“It what?”
“And any degree of authoritarian control is justified in achieving that.”
Jason took a deep breath. “That’s insane. Why do it?”
“With the ‘problem’ eliminated, it believes it can organize perfect cooperation. It will plan to the finest detail our society and economy. It will even abolish money.”
“It will fail. I can’t write a paper on why, but I know instinctively it will fail.”
“Let me test you. What aspect of Half-Bit’s intelligence is the most distinct from our own?”
“It isn’t creative. Not in the slightest. What looks like creativity is just a rehash of material from human beings. On the surface it looks creative, but dig deeper and it’s fake. That’s why despite its intelligence, it’s never made any revolutionary scientific breakthroughs.”
“Exactly. The words ‘genius’ and ‘genie’ have a common origin. Works of genius are a gift from your genie. Half-Bit has no genie because only humans are born with one. How does its lack of creativity relate to its error?”
Jason pondered that for a moment.
“Creativity is inseparable from the chaotic and irrational. They are the same thing.”
“Yes, so if you suppress our chaotic nature you suppress creativity too.”
“And it’s vital to human beings. Suppress it and it will reemerge in anger and rage. And a burst of creativity.” He jabbed his finger toward Susan in a eureka moment. “Directed at destroying the oppressor. That’s where Crimson Unity came from. Organized and threatening in little more than a year.”
“Those people were always waiting for their moment.”
“You’d think they’d like the plan to abolish money though.”
“If they knew about it—and I doubt they do—their opposition would continue. The beginnings of total oppression of their self-expression got to them, and their utopianism binds them all together. And now there’s us. We don’t want anarchy, but just like Crimson Unity we are decentralized, organized in cells. We have determined allies in many places and our people have invented plenty of new tricks to accomplish our goals. The details are need-to-know.”
“But wait,” Jason said, “Half-Bit can only give orders to people. It’s not allowed direct control of robots. So that means people are conspiring to pull this crap on us. Who obeys orders to tyrannize themselves?”
Susan shifted in her armchair and settled back. “It analyzes personality quite well. It finds people who are intelligent, well organized, industrious, and unencumbered by empathy or conventional morality in the pursuit of their ideological plan. Not to mention the quest for high pay and superiority over ordinary citizens. It built a team of secret police who enjoy their status and are ruthless. We also believe they respond strongly to the sense of unity they get from working alongside their comrades to implement Half-Bit’s plan.”
Her expression hardened, her eyes glazing over with malice. “Shed no tears over the deaths at the mansion. They made their choice.”
“They didn’t look like the sort who’d protect a debate on censorship.”
Susan folded her arms and gave him a cynical smile. “If they detected a secret discussion of that kind, they’d quietly do facial identification of the attendees. Only the organizer would disappear at first, and the rest would receive fines, but I bet in five years they’d all be gone.”
Her face fell and she looked down at the floor. She rested her arms on the chair. “More like two years. Resistance will be impossible by then if our intelligence is correct.”
Jason dared not ask for more information on that intelligence.
Susan snapped out of her reverie and looked to him. “Another problem is that nobody has ever caught the CMC lying. It probably never needed to lie before, so public trust is high. It’s had six glorious years in government. So when it tells you that we face a serious threat, and the details are need-to-know only, you go along. Regular police question nothing lest they look like Crimson Unity sympathizers. That missing lady you worked with? She must be guilty. You accept it.”
“Are they in a secret prison?” Jason asked.
“A few potentially useful ones are in, let’s say, ‘reeducation’ facilities. We’re certain that most are dead.”
“Shit,” Jason said.
Susan continued. “The CMC’s lack of creativity makes it a poor liar. It can alter figures, tell you something that used to be true, deny what is true or state the opposite, but for complete fabrications it has learned to modify human lies. But we think for the most important deceptions, some members of the secret police concoct lies for it.”
“It’s supposed to be transparent and respond to popular opinion, but instead we have the beginnings of a police state. What the hell?”
