The One Read online

  THE ONE

  A Novel by

  RD Palmer

  Copyright © RD Palmer, 2018

  All rights reserved.

  ISBN: 978-1-7328491-1-2

  No part of the publication of the audiobook, eBook or paperback may be reproduced, stored or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, scanning, or otherwise without written permission from the author. It is illegal to copy this work, post it to a website, or distribute it by any other means without permission.

  First edition

  This book is a work of fiction with a Christian theme based upon the projection of current technological events that may or may not happen in the year 2059. Names, characters, and some places used in this book are fictitious and are products of the author's imagination. There is no intent in this book to disparage anyone, including the Amish.

  Dedication

  I want to thank my wife, Mary, who is my constant supporter and a loving Christian woman. She supported me on every step of this journey.

  About the Author

  Mr. Palmer, before his retirement, was a Solution Manager, working for one of the largest software companies in the world. Before this, Mr. Palmer worked for one of the largest computer hardware companies in the world, and he worked in numerous countries in South and North America as well as Asia, implementing various software solutions. Also, Mr. Palmer wrote software for robots. Mr. Palmer is a proponent of technology, but like others wants to bring the possible threat of AGI (Artificial General Intelligence) to people’s attention. He lives with his loving wife of 30 years, Mary, in Wisconsin.

  Author webpage is: www.rdpalmerbooks.com

  Preface

  Today, few people understand artificial intelligence and the impact it will have on humanity, even though hundreds of researchers and professors in the field of artificial intelligence signed an open letter proposing safeguards. Physicist and Nobel Prize winner Stephen Hawking said, “The development of full artificial intelligence could spell the end of the human race. AI (artificial intelligence) could be the worst event in the history of our civilization. It brings dangers, like powerful autonomous weapons, or new ways for the few to oppress the many.” Electric car company founder and Space X creator, Elon Musk said, “AI is the biggest risk we face as a civilization.” Neuroscientist Sam Harris said, “We have to admit that we’re in the process of building some sort of a god. Now would be a good time to make sure it is a god we can live with.” In January 2018, historian Yuval Harari presented “The Future of Humanity” at the World Economic Forum in Davos, Switzerland. He said,

  “The world is divided into a very, very small minority of people concentrated in a few corporations and governments that have a clear, or clearer idea of what is really happening and what is at stake. And the vast majority of humanity, they just don’t have the time, they don’t have the volition, they don’t have the education or the ability to make sense of what is happening. This is very, very dangerous.”

  The One is a Christian adventure book that is written to provide not only visibility into the possible dangers of artificial intelligence but also to add a human touch to it. The setting of the book takes place in the year 2059 and pits The One, a global brain, against humans. Our unlikely heroine, Naomi Adams, is from an Amish community and she travels with her community on an exodus to Mount Horeb, Wisconsin. In Mount Horeb, she meets a remnant of English (the term English is what Amish call non-Amish), and she learns of her purpose in life, why she is different, and how she can help save both her community and the English. Along the way, we learn not only of the effects of artificial intelligence upon the world, but also about Christian principles and what it means to be human. We journey with them and feel their struggles in the face of fear, death, and betrayal. Much is revealed on a mission with her two companions, Logan and Sarah, to destroy The One, an entity that is all-knowing, all-powerful, all-seeing, and omnipresent. The One is godlike, created in the image of man, yet it lacks any human feelings including those of empathy, pity, mercy, hate, and love.

  This adventure book includes scenes of death, pain, and suffering, and these themes are examined by asking questions, such as, is there truly a God and, could a God that is good allow bad things to happen? Answers to these questions are supplied from a Christian perspective. Scripture is laced throughout the novel, providing guidance to the heroes and comfort for those suffering.

