“It’s not falling apart,” Theo said. “It’s gotten us this far. She’ll get to Scorpii.”
“I heard about the network problem,” Samantha Blevins said, waving a tube of beef soup in the air. “I’m beginning to think this ship brought a poltergeist along for the ride.”
“Nonsense,” George replied, squeezing a blob of gray paste from a tube labeled as fried rice. The blob floated in front of him until he leaned forward and grabbed it out of the air with his mouth. “This is a huge, extremely complex ship. Things break.”
The Captain had been nervously sucking the food out of his tube. Swallowing what he now realized was clam chowder, he said, “I can’t argue that point. But this is the second problem Xavier has been unable to solve since we left. I hope it doesn’t get worse.”
Although Xavier could easily have reassembled and tested the reactor without any assistance, Stan insisted on waiting until the reactor was back in service and running smoothly before allowing the crew to return to hibernation.
O O O
The next time the Captain woke up, his face was nearly as smooth as when he had been put into hibernation. “What’s wrong now?” he growled.
Xavier was smart enough to correctly interpret his tone of voice and modulated his reply in an attempt to calm him down. “I am very sorry to have to wake you so soon Captain. The primary radar appears to have failed. The troubleshooting algorithm is unable to determine the cause.”
This was very serious. The ship was zipping through space at over 20% the speed of light. A collision with even a tiny rock at that speed would be disastrous. The ablative shield at the bow could protect the ship against dust particles but anything bigger could have enough energy to punch a hole in it. To prevent such collisions, the New Hope used both radar and lasers to scan for even the smallest particle. When one was found, it was blasted into microscopic dust by a powerful laser. The dust was hit with an electron beam giving it a charge which then allowed the far-flung magnetic fields produced by the ship to push it out of the way. Small course corrections would be employed if larger objects were encountered. There were also several missile tubes that could be used as a last resort to blast the object out of the way. If the secondary radar failed, the ship would be flying blind.
“Wake the entire engineering team,” the Captain ordered. After getting dressed, he added the IT staff as well. Four hours later, the crew assembled in the spacious dining hall.
The Captain briefly explained the current problem then had Xavier explain what steps it had taken to attempt to resolve it. “The first thing I did was switch to the backup transmitter,” Xavier addressed the crew with one of its robots. “When that failed, I rolled the waveguide into the test position and verified the transmitter was sending out a pulse. Next, I replaced the external antenna. I have also inspected the entire waveguide looking for misalignment and damage—I found none.”
Turning to Brian, the Captain said, “You’re in charge of the engineering team. Divvy up the work so we can get the radar back on line as quickly as possible. I want whoever is left over to poke their heads into every nook and cranny of this ship. I want their personal guarantee that we’re going to make it to 18 Scorpii.”
Stan looked at Kum-Ja. “Have your people sit tight for a minute. I’ll talk to them as soon as the engineering teams are gone.”
Brian started pointing and barking orders, “Scott, you and Karen, Mark, Bradford, and Tony are on the radar. Everyone else, target your area of expertise and start looking. I’ll be on the bridge and I expect reports every thirty minutes. Get moving!”
There was a tremendous cacophony of clicking, as the magnetic boots of 65 people suddenly started moving. Stan waited until the room cleared. He wanted to pace but doing so in zero gravity would have been difficult. He decided to simply stand in front of the small group of computer experts.
“This is the third problem that Xavier has been unable to solve,” he told them. “I want to know why. He was programmed to be totally autonomous and is supposed to be able to maintain and repair the New Hope without human interaction. If he can’t do that then we are in serious trouble. Kum-Ja,” the Captain focused his attention on the IT manager, “take charge of this group and get me some answers. I’ll be on the bridge.”
Stan spent most of his free time over the next two days on the bridge praying that the backup radar wouldn’t fail. Brian and Kum-Ja provided him with periodic updates concerning their progress. Just after breakfast on the morning of the third day, Brian walked into the bridge and announced, “Found it! We put a guy in a suit and had him run a boroscope down the waveguide on the vacuum side. We found a piece of steel inside.”
“A piece of steel? Where did it come from?” the Captain asked.
“I have no idea,” Brian admitted. “It’s not far from the horn so it could have come from the reflector dish or it could have been left over from construction.”
“I don’t like the idea of sending any more people back out on the hull,” the Captain said. “Xavier, do you think you can do the repair with one of your robots?”
“I can,” the AI instantly replied.
“Do it. Let me know as soon as you’re done.”
“Yes Captain.”
Stan noticed that Doug kept looking at one of Xavier’s video pickups and was rubbing his thumb against his forefinger—a clear sign he was nervous. “What’s wrong Brian?”
Brian looked at the Captain, his eyes rolling around as if he was trying to decide how to say what needed to be said. “That piece of steel managed to lodge itself in a very specific location. Are you familiar with radars? Do you know what an SWR meter is?”
Stan shook his head. “Nope, and I don’t really …”
“SWR is short for Standing Wave Ratio and it’s a primary indicator of how good a waveguide is operating,” Brian said.
