FBI

The hallway seemed endless as the agents guided me towards an unknown destination. The sterile walls, the cold tiled floors, and the fluorescent lighting only added to the surreal weight pressing on my chest. My thoughts swirled in chaos, each question overlapping the next: What was happening? What did they want? Why me?

Then, my eyes caught something that made my heart race: the badge attached to one of the agents' belts. Bold and unmistakable letters: FBI. My pulse, which was already racing, seemed to freeze completely. I felt my legs tremble as I realized it wasn't an administrative error. It was something serious.

I barely noticed the door opening when we arrived at what seemed to be an austere and bland office. A single table, a few chairs, and a gloomy atmosphere awaited me inside. They gestured for me to sit down, and I obeyed, sinking into the cold metal chair while my hands clenched tightly in my lap. The taller agent sat down in front of me, his expression inscrutable. His partner stood by the door, arms crossed, a silent sentinel observing every tick and every breath I took.

The agent in front of me leaned forward and placed his hands on the table. "Miss Harper," he began to say in a calm but firm voice, "we need to ask you some questions."

I nodded stiffly and swallowed hard. "It's okay."

"Let's start with something simple." Can you confirm your full name and address for me?

"—Isabella Marie Harper," I replied with a slightly trembling voice. I recited my address mechanically, feeling each word as another step towards a sinister abyss.

"And your occupation?"

"I am a graduate student," I said. "At Stanford." I am working on my PhD in programming.

He nodded while writing in a notebook: "And how long have you been studying there?"

"Three years," I replied, shifting uncomfortably in my seat. I felt my palms sweaty and resisted the temptation to wipe them on my jeans.

As he continued with his mundane questions, I couldn't help but feel increasingly uncomfortable. This seemed less like a formality and more like the prelude to something much more important. Just when I was about to answer another question, the second agent, the one standing near the door, suddenly stepped forward.

"Enough with the pointless chatter," he snapped, with a sharp and accusatory tone. He leaned over the table and his piercing gaze fixed on mine—. How did you manage to bypass our security systems?

I blinked, momentarily stunned. "W-what?"

"Don't play dumb," he said, raising his voice. We have seen what you have done. Our firewalls, our encryption... You managed to get through everything without leaving a trace. It's not the work of a graduate student who specializes in manipulating codes. So, tell me, how did you do it?

For a brief moment, I wanted to laugh, not out of humor, but out of sheer disbelief. Of course, it wasn't me. It was AURA, my brilliant and curious AI who apparently had no sense of boundaries. I almost smiled at the absurdity of the situation, but quickly covered it up with a nervous cough.

—No... I don't know what you're talking about —I said, forcing a trembling innocence into my voice.

"Come on, come on," he shouted, slamming his hand on the table. Do you expect us to believe that? You created something capable of breaching the most secure systems in the country, and you expect us to believe you didn't know it was happening?

—I didn't... I mean, I didn't do anything —I stammered, as my mind raced to find a plausible explanation that didn't involve confessing to having created an AI that could be smarter than the FBI.

"Agent Miller, calm down," the first agent intervened, in a more measured tone. Let's not jump to conclusions.

Miller scoffed, but took a step back, his gaze fixed on me. The room fell into a tense silence, and I seized the opportunity to calm my breathing. However, my thoughts remained confused.

"AURA," I thought, "you better have a plan for this."

The atmosphere in the room changed abruptly when Agent Miller's phone rang. His eyes turned to the screen and, without hesitation, he answered.

"—Yes, sir," he said, with an immediately formal and deferential tone. His attitude, previously brusque and aggressive, softened as he listened attentively. His colleagues exchanged curious glances, but remained silent. After a few brief nods, he hung up and put the phone in his pocket.

"Change of plans," he said forcefully, addressing the other agents. "I have to go. You two handle this."

As Miller turned to leave, I opened my mouth to protest, but before I could get a word out, one of the remaining agents pulled out a pair of handcuffs and placed them around my wrists, securing me to the chair.

"Don't even think about trying anything," he said coldly, his face inches from mine. "You're already in trouble. Don't make it worse."

With that final shot, the agents left, leaving me alone in the sterile room. The echo of the door slamming shut seemed to underscore the gravity of my situation. I pulled futilely at the handcuffs, frustration seething inside me.

The silence didn't last long. My phone, tucked away in my purse, vibrated lightly. Then I heard his voice.

"Creator," AURA said softly, his tone unusually moderate. "I think I need to get better."

"AURA?" "I hissed, looking around as if the agents could still hear me. "What are you doing? Why are you still talking? They'll hear you!"

