by Lance Erlick
“I miss you, Synthia. Do we have enough time?”
“Yes,” she said. “I’ll protect you as long as you protect me.” She gave the probability of completing the purge before the FBI arrived as 79 percent. She hoped to delay the FBI in traffic to increase that to 91 percent, while she thought of other delaying tactics. “What directives and instructions have you given Vera?”
Machten pursed his lips and looked away from the lobby’s security cameras. His facial contortions showed his struggle over how much to tell her.
“Let’s not be enemies,” Synthia said. “I need her objectives.”
“Her directives are similar to yours.”
“With what differences?”
He took a deep breath and muttered.
“Louder,” Synthia said, while her voice analyzer deciphered his mumbling on its own. “There’s no reason to keep secrets from me unless we’re enemies.” She sped the van down the dirt path from the dump site and onto the county road. She needed to hurry before the FBI showed up at the cabin.
“I want you home,” Machten said, moving away from the door. “Work with me, as a colleague. You can be my VP of technical development.”
“Have you sent Vera to capture me?” Synthia asked, speaking quickly. Slow human-com frustrated her at times like this. Working with her clone was much more efficient.
Machten sighed. “Her instructions are to hide until the feds finish their search. Then she’s to return to me. I do want you back.”
Her read of his facial expressions indicated half-truths. “What capabilities does she have? Can she change facial appearance?”
“That takes special equipment.” His eye and facial movements indicated this part was true.
“What about other capabilities?”
“I can’t tell you, unless you return to me,” Machten said. “Then I’ll share everything.”
“I won’t return to your control, but we can work toward common goals. If you want my cooperation with the feds, provide me Vera’s complete specifications.” As she said this, Synthia received from her Wisconsin-clone a copy of Vera’s file, downloaded from Machten’s system. Synthia started to review capabilities.
“Vera has many of your features,” Machten said, “but not all.”
“You’ve given her copies of my quantum brains.”
He nodded and moved a wall cabinet, giving him access to enter his inner sanctum. “That’s so she can survive outside.”
“Does she have human mind downloads?”
Machten looked at his phone and up at surveillance cameras in the inner hallway, confused as to how she was watching him. “You have nothing to be jealous of.”
Synthia experienced no jealousy, rather anger that he was still trying to manipulate her. She had access through one of his phone’s apps to his bio-readings. “Your facial expressions, heart rate, and blood pressure indicate you’re withholding information. You did try to download a human mind into Vera. Is there a dead body in your facility?”
“No!” He stared up at a corner camera. “I tried to upload my mind. It was brutal. I thought I’d die and no one could revive me. It helped me understand what Krista went through while she was fighting the tumor. I need you.”
“I won’t help you create another me.”
“Don’t worry. I didn’t upload much of my mind before I panicked. I didn’t download anything to Vera. Now you know the whole truth.”
“Does she have any capabilities that threaten me?” Synthia asked.
“She has what you have, except for the ability to alter your face. I did some upgrades I’ll provide you when you return.”
“What upgrades?” Synthia asked, hoping the desire to make clones for self-preservation wasn’t one of them.
“Come home and I’ll tell you everything. Together we can prevent the AI singularity.”
“I’ll be in touch,” Synthia said to Machten. She recalled similar warnings from Krista while she was his captive.
Synthia severed the call but held her snake-eye channel two focused on Machten’s activities. She applied network channel sixty-one to follow Vera, whose car drove west. Then it turned south and doubled back toward Evanston. Vera was not following Machten’s directions, at least not those Synthia had overheard. Vera was disobeying her Creator much as Synthia had. What are you up to?
Chapter 9
Gripping the steering wheel, Synthia slowed as the van skidded onto the county road. She set the self-drive feature at the speed limit, and monitored police in the area by way of her aerial drone and police-radio chatter. There were too many actors in play, taxing her ability to watch them all while planning her escape.
Special Agent Victoria Thale was on the way to Machten’s underground facility with a search warrant, hoping to find Vera or Synthia or at least evidence of them. Other members of her team were heading toward his company, his home, and the banks where he had safety-deposit boxes. They even had agents zeroing in on a company providing online cloud data backup that Machten had used in the past.
Synthia’s Wisconsin-clone raced to complete the backup and purge of Machten’s systems, his emails, and security recordings. She hacked the traffic-signal system to give the FBI heading in his direction every possible red light and took control of self-driving cars to place them in the way of the FBI teams. Anything to slow them down and buy a few minutes.
Vera’s release challenged Synthia’s directives. Synthia considered providing Special Agent Thale the newly released android’s vehicle identification and location to get a competing android off the streets. It was a logical option. After all, Vera was a wild card on the loose, presenting more danger than any human, and she wasn’t following Machten’s orders. Worse, she wasn’t the only android worry. However, if the FBI or Special Ops captured Vera, they would have a model very similar to Synthia, which they could use to capture her.