  CONTENTS

  PART 1

  PROLOGUE

  CHAPTER 1 — 2059 AD

  CHAPTER 2 — REMEMBER 2026

  CHAPTER 3 — IN THE BEGINNING

  CHAPTER 4 — MONEY

  CHAPTER 5 — EXODUS

  CHAPTER 6 — MORNING

  CHAPTER 7 — UNISON

  CHAPTER 8 — EARS

  CHAPTER 9 — TRAGEDY

  CHAPTER 10 — HOPE

  CHAPTER 11 — REST

  CHAPTER 12 — DISCOVER

  CHAPTER 13 — MEMORIES

  CHAPTER 14 — HOME

  CHAPTER 15— COMFORT

  CHAPTER 16 — TRUST

  CHAPTER 17 — UNDERSTANDING

  PART 2

  CHAPTER 18 — KNOWLEDGE

  CHAPTER 19 — LIFE AND DEATH

  CHAPTER 20— AIR

  CHAPTER 21 — DISCIPLE

  CHAPTER 22—ARMOR OF GOD

  CHAPTER 23—RELATIONSHIPS

  CHAPTER 24— LAMP TO MY FEET

  CHAPTER 25— THE SWORD OF GOD

  CHAPTER 26 — ALONE

  CHAPTER 27 — BETRAYAL

  CHAPTER 28 — FAREWELL

  CHAPTER 29 — GODSPEED

  CHAPTER 30 — PREPARE YOURSELF

  CHAPTER 31 — KNOWLEDGE

  CHAPTER 32 — GIANTS IN THE LAND

  CHAPTER 33 — A NEW DAY

  CHAPTER 34 —RECONNAISSANCE

  CHAPTER 35 — INTO HEAVEN

  PART 3

  CHAPTER 36 — FIGHT…

  CHAPTER 37 — STARS

  CHAPTER 38 — SURRENDER

  CHAPTER 39 — HEAVENLY PALACE

  CHAPTER 40 — MERCY

  CHAPTER 41 — ORBIT

  CHAPTER 42 — …THE GOOD FIGHT

  CHAPTER 43 — DEATH

  CHAPTER 44 — TRIUMPH

  CHAPTER 45 — PROMISED LAND

  CHAPTER 46 — VIRTUE

  Author’s Note

  Acknowledgments

  Glossary

  PART 1

  PROLOGUE

  “Jakob!”

  “Mommy! Mommy!”

  “Aaron! Where are you?”

  “Martha!”

  Screaming. Running. Falling. More screaming. Mount Horeb was still a quarter mile away. In fury and haste, men cut loose horses from their buggies and hurled women and children on horseback. Babies cried as mothers jumped with them from their buggy seats. Young ones scrambled and ran in all directions as fathers grasped for their hands. Dazed, the elderly pleaded for help as they limped forward.

  Gasping for air, I raced from the knoll where Levi was crushed. Running away, I knew that the men and their makeshift tourniquets would slow his bleeding, giving him a chance to survive. As I ran, I could hear the thrashing sounds from the beasts, fearing it meant certain death.

  “Jezebel! Jez-A-Bel!” I screamed. Ahead of me, Jakob cut the reins of Jezebel from the buggy with one swift, forceful motion.

  I ran, leaping into his arms.

  “Get on, Naomi!” Jakob yelled.

  Panting and gasping for air, I burst out with what energy was left. “No!” I shouted back, shaking my head. Pushing against Jakob’s broad chest, I gasped, “I’m not leaving! I’m not—”

  Jakob didn’t argue. Instead, he thrust me against Dad’s brown-and-white Appaloosa and, in one muscle-bound move, hoisted
me on top of Jezebel’s back.

  “No!” I cried, shaking my head. My body trembled and I twisted Jezebel’s reins in my hands, then leaned down to kiss Jakob goodbye. Will I see him again? But before our lips touched, whack, he slapped the mare on the butt. Jezebel’s nostrils flared and her hind legs kicked. She reared in the sky while my legs squeezed into her ribs and my hands clung to her reins for dear life. She snorted and raced across the field, but it was me who was out of breath—with fear.

  “No!” I yelled again, but no one could hear my desire to help. My desire to face danger and not flee. No one could hear that I wanted to be brave like my parents.

  Jezebel’s galloping hooves didn’t drown out the sounds of the constant screams and cries for help. My body shivered at their monstrous noise, metal upon metal, groaning and screeching, echoing over the hills. A thrashing sound to my left told me the monsters were coming our way. Their rhythmic screeching and grinding pierced my ears.

  Someone running beside me screamed, “Help me, dear God!” and he reached out to grab Jezebel. I pulled the reins as hard as I could, and the man was knocked to the ground. In a cloud of dust, Jezebel swung around, jumped over the man, and galloped back toward Jakob and Ann.

