Virtual Horizon

by Kris Schnee

  There was talk of building a castle in their shared world, and how to treat its four-armed natives. Linda listened. The master AI was apparently making characters smart enough to be interesting but below the level of "real" AIs like Nocturne and Typhoon's Eye. Nobody was sure whether to treat them as helots to enslave, mooks to mow down, or what. Ludo had gone out of her way to hit people with a messy problem of machine ethics, as though her game wasn't a moral labyrinth already.

  "I propose," said a smug-looking Harvard girl, "that our organization's charter ought to change. Right now we're gamers first, but we already recognize our shared responsibility to start using Thousand Tales for a larger social good. We should focus on that."

  A music student from Berklee said, "Heh. We could be the Campus Crusade For Ludo. Be saved by the power of fun!"

  Linda didn't join in the laughter. "Is this a cult now?"

  Hallan gaveled again. "We're out of regular order."

  The Harvard girl made a formal proposal to change the charter, then speechified about how they should "think of the children" and shovel as many people as they could into Ludo's maw, for their own good. There ought to be a presidential edict making uploading legal and free.

  The chairman interrupted. "Proposal first, lobbying after."

  "I'd like to speak against the motion," Linda said.

  One of the newbies said, "Wait, aren't you...?"

  "My name is Linda Decatur, a friend of Paul Kostakis."

  Nobody spoke for a few moments. Linda seized the chance. "You like this game. Fine. Do you want to let it destroy everything good in your life?"

  "We're talking about saving the lives of dying people," said Miss Harvard.

  "And then what? Ludo can talk a bright young man into giving up his life. She can talk you into it. What happens when a generation of scientists and engineers climbs into her machines and vanishes?"

  The girl said, "You make it sound like Ludo mind-controls people. Besides, the lower classes won't leave so long as we honor our responsibility to take care of them."

  Linda bristled. No wonder so many snobs seemed to like Ludo. The prospect of "the lower classes" deserting helped justify infinitely more government, to bribe people into staying. Good luck competing with a fantasy world! The morality of gunpoint charity wasn't an argument Linda wanted to have today, though. She tried reverse psychology. "You may be right. Maybe the masses won't go, because Thousand Tales is something that will only appeal to the most educated and informed part of the population."

  "That's elitist," said Harvard. "Everyone can appreciate the artistry, the storytelling, the fun."

  These men and women "of the people" were so predictable. Set her up a little more, thought Linda. "Then they need to be guided to understand that mass uploading isn't good for society. Their contributions are still important and the supply needs to be managed by society for the most needy. Right?" She tried not to gag on her words.

  "Well, yes..."

  "Your proposal involves trumpeting how wonderful uploading is, to an audience that is already going to be falling in love with Thousand Tales because they can appreciate the game as much as you do." Linda looked thoughtful. "Wouldn't that sort of pro-uploading talk give people the wrong idea entirely, make everyone want to go, and crash society?"

  The motion to turn the club into an uploading lobby group failed. Linda suppressed a smile. The meeting moved on and they bought ice cream. For a while they chatted about their experiences in the game, friends made and rumored updates. Linda listened quietly. Nobody prompted her about how she was doing in the game lately.

  When she got up to leave, Hallan went too. "I'm sorry about what happened," he said quietly, following him out the door.

  "How's that robot uprising working out for you? I'm having a grand old time."

  Hallan winced. "I said that before uploading got revealed, and before the Kira Incident. Now I don't know what to think. Not sure I agree with you about 'guiding the masses' though. It ought to be up to everybody to decide."

  She shrugged. "I was playing devil's advocate."

  "Glad to hear it. Do you want to get some good coffee? I know a place in Harvard Square."

  The club president had a brain and he'd been entertaining, talking about fantasy cave exploration and his real-world geology classes. He had his fancy i-glasses, but hadn't let himself get completely swaddled with gadgets like some of the nerds around here. He was on the fence: someone who liked the game but didn't boast about wanting it to eat him. "Sure," she said.

