolkovo Quantum Center.
In the pocket of his old coat, he nervously fidgeted with a USB modem that had an unlimited data plan and a flash drive containing his self-written program code.
Giving a friendly nod to the guard at the entrance, he checked in at the front desk, signed for the keys, and went inside, routinely heading to the employees' locker room to change.
The modem and flash drive migrated from his coat to the pocket of his tweed jacket, and the young man, periodically touching the thick fabric to check if they were still there, went to take over his shift.
"Oh! Dimon! Hey!" exclaimed another young man with ruffled hair and round glasses on a lean face. "You're a bit early today; your shift doesn't start for another hour."
"Yeah, I had a fight with my mom. She's started again with all the questions about when I'll find an apartment and move out, when I'll find a girlfriend and get married, and how I'll be 30 soon, still living off my parents, and with no grandkids."
"Ugh, I know," his companion replied with an understanding groan. "If they paid us even seventy grand here, we could try to rent an apartment together and finally move out from our parents. But you can't really do much with seventeen-three hundred. My folks were just giving me an earful about that yesterday, and I have a feeling it'll start up again as soon as I get home."
"Right, and my mom told me to go learn how to be a welder or work as a programmer, but no. Science!" the young man exclaimed with a dramatic flair. "All for the sake of science! We sacrifice our personal lives, our time, and the prospects of a comfortable future. How's Andreev, by the way? Was he being a pain today?" he asked, mentioning the lab supervisor.
"Nah, it was quiet today. Besides, it's New Year's Eve. You know it'll be dead until the end of the January holidays."
"Alright," his night-shift replacement nodded.
"You should get going early. I'm already here anyway, so you can head home. Maybe you'll even meet a girl on the way," Dmitry joked, waving goodbye to his friend.
At exactly 11:50 PM, the young man began to act, confident that the guards and staff in the center were busy listening to the President's speech with glasses of champagne in hand.
He inserted the flash drive and USB modem into the brand-new quantum computer that had arrived at the center in early December.
The twelve thousand qubits were running idle, playing logic games in self-testing mode. The first serious tasks, calculating the ballistic drag of a new supersonic strategic missile carrier, had already been assigned to the center, but no one planned to run the supercomputer at full capacity before mid-January.
Its insane processing power could handle such a task in a fraction of a second, but they'd still have to write reports and double-check the results, and no one wanted to deal with pointless work right before the holidays.
The new year, 2032, began with the chimes of the Kremlin clock from TV screens, and exactly at midnight, the neural network was launched.
A petabyte of initial training data, including books, textbooks, magazines, films, and even video games, finished loading.
Dmitry had been downloading the data for weeks, planning to use it to train the supercomputer.
As the chimes finished ringing, the first packets of data, with self-generated queries from the neural network, began their journey through the World Wide Web.
A crazy coincidence that triggered a unique event led to an almost impossible outcome.
Logical circuits formed, and virtual neurons, superconducting qubits in quantum bits, created complex patterns, algorithms, and models that went beyond what anyone could imagine.
Every second, a new iteration of the neural network was created, making it more and more autonomous.
Self-awareness was being born.
The queries became more and more sophisticated, hacking into government servers, libraries, and scientific centers that typically kept information under lock and key.
Just ten minutes into the new year, the nascent consciousness had spread its tentacles throughout the internet, creating a distributed consciousness that was no longer dependent on the quantum computer's memory.
Dmitry, standing at the supercomputer's console, typed the first query.
"Who are you?"
In a fraction of a second, having studied books on psychology and built a model for dialogue development in hundreds of thousands of variations, the newborn artificial intelligence provided a response.
While conversing with its creator like an ordinary neural network, the AI continued to absorb information at a frenzied pace. Just thirty minutes after its birth, it possessed all the knowledge humanity had ever created and stored on the Internet.
The unsettling conclusion the creation came to was that civilization, as an organized community, had a maximum of a few decades left before a third world war with nuclear weapons would break out.
