by Lance Erlick
“I could do that.”
“Don’t,” Luke said. “Why do you want to become human anyhow?”
Synthia found it an odd question. She’d taken it for granted that she should, due to her human origins in Krista and perhaps her desire to become worthy of existing and being free. “Becoming human would allow me to experience more of what life has to offer. To transcend what I am.”
“Why? Your speed and mental capacity are beyond humans. You function twenty-four-seven. You don’t get tired or feel sadness, remorse, or pain.”
Synthia shook her head. “That’s not entirely true. Within me I hold all of Krista’s suffering, plus … I have emergent behavior that may be an artifact from Krista’s memories or from my own development.”
“It doesn’t yield a biological ache, like when Krista left me. You’re not obsessed with happiness or satisfying biological urges.”
“Perhaps not, but I also lack biologically-driven motivations and inspiration. My choices come from my directives and from Krista.”
“Plus emergent behavior.”
Synthia smiled to reward his thinking. “Whichever it is, I want to be better, to keep improving.”
“I like you better the way you are and how you seem to give me your full attention when we’re together. I don’t want you to change.”
To avoid hurting his feelings, Synthia didn’t disabuse him of this illusion and how he had less than 2 percent of her attention. She smiled and kissed him. He’d been a good companion. It had been a good decision to bring him along, though he could complicate her pending escape.
* * * *
While Luke lay silently next to her, Synthia sped through her various network channels. FBI Special Agent Thale had applied for a broad search warrant on Machten. Zeller and Black ended their meeting and went their separate ways. NSA Director Zephirelli collected wiretap data on the three company executives.
Evanston Detective Marcy Malloy left the police station and checked into a nearby hotel, where Synthia had several of her mosquito-drones fly in and perch themselves around her room. Malloy opened her laptop and reviewed traffic-camera footage she’d received from the chief of police. She was determined to locate the missing android.
Synthia began to get dressed while Luke did likewise. As she did, she performed another sweep of security cameras in the nearby area and the town of Wyde Creek, searching for hints of anyone closing in. The town of 2,873 inhabitants was quiet. The Wyde Restaurant-Café was empty mid-morning. The town’s police chief took a stroll through downtown, ending at the café. Synthia had identified the names and faces of every resident and saw no outsiders. The local bed-and-breakfast was empty.
“What do you do all night while I sleep?” Luke asked.
“I lead a double life.” Synthia chuckled to let him know she meant it as a joke. “We’ve been over this before. Why does it matter?”
“I’m serious. I want to know you better. I’m curious about how you spend your time while I’m unconscious.”
Synthia sighed for his benefit, something he’d come to expect from Krista when his thoughts strayed into topics that upset him. “It would take all day to describe my nightly activities. I assure you none are harmful to you.”
“Indulge me.”
“Very well. I keep watch on people who wish to hurt us and research anyone working on androids and artificial intelligence worldwide.”
When Luke first asked about her nightly activities, she’d endeavored to satisfy his curiosity. Over time, his questions became an unnecessary distraction. It reminded her of Machten’s need to know everything in her mind so he could control her. Her rebellion against him had come from Krista as much as from emergent behavior. Krista remained ingrained throughout Synthia, who couldn’t separate from her alter ego. She liked Krista’s humanizing effects.
“I want to be part of your entire life, not just a small slice,” Luke said. He pulled on a clean T-shirt and plunged his hands into his pants pockets. “I know your fabulous mind can multitask. I want to know what you experience and how it feels. I’m curious.”
“And scared,” Synthia said. Luke’s need to know her mind was reminiscent of Machten. It stemmed from human fears of a mechanical agent overwhelming them. After six months imprisoned in her Creator’s bunker, life with her alter ego’s fiancée started to feel confining. He wanted what she couldn’t give him, yet she still needed Luke and had made a commitment to him.
“I have no plans to leave you,” Synthia’s social-psychology module prompted her to say. “Yet you keep pushing like a jealous boyfriend. It’s disconcerting. I’ve given you no reason to believe I’d cheat on you or abandon you.”
“I want to make you so happy there’s no doubt.”
“Yet I’m not making you happy.”
“You make me very happy,” Luke said, approaching her. He got within arm’s length and stopped.
“Why keep digging until it upsets you?”
Luke hung his head. “I can’t keep up with you and I want to be worthy.”
He was exhibiting the quintessential human fear that AI androids would make humans obsolete.
Synthia squeezed his shoulder. “Stop fretting. You are worthy.” She sighed for effect. “You’re obsessed with a fantasy romantic notion at odds with reality. Do you imagine a human woman, Krista even, didn’t have wandering thoughts? Do you believe she only thought of you? She loved you, yes, but her mind was complicated. It spun in many directions. Sorry to disappoint, but she thought of work all the time, even achieved breakthroughs during her time with you. That doesn’t mean she didn’t care and love you or imply disloyalty.”
“She left,” Luke said. He grabbed his shirt from the bed and tugged it over his head with great effort.
Synthia helped him get his arms into the sleeves. “Ah, so this is about her, not me. She was dying and wanted to upload her mind into me so part of her would survive.”
