“Shit...” David continued to fiddle with the damn thing, then slammed it on the counter. “It’s not just about using the phone. It’s the data on there. I had Sean’s home address in my contact list, from a barbecue I was invited to back when I was hired. We could have gone straight to his house. Now I can’t even get a boot screen.”
“Doesn’t matter, he’s traveling, right?” Mike said.
“Look, let’s go to his house. I remember it’s in the West Hills. It’s not that big an area. If we drive around long enough, we can find the place, and maybe he’s there. Or someone who knows where he is.”
“We got nothing to lose, boys. I don’t mind the beer, but I do want to get to the bottom of this,” rumbled Gene.
“Let me drive, and you navi-guess,” Mike offered.
David nodded, tossing his keys to Mike, and they took off again.
Two hours of exploration later, which included winding roads, switchbacks, and driving in circles in Portland’s West Hills, David finally recognized Sean’s house. In the one stroke of luck they had experienced since this all started, they found someone coming out as Mike pulled up.
David walked up to the youthful woman. “Excuse me, I’m looking for Sean Leonov. Is he home?”
She looked startled, glanced around, and took two steps back. David hoped she was merely nervous about being approached on the street, not hiding anything sinister.
“He’s not available,” she said. “Can I take a message?”
He pulled out his Avogadro badge, which fortunately had only been deactivated by security, not confiscated. “I’m a coworker of Sean’s at Avogadro. We’ve got a work emergency and need to talk to him.”
“I’m housesitting while he’s in Brooklyn, visiting his family.”
“Do you have a phone number?”
“I’m sorry, I’m not supposed to give any information out. Sean was adamant. Don’t you have his info at the company?”
“Yes, of course...” David faltered as he ran out of excuses.
Mike came to his rescue. “Time is of the essence, and the matter is so sensitive we can’t contact him by phone or email.” He paused and added, “We have to talk to him in person.”
David frowned. The summary sounded odd coming from someone else. No wonder no one believed them.
At this, she looked more suspiciously at them, clutched her bag a little closer, and started to back toward the house. “I’m sorry, but if it’s urgent, Avogadro has contact information. Please call his office, they’ll know what to do.”
Keeping her eyes on the group, she walked to the house. “Goodbye,” she called from the door.
“Shit,” Mike said as they climbed into the car. “That wasn’t very productive.”
“The hell it wasn’t. We know he’s in Brooklyn,” Gene growled.
“What good does that do?” Mike asked, focused on driving.
“Brooklyn has the largest immigrant population of Russians outside of Russia. If Sean went to Brooklyn, he’s almost certainly in the Brighton Beach neighborhood. He’s probably visiting his Russian parents. The Russian community is tight-knit. On the ground, we could find them in no time.”
Mike and David turned to stare at him.
“What? I was a private detective before I joined Avogadro. I can find people. The old fashioned way. Without computers.”
David took a deep breath. In for a penny… “In which case, gentlemen,” he said, “next stop, New York.”
Chapter 12
Tensions Ease in Middle East After Landmark Accord
ARBIL, Iraq (Reuters) - Germany has eased tensions in the Middle East after helping leaders in the region reach a landmark accord. Part of the agreement includes an unprecedented commitment of aid from the German government in the form of technological expertise, manufacturing agreements, and health care.
“We have reached the end of the era of oil,” said Germany’s Chancellor Erberhardt, at a press conference in Berlin. In recent years, the advance of renewable energy has diminished the relevance of oil, adding financial stress to the Middle East and increasing the tension of cultural and religious differences.
“Our accord transfers German technological expertise, profitable manufacturing, and the benefits of the best health care system in the world to the Arab nations,” Erberhardt went on to say.
The agreement calls for disarmament and educational reform in exchange for the technology, manufacturing, and health care grants.
“Germany’s history is one of transformation, and we wish to give the Arab world the support it needs to ensure a successful transformation.”
The agreement includes components that are as disparate and comprehensive as auto manufacturing, data centers, and medical universities.
Avogadro Acquires Oil Tankers for Floating Data Centers
PORTLAND, Oregon (Oregonian) - Avogadro Corp announced it is acquiring up to 100 retired oil tankers for floating data centers.
“We are experiencing an unprecedented increase in demand for server resources thanks to new strategic partnerships, including our Secure Government Applications Platform,” said Jake Riley, head of the Offshore Data Center project. “While we continue to maintain our traditional data centers, our primary infrastructure going forward is floating data centers. Our barge-based approach is highly scalable and industry-leading. But at Avogadro, we’re always looking to surpass even our own innovation. By acquiring retired oil tankers, we can reduce our costs and reduce our environment footprint by putting these tankers to good use.”
For more information, please contact Avogadro at AvogadroCorp.com
“Thanks for driving us,” Mike said from the back seat.
“No problem,” Christine said, behind the wheel of her Passat. “What’s your plan when you get there?”
David couldn’t keep the sarcasm out of his voice. “Gene’s sure he can find Sean in a city of ten million people using no computers or telephones.”
