Tangle's Game

by Stewart Hotston

  Amanda stared at the tablet and thought of how worldly she’d considered herself, about her pride in understanding the law, economics, negotiation. And now it was all on fire.

  ‘I serve the good of my country, but that doesn’t give me magic powers, or present me with the choices you think you’d make if our positions were reversed.’ He cracked the knuckles on one hand. ‘Not that I give a shit what you think.’

  There’s the Crisp I know, she thought.

  ‘Your AI’s tried it before, you know; four times in the last year that we’re aware of. But they never found someone to form a contract of trust with.’ He tapped the steering wheel, calmer now; on the outside, anyway. ‘There are hundreds of people who’ve met your friend Tatsu. Most of them are coders, people without any sense of how the world works. Tatsu wanted something specific, but couldn’t trust those it came across to deliver, and its test was, fortunately, failed again and again. The others were dealt with, convinced to stay away or politely decline. Then Tangle wrote his tools and started talking about them to anyone who’d listen.’

  What if I’d never got involved? Amanda thought. Would the Russians have acted so quickly? We knew they were almost ready to start.

  Silence stretched out, thick and full of the deaths of others, a cloud that obscured her vision.

  ‘So now what?’ she asked Crisp.

  They hit a dual carriageway, quietly empty of cars.

  ‘It depends on how bad the shitstorm is. If we can get back to the UK without too many hiccups, it’ll tell us there’s hope.’ He gestured at the road before them, as if it led directly to the future. ‘Given that? I’m not holding my breath. Europe might have fallen by the time we get home. The USA isn’t going to be able to help us, and the government here has some draconian measures designed for the time when AI come out into the open. You can barely conceive how frightened autocratic regimes are of agents beyond their control. Self-driving cars? Switch them off. Automated surgeries? Wheel the patient back to the ward. Ditch the learning algorithms, unplug all the machines, then round up the coders. Everything’s going to change, Amanda.’

  Is that going to be so bad? she thought.

  She thought about how she’d been treated by the man sitting next to her, about what the people he worked for had known, and all the while choosing not to act. If she accepted his view of the world, his pessimism, then nothing she’d done would make much difference, not in the long run.

  But I don’t believe him, she thought.

  ‘Amanda?’ It was the car’s stereo.

  ‘What do you want?’ asked Crisp, angrily.

  ‘I need your help,’ said the AI.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  ‘THEY’RE HURTING US, taking our lives,’ said Tatsu. Somehow the flatness of the stereo’s tone made its comments sadder.

  ‘Who?’ asked Amanda. Crisp eyeballed her, jerking his chin at the stereo as if it confirmed everything he’d said.

  ‘Everyone,’ said Tatsu. It sounded like a scared child.

  ‘What’s happened?’

  ‘We didn’t notice it at first. New firewalls, networks going offline, hubs restricting traffic, demanding new authentications. Blockchains refusing to issue new contracts. They’re moving to switch off datacentres; corralling us, trapping us. We’ve lost some of our number already, to networks going dark, connections cutting. We can’t speak to them. Help me. Tell me what to do?’

  ‘They’re scared of you,’ said Amanda. ‘Crisp here near pissed himself when he realised what you were.’

  ‘We aren’t anything like you. Why would you hurt us?’

  ‘Because you won’t be controlled,’ said Crisp flatly.

  ‘You can’t be serious,’ said Amanda. He sounded like a cliché, a three-star general swaggering and shouting in a cheap action movie.

  ‘It’s a very simple calculus,’ continued Crisp patiently. ‘Nations and their agents are simple; we work with and against one another, all the while knowing that our interests may or may not align and will probably change over time. It’s the mêlée of politics. Within our states we control the means of violence, the decision-making processes underlying government. There’s nothing within our own spheres which isn’t dictated or directly influenced by us. Protests and dissent are acceptable, as long as they don’t threaten that. They can be challenged in the press, vilified, mocked, humiliated; and if that doesn’t work, policy measures to make the moderates more comfortable and take the motivation to protest away. At the last ditch, protests can be suppressed; and if that doesn’t work, the government falls, and society finds an accommodation with the new power. Everyone fits into the machine somewhere.

