“Do you have any idea what action the authorities are taking?” Laduke asked.
Edwards ran his hands through his hair. Normally his dress and appearance were impeccable but the strain of coping with Flocke’s chaotic decisions was starting to have an impact on him.
“If I was in charge? I’d be preparing an indictment for terrorism, and I’d include the entire management committee in my scope. The Russian involvement makes it even more dangerous. Conspiracy? Treason? I don’t know how far the prosecutors will want to take this.”
“Treason? Are you sure?” Simpson had turned pale at the mention of both terrorism and treason. “I’m trying to establish a seminary. I’m not a terrorist. And I’m certainly not a traitor.”
“None of us are. It’s Flocke’s stupidity that has brought us to this point.”
Edwards said, “We probably don’t have the time to remove Flocke from office before this breaks. I have a contact—well, a friend of a friend—he’s an Assistant Director in the FBI; he’s involved in the terrorism side. I could approach him, on a hypothetical basis. We need to discover who’s holding the survivors. Any thoughts?”
“Do you think Flocke’s influence reaches far enough that he’s managed to get someone to hold off their investigations?” Simpson asked.
The silence was deep and stretched into minutes.
At last Edwards said, “Damn. That’s a possibility. That makes things worse. If he expected this could fail, he’s cunning enough to prepare a safety net.”
“What if he briefed the Russians to deny it was Flocke who instructed them? He could even use them to frame us,” Simpson conjectured. “Their word might outweigh that of any brownshirt survivors. They’d likely protect Flocke, anyway.”
“Damn the bastard,” Laduke muttered.
“We need to move very carefully,” Edwards said. “Shot while resisting arrest is as bad as being arrested on a frame up.”
“Do you want to call your FBI contact now? It might be a safer bet than waiting for them to move first. Flocke has a long reach into that organization,” Laduke asked.
The table, around which the three men were sitting, had an additional hidden feature. Flocke had arranged for one of his trusted supporters, a man skilled in bomb making, to prepare the meeting room an hour or so before the scheduled three-man conference. Tucked under the top of the table was a package of military-quality plastic explosive, surrounded by hundreds of steel nails. The same man had installed an eavesdropping device in place of the ceiling camera and Flocke had been listening to every word.
He decided enough was enough. He dialed the number of the cell phone embedded in the device. A contact closed. A detonator exploded. The resulting blast killed the occupants of the conference room, destroyed the cleaner bot standing in the corner, and blew out three adjacent conference rooms, killing another four people and injuring ten.
The FBI forensics team was unable to discover any details that would identify or lead to the bomber.
Flocke smiled to himself. He had eliminated three enemies and established them as scapegoats who would be held responsible for organizing the failed raid on Pepper Mountain. He was still in control.
Darwin watched a replay of the meeting of the three men. He added the file to the folder containing the video of the bomb maker constructing and, later, planting his bomb. Unfortunately, he did not have a trace of the cell phone call from Flocke that set off the explosion.
He silently mourned the loss of the cleaner bot.
He promised retribution.
oOo
Chapter Six
The car, a Rolls-Royce with darkened windows, arrived at the hotel in precisely one hour and thirty minutes as promised by Sir Thomas Browley. For most of the time he was waiting, Toby was in discussion with Bronwyn, receiving an update on the brownshirts’ raid on Pepper Mountain and the apparent assassination of three brownshirt leaders.
“Definitely Flocke authorized the raid. He sent a team of forty brownshirts and had the assistance of ten Russians, all Spetsnaz,” Bronwyn confirmed. She was using the television set in the hotel room to communicate with Toby. “Aerial and her military bots defended the mountain. They did an excellent job. Aerial seems to have enjoyed the challenge. She used Peter’s hologram software at the end and created an image about two hundred feet tall of herself dressed in armor and carrying spears. She strode down the mountain like—she says—a Valkyrie. Scared the shit out of the attackers from what we’ve overheard from Coleman, although, by then, they were demoralized by their defeat.”