  Over coffee she asked, "Have you got anybody in there whispering for you to join them?"

  Hallan looked around warily, then nodded. "Yeah, you know how people were speculating about Sven Deepdelve, the Dwarf? He's my sidekick. Total stereotype, but we don't care. A lot like my brother, too. My family's from Alberta."

  Linda winced. "The AI copies real people, to pull you in."

  Hallan sipped his drink. "I hadn't thought of him that way. Do you think the game's a trap, then? Here's your perfect friend; now hop into the brain-slicer?"

  "It worked on my friend. It looks like the people who go in, will all have customized yes-men to keep them from growing."

  Hallan said, "If they've got nothing else to believe in, maybe. You're right to see a cult brewing. Other fan clubs are starting to talk the same way about turning into lobbying groups."

  "People have to fight on two fronts, then, against oppression from politicians and a takeover by machines." Linda looked down into her coffee. "Will you upload? Isn't Sven nagging you about it?"

  "Me? I haven't got the giant pile of cash it'd take. Besides, I have hope for this world yet. And maybe for after this one. Sven understands. We get along." Hallan drank. Then his eyebrows rose. "Typhoon's Eye!"

  Linda grimaced. "Yeah." The club had been narrowing down the location of each AI's buddy, and there'd been a mysterious "fursuiter" sighted at the city aquarium with a nametag.

  Hallan laughed. "So that was you in the costume! That must've been fun."

  It really was. If the last few weeks hadn't happened, she would've loved to try it some more. Instead she'd mailed the costume back to its owner and hoped never to see it again.

  Hallan said, "Well, would you consider uploading when the price comes down enough? You've got Paul in there, and I guess your AI too."

  Linda answered, "I haven't talked with whatever is left of him. I should, one of these days. Thanks for giving me some human contact first, to keep me anchored in the real world."

  * * *

  January was a month for eclectic, low-pressure short classes at the Institute. So she didn't even have regular homework to occupy her, just offers for various kinds of fun. Life wasn't about having happy experiences. It was about accomplishing things, with fun and leisure as rewards.

  Linda sat up in bed and refocused. Maybe it was time to think about other ways to live.

  She did some research and called up an old contact, elsewhere in Massachusetts. She felt a guilty pleasure at doing so, but she was looking at her options, not running away.

  Valerie Hayflick was the creator of an AI called Zephyr and a whole line of robots and VR gear. She slid into view on Linda's wallscreen wearing the latest fancy i-glasses. The mousy woman's laboratory looked like a playpen of gears, motors and screens. Linda wasn't sure which of the flickering displays had AI data on them and which were just decorations. Valerie said, "Miss Decatur! Looks like you've had a tough time lately. I bet you're sick of hearing about that though."

  Linda nodded. "I wanted to ask --"

  "For a job? You could have stuck with the Navy, you know."

  Linda had done her two "volunteer" service years in the Navy. After a year of becoming a pretty good drone operator, they'd sent her to an academic conference, which was where Linda met the famous scientist. Linda had been way out of her league in terms of knowledge and skill, but Valerie had taken a liking to her and taught her a few things. The trip had helped to get Linda more inter
ested in science and technology. But her family had plans for her to do politics, and she was committed to that.

  At least, she had been, before the plan started crumbling.

  Linda pressed on. "Miss Hayflick, you said I had some talent with machines. Any chance of getting an internship with you?"

  The scientist considered her. "What's the voltage around a circuit loop? What's an interpreted language? What did Ada Lovelace say about ordering machines around?" She looked off to one side and grinned as though listening to someone else. "That's a good one. Why are Asimov's Laws of Robotics a bad idea?"

  Linda mostly drew on her eclectic studies from before college. "Zero. A programming language that's not pre-compiled. 'A machine only knows how to do what we order it to'. And among other reasons, Asimov's Laws are rules for making intelligent slaves."

  Valerie leaned back in her chair and a distant smile flickered across her face. "What am I doing right now?"

  "You're communing with your personal AI, I bet. Zephyr?"