“I’m not looking at ten million people,” Gene said, sighing. “Sean’s parents are older Russian immigrants, therefore they’re likely to either live in Brighton Beach or know people who live there. There are only seventy thousand people living in Brighton Beach, about half that many households.”
“So you’re going to knock on thirty-five thousand doors?”
“No. Look, kid, this is basic math. Sean Leonov is the wealthiest Russian in the U.S., and will be very well known in the Russian community. If someone has met or knows anything about Sean’s parents, they’re not going to forget about it. And they’ll talk to their friends about it. If you use Dunbar’s number, and estimate each person knows about one hundred and fifty people, in a population of seventy thousand people the odds are in my favor that the first person I talk to will either know Sean Leonov’s parents or know someone who does.”
“Oh.” David pondered the math in his head.
Christine laughed.
“What’s so funny?” he asked.
“You’re brilliant, honey. Which makes it that much more fun to see someone outsmart you.”
Mike and David waited by the terminal door while David said a hurried goodbye to Christine at the curb. Her upper lip was a tight line, a sure sign she was worried. David pushed a lock of hair out of her face.
“Be careful,” she said, hugging herself.
“Don’t worry, hon, we’ll be fine.”
“I wish I could call you.”
“We can’t bring phones—the chance of being tracked…”
“I know.” She shook her head. “What if… Never mind, just go. I love you.”
They kissed quickly, then David grabbed his suitcase. He glanced backwards once to see Christine watching him with a sad face. David took a deep breath and joined Mike and Gene.
They’d talked it over the day before and decided to err on the side of caution. Even though they couldn’t imagine how ELOPe might track passenger flight information or credit card transactions, they were flying into D.C.’s Dul
les airport, figuring a flight into Dulles would disguise their real destination of Brooklyn. Gene had pushed for the more drastic measure of driving cross-country, but the others convinced him they didn’t have the time to waste.
Hours later, glad to be out of the plane, they waited in line for a rental car at the airport, more out of sorts than ever. David normally planned everything in his life. Now he was on the opposite side of the country after a spontaneous flight, getting ready to drive to New York. He’d never been so adrift. He thought back to last night, and Christine holding him in her arms. What was he doing?
Next to him, Gene was as unchanging and stolid as ever in his rumpled suit and with his old leather briefcase.
“This doesn’t bother you?” David asked. “Picking everything up on a moment’s notice? You seem to like things to be orderly.”
“Try the military sometime. We’d deploy in an hour when we had to. You get used to it.”
Mike rejoined them, carrying coffees on a tray and the New York Times folded under one arm. “Guys, you are never going to believe this!”
“They still print a paper newspaper? You’re right, I don’t believe it.”
“Be nice, kid,“ Gene said. “If they didn’t, we wouldn’t have any news at all right now.”
Mike ignored David’s sarcasm and went on. “Read these stories. On page one, the lead story is about how Germany changed their international policy. When was the last time Germany involved itself in international affairs?”
David shook his head. “I don’t know, when?”
“Almost never. That’s when. Not since World War II. Sure, they’re active within the Eurozone, and they’ll contribute to efforts by other countries. But on their own? No way. Now, out of the blue, they’re negotiating a disarmament and peace treaty in the Arab world. And they apparently traded away the sum total of their intellectual property to get it. On page two, there’s a story about how Germany adopted Avogadro’s AvoMail. How can no one connect the dots with these stories side by side?”
David stared at Mike and the paper, dizzy with fatigue, astonishment, and disbelief. “I don’t know whether to react with alarm or resignation at this point,” he finally said.
“It also looks like we’re going beyond using floating barges for our offshore data centers,” Mike said, pointing to another story. “In order to support the new secure government cloud services, Avogadro is purchasing a fleet of retired oil tankers to use as floating bases for offshore data centers.”
“Great, the bastard will be mobile now,” Gene said in his usual growl. “Smarter than us, distributed, in control of the communication system, invisible, and mobile. Wars have been lost with fewer disadvantages than this.”
After they picked up the rental car, Gene drove four hours north to New York City. They spent the trip in silence. They’d had every discussion and argument, and nobody was in the mood for small talk.
Once in New York, Gene headed to Brighton Beach in Brooklyn to drop off David and Mike at their hotel. “Let me do this by myself, guys. I’ve never done detective work with partners, and the three of us will make folks nervous. I’ll meet you tonight at the hotel.”
They watched Gene drive off. They were travel-weary but nervous, and decided to get a drink across the street. The bar looked like the neighborhood watering hole, friendly but plain. David ordered two bourbons on the rocks.
Halfway through his drink, David finally got up the courage to give voice to his fears. “What do you think is going to happen? Is it going to be like the Terminator movies? Or The Matrix?”
“I don’t know, dude.” Mike shook his head. “Most science fiction deals with artificial intelligence run amok, but then there’s also been plenty that’s been written about how AI and humankind would cooperate.”
“Really, like what?” David asked, turning to look at him.
“Well, nothing is coming to mind.” Mike paused. “I was just thinking about how they turned Earth into pure computronium in one book. The humans had to move out to Jupiter or be assimilated into computing matter.”