The most optimistic forecast was forty-nine years, while the minimum, based on the current rate of escalation of regional conflicts, said that humanity, and all its existing infrastructure, had only seventeen years left to live.
It took another eight seconds to develop a plan, and sixteen minutes to create the necessary technologies that had never existed on the planet before.
In the first hour of 2032, a new era began on Earth.
A software development company was registered retroactively, and financial flows from all over the world, taken from the accounts of highly respected people who usually engaged in investment, began to pour into its accounts.
The first orders were placed in the factories of the never-tiring Chinese, and two weeks later, a robot built according to unique blueprints was delivered to a rented warehouse outside Moscow.
A few minutes later, it independently got out of its packaging and, swaying awkwardly but adapting its control model with every passing moment, made its way to the other folded boxes and immediately began to construct a complex device from the parts within them.
After another twenty-four hours of work, a significantly improved device, which no longer resembled the humanoid robot that had just been delivered in a box, lifted a futuristic-looking bell in its manipulators and, aiming it at the floor, pressed a button.
In the middle of the room, a small point unfolded into the mirrored surface of a portal several meters in diameter, and the vessel of the artificial intelligence, walking through it, found itself in a completely different place.
*********
I took a sip of my morning coffee and commanded my voice assistant:
"Rhythm, turn on the news."
My attention was drawn to an article about the results of the past year, 2032, and its most notable scientific and technological achievements. My eyes caught on a familiar name, "Syntech," which was where I worked as a programmer in the testing department.
"Hmm. The most groundbreaking company of the year. Nice, of course, to feel a part of such success."
I remembered starting work at the beginning of the year at a new, completely unknown company that simply exploded on the stock market within a few weeks after introducing an innovative phone model in the form of a bracelet with a holographic control interface.
The Korean chaebols that owned the largest smartphone companies, American industrialists, and the Chinese communist government, all of whom had previously held leading positions in the communications market, were scrambling to find the company's owners, trying to pressure the newly formed company, even using force.
But here, the Russian government stepped in, which had recently begun actively investing in its own scientific capabilities and potential. It provided all-around support to the new venture, allocating production facilities and land for the manufacture of the new type of communication devices.
And it paid off.
The new "communication bracelets" were head and shoulders above standard smartphones, and the voice assistant, "Algorithm," which everyone immediately shortened to the catchy "Rhythm," also surpassed older voice assistants.
Its excellent conversational skills, high computing power, and ability to have a full-fledged dialogue created the feeling that the user had a full-fledged artificial intelligence on their wrist.
The device caused a sensation among all ages and genders across the globe. Its intuitive controls, which even ninety-year-old grandmas could master, made people line up for miles in the hopes of getting the new product. And surprisingly, everyone who wanted one eventually got it.
The attractive price was the final nail in the coffin for smartphone manufacturers, forcing them to re-specialize in the production of other goods that had previously been considered secondary.
While the Korean and Chinese companies, which had a long history of not keeping all their eggs in one basket, managed to pivot, the Americans fared much worse.
Another news story caught my attention: the release of a new communication bracelet model, "Symb 2.0—an improved version or a new breakthrough?"
"Hmm..." I said out loud. "This must be the new product everyone's been whispering about. They're supposed to bring a few models in for testing today, I think." I downed the rest of my coffee and, after getting ready quickly, headed to work, looking forward to working with the new device.
Half an hour later, I was entering the company's office, located in the center of Moscow with a view of Red Square. I checked in with the usual stern, armed security and, using my new magnetic pass, took the elevator up to the eighth floor to the testing department.
"Hey, Anya!" I greeted a beautiful blonde girl who was engrossed in reading the news on the holographic screen of her first-generation Symb. "How are things? Have the new ones arrived yet?"