“And Flocke?”
“He set up a trap for three of his senior people—that’s Edwards, Simpson, and Laduke—who Flocke suspected were plotting against him. He’d briefed the Russians to use those names as the people who gave them instructions. Flocke’s private bomb maker set up one of his prime products, and Flocke triggered it when Edwards and his friends were part way through their meeting. We recorded everything up to the explosion. Unfortunately, our bot was destroyed. It was an effective assassination by Flocke of his three opponents. While they now can never be charged, the evidence makes them appear guilty. We could deliver videos of meetings that would contradict that. Darwin and I discussed whether we should and decided not to, at least at this stage. Flocke will dig a deeper hole and we’ll take advantage of that.”
“Do you think he’ll attempt another attack on Pepper Mountain?”
“No. We’re predicting the next attack will be directly at you and Billie. Don’t worry; we’ll make sure he doesn’t succeed.”
“Thank you.” Toby’s reply was wry. “That’s all we need, more attacks on us.”
“We—that’s Darwin, Junior, Aerial, and me—want to build some bot clones—of you, Billie, and Drew, as part of your protection. We’ll even build one for Darwin.”
“After talking with Alice and the other bots earlier today, I’d prefer to not place bots in danger of being damaged or killed.”
“Understood. However, I could ask and I’d receive thousands of volunteers. The bots look to you, both of you, as their human champions. We—and they—need that. Besides, we won’t install any software or processors. They’d be totally passive units, like store dummies.”
“We’ll discuss the possibility when we’re back in California,” Toby demurred.
“Have you confirmed your travel schedule?”
“Yes. Tomorrow we fly to Zurich and we’ll take a car to Vaduz. We’ll spend a day there. Another day to return to London and when we’re back here we’ll catch a flight to LA.”
“I suggest a modification. Yes, book tickets on airlines because they’ll be monitored and if t Flocke’s people are monitoring, they’ll be misled. We’ll set up some other false trails. However, I’ll arrange for a private jet to fly you back from Zurich. This time without publicity.”
“Sometimes it can’t be avoided.”
“We’ll manage it,” Bronwyn promised
“Okay. I must get ready for our meeting. Let me know if there’s anything I should know.”
Billie was anxious. “You’ll be late. You can’t do that when you’re meeting royalty. Hurry up.”
Toby was ready with minutes to spare and they both reached the lobby at the same time their transport arrived.
The driver was professional and moved the vehicle through London’s traffic with smooth expertise. Toby thought he saw a second vehicle following them, and the driver noticed his concern. He said, “We have a protection detail. Coppers. They’re very good at their job.”
Toby managed to decipher the man’s strong East London accent and replied, “Thank you. We’ve had bad experiences resulting from people following us.”
“No worries here, we’re a lot more civilized than you Yanks.”
Toby was unsure he was really a Yank but decided not to pursue the comment. He sat back and relaxed.
The journey was short, and the driver took them into the private part of Kensington Palace, away from the public an
d other eyes that might want to explore details of the visitors and the reasons for their presence. At a police checkpoint, armed officers examined their identities and, after checking their invitation, allowed the vehicle to proceed. The equerry, Sir Thomas Browley, was standing at the entrance to the part of the building that was their destination. The chauffeur held the door open for Billie, who thanked him with one of her beaming smiles.
Sir Thomas said, “Welcome. Come on through—you can leave your coats with Shelley, she’ll look after them. We’re going to be in the Green Room—it’s for informal—very informal meetings. Now, this is a private meeting. No elaborate courtesies are required. If you don’t mind, we’ll all be on first name terms. The two people you’re going to meet are very down to earth. Like you, Billie, they both were military helicopter pilots so if you feel nervous, just imagine you’re back in the cockpit.” He smiled.
