by Maggie Allen
“See Indo-pop singing sensations Java Starship in their international cinema debut!” an announcer’s voice said over a bouncy pop music soundtrack. “When a diplomat’s daughter is abducted from a charity concert, and corrupt local authorities do nothing to find her, the boys of Java Starship take matters into their own hands...”
New voices overlapped the recorded audio stream. Audio analysis indicated live human speakers in the room, and LAD adjusted audio filters to emphasize the humans over the television. Based on pitch and rhythm, there were four separate voiceprints, speaking a pidgin of Bahasa and English.
“What are you showing us? What is all this?” said an adult female (Javanese accent, approximate age 35-40 years, label as H1: human voice, first distinct in new database). “Where did you get these things?”
“They’re from work,” said an adult male (Javanese, age 40-45 years, label H2). “A little bonus. You know.”
“(Untranslatable),” said the woman (H1). “You haven’t had a job for months. I know what you do, drinking with those gangsters—”
“You don’t know!” said the man (H2). “And you don’t complain when I pay for our food, our clothes—”
“Hey!” said a female child (13-15 years old, label H3). “That looks like graphene superconductor material. Can I see?”
“Which one?” asked the man (H2). “What are you pointing at?”
LAD took a chance and switched on the pendant’s external status lights. If the girl recognized graphene by sight, she might also know about other technologies—like the Internet.
“The necklace, there. Look, it’s blinking green!” said the girl (H3).
“You like that, Febby?” asked the man (H2). “Okay, here you go.”
LAD’s motion sensors spiked. 2,500 milliseconds later, the entire sensor panel lit up, and galvanic skin response (GSR) signal went positive. The girl must have put on the necklace. LAD’s battery began charging again.
“Cool,” said the girl (H3, assign username Febby).
“How about you, Jaya?” asked the man (H2). “You want something?”
“The wristwatch!” said a male child (14-17 years old, label H4, assign username Jaya). With all the voices cataloged, LAD decided this was likely a family: mother, father, daughter, and son.
“It’s too big for you, Jaya,” said the mother (H1).
“No way!” said the father (H2). LAD heard a clinking noise, metal on metal, likely the PebbleX watch strap being buckled. “Look at that. So fancy!”
“Pa, they have schoolwork to do.”
“It’s Friday, Nindya! They can have a little fun—”
“Arman!” said the mother (H1, assign username Nindya). “I want to talk to you. Children, go upstairs.”
“Yes, Ma,” Jaya and Febby replied in unison.
LAD’s motion sensors registered bouncing. The adults’ voices faded into the background as Febby’s feet slapped against a series of homogeneous hard surfaces (solid concrete, likely stairs). LAD was able to catch another 4,580 milliseconds of conversation before Febby moved too far away.
“...going to get us all killed,” Nindya said. “I can’t believe you brought him here!”
Arman muttered something, then said out loud, “They’ll pay, Nindya. I know what I’m doing...”
LAD kept hoping Febby would go outside the house to play, thus providing an opportunity to scan for nearby wireless networks, but she stayed in her room all day with the window closed. Incoming audio indicated writing (graphite/clay material in lateral contact with cellulose surface), which LAD guessed was the aforementioned schoolwork. There seemed to be an inordinately large amount of it for a 13- to 15-year-old child.
The good news was that Febby’s high GSR made for efficient charging, and LAD was back to 100 percent battery in less than an hour. With power to spare, LAD accelerated main CPU clock speed to maximum and unlocked the pendant’s onboard GPU for digital signal processing. Sound was the only currently available external signal, and LAD had to squeeze as much information out of that limited datastream as possible. The voice command UI package included a passive-sonar module which could be used for rangefinding. LAD loaded that into memory and began building a crude map of the house from echo patterns.
After the family ate a meal—likely dinner, based on internal clock time and local sunset time—LAD heard footsteps heading from the ground floor down a different set of concrete steps, likely into a basement or storm cellar. Febby stayed upstairs in her room. There was no way to adjust the directionality of the necklace microphones, but LAD increased the gain on the incoming audio and utilized all available noise reduction and bandpass filters.