  With my head hitting Jezebel’s neck in an uneven bounce, I screamed, “I’m not a coward!” My shout didn’t mask the thrashing sound, though, as the screeches grew louder. “The Harvesters!” someone running in the opposite direction yelled. “The Harvesters!”

  Jezebel raced on and squealed with fright. Then I saw them. Gigantic, jellyfish-like creatures hanging in the sky, as if supported by invisible ropes. Churning. Their tentacles whipping wildly like flinging chains, stretching ahead of them. Loud, cracking thunder echoed. My body shivered at hearing the frantic screams from children. Screams from mothers crying out for help and protection. The Harvesters were chasing and catching. Their tentacles clapped, capturing my friends. My community. My family. To my left, loud crunching noises accompanied a buggy and horse crushed in the enormous jaws of one of the creatures. My teeth clenched as I wept, and I tightened my grip on the reins. The Harvester, whose sole purpose was death, then spit wood and body limbs onto the ground and continued its pursuit of its next helpless victim.

  Through my tears and the dust that pelted me, I could barely see the scenes of carnage around me as Harvesters snatched any helpless victim in their path. I shuddered and looked away, but not soon enough to glimpse a woman torn apart like a loose spool of thread. My God, the only thing left of her was her kapp, blown into the distance. Even with my eyes closed, the sound of bones cracking and tearing flesh seared into my memory.

  Jezebel was still racing over the uneven terrain as I looked to the side and saw one mother with her baby stop and drop to her knees. I couldn’t watch. I didn’t want to look, but couldn’t help myself. Suddenly, Elijah ran toward the mother and child, placing his body between them and the beast. With the force of a lumberjack, Elijah tackled the mother and her baby, and the three toppled down a hill away from my view. Indifferent, the Harvester pivoted to the right and continued on its mission of piercing and slicing, its frenzied attacks like that of starving piranhas.

  Grabbing a slashed, shortened rein in my bloodied hand, I cracked it onto Jezebel’s neck. “Jezebel, faster!” I screamed. Aunt Ann and Jakob ran toward me. Frantically, I slapped Jezebel on both sides of her neck while praying to God for deliverance—for mercy. Then miraculously, two twisting cyclones arose from the ground, tilted and forced Jezebel to veer off her path.

  The howling wind pushed us sideways. Through the blackness of the twisters, lightning bolts struck out in all directions, and Jezebel reared her legs to the sky. With a stranglehold on Jezebel’s neck, I glued myself to her skin. Jezebel’s hooves slammed into the ground twice, then she continued to gallop. She squealed when a third tornado pushed up from the earth, and my body screamed in pain from the pelting debris. Peeking through the dust, I saw there was a tornado for each Harvester and I witnessed the black twirling storms pushing the Harvesters in a battle to the death.

  “Jakob! Aunt Ann!” I yelled, but not loud enough over the howl of the wind.

  Whenever a Harvester pivoted, a tornado swung into its path. The cyclones, with their fierce, gusting winds and erratic branched lightning bolts, which mimicked an arsenal of sharp weapons, blocked the path of the Harvesters. By the grace of God, the cyclones cleared a path for us. Safety from the reach of the Harvesters’ tentacles and metal jaws.

  Everyone was running or riding for their lives. Falling and yet scrambling back to their feet and running again, regardless of the pain and no matter how tired. All raced to Mount Horeb. Yes, we might live today, I thought, tears gushing from my mud-caked, swollen eyes.

  I turned to look forward, and whack. The ground, which didn’t cushion an inch, wrenched my breath. My lungs gasped for cold, piercing air just long enough for me to see total darkness.

  * * *

  CHAPTER 1 — 2059 AD

  A year spent in artificial intelligence is enough to make

  one believe in God.

  Alan Perlis – Computer Scientist and first recipient of

  the Turing Award

  “I’ll carry your books, Naomi,” Jakob said.

  Naomi stopped walking and shoved her school books into his stomach. “Stop calling me Naomi. You know full well that my name is pronounced Nay-oh-mah. Why do you keep doing this to me?”

