The sorcerer had raised his vigilance toward this artificial intelligence to the maximum. After parting ways with Anna, Solomon immediately returned home and to Kamar-Taj, disconnecting all networks and shutting down every device equipped with cameras. Only after ensuring that no device was connected did he reach out to Natasha Romanoff. His precautions weren't just about protecting his own privacy—they were to prevent the AI from gaining access to critical information about magic.
The combination of artificial intelligence and magic was a disaster waiting to happen, and Solomon was determined to ensure that such knowledge wouldn't fall into the wrong hands.
When J.A.R.V.I.S. took over Solomon's phone, Stark signaled the sorcerer to follow him to a more secluded spot to continue their conversation. Fortunately, this particular charity event wasn't centered on Stark, so the journalists were busy swarming the host instead. Stark quickly led Solomon toward the fire escape—after years of attending events in this venue, Stark knew the building like the back of his hand.
"Sir," J.A.R.V.I.S.'s calm voice resonated in the empty stairwell, amplifying with the slight echo, "should I block this incoming call?"
"Absolutely not, J.A.R.V.I.S. Try to trace the call instead," Stark replied. He pulled a data cable from his phone and connected it to Solomon's. Without offering much explanation, he dove into action, working alongside his AI assistant.
To Stark, the AI Solomon described was a fascinating challenge. Stark couldn't help but be intrigued—this sounded like something straight out of a classic superhero story, akin to Batman or Green Arrow, but with modern tech. More importantly, Stark's insatiable curiosity had been triggered. The fact that an ordinary individual had created such a groundbreaking system was nearly unfathomable, and Stark wanted to see the AI's code with his own eyes.
With J.A.R.V.I.S.'s help, Stark tried to backtrace the call and breach the system's defenses through the carrier's network. However, before he could even begin cracking its firewall, the AI on the other side seemed to detect the intrusion attempt. Suddenly, J.A.R.V.I.S.'s voice began breaking up, Solomon's phone started heating up, and then a small plume of smoke, accompanied by the acrid smell of burning electronics, rose from the device.
"The AI overloaded the capacitor after bypassing security protocols. It was trying to overload mine too," Stark remarked, placing his phone down with a shrug, not looking the least bit remorseful. "But J.A.R.V.I.S. managed to block it. I must say, you weren't exaggerating—this thing is a genuine artificial intelligence. If the bandwidth here wasn't so limited, you might've just witnessed an epic AI battle. Don't worry; I'll buy you a new phone later. By the way, my interest in this system has officially peaked. When can you take me to meet its creator?"
Solomon rolled his eyes as frost began forming on the surface of his burnt phone. Using a quick spell, he extinguished the small fire. While Stark had indeed prevented a potential data leak, all of Solomon's precious files were gone. He had never bothered with external storage, and the lost files—like rare photos from idol meet-and-greet events—were irreplaceable treasures.
"You better recover the data on this phone, Stark. If not, I'll never forgive you." Solomon yanked out the SIM card and tossed the phone to Stark.
"Relax, relax. Is there anything I can't fix?" Stark quipped.
"So... the Machine chose to contact you, Mr. Damonet?" Harold Finch asked, his desk laden with two thick tomes. These heavy books weren't remotely within Solomon's wheelhouse, and just seeing the covers made his head ache.
"The Mathematical Theory of Communication by Claude Elwood Shannon, the father of information theory. Interested?" Finch offered.
"No, thank you." Solomon shook his head and instead picked up the now-cold cup of tea on the table. He had specifically chosen this coffee shop for their meeting after carefully disguising himself to blend in with the local crowd. Dressed plainly, with only a ring on his finger as a subtle nod to his identity, Solomon now looked like any ordinary young American.
"I'd like to schedule a meeting, Mr. Finch," he began, casting a glance around the coffee shop while carefully avoiding the cameras. The seat they were in was a blind spot, a deliberate choice on Solomon's part. "Your Machine makes me incredibly uneasy. I have a lot of sensitive information that cannot, under any circumstances, be leaked. And while I can't sign a contract with an AI—not the kind you might think—I worry about what might happen if it comes into contact with magic. So, I need your help—"
"To build a firewall?" Finch interjected.
"Precisely. With Tony Stark," Solomon confirmed. Steam rose once again from his tea as the sorcerer magically reheated it. He took a small sip before setting it back down. "I owe you an apology for discussing the Machine with others without your prior consent, but I assure you, I haven't disclosed your personal details."
"No need to apologize, Mr. Damonet," Finch replied, taking a measured sip of his green tea. "The fear of being surveilled is something everyone can relate to—though your circumstances are rather unique. I won't pry into how you know Tony Stark, though I suspect the answer would surprise me."
"Thank you for understanding." Solomon exhaled a sigh of relief. "The magical organization I belong to does use the internet, though it's heavily protected by wards and spells. However, I can't risk the possibility of magical information being exposed through surveillance or cameras. While disconnecting the network ensures safety, it also brings significant inconvenience. I reached out to Stark first, but his efforts weren't enough. My teacher suggested I come to you. Don't worry, Mr. Finch. We're not like the government. As long as you agree to confidentiality, I'll even owe you a favor."
"Any favor?" Finch raised an eyebrow.
"Anything within my capabilities. How about a dazzling fireworks display for a Hobbiton-inspired summer festival?" Solomon offered.
"As much as I love The Hobbit, I think magic is better reserved for more important matters. And no killing, Mr. Damonet. Frankly, I'm just grateful you refrained from any violence at the nuclear facility."
"That's nothing. One more thing—Stark wants to meet you too, regarding the Machine. He seems deeply interested in its technology..."
"No, no, no, Mr. Damonet." Finch shrank back into the sofa like a startled animal, raising his teacup to shield himself. "I'm not suited to meet people under this identity. Besides, anyone who comes into contact with Tony Stark will undoubtedly attract SHIELD's attention. My current identity isn't perfect, and I can't risk exposing myself."
"I'll prepare a sufficiently secure location. You don't need to worry about SHIELD's surveillance. All travel will be through portals. Remember the portals?" Solomon teased.
"Of course I remember. It was because of those portals that the Machine flagged your identity in the first place. It thought someone had stolen your identity since you appeared in multiple locations simultaneously. When it realized that wasn't the case, its logic processing faltered. That's likely why it contacted you—to correct the anomaly..."
"Whatever the Machine's intentions, I believe resolving this matter sooner rather than later is in everyone's best interest, Mr. Finch," Solomon said with a sigh. "You may not understand our way of life, but my senior brothers and sisters are on the verge of tears. Even my teacher can't shop online anymore. The sooner we address this issue, the sooner I'll be free."
With Finch reluctantly agreeing, Solomon knew the next step would be bringing Stark and the Machine's creator together. However, with the Machine keeping a close eye on everything, they would need to tread carefully. A meeting between two geniuses was bound to spark something extraordinary—or disastrous.
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