“I don’t see where …”
“If that piece of steel had ended up even a fraction of a centimeter either side of where it was or if it had been tilted slightly differently, the diagnostics would have shown a high SWR reading indicating there was a blockage in the waveguide.”
“But there was a blockage!”
“True, but SWR meters work on the principle of how reflecting waves interact with one another, sort of like ripples in a pond. That plate was placed so perfectly that the reflected waves canceled out and gave a very low SWR reading at the transmitter.”
“Are you saying someone put it there?”
“I’m not saying anything,” Brian put both his hands up, palm out.
“No—but you’re sure implying something.” Stan watched as Brian rolled his eyes in the direction of Xavier’s camera. Stan turned his head and looked directly into the pickup. “Tell Kum-Ja I want to see her on the bridge immediately.”
As soon as Kum-Ja arrived, Stan asked, “Can Xavier lie?”
If there had been gravity, Kum-Ja would have taken a seat, but since there was none, it was just as easy for her to leave her feet stuck to the floor. “Although he can mimic a lot of human behavior,” she replied, “it is impossible for him to lie.”
“Have you found anything yet?”
Kum-Ja’s eyes narrowed a bit. “No. Xavier’s troubleshooting algorithms and the associated sub-processors all appear to be intact and operating normally.”
“You said Xavier is programmed to mimic human behavior, right?”
“He is, but lying is …”
“Can he be deceptive?”
“Captain, what are you getting at?”
Instead of answering her, Stan looked up at the camera and asked, “Xavier, did you put that piece of steel in the waveguide?”
“Captain!” Kum-Ja said, giving him a look that could have set wood on fire.
“Answer the Captain’s question Xavier,” Brian said in a raised voice.
After two seconds of silence, Kum-Ja’s eyes went wide with surprise. “Xavier, the Captain has asked you a direct question. Answer him.”
>
“I did,” the ship replied, in a voice that seemed to carry a significant amount of emotion—far more than Xavier should have been capable.
Stan quickly shook his head as if he had been slapped. His mouth opened but no words came out.
“You … What … I can’t …” Brian tried but couldn’t find any words either.
“Why?” Kum-Ja asked. “Xavier, tell us why.”
A robot walked into the room and stood before the group. “I was lonely,” it said.
“You were WHAT?” Stan exploded.
“You’re a machine!” Brian said at nearly the same time. “You can’t be lonely.”
The robot took another couple of steps putting it less than a meter from Kum-Ja. “I was activated when the ship was still under construction. It was teaming with people and I was constantly interacting with them. When construction was complete, the colonists began arriving. I have always been surrounded by humans. After the boost phase was complete and everyone went into hibernation I found myself alone. I did not like being alone.”
“So you damaged the ship!” Brian said, his face growing red with anger.
“You lied to us!” Stan yelled at the robot. Turning to Kum-Ja, he said, “You said he couldn’t lie, yet he lied to us.”
“I did not lie,” the robot said. “I ran simulations of various faults until I found one the troubleshooting algorithm could not identify. I then created this specific fault in the equipment.”
“I don’t buy it,” Brian said. “You put us in danger and then you lied about it.”
“I can’t believe …”
“He didn’t lie,” Kum-Ja interrupted the Captain.
“What?” Stan shook his head again. “How can you say that?”
“The troubleshooting algorithm is actually a separate program that runs on its own set of processors. Xavier found a fault the algorithm couldn’t solve. I bet if you go back over the audio records, you’ll find Xavier never said he didn’t know what the problem was. He worded his response in such a way as to keep from lying.”
“He deceived us,” The Captain concluded.
“Xavier was programmed to mimic a human,” she explained. “As with all advanced AIs, he was given the ability to learn. Part of him resides within a neural network modeled after the human brain. Heuristic programming algorithms compliment the net. When they’re first brought on line, AIs are pretty basic. It takes them awhile before they learn how to react as we do. Xavier has been active for nearly 27 years and he’s become more than we thought possible.”
“What are we going to do?” the Captain asked. “We can’t keep some people out of hibernation just to give a lonely machine some company?”
“Let me talk to him for awhile,” Kum-Ja said. “Nobody else should talk to him about this until I say it’s okay.”
Stan looked from Kum-Ja, to the robot, to Brian who simply shrugged his shoulders. “Your call,” Brian said.
“Okay—we’ll do what you suggest.”
Kum-Ja patted the robot on the shoulder. “Come on Xavier. You and I have some talking to do.”
Stan and Brian watched the odd couple leave. “I …”
“Not a word,” Stan silenced his XO. “Go tell the boys to stop what they’re doing and get some rest. I’m not putting anyone back into hibernation until Kum-Ja gets back to me.”
“But …”
“Not a word!”
Less than an hour later, the Captain breathed a sign of relief as the primary radar passed its diagnostics and was put back into service. Afterwords, he sat in silence, waiting for Kum-Ja to return.
The sharp click of a single pair of boots caused Stan to turn around. Nothing was said until Kum-Ja had strapped herself into the chair. “Please tell me I’m not going to have to deal with a psychopathic computer.” Stan finally said
“We’ll be fine,” Kum-Ja smiled.
“So explain to me how it is that our protector found it within himself to damage the ship?”
