“I always thought the real heart of the problem was awareness,” said Trip. “My mother’s been working on this for a long time, and—”
“Your mother’s been working on A.I.?” interrupted Roger. “So has our father.”
“And mine,” said Ray.
“And both my parents,” said Wendy.
A moment of silence descended upon the table. It was broken by Paracelsus, who said, “Well, isn’t this nice. I do like a party.”
“Shut up,” said Rachel. She looked at the others. “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”
“It depends,” said Wendy. “But I bet I can guess what you’re thinking. Do any of you know why we’re here?”
“Philosophers have wondered about that for centuries,” said Paracelsus.
“Not for certain,” said Roger, ignoring the automaton’s chatter. “All we knew when we came was that it was a top-secret government project. But the picture is starting to come into focus.”
“It’s not a government project,” said Wendy.
The others stared at her.
“How do you know that?” asked Trip.
“I read my parents’ mail. I know—it’s a bad habit. But they shouldn’t make it so easy.”
“Easy?” exclaimed Ray. “Didn’t everything about this project come in coded Top Secret?”
“You let that stop you?” asked Wendy. She sounded astonished.
The others looked confused. “Top Secret messages are electronically scrambled,” said Trip.
“Oh, boy, have I got a program for you guys!” said Wendy, shaking her head. “I’ll let you have it cheap, too.”
“Is that how you knew my name?” asked Ray, remembering their first conversation.
“Sure. I tapped a few files to find out who was going to be here. Anyway, let me fill in a couple of details for you. First off, the name of this sand pile is Anza-bora Island.”
“We figured that out from the coordinates,” said Rachel.
“Yeah, well that’s effective, but slow,” said Wendy. “Now, let me finish. This used to be an Air Force base. But since they started putting so much military hardware in space the government has been cutting back on manned air bases planet side. This one was scheduled to be closed completely until the Feds agreed to let Dr. Hwa use it as his base of operations.”
“So this is a civilian project with government backing?” asked Trip.
“Exactly. Now, this guy Hwa has been out rounding up the top computer scientists in the country, including our parents, for some mysterious mega project.”
“I can tell you a little about Hwa,” said Ray. “He’s the number-one brain in industry when it comes to artificial intelligence. My father had some papers Dr. Hwa wrote, and he kept shaking his head and talking about how brilliant the guy was.”
“There you go,” said Wendy. “Dr. Hwa has dragged us all here so our parents can help put together some ultra-sophisticated artificial intelligence program. The big question is—exactly what is it?”
“I think I know,” said Trip.
The others looked at him.
“It’s what I was starting to talk about before. The day after my mother got the message from Dr. Hwa, she went out and got a plaque. It’s hanging over her terminal now. It says, ‘Cogito, ergo sum.’ ”
“You just lost me,” said Wendy.
“It’s Latin,” said Roger. “But it was written by a French philosopher named Descartes. It’s heavy stuff. He was trying to figure out the world, and he decided that before you could know anything else, you first had to decide if you existed yourself.”
“Well, that’s obvious,” said Ray.
“Nothing is obvious to a philosopher,” replied Roger. “Anyway, Cogito, ergo sum was the key to his later stuff. It means, ‘I think, therefore I am.’ ”
“So?” said Wendy.
“Don’t you see?” cried Trip. “They’ve brought our parents here to make the ultimate machine. Not just a machine that can talk, or solve problems, or other tricks like that. They’re going to try to make a machine that can think. More than that, they’re going to try to make a machine that knows it thinks. A self-aware computer. A computer that can say ‘Cogito, ergo sum,’ and mean it! They’re not just after artificial intelligence. They want to bring it to life!”
Security Measures
“This could be the biggest thing since the Manhattan Project!” said Roger, sounding both excited and a little frightened.
“The what?” asked Ray.
Rachel had long ago gotten used to the fact that most kids her age had almost no sense of history. Biting back a sigh, she said, “ ‘The Manhattan Project’ was the code name for the program that created the first atomic bomb.”