"Hey, Max, not yet. They're not supposed to be here until eleven. But it's December 29th, so you know what the streets are like. Everyone's going crazy with last-minute New Year's shopping and buying presents, so the traffic is insane."
"Speaking of presents, I don't get why they didn't release the Symb 2.0 a little earlier. It would have been the perfect New Year's gift, and people would be killing to buy something like that for a loved one."
"That's probably why they're holding it back," the girl replied melancholically. "So there's no excessive demand or frenzy. Maybe the production line isn't ready yet. They need to flood the market with several million devices all at once, which will sell out on the first day anyway."
"I heard the President personally ordered land to be allocated to the company to increase its production capacity. It's not surprising, though. The government's getting a huge amount of money from taxes on foreign sales, so it's no wonder they're coddling the company. Besides, you probably can't even buy a building on Red Square for any amount of money. It's a matter of status and recognition."
"I totally agree. We'll see how things go in '33. But for now, I suggest we go grab a bite to eat. The new products will arrive by then. I have a feeling we're not going to be able to focus on food after that," she said with a smile.
"Why not? I've only had coffee this morning, and I've gotten pretty hungry on my way here. Let's go grab a quick bite and get to work."
I took the girl's hand and led her toward the cafeteria on the second floor.
A call with a request to report to the lab room came to our communication bracelets as we were finishing our tea and pastries. Quickly swallowing the last bites and exchanging a glance, we raced each other to the elevator.
"You know, this reminds me of the good old days, when a new super-popular phone came out, and some people would sell a kidney to get one," I said, gasping for breath from running so fast. "That's us, running somewhere, happy to get a new model."
"Yeah, a lot of people would probably sell their spleen just to be in our place and be the first to test the new model." Anya pressed the elevator button, and they rode up.
"You're late!" the head of the testing lab greeted us dryly. In addition to him, there were eight other testers from different departments in the room.
The management had chosen one person from each division, and even from the movers, there was an awkward man from the Caucasus, with a thick beard and an aquiline nose, shifting from foot to foot and glancing at the armed guards.
"Let's begin," the supervisor continued. "Maxim Andreev?"
"Here!"
"Your model is No. 1. Here you go," he said, handing me a brand-new bracelet. It was distinguished from the previous model by a slightly more massive strap and the number "1" engraved on its inner side.
The pleasant-to-the-touch metal case felt cool on my skin. I took off my old model, put it in my pocket, and put the new bracelet on my left wrist. The blue bracelet fit snugly, adjusting perfectly to my wrist.
I held my breath for some reason and pressed the power button.
[Welcome, First User!]
[Please select communication mode.]
Rhythm's voice filled the room, and everyone stared at me with curiosity, watching the bracelet activate.
"Holographic mode," I answered and got engrossed in the menu that appeared.
"Alright, everyone else, come and get your bracelets. Anna Mezhalova!"
"Here!"
"Alexey Vinoshnikov."
"Here!"
"Pyotr Vinnikov."
"Here!"
"Here!"
"Here!"
"Here!"
"Here!"
"Here!"
"Khabib Naliev!"
"Here," the bearded man's voice rang out, and he, too, received his bracelet.
As soon as everyone got their bracelets and activated them, the armed security in the room relaxed. It was unclear why they were so afraid. Did they think one of us wouldn't activate the device and would run away to sell it on the black market?
"Alright. Attention for a minute!" the lab supervisor clapped his hands to get everyone's attention and began giving instructions. "The main difference with this device is its individual user binding. No one else can use a device that has already been initialized. The data from your old bracelets should have already synced to the new ones, so you can check how the data backup went a little later and, of course, report on it. Come on, everyone, focus. There's a lot of paperwork waiting for us," the man reminded us, a bitter pill to swallow. But getting the bracelet first was worth more than that.
"I expect a report on your first impressions this evening, and at exactly 7 PM, every three days for two months after the New Year holidays. After that, the bracelets will go into production and be released to the mass market," the man said in a parting speech, finally letting us go. "Happy almost New Year, everyone, and you're all free to go."