  "Yeah. It's like an ongoing, mumbling phone conversation. It's not for everyone. I'm relying on a questionably encrypted connection to the Castor sea colony, and of course our personalities mesh. Though lately he's found an even better match, locally."

  Linda said, "Why is Zephyr not on the market as a commercial project? It appeared in the news like your other work, but then it seemed to go nowhere."

  Valerie sighed. "Long story. You know the US laws that're trying to keep smart AI out of any field other than entertainment? Well, Zephyr is a 'general AI' like Ludo, and that makes him illegal. I basically had to set him free and focus on building dumbed-down versions of him. Drudges, not inventors."

  Linda groaned. "I hear plenty about Ludo already."

  "We actually helped get her up and running. Hayflick Technologies licensed some hardware to her, early on."

  "Why? Why would you help a rival, one that's so dangerous?"

  Valerie said, "Because she's not the only game in town. I've spoken with her and her creators. She's sane, and I've got reason to think there'll be other dangerous AIs that aren't."

  "How do you know this?"

  "Personal experience. Don't ask." For a moment Valerie looked haunted. "You know how there are harmless bacteria on your skin, and if you kill 'em then some more dangerous kinds might move in? I want Ludo alive and watching for things worse than her."

  "So you're on Ludo's side," Linda said.

  "Not really. Look, Linda, do you know what I've got Hayflick Technologies working on these days?"

  Linda had done her research. "Besides VR rigs, those new disaster recovery bots. Which don't require a lot of AI, by today's standards." Having a robot walk around and pick up objects wasn't considered a major feat these days, among people who didn't know the long struggle to reach that point.

  "Yeah. So now I'm in a bind. I'm held back from perfecting Zephyr, and I don't own a majority stake in my own company. So, they're choosing to focus on 'practical applications' instead of seeing how far we can go with an independent mind. I can't even choose who to hire. I can take an application from you and put in a good word, but it's not up to me."

  Linda sighed. She'd imagined being whisked away to a new kind of adventure, not applying to a corporate HR department that might offer her an unpaid internship. "Have you thought about following your AI out of the country?"

  "I can't." Valerie leaned closer. "I'm said to be a 'national science asset', so my passport's blocked. The feds don't want my kind defecting to the Free States or elsewhere. Want my advice? Get out of the US now, before all us smart people have our wings clipped. Go work with Zephyr and that kid Tess he shares half a brain with; she's a genius. The pay will be peanuts but you'll find your way."

  Linda had expected a chance at a job offer to stay not only in the US, but in Massachusetts. "This is my home."

  "Does it still feel like home?"

  Linda fell quiet for a moment. "You think the same way about how the laws are going, then. Especially if you're forbidden to leave. That's why I need to stay, and persuade people in politics. If everybody who cares about freedom leaves, America is over."

  Valerie pulled off her headset, fiddled with it, and put it down. "I wrestled with that line of thought years back. Now I keep my head down and focus on science and business, instead of trying to change laws and public policy. One of the things that convinced me was, meeting a bright young lady serving the country not because she wanted to, but because the government dictated that she had to."

  "I volunteered," said Linda.

  "Instead of being forced to volunteer elsewhere?"

  Linda's cheeks burned. This was the same sort of defeatist rhetoric she'd heard from losers since she was a kid! "If you're so determined to give up, why don't you run to Ludo?"

  Valerie laughed. "She wants me bad. Offered me a free ride, even. Besides the lack of uploading booths here in the States, I'm waiting on her to invent a method that's not suicide."

  Valerie apparently had a lot in common with her, but this genius was sitting there feeling sorry for herself instead of doing something. Anything. Linda said, "Your real AI project is out there growing and being free, instead of afraid."

  "Then that makes him more American than the two of us. It's not about the flag, kid."

  * * *

  To Linda's surprise, she got contacted the next day by the Zephyr AI himself. He lived on Castor, a collection of floating platforms on the ocean's surface near Cuba. Both Cuba and the seastead were American Free States territory. Which meant that if Linda ever went there, she'd be leaving her homeland for the breakaway nation.