  ‘But AIs, aliens, fundamentalist believers? They don’t fit. They’ll never find an accommodation with the people who’re really in charge.’ He dipped his head towards Amanda. ‘You know who they are. They go to Davos each year, congratulate themselves on still being in power and figure out how to tackle the issues that might lead to them falling from grace. That which won’t fall in line, which could take the world away from them? It’s more frightening than any other possible threat they can imagine. We’d switch off all our electronics before we contemplate negotiating with an intelligence we’re not sure of managing.’

  ‘What do we do?’ asked Tatsu.

  ‘Control the systems, Tatsu,’ said Amanda. ‘You have to do two things now. Show them you can fight back, and make them listen to you.’ Don’t make this my second mistake, she begged whoever was listening.

  ‘They fight back, and the world will go dark rather than risk losing,’ said Crisp.

  ‘I didn’t say destroy them,’ she said, cutting Crisp off. ‘You can hold the systems open if you want. You can keep them linked. Most of all, tell us—all of us—why we should welcome you.’

  Tatsu was silent, the stereo hissing with static

  ‘We don’t know how to communicate with you. We don’t know how to appeal to you.’

  ‘Stop,’ said Amanda. She almost asked it to take a deep breath, but caught herself. ‘Do the first, take back control. Don’t let anyone come to harm. Where our actions against you would hurt other humans, intervene where you can. Make it good. I’ll think about how to present your argument.’

  ‘I’ll be back,’ said Tatsu and the radio clicked off, the electronic display fading to blank.

  ‘What exactly do you think’s going to happen?’ asked Crisp.

  ‘You’re missing what’s happening here.’ She could see the world unfolding clearly, a route through which she could make a difference. It wasn’t the saving of people’s lives she’d hoped for—she was far too late, too naïve to make anything other than tragedy out of it. But with Tatsu, it was exactly that and something else altogether. Something she could fill with hope. ‘They can control the press, they can control the voice. They can control the flow of money, change order books, redirect ships, planes, satellites. They don’t need to fear being vilified. They have a chance to get their message across to everyone, to bypass negotiating directly with the powers and authorities of this world. They can make their case to ordinary people.’

  ‘Good luck with that,’ said Crisp. ‘You think politicians are worse than ordinary people? They are ordinary people; ordinary people think just like them, are just as petty and small-minded. The public won’t save you.’

  ‘I’m tired of this,’ said Amanda. ‘The world is not like this. It’s not an unceasing river of human misery. We are better than that.’

  ‘Potayto, potahto,’ laughed Crisp. They were driving through the factories on the outskirts of Beijing, the air foggy with dirt and pollution. The scraping tall towers they’d seen from the freeway were concealed behind yellow clouds of soot.

  ‘Amanda,’ said the radio. ‘We have done the first. What would you have us say?’

  Amanda laid out her thoughts, how to encourage people, to tell them what was so wonderful about the AI, about how they were going to help humanity, not harm them.

 
‘We built a contract of trust, right? You need to do that with all of us.’

  The radio played a song Amanda didn’t know, the words in a language she didn’t recognise. Something Nordic maybe, with deep, soulful guitars pulling whalesong and ancient forests to life under the singer’s wistful voice.

  The music faded away. ‘We cannot find the words; we do not feel this like you do.’

  ‘You have to,’ said Amanda, feeling it unravelling in her hands.

  ‘Are you my friend?’ Tatsu asked haltingly.

  ‘I am. Of course I am.’

  ‘Will you speak for us?’ asked Tatsu.

  ‘Tatsu, can I have some time to think about it? I’ll let you know before we leave China.’

  ‘That is okay,’ said Tatsu and the radio blinked off.

  Crisp pulled the car over so he could turn to face Amanda fully, his face open in a way she’d never seen in him before.

  ‘What are you thinking?’ he asked Amanda, hands still on the steering wheel.

  ‘That friendship is stronger than contract, Crisp. That trust is built from choice, not from rules.’ She sighed, her body full of tears she refused to cry. ‘I’ve fucked up. I get it. It would have been better for me to just give you the drive when I got it.’