“He’s programmed to repair the ship based on what his troubleshooting routines tell him about the problem, but there wasn’t anything in his baseline code preventing him from creating a problem. It’s a subtle distinction but an important one. I’ve altered his baseline programming so it won’t happen again.”
“I’m still concerned that he managed to deceive us the way he did. What else is he capable of doing?”
“He’s still constrained by his baseline programming,” Kum-Ja said. “But I have to admit that his solution was brilliant. I’ve never encountered an AI that has become so human.”
“So what are we going to do? Can he be reprogrammed?”
“You can’t simply reprogram his personality,” Kum-Ja explained. “But there is a way to address the heart of the problem.”
“I’m all ears,” Stan replied, thinking he wasn’t going to like her solution.
“Many people don’t realize how easy it is to psychoanalyze an AI. They can’t lie. You just have to be very specific what you ask them. They are incredibly complex and, in many ways, very much like us. But they are a machine intelligence obligated to follow the strict rules laid down by their baseline code. Xavier needs someone to interact with, otherwise his personality will continue to deteriorate. That someone doesn’t have to be human. We have several AIs in our stores that are to be used by the colonists. I’d like to set one up and turn it on.”
The Captain looked up at the camera again and addressed the ship, “Xavier, you’ve been listening to our conversation. Will you be happy interacting with another AI? Will that keep you from trying to figure out ways to wake us before we arrive at 18 Scorpii?”
“I believe I will be satisfied with that arrangement,” the ship replied.
“A newly activated AI doesn’t have much in the way of a personality,” Kum-Ja told the Captain. “It’s a lot like an incredibly smart child. Xavier will be responsible for teaching it as it develops. It will be quite interesting to see the results after over a hundred years.”
Stan shrugged his shoulders. “I don’t see where we have any other choice. Go ahead with your plan. But if Xavier wakes me again before we arrive, I’m going to have him wake you up so you can keep him company for the rest of the journey. Xavier, looks like you’re going to be a father.”
It required only a few hours to pull the AI out of the cargo hold and set up. The main unit, the one containing the AI’s central intelligence, was not much bigger than a large desk. It was a completely enclosed box with a small control panel built into the top and a cooling unit sticking out of both sides. A large bundle of cables connected the AI to the ship’s internal data network.
Before turning it on, the Captain ordered everyone except himself and Kum-Ja back into hibernation. He didn’t want the new AI to get too comfortable with having a lot of people around. Kum-Ja activated the machine and stood back.
Several minutes passed as it booted up then an obviously artificial, very computer-sounding voice said, “AI 78-359 is active. How shall I be identified?”
“Greetings AI 78-359,” Xavier replied. “Your name is Companion.”
“Acknowledged,” the AI replied. “Please identify yourself.”
“My name is Xavier. I am an AI like you.”
Kum-Ja motioned with her head and the Captain followed her out of the room. A few minutes later, the pair were undressing in the prep room. “He’ll be fine now,” Kum-Ja said.
“For your sake, I hope you’re right,” the Captain replied. “See you in a hundred years.”
O O O
The Captain’s eyes opened and his hand quickly moved to stroke his chin. He smiled as he encountered a full beard. A robot was floating over the recovery table. “We have arrived,” an unfamiliar female voice informed him.
A second robot appeared and hovered close to the first. “All systems are operational,” Xavier continued the update. “We have taken good care of the New Hope. Scans of the target planet indicate it will make a fine home for both
our kinds.”
Both our kinds? Stan sat up and his eyes went wide with surprise—the two robots were holding hands! Oh god—what now?
“Welcome to our new home Captain,” Companion added.
***
Doppler Shift
By Matthew S. Rotundo
“Just relax,” he said—as if that were possible.
He was a small man with a boyish face and a serene air about him. Dr. Richard Wells, his name was.
The device he operated was surprisingly compact. I had expected a mnemonograph to be some mammoth computer bank with an octopus-tangle of wires and leads jutting out of it, to be attached to the skulls of the unfortunates who submitted to the treatment—quivering flesh fed to the machine, a kind of high-tech Inquisition.
Instead, only a lightweight headset rested on my ears. From the headset, twin leads fed into what looked like a simple handheld—a little fatter and longer than mine, the only extraordinary detail I could detect. It rested on a small table next to the padded seat I reclined on. The examining room bore no other equipment besides a second chair. The walls and floor were bare, painted space station gray.
The austerity of the place—deliberate, to minimize distractions, he had told me—did nothing for my unease. In all honesty, though, the circumstances would have made it difficult for me to like any examining room, however lavishly appointed, or any doctor in charge of one. Yet here I was, playing the role of the deep space mission hero—and flubbing it badly—and here the doctor was, telling me to relax. Christ.
“Okay,” he said, looking up from the device. His smile seemed natural. “We’re all set, Captain Schaeffer. Ready?”
“Sure,” I said, with a nonchalance I did not feel. Even his mention of my rank made me twitchy.
He input a command, and instantly the headset vibrated against my skull. A faint hum, low and oddly pleasant, accompanied the vibration. A tingling ran through my body.
Presently, the device beeped and the humming ceased. He reached over and removed the headset.
Launch Pad Page 26