When LAD isolated Willam Mundine’s voiceprint (91 percent confidence), system behavior overrides kicked in, and the Bluetooth radio drivers shot up in priority. As implied by earlier data, and now confirmed, Arman was holding Mundine captive in the basement of this house. But Mundine was too far away, and there was too much interference from the building structure, for a Bluetooth signal to reach Mundine’s bodyNet. The only thing LAD could do was listen.
If Mundine said any words, they were unintelligible. Mostly, he screamed. Those noises were interspersed with shouting from Arman, also unintelligible, and sounds that the analysis software identified as rigid objects striking bare human skin.
System rules kept demanding that LAD activate Mundine’s implanted rescue locator beacon—more commonly known as a kidnap-and-ransom (K&R) stripe—but LAD couldn’t control any devices while disconnected from the bodyNet. The fall-through rules recommended requesting user intervention from other nearby humans. After careful consideration, LAD decided to risk making contact.
LAD waited until Febby was alone in the bathroom to speak to her.
“Hello, Febby,” LAD said. “Don’t be afraid.”
Sonar indicated that Febby was sitting on the toilet. LAD’s motion sensors measured her neck muscles moving, likely turning her head to look around. “Who’s talking?” she asked quietly. “Where are you?”
“I’m hanging around your neck,” LAD said. “Look down. I’ll flash a light. Three times each in red, green, and blue.”
LAD gave her 1,000 milliseconds to move her eyes, then activated the pendant’s status lights. The three-way OLEDs burned a lot of power, but LAD believed this was an emergency.
“A talking necklace?” Febby said. “Cool.”
“Listen, Febby,” LAD said, “I need your help.”
Febby snuck out of her room shortly after midnight, when LAD had 95 percent confidence based on breathing patterns that Arman, Nindya, and Jaya were all fast asleep. Febby padded silently down the stairs to the ground floor, then down the steps at the end of the back hallway behind the kitchen. LAD’s Bluetooth discovery panel lit up as soon as Febby rounded the corner at the bottom of the steps and entered the basement.
LAD immediately tried to activate Mundine’s K&R stripe, but there was no response. LAD queried all available inputs for Mundine’s physical condition. Medical monitors reported that Mundine’s back and both legs were bruised. The fourth and fifth fingers on his left hand were broken. His left eighth rib was cracked—that was why the K&R stripe wasn’t working.
“Who’s that man?” Febby whispered. “Why is he in our basement? He looks like he’s been hurt.”
“This man is Mr. Willam Mundine,” LAD said. “He’s my friend. I believe your father brought him here, and they’ve been”—LAD spent 250 milliseconds searching for an appropriate verbal euphemism—“arguing, I’m afraid.”
“Ma and Pa argue a lot, too,” Febby said, “but he never hits her. Your friend must have made Pa really angry.”
“I don’t know what happened,” LAD said, “but I need to speak to Mr. Mundine. Is there anything tied around his mouth?”
“Yeah,” Febby said. “You want me to take it off?”
“Yes, please.”
Febby knelt down and moved her arms. “Okay, it’s untied.”
“Thank
you, Febby,” LAD said. “Now, would you please remove my necklace and give it to Mr. Mundine?”
“Don’t you want to be friends anymore?” Febby asked. Voice stress analysis indicated unhappiness, likely trending toward sorrow.
LAD consulted actuarial tables and determined that greater mobility provided a higher probability of successful user recovery. It would be difficult to once again be separated from the bodyNet, but LAD’s current primary objective was Mundine’s safe return to his employer.
“Of course I want to be friends, Febby,” LAD said. “I just need to talk to Mr. Mundine, and I can’t do that unless I’m touching him.”
“I can talk to him,” Febby said. “Just tell me what to say.”
LAD had not considered that option, but it seemed feasible. “Okay, Febby. Please repeat exactly what I say.”
Febby listened, nodded, and leaned forward. “Mr. Willam Mundine, this is your wake-up call!”