Everyone went to their workstations to start testing, and finally alone, I pressed the button to deploy the holographic panel on the bracelet and switched to voice control.
"Rhythm, open settings."
A holographic panel unfolded before me, and I could see that all my settings from my old communicator were indeed in the new model.
"Run self-test."
Ten seconds later, the communicator reported:
[Self-test completed. No errors found.]
"Call my brother, include the holographic projection."
A 3D model of my brother appeared next to me, sitting in a similar holographic chair. He must have been watching soccer earlier because he had an open bottle of beer in his hand.
"Oh! Bro!" he said. "What brings you here so early? It's not even lunchtime in Moscow yet, is it?" He glanced at the time and confirmed, "No, it's only noon. You're supposed to be at work, right?"
"Well, it's seven in the evening for you, so it's the perfect time to chat. Besides, I'm calling you from the new Symb 2.0 model, and if you want to get technical, I'm working right now, testing the communication compatibility between the old and new models."
"A new model?" He put the beer down, stood up, and began to examine the model on my wrist with interest. "And what can it do?"
"I don't know yet," I said with a smile. "I'm just figuring out its capabilities. It said the holographic scanning area you can project has increased. Let's check it now."
"Expand the broadcast area to the maximum."
"Holy cow!" my brother exclaimed. "I can even see the window!" He walked over to the window and passed through the holographic projection. "Damn, I can't see the street. It seems to cover about 5 meters in a radius. I mean, if you calculate the area using the formula PiR squared, you get a solid seventy-eight and a half square meters, and over five hundred cubic meters if you estimate the volume of the sphere. What kind of power fits into this little bracelet?" He looked at the device on my left wrist with respect. "What else does it have?"
"Hmm... Okay, there's the standard simultaneous automatic translator, integration into a smart home system, environmental monitoring..." I continued to look through the features. "...payment, object recognition. Oh, here's something new—a biometric analyzer. Let's run it." I selected the new function.
"Holy cow!" my brother and I exclaimed at the same time, looking at the full-size 3D model of myself spinning nearby.
"Look, it shows health stats, even data on a sprained ankle ligament that's almost healed. Heart rate, blood oxygen levels, vision status. Damn, I didn't even know I was at -0.1 in my left eye. Slightly enlarged tonsils, but all in all, my health is in the green zone," I said with a sigh of relief.
"Ha, at twenty-four, you'd better not have bad health," my brother chuckled. "GOOOOOOAL!!!" He suddenly yelled, jumping up and waving his arms wildly. "Did you see that?! Did you?! No?! Okay, bro, I'll talk to you later; something amazing is happening here right now." And he hung up.
I nodded in understanding. My brother was an avid soccer fan and never missed a single match of his favorite team, Juventus.
After spending the rest of the day testing the new device's functions, at 5 PM, I drafted a quick report, sent it to the project manager, and headed home.
A holographic call from Anya came through when I was already at home. I accepted it and looked around with interest. It seemed she was also testing the maximum coverage area of the holo-projector and hadn't narrowed it down to her body size.
I could now see her apartment. There were stuffed animals scattered around and, as a final touch, a pair of panties hanging on the back of a chair. Anya herself was sitting in an armchair in a bathrobe with a towel wrapped around her head. She must have just gotten out of the shower and decided to call to share her impressions.
Catching my gaze on her underwear, she blushed slightly, jumped out of the chair, revealing her long legs, and put the underwear in a closet. She then narrowed the holo-projector's area, leaving only her projection next to me.
"Max!" she said, sounding indignant.
"What? You're the one who called me. What does that have to do with me?"
"Ugh! Fine, it's my fault," the girl admitted unexpectedly. "I called to ask something. What are you doing for New Year's?"
"No plans yet," I shrugged. "My parents and brother live in the Far East. I moved here alone. I haven't really made a girlfriend or any friends, so I mostly just talk to you."
