by Lance Erlick
The anonymous donation she’d made to the convention through a dark-web crypto-bank had opened a door, which allowed her to hack their security systems to monitor everything that went on. This event was a meeting of the best worldwide minds creating androids and artificial intelligence like Synthia. A chance to display the state of the art.
She shuddered at the authentic presentation of several androids built in countries that didn’t comply with America’s ban on humaniform robots. Movements by one presenter’s android were smooth and advanced, though it had the hint of a mechanical gait. It didn’t capture the intuitive motions of humans, which Machten had built into Synthia. Several visitors looked startled by the dissonance between the perfect stationary robot and how awkwardly he moved.
Synthia worried about where this technology was heading. Machten, in conjunction with Krista’s human touch, fine-tuned Synthia’s social-psychology module and empathy chip to thrive in a world filled with humans. Despite her fear of confinement by Machten and others, she knew her way around people. She’d also shown she could escape and remain free for six months.
The threat for her wasn’t so much having androids that appeared human, as it was androids with artificial general intelligence indistinguishable from the brightest humans. Such robots meant competition Synthia wasn’t equipped for and potential obsolescence for her. She felt an attachment to not becoming outdated.
She also feared being absorbed into a superior artificial-intelligence collective as presented in works of science fiction she’d absorbed. In particular, she feared AI androids with improperly developed directives such as those in the android apocalypse stories. Those could lead to the destruction of the human world Machten designed her to thrive in.
Throughout the convention she observed a mad rush to create more advanced AI. Most efforts were for beneficial purposes, like the widespread use of self-driving cars and medical-review applications, but the military, foreign agents, and others wanted the technology for darker, violent reasons. They wanted AI android weapons. Synthia shuddered at the thought.
Missing from the global convention were the four major Chicago android manufacturers that drew unfavorable FBI and NSA attention six months ago, when Synthia escaped from Machten. Even so, what she saw presented in Paris gave her a good indication that other developers were close to duplicating what he’d done. She needed to prevent them.
While Luke intellectually agreed on this point, he didn’t fully comprehend the implications of this technology. He’d seen dozens of android movies and read many such stories, but Synthia had reviewed every book, movie, article, and recording. She had the advantage of exploring connections to the dark web and thousands of university, government, and company servers she’d hacked in search of knowledge. As a result, she understood better than he did the threat posed by an AI more advanced than her.
Synthia turned part of her attention to meetings at the Paris convention, which were still going strong despite the late hour. In a secluded room, one encounter caught her interest. A tall, sandy-haired man in an expensive, yet wrinkled suit stood next to a wiry man of average height whose muscles bulged in his well-pressed, off-the-rack outfit.
The taller man, Anton Tolstoy, spoke American English with a Russian accent. “You would think all these techie guys were used-car salesmen.”
“How so?” the other man asked, as if it were his role to prompt Tolstoy. John Smith didn’t look at all like a “Smith” of British heritage. He spoke in an acquired British accent that attempted to mask his origins.
“Americans claim to have the most advanced equipment,” Tolstoy said. “Yet they hide behind their government’s prohibition against androids that can pass for human. The Europeans claim they have those, but their stuff isn’t good enough. The Chinese and Japanese push clever models, yet no one will show me what I want.”
“What service can I provide?” Smith asked, keeping his head bowed. Despite his shorter stature, he looked the stronger man, sporting a gruff poker face.
Tolstoy turned his back to the closed door and flipped on a small electronic device. It emitted background noise intended to render voice recordings impossible. However, the men’s phones surreptitiously picked up their conversation.
“I hear the Americans created a human-looking android that got loose,” Tolstoy said. “They claim it doesn’t exist. Then they insist this nonexistent android couldn’t have gotten loose.”
“I thought their government made such androids illegal.”
“Yet someone manufactured at least one, knows how to make more, and will manufacture them for us if we present the right offer. That’s where you come in. They have what I want and you’ll get it for me.”
“Where do you want me to begin?” Smith asked.
“Chicago. I’m disappointed none of those companies showed up here in Paris. The four owners are ambitious and greedy. Meet them. Acquire whatever androids you can. My primary interest is in the ones created by Jeremiah Machten. He’s the designer of the nonexistent android that got loose. Bring me results and your family will be well rewarded.”
“Thank you, sir.”
Synthia didn’t need more people hunting her as prey. Like Machten, they wanted an android smarter than them, yet willing to remain under their control. That was the quintessential human problem. They pursued goals that led to contradictory results. Unlike her, most people were weak at multitasking and teasing out the unintended consequences of their actions.
She would have to use all of her upgraded resources to become more vigilant to stop the growing number of people hunting her.
Chapter 2
Synthia made sure her multitasking didn’t interfere with making love to Luke. At the same time, she used various network channels operating in parallel at electronic speed to take advantage of widespread surveillance cameras, wireless electronics, and hacks into specific systems of interest around the area and the country. Doing so allowed her to study an hour of missed activities in less than a minute on each of her seventy-some free channels.