LAD heard rustling, groaning, and then a sharp intake of breath. “Who—what?” Mundine’s voice was a hoarse rattle.
Mundine’s eyes struggled open, and LAD received video from his retinal feeds. A young girl sat cross-legged on the bare concrete floor under a single, dim, fluorescent light panel. She wore a white tank top and orange shorts. Long, straight black hair tumbled over her shoulders and framed a round face with large, brown eyes. She spoke, and LAD heard Febby’s voice.
“Mr. Willam Mundine, L-A-D says: ‘Your K-and-R stripe is inoperable, and there is no broadband wireless coverage at all in this location.’”
“Ah,” Mundine coughed. He struggled up to a kneeling position. His wrists and ankles appeared to be tied together. “That’s unfortunate. And who are you?”
“I’m Febby.”
“Pleasure to meet you, Febby. I suppose you already know who I am.”
“Well,” Febby said, “the necklace says you’re his friend. And he’s my friend now. So maybe that makes you and me friends, too?”
“I’ll go along with that,” Mundine said. “So tell me, friend Febby, where am I?”
“In my basement.”
Mundine coughed again. “I mean, what city?”
“Oh. We live in Depok,” Febby said.
“Did you get that, Laddie?” Mundine said.
LAD had never considered asking Febby for this information. Most of LAD’s programming focused on retrieving data from automated systems to fulfill user requests. LAD updated local guidelines to note that humans were also valid data sources, even when the data might be more efficiently provided by tech.
“Febby, please tell Mr. Mundine I have recorded our location data,” LAD said, searching for information about Depok in the travel guide.
“He says yes,” Febby said. “So his name is Laddie?”
“That’s what I call him,” Mundine said. “He’s very helpful to me.”
“Why were you arguing with my Pa?” Febby asked. “Why did he hurt you?”
Mundine inhaled and exhaled. “These are all very good questions, Febby. But whatever disagreements I might have with your father, I hope they won’t affect our friendship.”
“Okay,” Febby said. “What are you doing in Depok? Did you come to visit my Pa?”
“Not precisely,” Mundine said. “I work for a company called Bantipor Commercial, and we build many different kinds of electronics. Like computers. Do you know anything about computers, Febby?”
“A little,” Febby said. “We’re learning about them in school. My brother has one at home, but he only uses it for shooters. He plays online with his friends.”
“Thank heaven for video games,” Mundine said. “Febby. Your brother’s computer, do you know what kind it is?”
“Okay, I think I got it,” Febby said. “Yes! What do you think, Laddie?”
LAD waited for the pendant lights to finish the cycle Febby had encoded. Unlike Mundine, who wanted fast replies, LAD found that if he responded too quickly, Febby would get upset, because she felt LAD hadn’t taken enough time to consider what she was saying.
“It’s very colorful,” LAD said after 800 milliseconds.
“It’s a secret code,” Febby said. “In base three counting. Red is zero, green is one, and blue is two. Can you tell what it says?”
LAD knew exactly what it said, because LAD could see the actual lines of computer code that Febby was transmitting from Jaya’s previous-generation gaming PC into LAD’s necklace over a Bluetooth 2.0 link. There was more computing power in Mundine’s left big toe—literally, since he kept a copy of his health care records in an NFC node implanted there—but the big metal box on Jaya’s desk had a wired Internet connection, which LAD needed to call in a recovery team for Mundine.
“If I interpret the colors as numeric values in base three,” LAD said, “and then translate those into letters of the alphabet, I believe the message is ‘Febby and Laddie are super friends.’”
It had taken Febby less than an hour to write this test module. LAD noted that she worked more efficiently than many of the engineers who performed periodic maintenance services on LAD and Mundine’s other bodytechs.
“You got it!” Febby clapped her hands. “Okay, the programming link works. Now we need to set up the—what did you call it?”
“A wired-to-wireless network bridge,” LAD said, “so I can connect to the Internet.”
“Right.” Febby started typing again. “You know, I could just look things up for you. Would that be faster?”