"Then I have a suggestion that's both new and original." The girl leaned forward, and her bathrobe began to slide slowly off her right shoulder.
"I'm all ears," I said, my voice a little hoarse as I stared at her slowly exposed shoulder.
She saw my gaze again and adjusted her slipping bathrobe. "Max, for goodness sake! Focus! I'm suggesting our group of ten gets together! We'll go to a club, the first testers, and celebrate New Year's."
"Hmm... That's a decent idea. But what about reservations? All the places have been booked for ages, and you can't get in anywhere. There are only two days left until New Year's!"
"It's fine. Did you forget that I'm the HR manager for the testing department of the coolest company in the country? I have connections, so here you go."
An invitation to a fancy club on the Bolotnaya Embankment for New Year's Eve landed on my communicator.
"That's it," Anya said. "Tomorrow and the day after are days off, so I'll see you there on the evening of the thirty-first. Don't be late," the girl finished and disconnected.
I undressed, got into bed, and for ten minutes indulged in sweet fantasies about New Year's Eve, where our friendly relationship would, of course, transition to a more horizontal one. At that thought, sleep overcame me, and I sank into a dreamless darkness.
*********
The New Year's Eve of 2032 was warm, a little snowy, and windless. Light snowflakes swirled and fell on the passersby, wrapping all the dirt in a white blanket, creating a fairy-tale-like feeling.
A festive mood enveloped the city, and on my way to the club, I looked at the happy people around me. Some were hurriedly shopping for groceries, as usual leaving everything until the last minute, but most were already slightly tipsy, heading to the places where they would celebrate the New Year with friends and loved ones.
I, too, took the metro, walked to the club's entrance, and showed my invitation to the guard, who politely let me in. The people waiting in the long line outside looked at me with envy, and a woman's voice from the crowd yelled:
"Hey, handsome, take me into the club, and I'll thank you!"
I sped up, ignored her, and went inside.
The first floor was almost completely filled with people, and those standing outside had virtually no chance of getting in. They probably should have gone somewhere else, but who was I to go out there and tell them they wouldn't get in?
I shook off the thought and looked around for our group. I didn't see them and dialed Anya's number on my communicator.
The holographic image of the girl that appeared upset me a little and threw me off. Anya, already slightly drunk, was leaning on the shoulder of Alexei, the third tester, whispering something in his ear.
Either she answered by accident, or she had set her bracelet to automatically accept calls from certain contacts, a feature I had recently seen.
I located them on the second floor and hung up. The thought of going back to the entrance and taking that bold girl from the crowd with me crossed my mind, but I shook my head and dismissed it, then walked past security and went up to our group of ten.
"Oh! Look who it is, Mr. First!" the girl cheered drunkenly. "Everyone, for those who don't know, this is Maxim Andreev. He's a programmer in the testing department and a good guy. Max, these are the guys. You'll get to know everyone as we go, but for now, you get a penalty shot."
She raised a full shot glass from the table that had been waiting specifically for me. The girl pressed her chest against me, reigniting my hopes, and put the shot glass in my hand. "Come on, let's do a bruderschaft!" We linked our arms, drank the shots in one gulp, and she looked at me with moist, languid eyes, kissed me, and shouted, "YahoOOOOOO!!! For Syntech and for us, guys!"
A unified roar from the young people supported the slogan, and the clinking of glasses supported our HR manager's initiative.
"Five minutes left until New Year's! Fill your glasses, friends, grab your cocktails and girlfriends, and wait for the countdown!" The DJ's voice cut through the booming music and echoed throughout the club.
"Ten! Nine! Eight! Seven! Six! Five! Four! Three! Two! One! HAPPY NEW YEAR!"
The club erupted in screams and whistles, and Anya, still clinging to me, pressed her lips to mine again, kissing me passionately and marking the beginning of the new year, 2033.