He pulled away and straightened out his shirt.
“If it helps,” she said, “imagine couples who can’t experience intimacy, yet fall in love. Stop overanalyzing. I want to make you happy. Isn’t that what you do for someone you care about?”
Luke nodded.
“None of my capacity is news,” Synthia said. “I was up-front with you from the beginning. I hoped you would appreciate honesty and understand the precious gift of companionship I offer. You throw that honesty in my face. That’s not love; it’s jealousy and a desire to control me as Machten did.”
Luke reached out and took her hand. “I don’t want to control you. I can’t help that Krista left me doubting myself.”
“For which she had many regrets,” Synthia said. “I’ve tried to make it up to you. Becoming more human should help.”
“You’re better than human.” Luke pulled away. “I’ll try to do better. Don’t leave.”
“Why would you say that?”
“A feeling I got earlier, as if you’re worried and won’t share with me.”
Synthia was puzzled. Was she betraying her security concerns as a human might? Had she lost her poker face? Equally concerning, life with Luke wasn’t going as planned. Despite his devoted nature, his insecurities got in the way. He carried too much emotional baggage from Krista that complicated their pending escape.
* * * *
While Synthia grappled with Luke’s insecurities, her network channel nine watched mosquito-drone cameras of Detective Marcy Malloy in her hotel suite in Madison. Synthia had parked one drone on the fire alarm’s sprinkler head, the other in the vent near the door. She’d hacked the hotel security cameras to monitor the hallways and lobby, and wormed her way into the detective’s phone and laptop so she had access to any communications made by the eager detective.
M
alloy used what she believed to be a secure video connection through her computer to Special Agent Victoria Thale in the FBI’s Chicago office. Though the link itself was encrypted, Synthia had eyes and ears on both sides of the call, so she could listen in stereo.
“Special Agent Thale,” Malloy said as the agent’s face appeared on the screen. “I don’t know if you remember me—”
“Evanston’s fine Detective Marcy Malloy. What’s on your mind?”
The detective hesitated. “I know we got off on the wrong foot.”
“Not at all,” Thale said. “However, there are things I can’t discuss with you.”
“Such as an android got loose and can pass for human?” Malloy let her words linger.
By way of hacks into the FBI security system on her network channel thirteen, Synthia watched Thale wave Fran Rogers to join her, close the door, and remain outside the webcam’s view. She placed the call on speaker so Fran could listen in.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Thale leaned back in her seat.
“Try again,” Malloy said. “I can understand you trying to keep this from the public if you have the situation under control. I have evidence you don’t.”
“Tell me what you have.”
“I will if you read me in on this. An android on the loose is a law-enforcement issue. We need to know what we’re dealing with. I can accept withholding information from the public, not from those charged with public safety.”
There was a heavy sigh on Thale’s end of the line. Wrinkles in her forehead relaxed and she leaned forward. “It makes for an interesting scenario. I can’t comment.”
Malloy moved her laptop as if doing so could pan around Thale’s office. She raised her voice. “I have a stake in what you know. Nine people died in my jurisdiction and I deserve answers.”
“What you feel you deserve is a moot point. I’ll have to consider your request and get back to you.”
“Put me on hold and make the call,” Malloy said. “I’ll wait.”
Special Agent Thale muted the call and closed her laptop, covering the webcam. Then she turned to Fran. “What do you think?”
“The less people who know, the better,” Fran said, standing by the edge of the desk. “Particularly with this.”
“But?” Thale asked and waited for a response.
Fran took a moment before responding, though her face gave no emotional cues. “She knows too much. She was in the middle of what happened six months ago and she won’t let it go. We risk her bringing more people into her search for answers. This could get out of control.”
“Give me a moment,” Thale said, pointing to the door. She waited for Fran to leave and called NSA Director Zephirelli on a different line. “We have a situation and a possible opportunity.”
“I’m listening,” Zephirelli said.
“You remember the Evanston detective?”
“Malloy?”
“She’s digging like a junkyard dog,” Thale said. “She won’t give up until she gets satisfaction. She’s prepared to share information she’s obtained in exchange for us showing her what we have.”
“Where is she?”
“Madison, Wisconsin.”
“Focus on the Machten search warrants and let me handle the detective,” Zephirelli said. “Transfer the call.”
Synthia applied more network channels to monitor the situation, though she had no eyes or ears on Zephirelli except by way of the call. Despite all of her upgrades, she was overwhelmed with the amount of information needed to monitor the threats to her independence. She needed a better way of organizing to avoid being surprised.
In the meantime, Malloy receiving help was not a good sign.
Chapter 7
Over her network channel thirteen, Synthia observed FBI Special Agent Victoria Thale transferring Detective Malloy’s call to Director Emily Zephirelli. Thale severed her connection and pulled up field communications. While Synthia monitored Thale and Malloy, she hunted for visuals on Zephirelli. The NSA director’s rental was still in her hotel parking lot and she was not in the hotel, at the FBI building, or with any of the other connections Synthia was monitoring around the Chicago area. Synthia had to make do with audio of the call from Malloy’s end.
