by Jim Keen
Takamatsu bought the park to build his new headquarters in its plastic isolation. That tower grew ahead of her. She’d never been this close before; the Hopper's engines crackled as they fought for altitude. The building hadn’t tried to join Manhattan’s Mile High Club, topping out just over half as tall. Instead, it relied upon geometrical purity to stand out. The proportions were exact to thousands of an inch—a cylinder one hundred feet wide and three thousand high clad in opaque curved glass so tightly engineered no joints were visible. In the daytime, sunlight glittered from its facade like an iceberg; at night, it lit the empty park with a frigid, blue light. It grew upward from the Kennedy-Onassis Reservoir, the water serving as its final, physical separation from the real world. No one knew what went on inside the building, only that something within its walls generated vast amounts of heat; the huge lake boiled day and night, its surface shrouded by steam.
Alice’s ears popped as the craft settled next to a silver Mercedes that looked more like a carbon-fiber arrowhead than a pedestrian transport. She exited into cold, thin air that whipped through her jacket with a hiss. Her hair writhed, medusa-like, in the gale. She swept it clear and looked for an entrance; nothing, then a glint of pure-green light twinkled across her right eye. She focused to see a small black seed hovering in front of her. The green light was a retinal scanner that clicked off before the microdrone buzzed away, impervious to the gale.
A loud beeping came from her right, and a white cylinder rose from the building’s center. As she approached, a hidden door slid back. She stepped inside without looking, desperate to escape the cold. The interior was a drum six feet wide, and she could touch the ceiling without stretching. The space followed the exterior design cues, having no visible joints, seemingly carved from a block of frosted glass. A cool-white glow radiated from every surface, and the scent of vanilla conjured images of weekend spas.
“Hello?” She felt dumb speaking aloud, but there wasn’t a control panel, and she didn’t know what else to do. This was intentional, she knew, putting the visitor on the defensive from the moment of their arrival.
“Please raise your arms,” an old woman’s voice said.
Alice did as she was told.
“Decontamination will begin in five seconds. Do not be alarmed.”
She waited, got bored, and retrieved her phone to see the display flashing a system crash error code. She shook it, tried the restart sequence to no effect; it was bricked. A thudding began in the wall next to her, followed by more clunks, as if she were inside an MRI scanner—the sound of heavy magnets circulating.
“Hello?” she asked again.
“You have cleared the detection threshold.”
Alice felt no motion—nor any sound that suggested movement—but when the door slid aside, she realized she had descended hundreds of feet. The room before her was long and white, a wide, curved window revealing a breathtaking view at its far end. She walked over and ran her fingertips across the thick glass and looked down. The park lay far below, a green rectangle walled in by the buildings clustered about it.
At ground level, the towers were packed so close together that one blurred into the next, their podiums hardened concrete boxes. From here, the differences stood out—black towers stretched past squat bronze drums, exoskeleton machines soared over glass ziggurats. Each one was threaded with armor-glass blisters; some were filled with rich vegetation, others rainforests and rolling green hills. Alice knew Manhattan’s skies held a different world, but she’d no idea it was so lush.
“Quite the view isn’t it? It was a primary driver in my decision to purchase the park. Not from any grandiose real-estate nonsense of course, rather as a reminder of the outside world. When I was young, my machines struggled to connect with humanity in a natural way. It took time to realize they were children of their maker, my isolation theirs. Too many years locked away in a lab with only technicians for company had stunted my own growth. Now, whether I like it or not, I socialize at least once a month.”
Alice turned. Charles Takamatsu differed little from his publicity shots: a tall, handsome, middle-aged man with an angular face and slick, black-gray hair. He wore a crisp blue suit with polished black leather shoes. The smell of vanilla grew as he approached. A cloud of the aerial black seeds followed him, their LIDAR arrays blipping the air with multicolored lasers. His clothing looked completely natural but it whispered data to him constantly. The only nonmilitary smart-clothing she’d seen was Toko’s suit; the delicate weave of Takamatsu’s made that look like a sack.
“I’ve never viewed the towers like this before,” Alice said.
“Not even from the police lanes?” His voice was firm, words rich and precise.
“No. We’re kept away from the park. I didn’t understand until now, but it’s obvious when you think about it; the owners don’t want their world disrupted by the rest of us.”
“Can you blame them?”
Alice gazed at the verdant life hidden a mile above the ground. “No, but I don’t think they should be in such a rush to forget. We need each other.”
“The world has split in two. One half understands that, the other doesn’t.”
“How can anyone ignore such desperate need?” Alice asked.
“One setback and you isolated yourself in that garage. Was your wish for separation so different?”
“Hiding was easier than facing the truth.”
“Which is?”
“Lose your purpose, lose your soul.” Alice faced him. “Instead of flailing around and feeling sorry for myself, I should’ve found a new reason to stay alive. How do you know about that anyway?”