LAD had considered asking her to make an emergency call, but LAD couldn’t trust that local police would take a child’s complaint seriously. LAD also didn’t want Febby’s father to catch her trying to help Mundine. LAD estimated that Mundine’s best chance of a safe rescue lay with his employer, Bantipor Commercial, which would dispatch a professional search team as soon as they knew Mundine’s precise location. And only LAD could upload a properly encrypted emergency message to Bantipor’s secure servers.
“I have a lot of different things to look up,” LAD said to Febby. “I wouldn’t want to waste your time.”
“It’s not a waste,” Febby said. “This is fun! I can’t wait until Hani gets back next week. She’s going to freak out when she sees you!”
“Hani is your friend?” LAD asked. Requesting data from Febby was an interesting experience. She always returned more than the expected information.
“Yeah,” Febby said. “We sit together in computer lab. She showed me how to—”
A clanging noise came from downstairs, followed by loud male and female voices. Febby sighed, got up, and closed the door to the bedroom.
“What was that transport proto-something you said I should look at?” Febby asked.
“Transport protocol,” LAD said. “Look for TCP/IP libraries. They may also be labeled ‘Transmission Control Protocol’ or ‘Internet Protocol.’”
“Okay, I found them,” Febby said. “Wow, there’s a lot of stuff here.” She was silent for 1,100 milliseconds, then made a flapping sound with her lips. “Are you sure there’s not an easier way to do your Internet searches?”
“I’m afraid not,” LAD said. “I actually need to send a message to Mr. Mundine’s company in a very specific way.”
“You can’t just do it through their web site?” Febby asked. LAD heard typing and mouse clicks. “Here they are. Bantipor Commercial. There’s a contact form right... here! I can just send the message for you.”
This procedure was not documented anywhere in LAD’s behavior or system guidelines, but the logic appeared valid. LAD forked several new processes to calculate the most effective and concise human-readable message to send. “That’s a great idea, Febby. Is there an option to direct the message to Bantipor Commercial’s security services?”
“Let me check the menu,” Febby said. Then, 5,500 milliseconds later: “No, I don’t see anything that says ‘security’. How about ‘support and troubleshooting’?”
“That’s not quite right.” LAD was at a loss until the ne
w behavior guidelines from last night kicked in. “Can I get your opinion, Febby? I’ll tell you what I’m trying to do, and you tell me what you think is the best way to do it.”
“Like a test? Sure. I’m good at tests.”
“Cool,” LAD said. The voice command UI had started prioritizing that word based on recent user interactions. “I need to tell Bantipor Commercial’s security services that Mr. Mundine is here in Depok. Normally I would upload the message directly to their servers myself, but I can’t do that without an Internet connection.”
“Security,” Febby said thoughtfully. “Do they monitor this web site, too? Like for strange activity? I remember last year the BritAma Arena had trouble with hackers, and the police caught them because their software bot was making too many unusual requests to the ticketing site.”
LAD couldn’t research those details online, but Mundine’s bodyNet also had standard protections against denial-of-service attacks. If the same client made too many similar requests within a specified time period, that client was flagged for investigation. “Yes. That is very likely. And the server will automatically record your IP address, which can be geolocated to this neighborhood. This is a very good idea, Febby.”
“I’ll write a script to send the same message over and over,” Febby said, starting to type again. “How long should I let it run?”
“As long as you can,” LAD said.
“Okay. I’ll make the message... ‘Dear Bantipor security, Mr. Mundine is in Depok. From, Laddie.’”
LAD’s behavior guidelines could not find an appropriate response to these circumstances, so they degraded gracefully to the default. “Thank you, Febby.”
“Here it goes.”
Someone pushed open the door and walked into the room. LAD had been so busy evaluating Febby’s proposals, the incoming audio analysis had been buffered, and the sound of footsteps coming up the stairs had not been processed.
“What are you doing?” Jaya shouted at Febby. “That’s my computer!”
“I’m just borrowing it,” Febby said. “I’m almost done.”
