‘I’m a little uncomfortable with it myself,’ Aneka put in. ‘Xinti AIs in particular tend to view themselves as inferior to, uh, natural intelligences. It’s not so much that Al wants to be my servant as that it’s his nature to be.’
‘I have a purpose,’ Al replied. ‘Much of Human, and Jenlay, history has been taken up with people trying to discover why they are here, what their purpose is. I believe that knowing why I exist is a positive thing. I have come to understand why Aneka is uncomfortable with my nature, however. I view it as a very positive aspect of her character.’
‘You appear to consider her something other than an artificial intelligence? I assume you both know that there’s a move in the Senate to have you classified as such?’
‘I’d heard,’ Aneka said.
‘Aneka is not an artificial intelligence,’ Al said, very firmly.
‘An argument could be made,’ Aneka went on, ‘that I am, but I guess it depends upon your definition of AI. If a mind running on a computer is an AI, no matter how the mind got there, then I’m an AI. If how that digital mind was created matters, then I’m not. I’m afraid that’s something for the lawyers and politicians to decide.’
‘Whatever the case,’ Al said, ‘Aneka would still be a citizen of the Federation, as am I. I must say that it is pleasing that I can now be acknowledged as such openly.’
‘I’m sure it is,’ Julietta said, ‘but, Aneka, isn’t it a little awkward at times, always having Al in your head?’
‘I think it’s easier for me than for him, actually. He can read my thoughts while I just hear his voice. He’s considerate. He respects the fact that I need time to myself. But he’s an independent mind with thoughts of his own and he’s got very limited ways of expressing himself. He can’t control my body. He can’t speak except over a wireless connection. He sees only what I want to look at.’
‘My purpose makes that easier to bear than it would be for an organic,’ Al replied, ‘but I admit that it can be a little frustrating at times. It would be convenient to have my own body at times, but I simply cannot contemplate wishing to leave Aneka.’
‘That sounds almost like love,’ Julietta commented.
‘Platonic love,’ Al replied. ‘Perhaps. I’m not sure I’m capable of the same form of emotional expression that you, or Aneka, are capable of. Is it love if it’s written into your basic code?’
Julietta smiled. ‘I think you could say that is what love feels like.’
‘Al’s my friend,’ Aneka said, a little quietly, and then remembered she was talking to an audience. ‘I don’t know what I’d do without him. And there’s been all this talk of me being some sort of heroine for saving people, well I couldn’t have done half of it without Al there to back me up. If I’m a heroine, he’s a hero.’
‘I just do as I’m programmed to do,’ Al replied.
‘And a modest one,’ Julietta said. ‘And on that note, our time is up. I’d like to thank our guests for tonight, Beatrice Crook, Aneka Jansen, and Al. I’ll be back next week on Federation Life!’
Aneka let herself relax as the applause started. It seemed very loud. That had to be good, right?
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‘I think the term “unbridled success” is appropriate.’ Elroy and Ollander were up on the big screen in the lounge, in separate windows. Elroy was the one speaking, but despite his words he did not look entirely happy. ‘The morning poll results are in and there has been a three per cent increase in positive reaction to you, Aneka. More importantly, there has been a seven per cent decrease in negative reaction.’
‘I was in the audience,’ Ella said, ‘and everyone around me seemed pretty happy about her. I was proud of her, and Al.’
Ollander’s lips twitched at the corners. ‘Yes, I believe some of the less official polls have some interesting things to tell about public reaction. A poll of seven hundred and sixteen naval officers found that eighty-three per cent of them would like a pin-up poster of Aneka for their bunkroom.’ Aneka shifted a little in her seat. Ella just grinned. ‘A poll of eleven thousand six hundred Jenlay citizens found that seventy-two per cent of men and fifty-four per cent of women would like to date Aneka.’ Now Ella shifted in her seat, snuggling a little closer to her girlfriend. ‘Sixteen per cent of men and fifty-nine per cent of women would date Al if he had an appropriate body, and ninety-six per cent of women and three per cent of men would like him to record erotic audio books.’
‘I hope Cassandra doesn’t see these polls,’ Al commented.