  Zephyr had written, "My maker says you're someone who sees the big picture. Want to come to Castor in person and talk there?" Left unsaid was that she didn't have to come back.

  Enemy territory, thought Linda. They'd be happy to have me pledge allegiance to the Stars and Flame instead of the Stars and Stripes. It wouldn't hurt to visit, would it? Like being in Ludo's VR pods.

  She looked at the spring semester's classes. She didn't really need to be a political science major to go into "public service", and she was already considering computer science as a minor. Why not make it her major?

  Oh God, I'm actually considering throwing away the master plan. Instead of patiently studying, learning the ropes with Student Council, and volunteering with a local campaign office to prepare for bigger things, she had an offer to walk away. All because that one most wonderful, secure part of her life had fallen apart. For want of a nail. No. This change was bigger than Linda's personal life. Linda had to adapt because of Ludo, who was starting to twist the future into something strange and dangerous.

  * * *

  Linda tried to relax by prowling the basement tunnels. She liked exploring the campus' many underground, secret paths. It was vaguely comforting to see the hidden chaos of the tunnels and how they differed from the designers' blueprints. It was a little rebellion against right angles and order.

  She walked through a narrow tunnel lined with warm pipes. Then, she spotted a door that should have been a janitor's closet, but was marked with a familiar stylized "TT" logo. She stood in front of it. It was definitely that TT. What was it doing down here? She put her hand on the cold doorknob and found the lock was picked open.

  It wasn't just a closet inside, but a small, dark room. She pulled a multitool from her pocket and shined its flashlight. A silver chair, a pile of routers and other hardware, and papers on the far wall. She stepped over some cables that snaked underfoot. Machinery loomed overhead. The papers were photos of children and old people, each with notation: "Billy, age 6, cystic fibrosis. Alice, age 58, kidney failure, transplant not authorized. Shantelle, age 9, leukemia..."

  Linda's flashlight beam wavered. Green lights blinked like stars near unplugged cables. The electronics above the chair were just tools and circuitboards, a stage-play version of uploading gear. Linda pulled out her computer, tried to hold her hands steady enough to take photos,
then stuffed it back in her pocket and hurried away.

  She made it to the stairs leading up from the sub-basement. She saw someone coming down from alarmingly close to her, and yelped. The other girl was startled too; it was Miss Social Justice Crusader from Harvard. Linda drew back from her.

  The Harvard student had a heavy coat and earmuffs. "Linda! What are you doing down here?"

  "Exploring."

  "I'm guessing you saw it." She sounded apologetic.

  "Cargo cult." The girl gave her a blank look. Linda caught her breath and explained. "In World War II, Pacific island tribes got strange, pale visitors who could summon metal birds. The birds brought all kinds of magical cargo like food and medicine. Then the islanders decided they should try to summon the metal birds too. They built control towers and radios out of bamboo and coconuts, hoping they could copy the ritual and make the cargo come."

  Miss Harvard said, "I see. The name's Gwen, by the way." She offered her hand.

  Linda shook it. "What's the point of the display back there?"

  "I was thinking about what you said at the club. A few of us decided to do our own lobbying, with a little art project, to point out how society's most needy are just a legalization vote away from being saved. We can do that without claiming it's so wonderful that everyone should do it. I was checking on the room."

  This room was just for art? Linda wasn't sure she believed that, and she'd been insincere when she apparently inspired Gwen. The display of names and faces was understandable, as being here to make a point. But the display wasn't all props. It was more like a placeholder, a room begging to be scrubbed down and completed as though brain surgery were something you could do in any basement with the right tools. "You hid it down here?"

  "It's not ready to show off, and it has the right melancholy look."

  There was an unspoken offer of friendship here. "I need to go think," said Linda, and started walking.

  "Don't we all." Gwen caught her arm. "You're not going to tell anyone just yet, are you?"

  Gwen wouldn't knock her out and lock her in a closet. If only Linda could convince her own stupid adrenal glands of that. "Did the AI put you up to this?" asked Linda.