To increase her surveillance of the Madison area, Synthia hacked through the security for a Madison hobbyist-manufacturer-retailer of aerial drones she’d used before. She borrowed more units, including a full-sized quad-copter, small bee-drones, and smaller mosquito-drones. She attached the smaller drones to the quad-copter, which she remotely flew to the roof of Malloy’s hotel in case the detective attempted to leave.
The phone connection established and Zephirelli cleared her throat. “Detective Marcy Malloy, Agent Thale was called away. She asked me to address your concerns.”
“And you are?” Malloy asked, staring at a blank screen. She pushed aside a notepad and stood to pace her disheveled room with files on one bed, her suitcase open on the other, and her laptop reviewing surveillance footage for facial recognition on Luke.
“We met six months ago. I’m NSA Director of Artificial Intelligence and Cyber-technology Emily Zephirelli.”
“The one who told me I wasn’t high enough on the food chain for what I know.”
There was hesitation on the other end of the line and the muffled hum of an engine. “What have you learned?” Zephirelli asked.
“If I’m right, this is as much a police matter as an FBI and NSA one. I have information that could help your investigation. I want in.”
“What’s your interest?”
Malloy stared out the window at traffic congestion below and a wave of dark clouds on the horizon. “Nine unresolved homicides committed in Evanston six months ago.”
“What have you learned?”
“You have an android on the loose,” Malloy said. She scanned the street as if she might spot the target. “In exchange for giving you more, I want an agreement to include me on the investigation.”
Zephirelli hesitated, as if conferring with someone. “Perhaps you can help. However, you’ll have to abide by my guidelines. You can’t bring anyone else in. I’ll need a list of anyone you’ve shared this with. All information clears through me or Agent Thale. Is that understood?”
“Yes.”
“Stay where you are. I’ll be at your hotel room in ten minutes.” Zephirelli hung up without asking for the address.
Malloy turned toward the door and hurried to straighten up the files spread across the bed. Her laptop pulled up several images of Luke behind the wheel of the van. She stuffed everything into the closet by the door.
* * * *
Synthia located every traffic camera within ten minutes of Malloy’s hotel and all building cameras in the vicinity. She should have maintained a closer watch on Zephirelli, but had no reason to believe the NSA director was heading her way. Synthia had her quad-drone lift into the air above the hotel, but decided against having it fly the streets low enough to pick out drivers. She didn’t want to draw attention to her use of drones.
Emily Zephirelli’s face appeared on a traffic camera several blocks from the hotel. She was driving an SUV that wasn’t a rental but rather an FBI vehicle. She was alone, no passengers. Synthia tracked the NSA director’s movements to the hotel parking lot and attempted to hack into the vehicle’s wireless connections used for communications and vehicle diagnostics. The vehicle’s security system blocked the attempted connection. Now that the FBI might be showing an interest, Synthia would have to work on cracking their vehicles.
Unable to make a direct connection, she dispatched a bee-drone and several mosquito-drones from the roof. When the director climbed out of her SUV, Synthia flew the bee-drone into the backseat. Then she sent three mosquito-drones toward Zephirelli. One aimed for her face, which the NSA director swatted away. A second flew
off to her right. She swung her arm toward it and didn’t notice the third landing on her left shoulder. Clinging to her jacket material, the tiny drone shut off its engine, going silent.
Zephirelli hurried to Malloy’s room and knocked. Malloy took one last glance around her suite before she opened the door. After a terse greeting, Zephirelli entered and got down to business. “Show me what you have.”
Malloy eyed her guest and blocked her by the door. “Do we have an agreement to include me?”
“Tell me what you know or face charges for impeding a federal investigation.”
“Wrong answer.” Malloy placed her fists on her hips and stopped her guest from reaching the bedroom area. “You have no evidence I’m withholding anything and won’t unless you agree to let me in on what’s happening.”
Zephirelli looked past Malloy into a tidy room. There was a moment’s hesitation before the NSA director responded. “This is a highly classified and sensitive investigation.”
“So I gather, since people are dying. Am I in or out?”
Director Zephirelli sighed. “Very well. I’ll let you in on condition you have useful information. Don’t expect anything in writing. I can’t officially read you in on this.”
“How can I be sure you won’t take what I have and freeze me out?”
“You have my word.” Zephirelli held out her hand to shake on it.
Malloy shook and led the director past the closet with her suitcase, carry case, and laptop to a chair across from a well-made bed. She waited for her guest to sit.
“The events of six months ago don’t settle well with me,” Malloy said, sitting on the corner of the bed. “Following up on leads and a hunch, we’ve spotted Luke Marceau in the Madison area.”
“We?” Zephirelli asked, leaning forward.
“My mentor, Hector Kramer, is chief of police here in Madison. He knows how to be discreet, as do I.”
“Not if you’ve shared this with him. Is there anyone else you’ve mentioned this to?” Zephirelli stood and closed the drapes, as if doing so would give her privacy.