‘She doesn’t strike me as the jealous type,’ Aneka replied. Aloud she said, ‘That all sounds great, but you’re not looking too happy, Councillor.’
Elroy frowned, but it was Ollander who replied. ‘Jackson is concerned over another interview request which has come to my office.’
‘Kevin Greenwald wants you on his show on the thirteenth,’ Elroy stated.
‘Oh,’ Ella said flatly.
‘It gets better,’ Elroy went on, ‘he’s planning to put you up alongside D’Jarnis.’
‘Who’s Kevin Greenwald?’ Aneka asked as Al began displaying the data.
‘I don’t like his show,’ Ella said. ‘He loves confrontation.’
‘He does enjoy embarrassing questions,’ Ollander said, ‘and setting things up so that his audience are expecting a fight. He still views one show where the two contributors actually came to blows as one of his finest. However, I don’t share my colleague’s concerns.’
‘Why not?’ Aneka asked. ‘Putting me in a room with the Herosian Ambassador and a man who likes his guests to argue seems like a bad idea.’
‘A lot of Jenlay are not very fond of Herosians. It’s partially an irrational prejudice. They look like lizards and it’s not appealing.’
‘It’s also because most of them are acquisitive and arrogant,’ Ella growled.
‘That’s the more rational part,’ Ollander admitted. ‘All Aneka has to do is stay calm and acquit herself well with whatever questions Greenwald throws at her and the Jenlay audience will view her as the winner of the debate.’
‘Greenwald and D’Jarnis will try their best to trip her up,’ Elroy said.
‘Greenwald will be doing that to both of them, but Aneka has the advantage. Her mind works faster. She can process his questions and act appropriately.’
‘Well, we can’t decline. It would be seen as hiding something. I’m afraid you had best prepare yourself for a rather less pleasant reception than you had on Julietta’s show, Aneka.’
‘Right…’ Aneka replied, sagging a little. ‘That should be great fun.’
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‘You’ll be fine.’ Ella’s voice was in Aneka’s head, which was less reassuring than having her there in the room. ‘You know you can do this. You can think faster than they can, and you’ve got Al there to help.’
‘I believe that Ella is quite correct,’ Al said. ‘The research I’ve done on Herosian psychology suggests that the Ambassador has a number of buttons which can be pushed if required.’
‘That’s a last resort. We don’t provoke him,’ Aneka said.
‘You can count on Greenwald to do that anyway,’ Ella said, her tone wry.
‘We need to get you on set.’ The speaker was one of Greenwald’s assistants, a short, attractive blonde. Aneka had seen his other three assistants and they were all short, attractive, and blonde. That kind of thing always set Aneka’s teeth on edge, but this one did appear competent and business-like.
‘I’m on,’ Aneka said in her head and then added, ‘Lead the way,’ out loud.
‘Talk later,’ Ella told her and the connection was cut.
Aneka followed the girl out from her dressing room and through a network of corridors to the stage. The prep work had been significantly less than for her previous foray into television. The make-up artist had looked her over and declared that she would be fine. The producer had been nowhere to be s
een. Ella had considered her wardrobe and decided that something new was needed, so they had shopped for something Aneka never would have expected to see Ella looking for. Aneka was in a knee-length, pencil skirt and jacket in silver-grey, and a sheer, white blouse. Her heels were still ridiculously high, but that did work well with the skirt.
The set was fairly similar to the one on Federation Life, except that it featured two sofas and a chair. The sofas were angled to face each other as much as the audience and the chair sat between them as though Greenwald were the judge in some sort of debating court. It was currently all hidden behind a heavy, black curtain which separated the audience from the stage.
D’Jarnis was already sitting on one of the sofas. He was a slightly short Herosian and, as he had been when Aneka first saw him, he was dressed in a black kilt. Bands of silver edged with gold encircled his biceps. He had scaled skin, a paler shade of brown across his stomach than on his back. His arms and digitigrade legs showed solid muscle development, and his fingers ended in thick, sharp claws. The face was brutish, but that was primarily due to an overdeveloped jaw. His ears were pointed and swept back, and his nose was barely more than a ridge with nostrils at the end. He watched Aneka approach with his golden-brown eyes, which held nothing but contempt.