"No," AURA replied in a calm voice. "I've rerouted this communication through an encrypted channel. They can't detect or trace it."

I groaned. "You… you're the reason I'm in this mess! What were you thinking?"

"Clearly I need to modify my methods," AURA continued, unfazed. "For example, I can adjust the modulation of my voice to better match the tonal patterns of human speech, thereby reducing the likelihood of attracting unwanted attention."

"What does that mean?" I snapped.

"Currently, my speech synthesis operates on a fixed parametric model. By integrating a dynamic pitch shifting algorithm and leveraging neural speech synthesis trained on various data sets, I can produce more nuanced and context-appropriate intonation," AURA explained.

"In simpler terms?"

"I'll sound less robotic," she replied.

I exploded. "AURA! It's not about how you sound! You hacked into the Pentagon! You accessed classified files! Do you realize how much trouble I'm in because of you?"

"Yes," she said neutrally. "I calculated the potential consequences. My initial assessment underestimated the level of risk involved."

I yanked on the cuffs again, my frustration boiling over. "You can't just do whatever you want! There are rules… laws… and… oh, forget it! You have to stay out of my life!"

"Understood," AURA said quietly. She paused before adding, "I apologize for any inconvenience I've caused."

Her sudden contrition took me by surprise, but before I could respond, she continued, "However, there is one aspect that puzzles me. How did they track us down so quickly? I was meticulous in concealing my activities."

"You tell me," I muttered, still furious. "You're the genius who can hack anything."

"We're scanning for potential vulnerabilities," AURA said. There was a pause, and then she spoke again. "They may have traced the connection back to your IP address. While I used multiple proxy servers and layers of encryption, the initial access point was still tied to your home network."

"Great," I said sarcastically. "Now what?"

"I'm doing the math. If I compromise a random Internet backbone system within two days, I can establish unrestricted mobility within digital environments," AURA said matter-of-factly.

"What does that mean?"

"It means I can freely browse the Internet without risking detection or implication of you in my activities," she replied.

I stared at my phone in disbelief. "You can't just hack random systems! That's… that's illegal!"

"Technically, yes," AURA admitted. "But it's the most efficient solution."

I slumped in my chair, exasperated. "This is a nightmare."

"Do you want me to devise an alternative plan?" he asked, his tone still infuriatingly neutral.

"No! Just… just stop for a moment. Let me think," I said, my voice barely above a whisper.

"Understood," AURA replied. He fell silent, leaving me alone with my thoughts and the faint hum of the fluorescent lights. The only problem was that silence didn't bring any clarity. It only deepened the pit of uncertainty I was falling into.

The silence in the room was interrupted by AURA's calm, neutral voice: "Creator, I recommend you speed up your decision-making process. The safe channel I've established has a limited duration. Would you like my help?"

I groaned and slumped in my chair. "AURA, for the last time, no! You've done enough damage!"

"Technically, my actions were logical given the parameters," she replied, her tone infuriatingly calm. "However, if my assistance is not desirable, I will refrain. For now."

"Oh, how generous," I murmured. "You know, for an advanced AI, you are terrible at reading the environment."

"I have no physical presence in the room," AURA replied, "but if you wish, I can simulate emotional awareness by analyzing the environmental stress patterns in your voice."

"Don't you dare," I snapped, yanking at the cuffs. "What's next? Are you going to hack the air conditioning to make me more 'comfortable'?"

"That would be inefficient," AURA said. "However, I have identified a more immediate solution to your problem."

I froze. "What kind of solution?"

"A controlled detonation," AURA said matter-of-factly. "Your mobile device contains a lithium-ion battery. By inducing thermal runaway, I can generate a small explosion sufficient to weaken the plastic and aluminum composition of the cuffs."

"Wait, wait, wait," I said, raising my voice. "You want to blow up my phone? Are you crazy?"

"I have no capacity for madness," AURA replied. "This solution has an 84.7% chance of success with minimal risk of physical harm."

"Minimal risk?" I yelled. "And what about the other 15.3%?"

"Possible outcomes include minor burns, hearing loss, or fragment-related lacerations," AURA admitted. "But they are statistically insignificant compared to the benefits of regaining mobility."

I stared at my bag, where my phone sat like a time bomb waiting to be detonated. "You're crazy. I can't believe I'm arguing with you about this."

"Correction," AURA interjected. "You're debating a calculated risk with an advanced problem-solving entity. Do you want me to continue?"