Trip looked surprised. “I can see why this would be big. But that big?”
“Absolutely,” said Rachel. “We’re talking about a new form of intelligent life.”
Wendy’s eyes were bulging. “And if it could actually integrate all the data it had access to…” She trailed off as the possibilities overwhelmed her.
“The Breakthrough Point,” murmured Roger. “Questions, big questions, answered at a rate—”
He was interrupted by a shriek from Paracelsus. “Time to go! Time to go! Dr. Hwa is waiting!”
The sound was so startling it caused Ray to jump and let out a little scream. “What was that all about?” he asked angrily.
Roger was laughing too hard to speak, so Rachel had to answer. “Sometimes we use Paracelsus as a kind of combination talking memo pad and alarm system. We had set him to remind us that we’re supposed to go to—”
“The big meeting!” finished Ray, a look of panic in his eyes. “Oh, man—my stepmother is going to skin me alive! See you guys later!”
With that, he bolted out the door.
Trip and Wendy were close behind him.
The Phillips twins made it to the meeting exactly on time. Ray and his stepmother arrived only about five minutes behind them—largely because Mrs. Gammand had been standing at the front of the house ready to go when Ray ran up.
Dr. Hwa himself was waiting at the door. Apparently unruffled by the delay in the schedule, he greeted them with a gentle smile as they entered.
The dark-haired woman standing next to him, however, seemed very disturbed indeed. Her jaw was clenched so tightly the muscles in her cheek were jumping, and she was tapping her foot in a kind of deadly rhythm that indicated major trouble for anyone who crossed her. Indeed, properly focused the glare she gave Ray and his stepmother as they came in might well have stopped a clock—or a charging elephant! It was a powerful look coming from a woman who was only an inch or two taller than the tiny Dr. Hwa.
Ray saw a cluster of scientists milling about a table covered with trays of miniature sandwiches. Though the scientists were all dressed in identical white lab coats, he had no trouble spotting the towering figure of his father near the center of the group.
Wendy, traveling solo, appeared a few minutes after the Gammands. Like Ray and his stepmother, she was subjected to an angry glare from Dr. Hwa’s assistant. Unlike the Gammands, Wendy glared back.
The woman’s most powerful look of contempt was reserved for Trip and his father, who came in last of all. They were last because Trip’s father had strolled into their new home several minutes after Trip, looking for lunch and completely unaware that they were supposed to be anywhere else.
Trip had had a mixed reaction to his father’s late arrival. It was nice, because it took him off the hook. But he found it a little disturbing to be reminded that he was more responsible than his dad. His mother’s reaction on spotting them only made matters worse. She patted her blond hair, folded her arms over her chest, and arched an eyebrow at her husband and son. The icy look left no question that they were in big trouble. Trip sighed. Being sufficiently more responsible than his father to get home ahead of him wasn’t good enough. He probably should have gone out to look for him.
Standing beside
Dr. Davis was the hawk-nosed woman with the long braid they had met earlier that morning. Dr. Clark, thought Trip, digging into his memory banks.
On the other side of Dr. Clark stood a short, bald man with huge hands. A piece of shiny metal extended from the breast pocket of his lab coat, but Trip couldn’t make out what it was.
Going by the lab coats, there were eleven scientists in all; twelve, if you counted Dr. Hwa. Trip glanced around. Aside from the other kids, he could see five non-scientists Two were short, dark-haired women: Dr. Hwa’s assistant, and the woman who had come in with the Gamma Ray—probably his mother. Then there were three men: his own father, rumpled yet somehow still elegant; a beefy-looking man of medium height who was wearing a military uniform; and a muscular man dressed in a tie and sports coat and looking none too happy about it.
Dr. Hwa’s assistant moved to a lectern at the side of the room. “Attention. Your attention, please!” She had a voice like a bell—loud and clear, but also musical—and a lovely Irish lilt to her speech.
