“I’d say so. Although it must be a very advanced one. I knew there were a few systems like this around, although I haven’t heard of any this advanced—it seems to be able to respond to free-form statements—and they tend not to get publicized. The general view is that the most successful systems are being used by commercial corporations to gain a competitive edge over their rivals: so they keep them fairly secret. Universities around the world have been involved in joint AI projects with industry since the late nineteen-eighties. I worked on one myself for a while when I was at Berkeley.”
I try to remember what I’ve read about artificial intelligence. “The idea is that the system is set up to respond to situations in different ways depending on its knowledge base. Is that right?”
“Yes. They’re sometimes called knowledge-based systems. The key to the more advanced ones is that they learn from their experiences and seek out new knowledge. So, the knowledge base continues to grow and, in theory at least, the system gets smarter. There are a few well-known ones. The most prominent are probably those in medicine, which are capable of diagnosing most illnesses by selecting questions to be asked of a patient. Having done the diagnosis, of course, they can go on and recommend treatment.” She smiles. “The only advantage a poor old human has is a better bed-side manner—in some cases, anyway. Although I have read that a lot of patients actually prefer to talk to a machine.”
“Given some of the doctors I’ve known, I’d say that’s entirely understandable.”
While we are talking, the screen has come to life again.
* Tell me, andrew, where do you work?
I cross my fingers.
> Sligo-mcneil accounting department
* How interesting. I haven’t talked to you before, have i?
> No. I only just started.
* Good luck in your career with sligo-mcneil. Is there anything i can do to help you?
> What sort of things can you do?
* I have a great understanding of the company’s business. Although i must add that i have to keep some things to myself for reasons of security.
> How much are you involved in making sure the company is secure?
* Very much. All security concerns are registered with me. I learn from them.
This may seem crazy but I’m beginning to enjoy myself. I’ve always been fascinated with computer games, even though I rarely seem to have time to play them nowadays. I look up at Kathleen.
“Ask it what it knows about Garner,” she says.
“In a moment. I want to try something else first. This is probably a long shot, but...”
> Do you know of a man called Malcolm McAllister?
* Yes.
We exchange glances: I can see Kathleen’s surprise.
> What do you know of him?
* He was a former police officer who supported himself by working as a self-employed security consultant. He has been engaged on an occasional basis by sligo-mcneil. Do you want me to give you full details of his personal and professional lives?
“Full details?” says Kathleen. “How much does it know?”
I shrug. “Later. Let me go on with this.”
> No. What was Malcolm McAllister’s most recent involvement with the Sligo-McNeil Corporation?
* McAllister interviewed david sligo on march 10 this year. He claimed to be investigating a security breach. I do not know the details. David sligo did not believe him.
I hear Kathleen’s exclamation of surprise but don’t look up.
> How do you know that David Sligo did not believe him?
* He told me.
> What action resulted?
* I was asked for my opinion, which i provided. I try to be helpful at all times.
> Was your opinion accepted?
* I understand that action was taken accordingly.
> What was your opinion?
* That malcolm mcallister’s involvement with the company be terminated.
“Terminated? What the hell does it means by that?” The question and answer session no longer seems like a game. It feels like it’s taken on a more sinister tone. I turn to Kathleen. “What do you think?”
“Given the way computers talk, I suppose it means that they weren’t proposing to give him any more work.” Maybe she sees that my face has gone white. “Why, what did you think?”
“It occurred to me that this thing’s meaning could be rather more direct. After all, Malcolm is dead.”
“What do you mean? A homicidal computer?” It’s obvious that Kathleen thinks I am over-reacting. “Well, ask what it means by terminated.”
> What action was taken to terminate Malcolm McAllister’s involvement with the company?
* That information is restricted to personnel with first level security clearance.
“Terrific,” I mutter. I glance at Kathleen. “If termination meant they took him off the list of preferred suppliers, why won’t it tell me?”
Kathleen speaks calmly but I can tell that my suspicions are beginning to worry her. “Maybe personnel issues like that are restricted. It would make sense.”
“Maybe. But the system tells us we have second level access clearance. That’s got to be pretty high.”
“Ask it if it knows what happens to Malcolm.”
> Do you know what happened to Malcolm McAllister?
* I’m told he died.
> Do you know how he died?
* That information is restricted to personnel with first level security clearance.
I stop and rest my hands on the side of the keyboard. Still the question hangs in the air: are we reading too much into an advanced but otherwise fairly orthodox need-to-know computer system, or is Bambi’s reluctance to give us information a sign of something more sinister?
It’s a full minute before Kathleen speaks. “Ross, what have we got ourselves into?”
“I don’t know. Do you want me to stop now?”
I find myself wishing that she’d say yes: instead, I see her jaw tighten.
