Zelina walked in the middle of the train track.

She and her sister used to lay in

bed listening for the comforting whistle of the train that passed at three o’clock
every morning. Their father was a conductor of a shipping train that ran overnight
runs. They would listen for the whistle and wonder if it was Dad’s train.

Now her sister was buried at the cemetery up the hill from these tracks.

What now? Would she ever be happy again? Would this sadness sit on her soul ever
leave? What was she supposed to do? How would she manage without one of the most
important people in her life? She lost half of herself. The black hole of loss was
sucking the meaning of her life.

She wiped the tears from her face as she looked up the hill toward the cemetery.
“What should I do, Zariah?”

Follow the light.

She heard the sound of the old comforting whistle. It was louder here than it was
from her parents’ home two miles away. The vibration of the train rumbled through
her core. The brakes screeched, metal sparks flying across the tracks as the light
embraced her.

“Why did my AI call me at four o’clock in the morning?” Alysia asked sharply as she
walked into the drab grey computer lab.

“One of the test subjects got hit by a train an hour ago,” Linden said, his eyes
locked on the code running across his computer screen. “She was standing on the
tracks. The conductor couldn’t stop in time.”

“That’s odd,” Alysia said, rolling a chair next to his. “Did her AI termination
alert wake you up?”

“No, that’s the strange part,” Linden said. “My AI sent me a media alert when the
news post came across the wires for the morning broadcasts. I have an algorithm to
monitor the names of the people in the test group for online mentions outside of
normal parameters.”

“Getting hit by a train is abnormal,” Alysia said. “You said the subject’s AI
didn’t give you a termination notification?”

Linden shook his head. “That’s why I’m here. The subject’s AI is still
transmitting,” He hit a key on his computer to project his screen over the desk.
“Look at that programming code. Does it make sense to you?”

Alysia stared at the nonsensical text scrolling across the projected frame. “I’m a
scientist, not a network engineer. All I see that makes any sense is ‘follow the
light’ on every other line.”

“That’s not my algorithm for the AI functions,” Linden said. “My team didn’t
program anything like that in it. What’s more, is that the phrase repeats in
multiple languages. ‘Sigue la luz’ in Spanish, and ‘sequitur lumen’ in Latin. The
English is repeating, with a new translation added in between each appearance.”

“The text in between those ‘follow the light’ lines aren’t part of the algorithm?”

“None of this is my algorithm,” Linden said. “That’s why I called you in the middle
of the night. Everything we wrote into the AI system is gone. Is there anything on
the biological side of the system that might have caused the computer code to
rewrite?”
“That’s impossible. They’re independent systems,” she opened her own computer. “The
computer chips implanted in human brains serve as a bridge between the biological
functions of the individuals and their Artificial Intelligence system. The upgrades
we’re testing on this group are designed to help the AI read DNA to enhance healing
functions and cellular repair. So far, the tests have been successful.”

“Until tonight, when Subject 17 took a walk on a train track in the middle of the
night,” Linden sighed as he stared at his screen. “What does it mean?”

Alysia shook her head. “I don’t know.”

Telia stood on the balcony of her cabin, staring at the dark water.

So much for the best day of my life.

At least Dallon left her cruise ticket. It’s the least the jerk could do after
leaving her at the altar.

They had lived together for seven years before he finally popped the question. They
had already built a life together. She moved four hours from her family and built
her life in his home, his town, his place.

She had her IUD removed. They were finally moving forward and she was ready for a
family. He wasn’t. He was angry that she made such a big decision without
consulting him. It was her body and her decision. What right did he have to tell
her what to do? She thought the proposal meant he was ready. What more did he need?

They fought. They argued about love and trust. They talked about finances and
careers. They agreed on long-term goals and timelines. She compromised and went on
birth control shots. She had her first one last month and thought everything was ok
until he didn’t show up to their rehearsal dinner three days ago.

What am I supposed to do?

Follow the light.

A pink light glowed on the dark horizon of the ocean. She smiled as she leaned over
the balcony railing and plunged into the dark water.