  Smiling, Jakob shuffled books, balancing them in both arms, “Ah, maybe because I think Naomi is a prettier name?”

  Stomping her feet and walking faster toward home, she huffed, “Well, it’s not! Why do you keep testing me if my parents are Amish?”

  “Because they’re English.”

  Abruptly stopping, Naomi grabbed Jakob’s arm and twisted him around. Locking eyes, she shouted, “Jakob J. Zebadiah, son of Josiah!”

  Raising his eyebrows, Jakob cried, “Don’t do that. My mother calls me that when she is angry with me.”

  Smiling, Naomi responded, “Well, that is called payback,” pushing Jakob to the side. Naomi huffed, lifted her chin, and stomped down the trail leaving small puffs of dust behind.

  She knew he was watching as she walked off. “Wait!” he said. She could hear him running to catch up with her. He spun around to face her and began walking backward. “Look, Naomi. I was kidding.”

  Naomi didn’t stop walking though and continued to push Jakob backward, as if with an invisible hand. Walking with determination and arms akimbo, Naomi proclaimed, “My name is important to me, so don’t tease me again!”

  * * *

  Memoir: If anyone should find this book, my name is Naomi Adams, the author. While this memoir is not about me, there are a few things you should know. My name is pronounced Nay-oh-mah. As my parents said, this life isn’t about ME. Naomi is pronounced this way because I’m Amish, but my parents used to be English before they became Amish.

  Alas, a conflict all of my life: Amish and English. I mean, I’m Amish, and we shun the English ways, but because of my poor hearing, I wear a hearing aid in my right ear. You see, we are allowed to wear hearing aids. A battery, not electricity, powers my hearing aid. Apparently, this is good for me, but it was the English who created the hearing aid, not the Amish. So, on the one hand, we reject the ways of the English, and on the other hand, we adopt the English ways.

  * * *

  “You know?” her mother sighed, as she leaned into Naomi’s ear and grabbed her arms from behind. “I’m not sure sometimes, if it is your hearing aid or if it’s the book that you’re writing.”

  Naomi had ignored her mother’s call, but now she sensed her mother’s caring hands comb through her hair. “Sorry, Mom,” she said, while closing her book.

  “Your father should be home soon. Help me set the table, please.”

  Naomi giggled, pushed her book to the center of the kitchen table, and leaned back into her mother’s belly, soaking in the warmth. Reciprocating, her mother wrapped
her arms around Naomi, and gave her a firm hug.

  She then kissed Naomi on the head, released her and stepped to the stove. Bending down, with one hand she picked up a mitt and with the other hand, a split-wood oak. Opening a door on the firebox, she placed the wood into the fire, closed the door, and then opened another door. She paused, and a huge smile enlarged her face. Inhaling she said, “Mmm. Your father is going to like this apple pie!”

  Naomi stepped toward the oven. “Let me smell!” Naomi inhaled, then gave her mother a bear hug. “You’re the best baker in the whole world, Mom!”

  Kissing Naomi on the head, and giving her a shoulder hug, her mom said, “Sunshine, would you set the table now while I get the leftovers out of the refrigerator?”

  “Of course!” Naomi responded, skipping to the cupboard. While stacking plates, Naomi heard her mother exclaim, “Darn it! Darn it, again!”

  Turning, Naomi asked, “What’s wrong, Mom?”

  “This gas-powered refrigerator. I never liked them. Something’s wrong with the fridge!”

  “Oh?” Naomi clasped her mother’s silken hand and stared into the darkness of the fridge.

  “You’ve got to help me, Naomi. We’ll take all of this food downstairs to the refrigerator in the basement, and we’ll tell your father about this when he gets home.”

  Grabbing two dishes with leftover food, Naomi replied, “We can have this cleaned out in no time, Mom.”

  “Watch your step, Naomi!”

  * * *

  “Now Pumpkin, you won’t stay up too late with your book, will you?” her dad chided her while stroking Naomi’s blonde hair.

  Naomi held her pencil steady, then looked up to her dad. He wore a frown as he glanced at her open page. “No, Dad. I’ll blow the flame out on the lamp when the grandfather clock strikes ten times. I promise,” she said, striking her heart. “My memoir is just my companion.”