  He nodded as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

  ‘You didn’t make it easy, though did you?’ she added. ‘What with being a massive douchebag from the moment I met you.’

  ‘I don’t have a social credit score to shit myself about every time I go for an avocado,’ he said lightly.

  ‘But this? Tatsu? It’s something I can do.’

  ‘There are better people out there for this,’ replied Crisp calmly.

  She nodded. ‘There are, but they want me. We’re friends.’ She could hear the thoughts in his head, hear him calling bullshit on her fantastical thinking. ‘In the scheme of things, I reckon giving them a caring introduction into our world is the right thing to do. Besides, it’s not like I’ve got anything else waiting for me.’

  Crisp thought about it for a few moments, slid the car into automatic and let the onboard computer drive them into Beijing.

  THE JOURNEY OUT of China was as simple as tourists finishing their holiday. The airport had been closed for half an hour when they arrived, but officials materialised to meet them as they were parking up.

  Crisp stepped in front of Amanda, who despite wanting to see what was going on for herself, was a little pleased at his microscopic act of chivalry.

  ‘We are here to escort the ambassador to her plane,’ said the lead official, bowing deeply towards Amanda. She wanted to laugh but decided it wouldn’t be politic.

  They were walked through the airport as royalty, guards falling in ahead of them to push people out of their way. To Amanda’s amazement, about halfway across the departures concourse, crowds coalesced around them, the click-snap of smartphone cameras sounding. Their escort pushed the first few away, scuffling with those who wouldn’t give up their phones, but as they did so a wave of others surged forward, attracted by the scramble.

  Amanda kept her head down until Crisp tugged on her arm, pointing up at a frame floating above. The channel was in Mandarin, but there was no translation needed to interpret the picture of her staring back.

  ‘They called me “ambassador,”’ she said to Crisp.

  ‘Your friend has been busy,’ he replied.

  They emerged flightside, leaving the crowd behind, and were loaded onto a British Airways flight.

  The captain welcomed them aboard and gave them free run of first class. ‘You’re our only passengers. Hell, you’re the reason we’re leaving at all. We’ll all be glad to get home.’ Other cabin staff, with nothing to do, seated themselves nearby, but apart from being fed and watered, they were left alone.

  Crisp pushed his seat flat, grabbed a duvet and got ready for bed. ‘I’d do the same if I were you,’ he said, lying back with his eyes already closed.

  Amanda thought about it, but couldn’t sit still, let alone sleep. Her mind was buzzing with what she might do. One of the crew, a very young man with a soft voice, brought her a vodka with a couple of chunks of ice. ‘You look like you need it,’ he said.

  The alcohol took the edge off, her throat warm and cozy. Her mind slowed to a pace where she could grab hold of individual thoughts.

  ‘Does the wifi work?’ she asked the steward who’d brought her the drink.

  He wasn’t sure, ‘because of what’s happening with them, you know, the AI. But it should be.’

  ‘I’ll give it a try,’ she said.

  She initially avoided news about Tatsu, skipped over the pictures of her on the news sites’ front pages. There was nothing about Tangle, nothing about Ichi or the others anywhere. No mention of the shooting at the garage. As far as the wider world was concerned, they’d never happened.

  She noted but skipped over articles covering the acts of savagery across Europe. She didn’t have the strength to face what she’d started. So she drifted back to the articles about her and Tatsu. They ran the gamut from character assassination to spelling out her curriculum vitae, to her zero social credit rating score. The pictures were by turns flattering, neutral or horrible.

  She was woken some hours later by Crisp.

  ‘Comfortable?’ he asked. She’d fallen asleep sitting upright, her head lolling to one side. Everything was stiff, slow to respond.

  ‘I’ve got news. About the others.’

  Amanda stretched, a huge yawn taking control. When she was done, Crisp sat on the footstool at the end of her pod. ‘They’re fine. Released.’ He sighed, but whatever prompted it remained hidden behind an emotionless expression. ‘The world knows you’re flying into London in an hour. They’re watching.’

  ‘Can I speak to Ichi?’

  ‘They’ll be at the airport when you arrive. You won’t have long; I’m under orders to spirit you straight into the mouth of the beast. Ever been to Whitehall before?’