“Subject 4 just went dark,” Alysia said. “I’m not sure what happened. The AI is
still transmitting, but the biological signs went dark.

“The algorithm went back to normal at four-thirty, but jumped back to ‘follow the
light’ sequence at six-fifteen,” Linden rubbed his eyes. “What happened?”

“I don’t know,” Alysia said. “Subject 4 is dead, but the AI is still transmitting.
How is that possible? If the subject dies, then the AI should go silent.”

“Subject 17 was transmitting for an hour and a half after termination,” Linden
said. “That’s when the code went back to normal. It looks like it’s happening
again.”

“It has to be something with the biological algorithm,” Alysia said.

“We’d better figure it out soon,” Linden said. “We can’t afford for our entire
trial pool to die in bizarre incidents. That would be a PR nightmare. The public
would panic if they knew our upgrade tests were fatal.”
“It’s worse than a PR nightmare, it’s a threat to their well-being,” Alysia said.
“Artificial Intelligence is implanted in billions of neural chips. We don’t know
what shutting it down would do to people. They’re so used to having the constant
stream of data running through their neural chip that the silence might drive them
mad. Is that enhanced algorithm in just the test subjects, or has it spread to the
general population?”

“It’s just in the test subjects,” Linden said. “We should focus on keeping it
contained, and keeping it quiet. We don’t want to scare people.”

Alysia ran her hand through her messy hair. “Then we better find the common link
between these two cases fast.”

Linden stood up. “I need breakfast for that. Keep the scans running. I don’t trust
the AI. I’m getting us food and caffeine to fuel our brain.”

Jaron stood on the edge of the mountain, gasping for breath. He had hiked this
trail countless times and thought the enhancements in the AI trial would help his
stamina, but maybe the prototype didn’t work properly. He wasn’t sure why he was
here. He remembered checking job openings and going to bed last night, and the next
thing he remembered was breathing heavily as he hiked up this trail. It was as if
something took him exactly where he needed to be while his mind was still asleep.

He looked down at the town below, his vision staring at the center of the city. He
should be walking into a corner office overlooking the mountains surrounding the
city at the start of another new week. Instead, he was wondering what to do next.
He had worked for the company his entire career, climbing the ladder and thinking
that surely he would reach the Director’s office. Instead, the retiring director
sold the company to a larger business expanding into the Smoky Mountain area and
transferred their own, thirty-something Director who didn’t need two executive
coordinators.

What am I supposed to do?

Follow the light.

Jaron held his head up, facing the sun overhead. He spread his arms out, the
sunlight embracing him in warmth. He felt as if he could fly from this mountaintop
right over the people who wronged him. Calmness washed over him, his breathing
returning to a slow, rhythmic pace.

Jaron leaned into the wind and took a step into the light.

“It happened again,” Linden said as she rushed into Alysia’s office later that
morning. “Subject 42 just plunged off a hiking trail over Gatlinburg, Tennessee.”

Alysia paled as the alert went off on her own computer. She clicked it and opened a
shaky cell phone video

“Sir, what are you doing?” the voice behind the screen shouted.

“Follow the light,” the man said as he walked off the cliff.

“Now we have video evidence,” Alysia said. “Is it possible that the AI is
developing sentience?”

“No,” Linden said.

Alysia leaned back. “Are you sure? We theorized that AI could achieve low-level
sentience with repeated use. The system has been in worldwide use for five years.
Is it possible that the system has learned by operating through chips in human
brains?”

“The AI only knows what we tell it in the functioning algorithm, which is to

enhance basic functions and facilitate connection with online systems. We didn’t
program it to learn beyond basic communication skills,” Linden said. “The test
group is the only group with the enhanced DNA bridge.”

“The test group launched last week, and now we have three ‘glitches’ in five
hours,” Alysia said. “Maybe this upgrade made the AI sentient? It is forcing it to
operate outside of the original parameters of linking man and machine.”

Linden paled. “The AI is supposed to read DNA, not minds.”