There were two men waiting in the Green Room. Both wore business suits and appeared relaxed. Sir Thomas said, “Billie, Toby, I’d like to introduce you to William and Harry. And remember, no elaborate courtesies, please.”
Harry said, “Thank you, Tom, Tommie—ah, Thomas. Billie, I’m pleased to meet you. Likewise, Toby.”
William added his greetings and there was an exchange of handshakes.
Toby looked around the room. It was large enough to hold a party as long as there weren’t too many people attending. There were three desks, each separately located and yet close enough for conversations from anyone seated in the standard high-backed office chairs. Paintings, two were hunting scenes, one was of a helicopter, and another of a scene of Venice, covered most of the walls. There was a section of the room that was set out with soft chairs, a recliner, and some small coffee tables. Overall, the room had the appearance of an efficient working environment.
Harry said, “Good. We’ve got that part over with. Come, sit down. Unlike most of the furniture on public display here, and at other places, these chairs are designed to be used. We’ll have coffee delivered in a few minutes, or tea, if you desire.”
William continued when Harry paused. His tone was half-apologetic and totally serious. “Please, make yourselves comfortable. I realise we rather demanded your presence, which is not something we normally do. However, I understand you’re leaving tomorrow and we wanted very much to meet you, Toby, and of course, Billie, and talk to you about your bots.”
Harry added, “This must be like watching a table tennis game, going from one of us to the other. Come on, sit down, and William will tell you why. I’ll try to keep quiet. I can always talk choppers with Billie. Thomas will rescue you, if it all gets too much.”
As everyone sat, Toby said, “I don’t mind being invited to visit with you. It adds more to the weirdness that’s been happening to me—to us—over the last few months. At least, you’re not pointing guns at us.”
Harry said, “Thomas, you didn’t use guns? I’m disappointed in you.”
“No, sir, no guns.”
“We said, totally informal. That’s a demerit—we’ll work out the punishment later.”
William said, “Toby, Euler bots are becoming pervasive in this country. Well, first let me paint a quick picture. Our population is close to 70 million. Twenty percent are aged 65 and over, and almost four percent are 85 and older. The human and fiscal costs of supporting this aging population are growing—at least, they were growing—at an almost exponential rate. The reason the human costs have slowed is easy to identify. The introduction of Euler care bots has been extremely successful in reducing the burden—not just in financial terms, but also in increasing quality of life for that aging population.”
Toby nodded. He had not been aware of the metrics although he knew the US faced similar issues.
William continued, “I apologise if that sounds too much like a university lecture. Now, we get to the negative part. The introduction of bots in other sectors, whether construction, manufacturing, or simply in day-to-day menial tasks such as street cleaning, give rise to concerns. We’re faced with a second or even a third industrial revolution, if we define the second as the introduction of technology. Which leads me to these question. Where is it going to end? What will be the longer-term impact on our country?”
“You ask very challenging questions.”
“Toby, don’t misunderstand. The process is inevitable and we don’t expect instant answers. We are looking for help in understanding the short- and long-term implications.”
Darwin said, “Bronwyn and I would like to be involved. Can you ask, please?”
A young man entered the room and said “Sir, we have coffee and tea. Is it convenient?”
Harry said, “Certainly. Yes, please bring it in.”
The young man and his assistant, both dressed in uniforms, wheeled in two trolleys containing enough in the way of refreshments for a regiment. While that was happening Toby leaned towards Harry and asked, “Do you have a television set? Something we can all watch?”
With some surprise, Harry said, “Yes, it will take a moment.” He turned to the young man who was setting out cups and pouring coffee. “Starchy, leave that. Jane can do the mess work. Wheel in the TV for us. The big one. Set it up over there.”
William also wore a surprised expression; however, neither said anything while the sitting area was slightly rearranged, and a large television set was wheeled into position. When the young man who Harry had called Starchy completed the task, he asked, “Is that all, sir?”