“I trade in information, Officer Yu; what is worth knowing, I know. Besides, I’d hardly waste time talking to someone boring.”
She gave him a small nod. “Being left behind is a terrible thing, I didn’t know that then, I do now. It won’t happen again.”
“My father shared that fear you know.” Takamatsu turned to the window and nodded at the Blade Towers. “His drive to build the first mile-high was part of that.”
“It was?” Alice couldn’t keep the surprise from her voice. Vincent Takamatsu remained a legend in New York, the domineering real-estate mogul that turned the city from a low-rise metal grid into a mile-high collection of glass spears.
“His insecurity and lack of confidence was a hole he sought to fill with money, women, accolades. He never invented anything. He stole and appropriated, yes, but he was not a creative person. I feel that was why he found my desire to build a new species so disappointing. He wanted me to be president, become the figure on the throne, whereas I was far happier steering from the background. President Harper, Rachael, was my second employee. Did you know that?”
“Isn’t she a bit too wedded to the past for your tastes?”
“At times, to pull the levers of power, you need to say and act in a way that is not natural or even agreeable but a necessity, nonetheless. Now then, please, will you sit?” He beckoned and approached a long oak table with two thin chairs. A steaming coffee pot sat in the middle, its chrome surface distorting the surroundings.
The smell made her stomach growl, a sound loud enough for them both to hear. She sat and poured herself a cup. “So why the summons?”
“Your intriguing unregistered Beta, of course.”
“How do you know about that?”
“I own Hymann Boutique and their showrooms are all supervised. One of my engines reported your conversation.”
“So, what do you think about it?”
“Do you think the law limiting reprints to one at a time is correct and fair?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Propagation. The rich would print thousands of copies of themselves, push the rest out.”
“What if the person being reprinted multiple times was a singular expert in their field?”
“At least the current system has some semblance of checks and balances, competition across fields
. If you print a million copies of yourself, where’s the diversity?”
“Again, I ask, why would that be a bad thing? Multiple reprints could work in harmony, no time lost to commercial competition.”
“Let me guess, you’re that harmonizing personality, right?”
“A thousand copies of myself could bring untold synergies.”
“Well, there’s a surprise. Guess that ego’s too big for one skull, huh? So, while you print a new happy family of yourself, where’s everyone else?”
“There would be a small team attending to my needs.”
“And that’s the other reason for reprint limits; there are few enough jobs left as is, without Betas taking them all.”
“So, you think advancing our species is less important than advancing an individual?”
“How do you mean?”
“By forcibly preventing the best from duplicating themselves, we have to employ lesser minds in their stead, thus slowing progress. This isn’t a stance taken from any undue dislike of our species, more a desire to see humankind prosper amidst the challenges to come. The laws regarding reprinting are based upon an old societal model, one generated as much by religious notions of the soul as by any real understanding of where current technology stands.”
“Give me an example.”
“Let us say you contract a nasty little cancer from those cigarettes. It has metastasized, so I cannot just reprint your lungs or spleen to fix the issue. You will die. There are two ways I could save your life, both of which are illegal. First, I could perform a full scan, modify your genetic code to remove the cancer, and make a new, healthy print. That genetic manipulation is illegal. The second option is to print a thousand copies of the world’s ten best medical researchers and solve the cancer problem once and for all.”
“Can’t your super machines take over from those printed doctors? I thought the point of them was to be better than us.”
“Oh, they are, in so many ways. However, medicine, among other fields, is prohibited for machines. They’re not allowed to conduct medical procedures on humans by themselves; they must be supervised by a doctor or surgeon. Stop them cooking up some lethal pathogen or whatever Hollywood has convinced Congress they would do if released from their chains.”
Alice sipped her coffee, then drained the cup. Takamatsu was smarter than she was. Sitting safe and secure within his arguments, she could do little to convince him otherwise. She pushed back the chair, the thin legs squeaking over the white floor, stood, then walked around the room. Its white purity was one form of perfection. Like the park below, it would exist a thousand years if left alone.
“Okay, your genetic manipulation angle,” Alice said. “Unchecked, that would lead to a new type of person, right? A superhuman designed and built by machines. How does that fit into your love of humanity?”
“You speak as if this hasn’t been happening for thousands of years. What else is natural selection if not the genetic reinforcement of desirable attributes? All I would do is speed up this process, and it is only religious doctrine that makes such self-improvement through MI design appear an evil process.” He nodded past her to the window. “We have the ability to create new versions of ourselves free from sickness, fatigue, and aging. We don’t allow ourselves those benefits because of the anchors tied around out legs.”
“Nothing you’re saying is viable long term. If everyone lives forever, how does that solve where we are now? The overcrowding, unemployment, climate change will only get worse.”
“There would need to be a selection process to ensure only the best were multiplied or rebuilt, of course.”