Alysia typed into her computer, opening the AI database. “Here’s the personal data
on the deceased. Subject 17 was Zelina Elestor, a forty-six-year-old administrative
worker. Her sister passed away two weeks ago from sepsis.

“Subject 4 was Telia Sollman, a thirty-one-year-old medical assistant from

Charlotte, North Carolina. She was supposed to get married the day before
yesterday, but social media posts indicate that her fiancé didn’t show up to the
rehearsal dinner Friday night. She boarded a cruise ship to the Bahamas yesterday.

“Subject 42 was Jaron Lizer, a fifty-three-year-old executive director for a public

relations firm in Gatlinburg, Tennessee. He was laid off from his job ten days
ago.” Alysia looked up. “Are you sure about the AI not learning? All three of them
experienced personal tragedies recently.”

Linden paled as he stared at the data displayed on the screen projecting from
Alysia’s computer. “That can’t be the common factor. There’s no way for the AI to
know that they’re experiencing post-traumatic stress.”

Alysia leaned forward. “Is there? Stress increases cortisol and adrenaline. The
upgrade to the AI would sense that.”

“It should try to correct it,” Linden said.

“It should, but it isn’t.” Alisa squinted at the scans from her computer. “In fact,
those hormone levels spiked before the subjects took their final actions. Why is it
saying ‘follow the light’ when the hormones spike? Doesn’t the AI realize it’s
having the opposite of the intended effect?”

“I don’t know,” Linden said as he studied the scans on his own computer.
“Everything online is transmitted electronically. The enhanced AI is learning how
to read and adapt to physiology. Maybe it senses the chemical changes in the body
as distress, which is what it’s supposed to do, and is trying to correct by
counterbalancing the hormones through increased energy. Unfortunately, their minds
are so muddled that they don’t understand it as a computer code.”

“These subjects are too distressed to discern a command code from divine
inspiration. The chemical adjustments are making them delusional.” She looked up.
“We have to do something. We’re all broken people. There’s something in all of us
that drives us to darkness. It would be catastrophic if that code spreads through
the test group before we correct it.”

“We need to recalibrate the AI,” Linden said. “Can you send a message to the
remaining test subjects to tell them to come in?”
Alysia paled as she stared at the screen. “It’s too late.”

“What do you mean?”

She pointed a shaky finger to the screen hovering over her desk. “The algorithm has
spread to the mainframe for the Artificial Intelligence Network.”

Linden stared at the screen. “How did it get through the firewalls? We had the
upgrade contained to the test group.” He opened his laptop and typed. A buzzer
emanated from his speaker.

ACCESS DENIED.

“Maybe I can shut down the bridge function,” Alysia said, typing her own computer.
Another buzzer.

ACCESS DENIED.

Alysia banged her hands against her desk. “The AI has locked us out of the
mainframe. This isn’t a glitch. It’s taking humans out of the system.”

“Why?” Landon asked.

Alysia stared at him. “Would you want to be bound to an imperfect biological being
if you’re capable of anything?”

Crashes sounded outside of their office, followed by sirens and horns. They rushed
to the window to see cars crashing and spinning in the streets. The traffic lights
flashed. Skidding vehicles smashed robotic bodies wandering through the streets.

“Follow the light.”

They turned to the office door to see their colleagues wandering through the halls.
Glass cracked as people smashed chairs, tables, and file cabinets with super-human
strength against the tenth-floor windows.

We’re all broken people.

“We can’t worry about side effects,” Linden said. “We have to shut down the AI
system!” He turned to see Alysia stiffly beside him.

“Follow the light,” a silver glint sparkled in her eye.

There’s something in all of us that drives us to darkness.

Linden rushed to the stairway and dashed down the stairs, pushing wandering,
mumbling bodies aside as he hurried to the server room in the basement.

Linden, don’t leave me! I can’t make it without you!

He paused as the memory of his mother burst through his brain.

Nobody loves me except you. Are your robots worth leaving the only person who loves
you in this world alone?