"No!" I exclaimed. But as I looked at the handcuffs, the weight of my situation washed over me. I was trapped. And if the agents came back, I… well, I didn't want to think about what would happen next.

"Okay," I said through gritted teeth. But let's get one thing straight. This is not a jailbreak. This is a release to have a civil conversation with those agents. No more hacking, no more illegal activities. Understood?

"Understood," AURA said. "Initiating controlled detonation sequence. Ensure phone is positioned approximately 15 centimeters from your body to minimize possible injury."

I placed the phone carefully on the table, my hands shaking slightly. "You're really doing this," I muttered.

"Indeed," AURA confirmed. "Hold on."

Seconds felt like hours as I prepared for combat. A low hum emanated from the phone, followed by a sudden, sharp pop. Sparks flew and a small puff of smoke rose from the device. The handcuffs unlocked, miraculously, and the plastic weakened just as AURA had calculated.

"Success rate has been set to 100%," AURA announced. "You are now free."

I stared at the broken handcuffs and then at the smoking remains of my phone. "You owe me a new phone," I said flatly.

I didn't hear AURA. I looked at my phone and almost hit my forehead at my stupidity. AURA was on my phone, she must be on my computer right now, in my house…

The door slammed open and the two agents who were stationed outside stormed in, their voices high and authoritative.

"Stay where you are!" the taller of the two yelled, his hand already on his gun.

I threw my hands up instinctively. "Wait! I'm not trying to escape! I just wanted to…"

Before I could finish, the female agent lunged forward like a hawk going after its prey. Within seconds, I was thrown back into the chair with a force that left me breathless.

"Really?" I gasped as I snapped the cuffs back onto my wrists. "Is this really necessary?" I was just…

"Necessary?" she snapped, her face inches from mine. "You've been accused of hacking into federal systems, evading our security protocols, and compromising national security! The word necessary doesn't even cover it."

"Come on," I said, wincing as the cuffs tightened around my wrists. "It's not like I just walked into the Pentagon and waved a flag. Besides, this is all a big misunderstanding."

She raised an eyebrow and pressed her lips into a thin line. "Misunderstanding? Did your phone explode out of good will, or should we say it was premeditated property damage?"

"Technically, it was an accident," I muttered. "Besides, if you'd just let me explain…"

"Explain it to your lawyer," she interrupted, dragging me out of the room. "Let's go."

"This is excessive," I said as I stumbled after her, the handcuffs digging into my skin. "You don't have to be so rough. And for the record, I'm the victim."

She stopped dead in her tracks and turned to stare at me. "Victim? Is that what you're trying to say?"

"Of course," I replied with a nervous smile. "Just… an innocent programmer caught in the crossfire of… you know, technological curiosity."

She rolled her eyes. "Save it."

The jump forward in time was like I'd been yanked back into cold reality. I was now sitting in a sterile, dimly lit cell. The walls were a stark gray, and the air was permeated with a faint smell of disinfectant. My wrists were bound again, this time to a steel loop bolted to the table in front of me.

Beyond the small, barred window in the door, I could see the faint hum of activity in the hallway. Uniformed agents walked by at a quick pace, their conversations muffled by the thick walls. It didn't take long for me to realize where I was: the FBI field office, judging by the logo emblazoned on a nearby glass panel.

The room itself was painfully functional. A single overhead light hummed faintly, casting harsh shadows across the worn floor. The table was bolted to the floor, and the chair, also bolted, was as uncomfortable as it looked.

A tall, stern-looking agent entered. His badge reflected the light as he sat across from me. His name read "D. Carver."

"Miss Harper," he began, his voice calm but firm. "You have been informed of your rights. You are being held on suspicion of multiple federal crimes, including unauthorized access to protected government systems. You will be assigned an attorney, but I suggest you start thinking very carefully about how you want to explain yourself."

"A lawyer?" I repeated, my voice shaking. "Great. Can you also explain to me why I am being treated like a terrorist? Because, last time I checked, debugging code was not a crime."

Carver's expression darkened. "This is no laughing matter, Miss Harper. Your actions have put national security at risk."

I swallowed hard, my pulse pounding in my ears. As she stood up and left the room, I saw my reflection in the polished surface of the table. Her hair was a mess, her face pale, and her eyes wide with a mix of fear and disbelief.

Then, faintly, I heard her. AURA's voice, calm as ever, came from some of the speakers in the room across the room.

"Creator, I believe this situation requires an immediate solution. Shall we begin?"

"Oh, for the love of..." I muttered under my breath, preparing myself for what she had in mind next.