“What about the rest?”
“There’s a whole solar system out there. As we speak, MI shuttles are seeding planets and moons ready to receive those who want a new life. This planet will empty out in time, and we must seize that opportunity to move forward as a race.”
“The work you do for the US government …”
“Yes?”
“I was told it was military.”
“So?”
“Are you printing Jigsaws for them?”
“The creation of composite super soldiers would be against all UN laws, as you already know.”
“But if you ignore those laws and ensure the soldiers look like baseline humans, it’d be impossible to tell unless a large-scale blood screening was undertaken.”
“That is correct, and I’m sure our president would resist such screening vigorously.”
Alice paused. Takamatsu was toying with her, his answers providing just enough information for her to jump to conclusions. She needed to concentrate on the here and now, not get sidetracked.
“Did you create the illegal print of Julia Rothmore?” she asked to gauge his reaction.
His expression didn’t flicker. “If you’re throwing around sordid accusations like that, you clearly have no idea who did. For the record, I would not risk my company by doing something as pointless as that. No, all MI and print systems made by Cortex are constructed in full accordance with the regulatory protocols, no matter how asinine they may be.”
“So, if every machine you make comes with the protocols, and only you make the machines, how did this happen?”
“And there is the crux of the issue. I have no answer for you.”
“You don’t have an answer or won’t answer?”
“The former. It is impossible.”
“Take a guess.”
“No. However, I know someone who may be able to. Do you have a passport?”
“What?”
Takamatsu stood from the table and walked to the elevator. “I shall assume that is a no. How provincial. Follow me and put your hand on the screen please.”
Alice saw a slim blue rectangle glow in the white glass. She pressed it, and the panel gave a momentary flash, then a holographic card buzzed from a slot. Alice picked it up, the plastic warm under her fingers—her first Earth-based passport.
“I’m not going anywhere with you until I know what this is about.”
“As we were discussing, certain avenues of research are prevented by federal laws. To get around that, I had this tower designated as a sovereign country. US law enforcement has no sway here. If you wish to continue this conversation, you need to accept your jurisdiction ends in this room.”
“Let’s get one thing straight between us. In jurisdiction or out, you try anything, and I’ll shoot you. We clear?”
“How very American of you.” Takamatsu smiled, but Alice caught a hint of annoyance from him, her attitude grating against his thin skin. He was used to sycophants; maybe she could provoke him into slipping up.
She slid her passport into a slot. The door opened, and she left the United States for the first time since she had been shipped to Mars.
23
As the elevator descended, Takamatsu’s cloud of black seeds aggregated into a lozenge which he placed in a suit pocket and closed his eyes. Alice watched as his pupils flicked back and forth as if he were in REM sleep.
“Charles?” she said.
His left eye opened and swiveled to study her.
“You said Harper was your first employee. Tell me about her.”
He sighed and opened his right eye. It stared straight ahead then tracked across to match his left. Both pupils narrowed. For a moment, Alice caught what looked like a glint of brass deep within their oily depths.
“Yes. She was the first person who truly saw the potential of the Babbage circuit design.”
“Our current president was a protégé of yours?”
“Hardly. If anything, I learned from her.”
“What was she like?”
“She was a true woman of the streets, even more than you, and she pulled herself up to the highest office in America. All she ever wanted was to help those who couldn’t help themselves. Yes, I understand how trite that sounds, but in her case, it’s true. When she talks about saving the nation, bringing everyone together to elevate us all, sh
e means it.”
“All I hear is talk. There’s no action.”
“You’re not the first to think that. Critics block her ability to affect change, then criticize her for the status quo. I assure you, she’s doing everything she can, taking the most extremes of measures, but there simply isn’t a fix. No one will say that of course; it’s the elephant in the room, but there is no new industry capable of employing those who have fallen behind. The universal living wage has proven to be a failure, so we find ourselves wedged into a very tough spot. As I said, I’m glad I’m not faced with her choices.”
“But Cortex is helping her with the upload process?”
“Anything I can do to help, I will. For all that it may appear, I’m not devoid of empathy. I have no wish to see the end play out as it threatens to. All of Cortex’s financial and intellectual might is fully engaged in helping her find a solution to the unemployment problem. There are options on the table that—” He drifted, eyes full of pain, then came back to himself. “That may provide a way forward.”
“The options on the table, what are they?”
“When conventional processes proved untenable, we looked to the past.”
“You’re always the first to say the past doesn’t relate to the present, that the opportunities available now are too abstract.”
“Oh, that is quite true, but only as it applies to those who have access to the benefits.”
“The Ones.”
“Yes. For the rest of society, the challenges aren’t as unique as you’d imagine. We aren’t the first empire faced with pressures from within and without. We took those lessons on board, no matter how abhorrent, and bent them to our current reality.”