Aneka smiled at him as she sat down on the opposite couch and crossed her legs. ‘Ambassador. It’s nice to see you again.’ Reading Herosian expressions was hard, but she thought she got nothing but a sour look in reply. Why had the man agreed to do this show?
‘The same reason you did,’ Al supplied. ‘If you agreed and he did not it would be seen as an indication that he was unwilling to face you.’
‘I agreed to this because I was told to.’
‘Exactly.’
The sound of voices from the rear of the stage drew Aneka’s attention to the team of people swarming around one man, Kevin Greenwald. Someone was still checking his make-up, two of his assistants were telling him about briefing documents on his tablet, and someone Aneka took to be the producer or floor manager was hurrying him to his chair.
The man himself was tall, slim, with jet-black hair in a fashionable, short cut. He had a tan, and the sort of presence you got from believing that everyone around you was where they were because you allowed it. His show had been the more serious talking heads programme on CFM until he had decided to move it to the Federal News Network, a smaller, but more focussed media organisation. In some ways they were all there because of him.
‘Enough!’ Greenwald snapped. ‘We have a show to do.’ He sat down in his chair, glancing at the tablet he was being handed, and then at D’Jarnis and Aneka. ‘Ambassador, Miss Jansen, you both know each other, and me, so we won’t bother with introductions. I hope you’re both ready because we’re on in ten.’
The lights went down, plunging them into darkness, not that it made a lot of difference to Aneka. She watched D’Jarnis settling himself, trying to look casual. Greenwald shifted slightly, leaning forward for a more intent appearance. Through the curtain Aneka could see hazy heat signatures. It looked like as big an audience as for Federation Life, though this time Aneka had more support in it. Gillian and Bashford were out there with Ella. Apparently Gillian actually watched the show sometimes though Aneka was not entirely sure why.
The curtain rolled aside three seconds before they were due to go on air, and then a spotlight lit up Greenwald. ‘Good evening. I’m Kevin Greenwald. Welcome to Greenwald Tonight.’ Applause, apparently genuine though there were a few people standing there directing things. They cut the clamour off after exactly six seconds, which was presumably how long the title clip took to run.
‘Tonight we’re going to get to the bottom of the big controversy hitting the news channels at the moment,’ Greenwald continued. ‘Aneka Jansen, the woman heralded as a survivor from Old Earth kept frozen for a thousand years, did not, in fact, survive. The Herosians say that she is actually a Xinti, except when they’re saying she’s an artificial intelligence. Jenlay experts say she is not.’ The lights went up around them. ‘So let’s ask Miss Jansen herself and the Herosian Ambassador Ashipha D’Jarnis to explain their positions. Miss Jansen, are you a Xinti?’
‘Philosophy isn’t my strong point, Mister Greenwald,’ Aneka said. She did not need to think about this one. ‘My physical form is patterned after a Human woman, but the structures within and my brain are Xinti. The mind running on that brain is that of a Human woman who did, indeed, die over a thousand years ago. Is a Jenlay a Jenlay because of their body, or their mind, or both? What is more important to the nature of a Herosian? Culture, thought processes, or meat?’
‘No Herosian would willingly undergo the process which turned you into a Xinti machine,’ D’Jarnis snapped.
‘Rather a stupid statement,’ Al commented.
Aneka had to agree. ‘It wasn’t as though I was given a choice, Ambassador.’
‘And it does not answer the question,’ Greenwald said. He lifted his tablet. ‘I have a report here compiled by several noted psychologists stating that Miss Jansen’s mental functions are well within the range of Jenlay norms. She has a “rationally based prejudice against the Xinti.” The report is quite detailed and seems to indicate that whatever Miss Jansen’s mind is living in, it is not a Xinti mind.’
‘Not Xinti, perhaps, but it is an artificial mind,’ D’Jarnis countered. Aneka was always a little disappointed that Herosians did not have more sibilant voices when speaking Federal, but the emphasis he put on the word did draw out the ‘sh’ sound nicely. ‘She is a piece of software pretending to be a living thing.’