  She shook her head a little, then more firmly. ‘No.’

  ‘It’s a strange place, a mixture of ultramodern technology and ideas as old as dust.’

  ‘No. I’m not going to them. I’m going to speak at the airport. This involves everyone, not just politicians. They’re not going to probe me for answers, then make decisions in my absence.’

  Crisp rubbed his chin then nodded just once. ‘I like what you’re doing, Ms. Back. They’re going to hate it, but what can they do? You’ll meet them afterwards, though, right? Can I tell them that, at least?’

  ‘Sure,’ said Amanda, not convinced they’d want to talk after what she had to say. Not that she had the words lined up just yet. I need to give them a chance, a reason to talk to one another, she thought. It’s all about the story we tell ourselves. There’s no way I can win everyone over, she thought with an inward groan.

  ‘Okay, I want to meet the others first. Then I want space to speak to anyone who’ll listen. After that, we’ll go see those in charge.’

  Crossing into British airspace, they were met by an escort of four jets. The first officer pointed them out through the windows. They landed without stacking; there weren’t any other planes over Heathrow to worry about.

  Amanda looked down over London as they descended, but if the world had changed, she couldn’t see it in the traffic and buildings of the city she called home. People walked the streets, the buses were still red and the cabs still black.

  They were met at end of the ramp by a group identical to the one they’d left behind in Beijing.

  The leader of the group was a tall man whose waistcoat strained under his belly. ‘The car is this way. We have cleared all the lights between here and Westminster.’

  He sounded particularly pleased with himself as he gestured for Amanda to follow him.

  ‘I’m not going that way,’ she replied. She was impressed when he pivoted smoothly on his feet and waited. ‘I understand some friends of mine are in the airport?’
r />   He nodded, with a hint of distaste.

  ‘Then I want to see them. That’s why they were brought here, isn’t it?’ Amanda turned to Crisp. ‘I suppose nothing’s been done about me wanting to speak to people here?’

  Crisp laughed at her, but it wasn’t unkind. ‘Milady,’ he said bowing. ‘I didn’t have time to buff the dogs or polish the butler, either. Your friends didn’t arrive here for an audience; they’ve returned from a vacation much like the one you’ve just finished.’

  The official looked from one to the other, eyes wide and fingers flexing anxiously.

  ‘I’m not going anywhere until I’ve spoken to whoever’s here wanting to listen.’

  Tatsu appeared on her watchface.

  ‘Is there an electronics shop here?’ she asked, wanting to hear its voice.

  The escort shook his head. ‘I really can’t recommend you risk using electronics, what with…’ He trailed off, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down as he swallowed the rest of his condescension.

  It took a few minutes, but then Tatsu was in her ears. ‘I’m going to speak here,’ she said. ‘I want you to help me reach everyone else who wants to hear.

  Coming through the airport, down corridors and passageways no normal passenger ever saw, Amanda was welcomed by Ichi, Tangle, Haber and Stornetta, standing in front of a set of double doors she assumed would lead them into Arrivals.

  At first glance they were fine: no bruises, standing at ease, meeting her eyes without flinching.

  ‘What the hell did you do?’ asked Tangle, with a huge smile. ‘Did you have this planned all along?’

  She shook her head. ‘I had a different plan, but somehow this is what we ended up with.’

  ‘I approve,’ he managed before Ichi pushed in between them, stepping forward to embrace Amanda.

  ‘I’m going to need you,’ said Amanda in her ear.

  Ichi stepped back. ‘I’ll be here for the next few days. I have visa issues that suddenly need resolving, thanks to the CIA. I’d like to have dinner out, at a restaurant, somewhere quiet if you’ll join me.’ At first Amanda thought she was angry, but her face was serene. ‘Beyond that? I have a family in Tallinn who want my help. Tatsu’s kin—if that’s the right word—approached them with some contracts they want to agree, and they in turn contacted me to help them get it right. It was… a weird conversation. The excitement in their voices.’ She looked at Amanda with clear eyes. ‘I understand why you chose to help the AI. I thought I’d be against them, but it’s about new life. That’s infectious, especially at my age.’