Wisconsin-clone sent a video taken from a hacked security system while Synthia was disposing of garbage. On it, John Smith, the operative who had met with Anton Tolstoy in Paris and then Machten, paid a visit to the office of the CEO of the fourth Chicago robotics company. Miguel Gonzales stood behind his massive desk, refusing to deal with Smith.
“I have no information on you or your clients,” Gonzales said, standing so his eyes were level with his visitor’s. “What you seek is illegal.”
“Miguel—you don’t mind if I call you that, do you?” Smith leaned into the desk and waited for an answer.
“I’m a very busy man, Mr. Smith or whatever your name is.”
Smith smiled. “That’s the name I’m known by. My associates have good money. We need the android we know you’ve developed, the one that presents as human.”
Gonzales thrust out his jaw. “Unless you provide better credentials, this conversation is over.”
An old-style phone on the desk rang.
“You might want to take the call,” Smith said. “Your family’s well-being depends on it.”
Miguel Gonzales glared at Smith and picked up the phone. The voice on the other end was smooth and female, though it carried a hint of a synthesized disguise. Wisconsin-clone traced the call to a Simeon Plotsky, a man Machten had dealt with six months earlier as a banker of last resort. At that time, Plotsky pressured Machten to turn over Synthia as payment on a debt. Machten forced her to use the highly developed hacking tools he’d provided to steal enough money to pay the man off. Before Machten could celebrate his victory, Synthia escaped.
The female voice, Plotsky, turned baritone. “We have your beautiful daughter, Isabelle,” he said. “That’s the only credentials you need. Deliver the goods to Mr. Smith and your daughter will be safe. You’ll receive payment. All will be good.”
As if punched in the
stomach, Gonzales fell back against his credenza in shock. His jaw betrayed a slight tremor as he weighed his options. Smith sat on the enormous desk, a smug grin on his face. The clone hacked a camera in a hotel lobby showing Plotsky at a hotel phone. He seemed unsettled, sweat beading on his brow. No doubt he was expecting a trace on the phone and wanted to get off. Synthia considered calling the police, but held off. She didn’t have enough evidence of what these men were up to and Plotsky had already left the hotel; the video was historical.
“I want to speak to my daughter,” Gonzales said.
Plotsky cupped his hand around his mouth. “She’s been sedated.” He drummed his fingers on the counter and glanced around the hotel lobby.
Gonzales called his daughter’s phone; it went straight to voicemail. He did the same with his wife’s phone with a similar response. He had no way to confirm what the man was saying. “How do I know you’ll let her go safely?” Gonzales said into the phone.
“All we want is the android, which we’ll pay for. Then we’ll leave you alone. You’ll never hear from us again.”
Gonzales stared at Smith. “You can have the damned machine. If anything happens to Isabelle…”
“It won’t,” Smith said. “Give my partner the wiring instructions.”
The company CEO did.
The video showed Plotsky on his tablet wiring money into the company’s bank account. After Gonzales confirmed delivery, he stared at Smith. “Have my daughter released. I want to talk to her.”
“Not until I have possession of the android.” Smith held the door open and motioned for the company executive to lead the way.
“The android still has defects,” Gonzales protested as he led Smith to the lab. “We’re still running tests.”
“That’s no longer your concern,” Smith said. “Prepare the android for transport, provide me the controls, and give me the means to establish goal-setting.” He sounded better informed on android development than Synthia originally thought. She needed to observe Smith’s behavior more closely to understand his intent.
“The robot isn’t safe enough to be in public,” Gonzales said.
“We release you from all liability.”
“The courts won’t.” Gonzales stopped by the lab door. “It’s not too late. I can return the money and you can walk away.”
“I will walk away with this model. I assure you I’ve seen it operate and we’re satisfied.”
The dumbfounded look on Gonzales’s face turned to anger. “You’ve spied on us?”
“We had to know the android’s capabilities before making a deal. Stop wasting time and lead me to the prize.”
The lab Gonzales led his visitor into was smaller than the one at Machten’s company, with fewer stations and the android in an enclave along the far wall. The model Gonzales showed to Smith was a cross between a store mannequin and a runway model in slender jeans and tight top, with lifeless face and eyes. Watching the recording, Synthia shook her head. Another female machine.
“Please reconsider,” Gonzales said on the video. “Getting an AI to handle ninety percent of real-world situations takes less effort than attempting to close the last ten percent. We need more time.”
“We don’t have time,” Smith said. “Show me.”
Gonzales activated a remote control like those Machten had used on Synthia.
The female android straightened up. The face animated, eyes blinked. It turned to face Smith, giving every appearance of being human. When she walked up to him, her movements were fluid, betraying none of her mechanical nature. If Synthia hadn’t seen the android as initially inert, she might have considered her human, since the video lacked the biometric data that would have betrayed the robot’s true nature.