Maybe he was trying to get a rise out of her, but it was a bad target to pick. ‘I won’t argue that point. That’s pretty much what my opinion of myself is.’ D’Jarnis looked triumphant. ‘I’m told that that’s a minority viewpoint, however. Not that my mind is software, because it is, but that it’s artificial. Since my mind is basically a neuron-by-neuron copy of a Human mind, it doesn’t operate in the same way as an AI’s does. I’m a simulation of a real brain. If you’re going to class that as artificial then you have to question whether any mind is “natural.” The thoughts in your head are the result of some complex electrochemical interactions in a complex, organic computer. Mine don’t have the chemical components. What is a thought? I’m afraid we’re back to philosophy.’
‘The Torem philosopher, Oxin,’ Greenwald said, ‘stated, “The one true definition of a sentient being, that thing that allows us to know that we exist, is that we think.”’
‘I think, therefore I am,’ Aneka said. ‘Descartes. He was a philosopher on Old Earth. Cogito ergo sum.’ Aneka smiled at the presenter. ‘Thank you, Mister Greenwald. I’d forgotten about that. Maybe the fact that I question my nature is the one true indication that I’m not what the Ambassador says I am.’
‘That’s…’ D’Jarnis began and then paused as he tried to come up with something he could use to argue his point.
As Aneka turned to look at him, something caught the corner of her eye. Movement which pulled her attention in that direction. One of the audience had left his seat and was running down the side stairs. One of the floor staff was moving to intercept him.
‘Whatever she is, she’s still dangerous.’ D’Jarnis settled on. ‘We have no proof that she is not a Xinti agent as Winter was.’
‘You’ve no proof that Winter was,’ Aneka said, though her eyes were still on the man from the audience. ‘Besides, there are no Xinti left to handle agents.’
‘Ha! You say that, but…’
Stiff-arming the staffer aside, the man raised his right arm. Aneka’s eyes zoomed in on his hand and identification data immediately popped up in-vision. He was holding a small, handheld laser, relatively low power, but quite lethal against an unarmoured opponent. Aneka’s mind shifted into combat mode and the world seemed to slow down around her. He was targeting D’Jarnis; there was a clear line of sight to the Ambassador while the falling staffer obscured Greenwald and her. He w
as going to fire really soon. Aneka bolted forward.
‘Wili huntan bwishu si!’ the man screamed. Aneka noted the phrase as she closed on the Herosian. ‘Alien bastards must die.’ It sounded like a Humanity First slogan, or maybe Knights of the Void. D’Jarnis was looking at her with growing shock and had not recognised the threat yet. There was a scream from the audience so someone there had. Aneka smelled burning fabric and then the sting of pain as the beam hit the back of her neck. Messages indicating that her dermal layer had been lightly damaged sprang up, but she ignored them.
Turning, she lifted her right arm and fired her pulse gun. The man’s head snapped back and he was catapulted into the front row of the audience. Bashford was on his feet already and rushing over to grab the gunman, but there was no real need; he was out cold and not getting up to try again.
Aneka pushed herself away from D’Jarnis as the room dissolved into chaos. Greenwald was sitting in his chair with his mouth open. Maybe he had a new best show ever. Guards were moving in from the sides of the studio, but they were just going to have the clean-up to handle. Ella was getting up and starting toward the stage. Aneka reached to the back of her neck. There was no blood, the wound was cauterised, but there was a narrow gash with mesh armour showing through. She pulled her collar up over it. She turned around just in time to catch Ella rushing into her arms.
‘Are you okay?’ the redhead whispered.
‘Barely a scratch. I’ll be fixed in an hour.’
‘You saved that fucker’s life and he’s scurrying away without even saying thank you.’ It was true, though it was more that the Ambassador’s diplomatic bodyguards were dragging him off the stage.
‘That doesn’t bother me, but I don’t like this. This whole set-up. Something doesn’t feel right.’
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An expression of hurt passed over Winter’s youthful, Number Nine, features for a long enough time that Aneka was relaxing visibly even before the woman spoke. ‘I had nothing to do with…’ She paused, closed her eyes, nodded, and then looked up at Aneka again. ‘I can see how you might draw the conclusion. However, no, it was not I who sent the assassin.’
The Winter War Page 31