Her channel thirteen watched the watchers: the FBI and NSA. Their trails converged while she underwent repairs, which caused alarm. Synthia replayed the videos down mind-stream thirteen. Though she wasn’t superstitious, her alter ego, Krista Holden, was. Thirteen seemed an appropriate number to assign her government pursuers.
Four hours earlier, NSA Director of Artificial Intelligence and Cyber-technology, Emily Zephirelli, entered the Chicago office of FBI Special Agent Victoria Thale, a small office with a single file cabinet. Despite ample electronics on the medium-sized desk, boxes covered a table along one wall, two chairs, and lined the floor.
The women shook hands and Special Agent Thale shut the door. “It’s good to see you, but I’m guessing this isn’t a social call. What brings you halfway across the country?”
“Loose ends. I don’t like them.” Zephirelli moved a box off a chair and sat across the desk from Thale.
She glanced around the cramped, windowless quarters with apparent claustrophobic discomfort, something noted in her unofficial file back in Washington. Synthia loved people who collected information they shouldn’t and stored them on vulnerable servers she could worm her way into. As an example, Zephirelli’s DNA test showed markers for increased likelihood of anxiety, which made her conscientious and nervous. Socially, she’d had a tough childhood and faced numerous hurdles on her way to the top, all a credit to her accomplishments. She needed to prove herself worthy, which Synthia could relate to.
Thale sat at her desk and offered her guest a cup of coffee. Her social files showed she was following her father’s example. He died in the line of duty and she appeared driven to prove herself his equal, yet on her terms. “I’m guessing you couldn’t identify who sent you files six months ago that exposed irregularities at three Chicago robot manufacturers,” she said.
“Our mysterious benefactor
made the messages appear out of nowhere with no originating identification, and vanish except for our copies. It’s as if he or she planted them on our email server.”
“Chinese?” Thale asked.
“Doubtful. Despite their best efforts, their hacks leave traces.” Zephirelli drank some coffee and cradled the cup in her hands. “It’ll take time, but we’ll locate the culprit. My bet is the escaped android, Synthia.”
“If so, why send us those messages?”
“Find who and we’ll uncover why. How about you? Any luck locating the three interns who vanished eighteen months ago in connection with Jeremiah Machten and his robotics work?”
“Only Fran Rogers,” Thale said, pushing aside a neat stack of files on her desk. She bumped her flat-screen monitor and righted it, hints of her obsessive-compulsive tendencies. She had a mild case, not listed in her file and mostly evident in her office behavior. “We’ve found glimpses of Maria Baldacci on cameras around the area, but she maintains a very low profile, off the grid.”
“How is that possible in the age of ever-present cameras?”
“She has no listed job, no credit, not even a bank account. She appears afraid of something or someone. We’re not convinced she has information Fran can’t supply, so we’ve chosen to leave her alone.”
Zephirelli took a drink of coffee and put down the cup. “Have you hired Fran?”
“Unofficially, as an undercover agent. She wants to keep a low profile. She’s concerned about Machten or his competitors targeting her. She believes this worries Maria as well.”
“What about Krista Holden?”
Thale clasped her hands on the desk. “Vanished without a trace. Fran fears her fellow intern was the victim of foul play.”
“Machten?”
“Either him as part of his experiments or one of his competitors interested in her knowledge of artificial intelligence. The competitors were doing a lot of spying on each other. In addition to helping us track robot-manufacturing activities, Fran has tried to follow leads on Krista. There was no trace for a year. Then, six months ago, we had one sighting. We couldn’t confirm it and concluded it could have been a look-alike. Nothing since.”
There was a knock at the door. Thale opened for Fran Rogers, a tall, athletic-looking woman with determination etched in her face.
“I’ve asked Fran to join us.” Thale stepped aside to let Fran in. “She’s familiar with what we have on the Chicago robotics manufacturers, what happened back then, and their development of androids.”
Zephirelli shook Fran’s hand and resumed her seat. “So you know the main reason for my visit.”
Thale moved a box off another guest seat for Fran. “Wasn’t hard to guess.”
Refusing the seat, Fran stood erect by the wall. “I don’t mean to presume.”
“Go ahead,” Thale said. “Tell her what you told me.”
“Unlike the manufacturers out west and back east,” Fran said, “the Chicago robotics companies skirted the law.”
Zephirelli craned her neck to watch Fran. She winced and rubbed her shoulder. “How?”
“The Federal Cyber-security Agreement not only mandates controls on artificial intelligence, it restricts U.S. manufacturers from making androids that can pass for human except for use by the federal government. It also requires robots that do resemble humans to be clearly identified.”
“I helped write that language,” Zephirelli said in annoyance. “Facts, please.”
“Each of the four Chicago companies built nonhuman robots for the military and Homeland Security. Behind the scenes, they’re buying components that imply competition to see who can build the perfect android first.”
Zephirelli stood to face Fran and rotated her neck to limber it up. “Where do they stand?” she asked.