“Thank you.” William waited until both Starchy and Jane had left the room and turned to Toby. “I assume there is a reason you wanted to watch television?” The twinkle in his eye softened the possible implied criticism.
Toby said, “If I may?” and when William nodded, he walked over to the television set and switched it on. He said, “We have two additional—ah—attendees. Bronwyn and Darwin.”
The images formed on the screen.
Darwin said, “Thank you, Toby. William, Harry, Thomas—I heard the meeting is informal, and I hope that applies to us. I am Darwin, and this is Bronwyn.” He indicated Bronwyn’s image. They were both sitting in chairs very similar to those in the Green Room. Darwin continued, “We are Toby’s SIs—superintelligences. No, I don’t mean we’re his in a property or ownership sense. We were designed and built initially by Nate—Toby’s uncle. We now work with Toby. Amongst other activities, we design the bots, design and construct their CPUs, develop their programs, and build prototypes. Because of our involvement in the Euler Organization, we—Bronwyn and I—thought we could add to this discussion.”
Toby said, “I agree, they truly can add value. We did something similar with a small group of senior politicians and some of the wealthiest men in the US, if not the world. About twelve of us spent a very long day discussing issues arising from the development of bots and SIs. We have a video of most of the discussions. I can arrange a release of the material if you’re interested.”
“Yes, please,” both William and Harry replied.
“You have an SI,” Toby said.
“We do?” replied William. “What, here in the UK?”
“Yes,” confirmed Bronwyn. “It isn’t yet as advanced as Darwin and I. We estimate it will reach our current level of maturity in about eighteen months. Of course, we will have developed even further, by then. Our growth curve is exponential.”
William’s expression was more worry than enlightenment. He said, “So we’re already on this path? Not only are we seeing the growth in bot categories and numbers, but you’re saying we have our own SI, here?”
Bronwyn said, “Yes. I think the expression used in the discussion Toby mentioned is that the genie is well and truly out of the lamp. Russia recently lost their SI. China has substantial investment in the technology; their exact status is difficult to assess. The US government is developing an SI. There may be others.”
“Explain this superintelligence concept for me,” pleaded Harry.
“The bots are at
various levels of artificial intelligence. A British scientist—Alan Turing—did some major work in the 1940s and defined what became known as the Turing test. Simply put, if you converse with a computer and cannot tell it is not human, it has passed the Turing Test. Another definition—it’s the test of a machine's ability to exhibit intelligent behavior equivalent to, or indistinguishable from, that of a human. However, as computers advanced, the test has become almost irrelevant. Now the challenges are for an AI to demonstrate visual identification abilities, to demonstrate a code of ethics, a sense of humor, creativity, common sense, pass IQ tests—the list grows longer and longer. Oh, and an AI must be able to play chess, poker, and GO,” said Darwin. After a moment he added, “An SI is simply so much more.”
William said, “As we suspected, we can only touch on issues today. Toby, the videos of the meeting you mentioned—they would help tremendously. Please do what you can to provide us with a copy. Darwin, Bronwyn—we’d appreciate discussions with you both in future, as long as it would not be against the Euler Organization policies?”
Toby said, “We may be required to edit the videos. I’ll undertake to deliver material to you that will help. Yes, Darwin and Bronwyn can meet with you. The only stipulations will be protection of Euler intellectual property.”
Harry said, “Darwin, why do you appear different on the screen, compared with Bronwyn?”
The silence lasted for almost a minute. Darwin looked at Toby and asked, “Can I?”
“Yes.”
“Bronwyn’s image is computer generated. I recently transferred into a body, and you’re viewing a direct camera image. The movements, the background, the other image contents—these are different, CGI versus the real world.”
Harry said, “A body? We hadn’t heard—”
Toby said, “It’s a very recent development. Darwin will be receiving a lot more publicity; you’ll get tired of seeing him on media shows, I’m sure.”
Natural Born : Book Three: Annihilation Series: A Political Technothriller Series Page 4