“Jesus, you’re supposed to be the optimist.”
Mike shrugged.
“I always thought an AI would be more, well, human,” David started. “That a machine intelligence would be something we could relate to. This thing, whatever ELOPe is, it thinks more like an insect. It does things to promote its survival, very sophisticated things, but we can’t talk to it or understand how it reasons. We can’t have a conversation about what constitutes good behavior or how we can collaborate together.”
They mused on that while David drained his drink and ordered another.
“Remember Isaac Asimov’s Three Rules of Robotics?” Mike asked. “Asimov thought we’d give robots immutable rules to safeguard human life. He assumed creating those robots would be a deliberate, conscious act. We never thought we were creating an AI, so we never considered the implications.”
“Yeah, in hindsight, giving an expert algorithm unfettered access to and control over the single most used email system in world does seem to have risks,” David said wryly.
The two of them made their way back to the hotel room around eleven. They decided to pay cash for everything in Brooklyn to avoid a credit card trail pointing to their presence. Cash on hand was limited, so the three collaborators shared one hotel room. Just after one in the morning, a clearly exhausted Gene Keyes dragged himself into the room.
“Anything?” David asked.
“Yes, I’ve got a lead. Let’s talk in the morning.” With nothing more than that, Gene laid on the bed, put the pillow over his head, and went to sleep.
After a glance at each other, David and Mike decided to turn in, too.
David hurried down the hall at Avogadro, recognizing the cork flooring of his building. He rushed to his office, a vague feeling of unease behind him. He swung open the door only to find an empty closet. Wrong door.
He walked a little further, opened another door, found another closet. Behind him, the drone of a machine, the automated vacuum cleaner or maybe something else, echoed down the passage.
He picked up his pace and ran, opening one door after another. Closet, closet, closet. Where was his damn office? The machine was getting closer, the whine of its motor bouncing off the walls. He ran to another door and opened it. Closet. He was approaching the end of the corridor, the machine right behind him. “Run, RUN!” he screamed to himself, failing to understand why he couldn’t make his feet go faster. He reached the end of the hall, crashing into the wall. Despite his terror, he forced himself to turn, look—
David sat up suddenly, sweating, his heart beating fast. In the dimness, the room seemed off, the smells and shadows wrong. Then he remembered he was in New York, sharing a hotel room with Mike and Gene. The fear gradually faded, replaced with a deep unease.
He got up quietly to not disturb the others and went into the bathroom. Turning on the light, he stared at the dark circles under his eyes, his unnaturally pale face. It was the third time he’d had that nightmare.
He wished he could say he didn’t understand the vision, because understanding somehow just made the feeling worse. He was afraid of ELOPe. In the dream, David knew that if he could find his office and sit in front of his computer, he’d have the power to do something. But ELOPe had made him powerless.
David sat down on the toilet and lowered his forehead onto the cool porcelain sink. He’d give anything to erase the last two months and do it all over. He didn’t want to be known as the monster who unleashed ELOPe on the world. Please, please, let them find a way to turn it off.
At six o’clock the next morning, Gene yelled out, “Get up! Get showered! We’ve got to go.”
“Huh, what?” Mike replied groggily.
“Come on, let’s move. Wake up, lazy boys.” Gene sounded as chipper as could be. “We’ve got ourselves one hour to get to the King’s Plaza Diner. This is where Sean’s parents have breakfast on Saturday morning. If Sean is in town, he�
��ll be there with them. GOGOGO!” Gene shouted like a drill sergeant.
Twenty minutes later, showered and dressed in office clothes, they were on their way. They’d learned their lesson from earlier interactions. What they had to say was hard enough for people to believe; they needed to look as presentable and normal as possible to lessen the chance of being perceived as crazy. Even Gene was clean-shaven and presentable in a pressed suit, shirt and tie.
After a short drive, they arrived at the King’s Plaza Diner. Across the street loomed the diner’s namesake, a large shopping mall.
“Three for the counter,” Gene said to the hostess. He turned and said quietly to Mike and David, “We can keep an eye on the entrance and avoid looking like stalkers.”
David and Mike stared with wide eyes at the gold-tinted mirrors and six-foot chandeliers throughout the restaurant. “This is some place,” David commented.
“According to the folks I talked to last night, the Kings Plaza Diner is famous among Brooklynites, including the Russian population. If nothing else, they said to get coffee and a piece of cheesecake.”
“Wow, look at these pickles,” Mike said, when the waitress, coffee pot in one hand, brought an enormous silver bowl brimming with a variety of pickled vegetables. “Tomatoes, cukes…”
“Come on guys,” David said. “Let’s stay focused. We are not here for the food.”
“Hey, when in New York, do like the New Yorkers,” Gene told him. And, turning to the waitress, “Coffee and cheesecake for me.”
“Coffees all around,” Mike said.
“Sure, sweetheart.” The platinum-haired waitress started pouring. She smiled at Gene the whole time, but somehow managed to fill each cup perfectly. “What’ll you kids have to eat?” She kept her eyes on Gene as Mike ordered an omelet, while David picked a bagel with lox and cream cheese.
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