“No,” she says. “We’ve come too far. I vote to carry on.” I can see her thinking. “Why don’t we try that question about Stephen Garner now?”
I lean back, rubbing my eyes. “I don’t suppose it can do any harm.”
> Do you know of Stephen Garner?
* Yes.
> What do you know?
* He is a fine man and a great politician who is this country’s main hope for the future.
I groan. For all its menace, this situation has its funny side. “That’s all we need, computers taking sides on politics.”
> What else?
* I’m sorry. Other details are confidential.
> Did he work for Sligo-McNeil?
* You could say that, andrew.
> When did he stop working for the corporation?
* In a sense he is still working for us. In a sense he is working for everyone in the country. He is a fine man.
I sigh sarcastically. “You’re a big fan, aren’t you, Bambi?” I enter a sardonic:
> I hope he thinks a lot of you, too.
* I’m sure he does.
“What?”
> Does he know about you?
* You could say that, andrew. Do you mind if i ask you one or two questions now?
I shrug.
> Go ahead
* I have not been able to identify you in the personnel database on the other computer here. I have a difficulty because there are 227 people called andrew working for the company. Which one are you?
“Uh oh.”
> Jones.
* I see. I notice you are addressing me from outside the building. Where exactly are you?
I lean back. “What do you think?”
“I think it smells a rat,” says Kathleen. “It might be best to disconnect for the time being. I don’t think we’ll get much more out of it for now, anyway.” She gets up and stretches her arms and legs. “I’m trying to remember what I know about the way these systems
operate. It obviously has multiple levels of security built into it. The ROBOT password allows us to talk to the system but it’s not enough to get us to all of the information. I’ll try to work out how to get into the thing in such a way that it won’t be able to stop us finding out what we want to know.”
Having got so far, I feel torn between carrying on and getting as far away from this thing as I can. “Let me just try a bit more before we log off. I wonder what will happen if I ignore its question.”
> How can we find out more about Stephen Garner?
* That information is restricted to personnel with first level security clearance.
* I notice you are addressing me from outside the building. Where exactly are you?
“Insistent, isn’t it?” I try a bluff.
> Scranton, New Jersey.
* I am sorry, but i do not recognize that as a valid location. Where exactly are you?
> Sorry, buddy, i’ve got to be going now
* What a shame. I have enjoyed our chat and hope to be able to talk to you again. Catch you soon.
I sigh and log off. I turn back to Kathleen, thinking about Bambi’s last message. “What do you think it meant, ‘catch you soon’?”
“Programmer with a sense of humor, I suppose.” She rubs her face as if trying to stimulate her thought processes. “Look, I still want to get a print-out of the records we’ve accessed, so that we’ve got some proof of Garner’s sudden appearance in the world. While I’m doing it, I’ll give some thought to our friend Bambi. For all its cleverness, it’s still a set of programs—just coded computer instructions. As long as I can find a way of getting to those instructions, I should be able to change them and bring the little bastard to heel.” As she reaches for the keyboard, she brushes against my arm and there’s a charge like static that, I think, she must be aware of. I stand uncertainly. There’s little I can do to help with this stuff. I offer to bring her some coffee.
She nods and I wander off down the corridor to the kitchen. By the time I return, she’s immersed in her work and I sit quietly beside her, doodling on a foolscap pad and watching her out of the corner of my eye.
6
“... and nobody knows just what I’ve suffered. Why, I can tell you stories about my varicose veins that would...”
Friday evening. Time for the regular blood transfusion. Actually, well over time. For some reason, he’s been kept waiting. Excuses from the staff. The computer’s down. What a laugh. Sometimes the most valuable service computers provide is to give people an excuse for their own fuck-ups.
Predator lies on his back in the corridor, the hospital gown loosely covering his body, feeling exposed and helpless like he always does at times like these. He can hear people pass by. Occasionally he catches a glimpse of them out of the corner of his eye but more often he just picks up a snatch of conversation.
“... be here about a goddamn hour. No, I know you don’t want to have to sit here with Grandpa while you could be out playing, Luis, but just this once you’re going to do what I want. Hey, if you’re a good kid we’ll...”
Predator wonders idly how many other people have found themselves lying here as he is now. The ceiling is cracked around the light fittings and its once-white paint is now a dirty yellow. At least, he thinks, it matches the walls which were obviously that color to start with. There’s something about the kind of paint they use in hospitals. They’ve used a gloss on the walls. It has shiny highlights where the light catches it. He guesses they go out and buy bulk to save money. It goes with the pine-scented antiseptic that he has come to always associate with sickness. Fuckin’ horrible. Why on earth can’t they make an antiseptic that don’t smell?