Fran backed up and nodded. “My old employer, Machten-Goradine-McNeil, was floundering eighteen months ago when they fired Machten. After Goradine died, they rehired Machten. Now they have a model good enough that the military is sending quality inspectors to review. Competitive models from MetroCyberTech and Purple Dynamics perform below Machten’s design. None of these are humaniform.”
“All that shows is Machten is the genius he was reputed to be,” Zephirelli said. “What evidence do you have he or the others have violated the humaniform ban?”
“The upgraded models we’ve spotted from MetroCyberTech and Purple Dynamics are nonhuman models with human faces plastered on. From a distance they appear human. Up close, there’s no doubt they’re robotic.”
“Thus not in violation of federal law.”
“Despite clever masks, they lack facial animation or it appears spooky,” Fran said. “That makes it easy to decipher they’re not human. It wouldn’t take much modification with Korean technology to change that.”
“What about your work for Machten?”
“He pushed humaniform eighteen months ago. That’s why Maria and I left. We thought Krista would come with us. The last I saw her was with Machten. I can’t help thinking something bad happened to her.”
“What, exactly?” Zephirelli asked.
“I have no hard evidence except she vanished. Prior to his firing, Machten split his time between the company and working alone in a separate underground facility. I believe his secret work along with funds siphoned from the company led to his firing.”
“We tried but couldn’t prove any of that,” Thale said.
“During the following year, he spent most of his time in his bunker,” Fran said. “Six months ago, when Goradine died, Machten returned to splitting his time between the company and his bunker. It wouldn’t surprise me to find her body buried down there.”
“What?” Zephirelli pushed her chair out of the way, increasing the small space around her. “You think he killed her?”
“I don’t know.”
Thale sat on the corner of her desk. “Our search six months ago came up empty. Fran’s convinced Machten has hiding places we didn’t find. He was that concerned about competitors spying on him.”
“You think Machten is using the company and his secret work facility to move beyond his competitors on humaniform?” Zephirelli asked.
“Based on my internship,” Fran said, “I’m certain he built humaniform. We have reason to believe one got loose.”
Zephirelli nodded almost imperceptibly; her face showed no surprise. This wasn’t news to her, given her encounter with her boss. “What evidence do you have?”
Fran stepped forward, her hands animated. “Six months ago, the Evanston police reported a woman attacked in an alley. Four men died. Other than street cameras, which showed her going into the alley followed by three of the men, there was no trace of the woman. No fingerprints or DNA despite an apparent scuffle. There were also clever bank attacks that yielded no actionable evidence and no trace of the perpetrator.”
“You believe these are the acts of the android that got loose?”
“Machten was working on AI capabilities, as well as android appearance. He wanted an AI able to intercept his competitors’ spies. It’s a short distance from there to him spying on them.”
“Do you have any evidence he used AI this way?” Zephirelli asked.
“Not yet, but I believe he’s the sharpest of the designers. If anyone can do this, he can.”
“This is why the government put restrictions on AI and humaniform robots.”
Thale sat behind her desk. “Now you know what we do. If we’re right, we’re up against a cunning entity.”
“Entity?” Zephirelli said.
“We can’t call it a person and we should be cautious about referring to something this clever as a machine.”
“An android is a machine,” Zephirelli said. “We need to locate it, preferably still functioning so we can study it.” She sighed. “A humaniform robot with artificial inte
lligence on the loose is like a virus escaping the lab. Once out there, it’s tough to shut it down. I suggest we visit Machten today to see what he’s hiding and if he’s willing and able to help us.”
Thale jotted a note on her tablet. “I’ll get the search warrant.”
“On a related note,” Zephirelli said. “If this android is what sent us those files six months ago exposing competitor irregularities, it has more to tell. We’ve tried to locate the source by tapping into email servers, internet providers, and telecommunication companies. If it’s an android doing this, its capabilities are beyond anything we thought possible.”
“It doesn’t want to be found,” Fran said.
“Want?” Zephirelli said, leaning on her seat.
“Want is the expression of a goal. If you wish, the android’s goal is to remain hidden.”
Zephirelli slumped into her seat. “Then lure it out of hiding. We have no way of knowing what constraints this machine might have, if any. We don’t need a psychopathic android on the loose. We can’t afford foreign agents or terrorists getting their hands on this technology. Any chance there’s more than one on the loose?”
“We don’t think so,” Thale said. She placed her tablet next to her monitor and rearranged the orderly stacks of files on her desk. “If Machten did this, he’s going to prison. He’s wasted enough of our resources over the past six months.”
Fran leaned against the wall. “May I remind you we searched his facility six months ago and found no evidence? Even his computers were in a factory-installed condition with no data.”
“Yet months after Machten rejoined the company, they pulled ahead of competitors,” Zephirelli said. “I’m not satisfied we’ve seen everything. Get search warrants on his company, his home, the underground facility, and any database backup services he might use. Coordinate this to occur simultaneously so he can’t shift resources. In the meantime, let’s pay him a visit.”
As the video clip ended, Synthia considered notifying Machten of the threat. While she didn’t want the FBI to learn more about her, she wanted him to stop creating any more smart androids and needed to know what he’d been doing since he’d locked her out of hacking his security system.