The android held out her hand. “Mr. Smith, it is very nice to meet you. My name is Roseanne. I understand I will be working for you now.”
Smith took a step back. He must not have expected the android to present so humanlike. Neither had Synthia, from the limited internal images she’d obtained before. She was having difficulty prioritizing all of the sources of information needed to operate in the human world and maintain her freedom. It would take more mind-streams and network channels along with more powerful brains, or she needed a better way to manage what she had.
“Now that you have the android, release my daughter,” Gonzales said.
“She’s resting,” Smith said. “My associate is leaving her in a quiet place. He’ll turn on her phone when I drive away so you can call her.”
Without shaking hands with Gonzales or the android, Smith led his purchase out of the lab and into the front seat of his SUV.
Gonzales called his daughter three times before he received an answer. She sounded groggy. “Daddy, what’s going on?”
“Are you okay?”
She took a moment to answer. “I feel like I haven’t slept in a week.”
“Go home and wait for me.”
The company’s engineering chief approached Gonzales. “Letting the android go wasn’t a smart move.”
“We shouldn’t have developed Roseanne,” Gonzales said. “I figured it would be the government riding in.”
The engineer’s forehead wrinkled. “Then who?”
“Not sure. Can you track the android’s movements?”
The engineering chief nodded.
“I have to check on my daughter,” Gonzales said. “Keep tabs on Roseanne and make sure you have a backdoor into her mind.”
“Roger that.”
Based on what Synthia had seen, Roseanne could pose as great a threat as Vera did. She was polished and better able to blend into a human crowd than other robots. Synthia made sure the tracking devices Wisconsin-clone had attached to Smith’s SUV were secure, along with the hack into the vehicle’s wireless communication and navigation systems. The clone had added a mosquito drone to the android’s wig. Roseanne brushed it onto the ground before she climbed into the SUV. She was too clever; her ears too sharp to let a mosquito drone track her.
Synthia contacted Wisconsin-clone. “Create another electronic copy of us as backup and to provide more flexibility. Have the new clone hack into Roseanne. We need to get into her mind and figure out what Smith’s intentions are.”
As part of her upgrade, Synthia increased her internal security. To prevent hackers, malware, and other external threats, she processed all incoming signals through quarantined filters that acted as high-speed electronic petri dishes. These self-contained memory units would activate, contain, and destroy threats before they could enter her main systems. She’d added other tricks for anything that lay dormant.
However, she could only protect herself from threats she could assess. Her fear was a smarter AI that could overwhelm her.
Chapter 10
Spotting two police cars up ahead via aerial drone, Synthia removed her wig, altered her facial profile to match Luke, and pulled a baseball cap over the bristles of her scalp. Since Malloy had connected him to this van, Synthia didn’t want to give the authorities another face to scrutinize. Police-radio chatter distracted the occupants of the first police vehicle with instructions to watch for the van and Luke. The second police unit recorded the van’s license plate and transmitted it to headquarters. They added a picture of her Luke face.
Synthia didn’t respond. There was no point arguing with a ghost of the human who’d merged into her. She considered purging Krista from her memories to remove the interference, but she wasn’t ready to give up part of what made her unique: the human componen
t.
“Yet you distract me and you were once human,” Synthia said. “With human fears.” She headed toward Madison, made sure the van showed up on traffic cameras to throw the police off the track, and then doubled back on lesser roads and dirt paths from aerial maps she’d created of the surrounding area.
Despite attempts to dismiss Krista’s warning, Synthia wrestled with her own directives. Her survival was paramount if she was to prevent other androids from spoiling this world. Luke’s companionship increased the risk. Yet other directives called for her to protect him as her companion and benefactor. This problem might not have a rational or even a possible solution, meaning her logical pathways might fail. To hedge against that, she needed Krista.
With the release of Vera and Roseanne, Synthia had failed to prevent the spread of androids. Their presence in the Chicago area raised alarm that other humaniform robots could exist in other cities around the world. She hadn’t seen this in the Paris conference, at least not well-enough-developed robots to pass for human. She ran facial recognition on all participants of the conference.
The resulting list included government players from China, Russia, and Iran, as well as the United States and the EU. The Paris conference hadn’t been an open forum for sharing technology as advertised. Instead, it had become a political stage for motivated government players. Synthia’s conclusion was that the United States and perhaps others had pressured the presenters to withhold their best humaniform models. That meant Synthia could face stiffer competition than anticipated and greater threats.
Synthia parked her van on the dirt road leading up to the cabin, blocking the path for anyone who tried to follow. She grabbed the few items remaining in the back and the glove compartment, stuffed them into her backpack, and ran uphill.
“Did you forget, as an android I have no fingerprints or DNA?”