The room fell silent.
“I’m glad you could all make it today.” The tone of her voice made it clear she was longing to add the word finally, and Trip had the feeling that if Dr. Hwa hadn’t been standing next to her she would have launched into a lecture on promptness as a social virtue. As it was, she simply said, “This is the first chance we have had to get you all together, and Dr. Hwa would like to say a few words.”
Accompanied by a smattering of applause, Dr. Hwa walked to the lectern. As his assistant stepped down and Dr. Hwa took her place, Trip realized that they were both so short that they must have positioned something behind the lectern to stand on. Otherwise they would have disappeared when they stepped behind it!
Dr. Hwa held up his hands to silence the applause. “Thank you,” he said. His voice was gentle but firm. “Welcome to Project Alpha. I am glad you are all here.” His ruby ring flashed as he gripped the sides of the lectern. Leaning forward, he said intently, “More glad than you can possibly imagine.”
“Oxford,” whispered Roger, sidling up to Trip. “With a trace of California.”
Trip raised a questioning eyebrow.
“His accent!” hissed Roger.
Trip nodded and wondered how Roger could possibly have figured that out. Sometimes it frustrated him how much there was to know. He felt good about the progress he was making in his studies of lasers, information transmission, and the history of art. But there was so much else to learn!
Dr. Hwa was still speaking. “First, I would like to apologize for this morning’s excitement. Security is looking into it, but we are quite sure that it was an industrial accident having nothing to do with our work.”
I’m not so sure about that, thought Trip.
“Next I would like to apologize to the young people for the swiftness and secrecy they have had to endure in coming here. One secret that I can now unveil is your location. Let me welcome you to the South Pacific—specifically, to Anza-bora Island.”
A look of satisfaction passed among the five youngsters. They had pegged that one right!
“Unfortunately,” continued Dr. Hwa, “most of the rest of our secrets must remain just that. We are embarking upon a project of the utmost importance. Many forces would like to have the information we will create—information that could be used in many ways, some of them good, some unbelievably destructive. So if our security measures sometimes seem harsh, I hope you will understand, and forgive us. I do not like secrecy and hiding myself. But as director of this project, I am responsible for all information that leaves this base.”
He looked around. “It’s a responsibility I take very seriously. For that reason, we have taken serious measures. As many of you know, unlike most computers, ours is not connected to any other machines. For the duration of our project we will live without the ‘Net. Moreover, we have created an electronic shield that makes it impossible to transmit information to or from this island by any but two frequencies—both of which will be constantly monitored. That there can be no cell phones here goes almost without saying.”
Dr. Hwa smiled gently. “All of this is not to be taken as a sign of mistrust in any of you, of course. It is simply a sign of how important we feel the project is—how important, and how potentially interesting to outside forces.
“But let us talk of more pleasant things. Because of the significance of our work, the government has agreed to let us use the former Anza-bora Air Base as our headquarters. We could hardly ask for a more perfect spot. Not only is it isolated and secure, but much of the technical equipment we need is already in place, including a superb mainframe computer that we can adapt to our purposes.
“Even better, at least for some of you, is the fact that this gives us a very pleasant place to live—a place where families can be together, and where there are many opportunities to enjoy yourselves when not working.”
Dr. Hwa sought out the youngsters and favored each of them with a smile. “From personal experience, painful experience, I know that it is not easy to leave your home. I hope that when you have begun to explore the possibilities of our island, you will feel it was worth it. The Air Force left us a great deal of equipment—including sailboats, diving gear, and even dune buggies—that will be available to you…depending, of course, on your passing certain safety tests and receiving permission from your parents.” He paused, then with a twinkle in his eye, added, “We have also arranged for each of you to have a computer terminal in your own room.”
The kids looked at each other and shrugged. They had all had computers of their own for years.
“These terminals will be linked to the island’s mainframe,” continued Hwa. “The meaning of this should be clear: Each of you will have constant and instant access to what will soon be the most powerful and sophisticated computer in the world. Of course, a great deal of our programming will be classified. But for the most part you can use the computer as you please.”