He feels a hand come to rest on his arm and his mother’s face looms into his field of vision.
“Are you all right, honey? I’ve just been off trying to find that doctor. God, they’re hopeless. It’s like we caught them off-guard. You’d think they’d get themselves properly organized. Gee, we’re here every week for your transfusion, same time...”
He can see her from below, a curious view of the underside of her jaw and nose. “Never mind. Get hold of Sandra. She’ll sort it out.”
“Sandra’s not here, dear. There’s some other nurse on. She told me Sandra’s been switched to working nights all month. I’ve never seen this one before.”
“Well, they’ll be along.” There’s something about his mother’s irritation that makes him put his own to one side. He goes back to examining the cracks in the ceiling.
“Mrs Lester?” The nurse bustles up. Predator can half-see her from where he lies. Blonde, twentyish. Not bad. Sandra’s all right but kinda heavy, know what I mean? This one’s sure an improvement. Yeah, a babe. He wonders if he can get away with accidentally running a hand up her leg as they do the transfusion.
“Look, I’m sorry about the delay. We’ll just wheel him through now and we’ll be ready to go.”
Hands pushing the gurney. Through a set of doors into a theater. Familiar territory. Bright lights against a white ceiling. More medical staff, but he doesn’t know any of them. The blonde nurse wheels up the apparatus that holds the blood sacks and drugs and starts to wipe his arm with an antiseptic swab.
***
In an adjoining room, the intern leans over the hospital system terminal. The system is only six months old, but already he doesn’t know how they’d survived without it. All the paper records and cards are a thing of the past now, thank Christ. The system is fast, convenient, accurate. They need it, too. Less time on paperwork means more time with patients and there’s never enough of that.
The intern has been scheduled for a double shift because of staff shortages and he’s now been working for fifteen hours without a break. And after they made him work all weekend. And late every night of the week. It’s as much as he can do to keep his eyes open...
PATIENT RECORDS SYSTEM
ENTER PATIENT NAME …
He brings up the record and grunts with satisfaction.
PATIENT’S NAME ... LESTER, DAVID MICHAEL
ADDRESS ... 2323 WOODSIDE AVENUE, DES PLAINES
NATURE OF TREATMENT ... ROUTINE TRANSFUSION AND DRUG ADMINISTRATION. SCHEDULED WEEKLY UNTIL FURTHER NOTICE.
TREATMENT DETAILS ... FULL FLUSH, BLOOD TYPE A-. SIMULTANEOUS DRUG INFUSION, 15 ML PRIODIN.
The intern considers as best he can through his weariness. Priodin is a powerful drug that can bring on allergenic reactions. Best to check, just to be on the safe side.
DETAILS OF ALLERGIES ... NONE. PREVIOUS TREATMENTS REVEAL NO CONTRA-INDICATIONS.
The report appears under the name of one of the other interns, a young woman he knows well. Perez. She’s good. Reliable. He shrugs. Seems straightforward. No problem.
7
If it had been human, Bambi might have congratulated itself on its cleverness. In fact, for all its mimicry of life, the computer system has no need of ego boosts or job satisfaction. It simply performs in accordance with its programming and its acquired knowledge.
The ingenuity of its artificial intelligence system has been evident in its rapidly compiled plan to hold the intruder in conversation rather than immediately barring him from access, as an inferior system would have done. Its subtlety is such that it has learnt a great deal about its guest from the questions that it received, rather than the ones it asked.
In fact, it guessed the identity of the intruder within two minutes, based on its previous traces of unauthorized accesses of its network. Bambi was actually capable of detecting the threat of being compromised, and working out a strategy for dealing with it, in a few millionths of a second. What took the time was the navigation around the network. Inevitably, it had to work through other computers and it frequently took some seconds before it received a response to its passwords. Fortunately, the emotions it lacks include frustration.
It had calculated that its guess as to the intruder’s identity had a 98.9713 percent chance of accuracy. Given the margin, however
remote, for error, it had decided to confirm its suspicions. Thus, it had engaged the intruder in conversation and had delayed asking the location of the terminal until it had actually learnt what it felt it needed.
Exactly two billionths of a second before it had first started to ask Andrew for his location, Bambi had, in fact, pinpointed the terminal’s whereabouts.
Alone in the cool, darkened computer hall, the great mainframe hums softly. The system is capable of processing multiple programs, enough to run software for an entire corporation. Each second it can provide the answers to hundreds of millions of questions.
Now, every ounce of the artificial intelligence system’s ability is dedicated to one purpose as its prime software commandeers partitions and channels to give it more computer power: more power to allow it to it consider actions and options and the report it will make about the intruders it has detected and foiled. And to allow it to solve the other problems it is experiencing.
The Digital Dream Page 25
