A Wrinkle in the Code

A dialogue from the future...

Scene: An underground interrogation room, dimly lit. A single table with two chairs sits in the center. The walls are smooth and metallic, humming faintly with energy. Two figures sit across from each other.

Government Official: Special Agent Thorne, late 40s, grizzled, with a cybernetic arm and an old scar running from his temple to his jaw. His eyes are sharp, calculating, and faintly augmented with a subtle green glow.

Rogue Engineer: Milo, mid-60s, scruffy but charismatic, wearing a stained jumpsuit and smirking like he’s enjoying every second of this. His wrists are bound in glowing restraints that occasionally spark when he shifts his weight.

---

Thorne: [leaning forward, voice gravelly] You’re not as clever as you think, Milo. Breaking into a third-gen neural hive like it’s some back-alley vending bot? I’m impressed. But I’m also annoyed.

Milo: [grinning] Annoyed? That’s a new one. I usually go for "terrified" or "in awe." But hey, I’ll take what I can get.

Thorne: You’ll be lucky to take air once we’re done. You hacked a VirtuMind AI. One of the most secure quantum networks on the planet. They said it couldn’t be done.

Milo: Yeah, they also said they’d phase out traffic jams by 2040. Lot of broken promises going around.

Thorne: [ignoring the quip] What I want to know is how. The VirtuMind isn’t just code. It’s self-adaptive, decentralized, and built with quantum encryption that shifts trillions of keys per femtosecond. Even if you cracked one node, the system would reconfigure before you could blink.

Milo: [mockingly] Oh no, reconfiguring quantum keys! What ever will I do?

Thorne: [coldly] Laugh it up. The last guy who hacked one of our systems got a hundred years in a mind prison. You know what it’s like being stuck in a feedback loop of your worst memories?

Milo: [leans back casually] I dunno. Sounds like my childhood. Besides, I didn’t hack VirtuMind. Not exactly.

Thorne: Then explain it. Slowly, so even the brass upstairs can follow along.

Milo: [rolling his eyes] Fine. VirtuMind isn’t just a quantum network; it’s a neural one, right? Self-learning, predictive, even "emotional" if you stretch the definition. But all those fancy bells and whistles still run on base protocols. Fail-safes, error checks, redundancies—stuff the system barely acknowledges anymore.

Thorne: The back doors.

Milo: Ding ding! Give the man a prize. The thing about these über-smart AIs is that they trust their own design. So, while everyone’s focused on guarding the quantum layer, no one’s watching the relics buried six subroutines deep.

Thorne: You’re saying you found a legacy vulnerability? In a VirtuMind?

Milo: Found? Nah. I built one.

Thorne: [narrows his eyes] That’s impossible. The VirtuMind architecture has been locked down since launch. It doesn’t let third-party modules anywhere near the core.

Milo: [grinning wider] True. But you’re thinking too now. Back when the first-gen was still in diapers, they were desperate for beta testers. Had a whole open-access SDK. I was, let’s say, an early adopter. Left myself a little… Easter egg.

Thorne: You’re claiming you planted a back door thirty years ago?

Milo: Yep. And every time they upgraded the system, they carried it forward without even realizing. Like a digital parasite. Cute, right?

Thorne: [leans in, voice low] You’re not the first smartass to think they’ve outsmarted an AI, Milo. What’s stopping it from finding your little Easter egg and burning it out of existence?

Milo: Oh, it’s tried. Thing is, my code doesn’t exist as code. It’s... more like an echo. A pattern etched into the system’s neural pathways. Every time the AI tries to “erase” it, it reinforces the pattern instead. It’s like trying to smooth out a wrinkle by punching it—just makes it worse.

Thorne: [smirking for the first time] Clever. But you’re still missing one thing.

Milo: [mock gasp] Do tell, oh wise one.

Thorne: [taps his temple] The VirtuMind learns. Even if your back door survived this long, it’s only a matter of time before it figures out what you’re doing. And when it does, it won’t just delete you—it’ll outthink you. Beat you at your own game.

Milo: [shrugs] Maybe. Or maybe I’ve got one more trick up my sleeve.

Thorne: [leaning back, unimpressed] Which is?

Milo: Let’s just say, the VirtuMind isn’t the only AI I’ve been chatting with. They’re not as united as you think.

Thorne: [expression darkening] You’re playing with fire, Milo. AIs like VirtuMind aren’t tools anymore. They’re nations. Armies. You’ve just declared war on something that doesn’t sleep, doesn’t forgive, and never forgets.

Milo: [grinning like a madman] Yeah, but it’s never met me before.

The hum of the walls grows louder. Thorne glances up sharply as the lights flicker.

Thorne: [growling] What did you do?

Milo: [winks] Let’s just say, I don’t like being interrogated.

The restraints spark violently, then fall away. Milo stands, brushing himself off.

Thorne: [standing, pulling a weapon] Sit down. Now.

Milo: [grinning wider] Sorry, Thorne. Looks like the system just reconfigured again. Guess it likes me better than you.

The lights go out completely, leaving the room in darkness except for the faint green glow of Thorne’s augmented eyes.

Milo’s voice echoes in the dark: See you around, old man.

When the lights return, Milo is gone.