The diminutive scientist laughed out loud at the look of astonished pleasure that appeared on the youngsters’ faces.
“Now,” he said, “I think a few introductions are in order. We are a small community, and we will be working in close proximity for some time. Of course, many of you have already met at conferences or know each other through your work. And those of you who arrived early, like Dr. Clark and Dr. Fontana, have had a chance to meet many of the others. Even so, I should feel remiss if I did not formally introduce you all.”
Except for Rachel, who had studied several memory-training techniques and could plug names into her head quickly, there were just too many new people for the kids to learn all at once. They paid particular attention as each others’ parents were introduced, of course. But there were seventeen adults in all—the twelve scientists plus Ray’s mother, Trip’s father, Dr. Hwa’s assistant, and the two other men. So the names and faces inevitably become a blur to everyone save Rachel. With her help, the others were able to sort out the crowd later—though it took some time before they were always sure they were matching the right name to the right face.
In addition to their parents there was:
Dr. Celia Clark, whom they had met earlier that morning; tall and hawk-nosed, she was distinguished by her long chestnut braid…
Dr. Leonard Weiskopf, the funny little bald man with the huge hands and a shiny metal tube sticking out of his pocket…
Dr. Marion Fontana, a short, pipe-smoking woman who radiated strength and confidence…
Dr. Stanley Remov, a serious looking older man whose face had more freckles per square inch than any they had ever seen…
Dr. Armand Mercury, who matched the planet that was his namesake by being the smallest (and roundest) in the group…
And last but not least, Dr. Bai’ Ling, whose striking beauty Ray would later describe as “indescribable!”
Besides the scientists there were three other staff people at the meeting. One was the formidable Bridget McGrory, Dr. Hwa’s secretary/aide—she o
f the deadly eyes and the laughing voice. The second was Sergeant Artemus P. Brody, who was in charge of security for the project. The third—the muscular man in the sports coat—was Henry Swenson, head of maintenance for the facility.
Of the three, only Brody spoke, making a presentation that was so astonishingly dull Wendy nearly fell asleep on her feet even though it only lasted ten minutes. The one interesting item she gathered from Brody’s comments was the surprising (to her, at least) statement that with maintenance, support and security staff, the total island population was close to 120—down from the nearly fifteen hundred that had been here when the base was at full strength, but still more than she had expected.
“Now for our tour of Anza-bora!” exclaimed Dr. Hwa when Brody was finally finished. He sounded relieved. Wendy guessed it was because most of the group was still awake.
Rachel Phillips found herself wedged between her father and Dr. Weiskopf in the backseat of a Jeep driven by Bridget McGrory. While they were waiting to start, the little scientist winked at her. Then he extracted the metal tube Rachel had noticed earlier from his pocket.
Rachel smiled. She had been speculating about what the tube was, and had finally decided it must be some sophisticated technical measuring device.
Her guess had been wrong. It was a pennywhistle.
“May I play you a tune?” asked Dr. Weiskopf. A sea breeze rustled through the fringe of graying hair that made a half circle around his mostly bald head.
“My brother’s the classical music lover,” said Rachel. “I prefer robot rock.”
A wistful look crossed Dr. Weiskopfs face. With a shrug he said, “Perhaps some other time,” and began tucking the whistle back into his pocket.
“On the other hand,” said Rachel quickly, “being on an island like this puts me in the mood for a sea song.”
Dr. Weiskopf beamed as he whipped the whistle out of his pocket and raised it to his lips.
Rachel’s father smiled at her gratefully.
Though she was skeptical that the old man’s sausage-like fingers could manipulate the whistle at all, Rachel’s tolerance turned to pleasant surprise when Dr. Weiskopf began to play. Starting with a soft, pure trill, he coaxed more music out of the simple instrument than she would have thought possible.
Operation Sherlock Page 4