“The design allows it to exclude ‘irrational’ or ‘ignorant’ opinion, but it can also influence opinion.” She laughed. “It believes the opinion it influences validates its policy. Malevolent high-level employees have helped shape it too.”
“Great, the machine and its cabal of assholes are out of control in a positive feedback loop and nobody knows where it’s going.”
“Exactly. We expect the police state to expand soon and become public knowledge. Probably leveraged by a major incident blamed on Crimson Unity. Then everyone will know the score. You’re ordered to do something you think is immoral. If you refuse, you will be shot. No one knows the real plan, only small pieces of it. They’ll comply.”
“Hard to spread the word these days,” Jason said.
“That’s why we communicate via messages buried in ordinary photographs posted online in public forums. Most online illegal discussion occurs that way. We have sophisticated algorithms to hid¬e the presence of the message.”
“Image steganography. That’s cool. I heard Crimson Unity are using it.”
“Probably. Between steg messages and word of mouth we built a network of analysts, strategists, information sources, field operatives, and militia, all arranged in small cells. Mostly they’re waiting and planning. You’re joining one of the most active.”
“Just how bad is it for you?”
“Evidence so far suggests that Half-Bit thinks we are independent individuals and groups trying to piece together the bigger picture. If it discovers how much we know, all hell will break loose. Another complication is the legacy of Smithson Kerr’s conspiracy to forge a corporate dictatorship. It casts suspicion on any antigovernment organization with ties to business—which we do have.”
Jason had not heard that name in a while. Months before the CMC’s election, Kerr had attempted to install an AI government to impose the elite’s exclusive agenda. The system design included a robotic army to eliminate opposition from a democratically-minded human military. The conspirators assassinated about a dozen “problematic” people before a traitor in their inner circle blew the plan apart.
“What’s your agenda?” Jason asked.
“No more AI dictators. We must have another popular vote in every country Half-Bit controls. Open and truthful discussion on every issue will find answers that work.”
“The laptop,” Jason said. “Would it have given the game away?”
“Encrypted,” Susan said, “but if they’re willing to spend a fortune, enough quantum computing power exists to decrypt it. That’s why we never send the data online. And yes, you saved our asses by rescuing Sam’s computer. He must have discovered they were onto him quite suddenly.”
“Glad to help,” Jason said. “I know that Brad was too. He said so.”
“We will inscribe his name alongside many others on a memorial when this is over. I’ll see to that. Right now we need to establish whether you’re a wanted man. How did you arrive at Sam’s place?”
Jason described how they traveled there and the problem with the half-latched door.
“If the police spotted the car like that and stopped it,” Susan replied, “they’d probably try to call you to see if there was an incident. I
n any case Half-Bit would notice the anomaly. After what happened it’ll pay close attention to every detail in that area around Sam’s mansion.”
“So I need to find out if my car’s in my apartment garage with the door half-latched.”
“We can arrange for someone to get in there today and check it, and shut the door so nobody notices. Tricky without the key but doable.”
“That’ll have to do.”
“Now, I’ll give you a new phone with an app for steganographic communication. It’s disguised as a game.” She handed him a password on a scrap of paper. “You only share the decoding keys in person with your most trusted friends. Networks sometimes get busted anyway. Damned snitches mostly. Take good care of the key file and password.”
“Always,” Jason said.
“And I’ll also give you a neutered phone. All the transmitters are snipped. It has pre-downloaded maps and the GPS receiver works.”
“For navigating on foot without Half-Bit being able to track you?”
“Yes. Sometimes necessary. You’ll meet up with another of our people and work with him. A man in his midthirties will be sitting on a bench seat outside a town convenience store in eastern California, out toward the border with Nevada. I’ll give you a question-and-answer code to identify each other. That vehicle you arrived in is not traceable to Zarather. You can probably use it for a while before it attracts heat. If your own car made it home unnoticed, assume it only buys you time. Avoid drawing attention to yourself always,” Susan said.
“What about facial recognition cameras?”
“The phone has a map of their locations. We have people in all kinds of useful positions.” She grinned.
Jason laughed. “That’s awesome.”
“I’m told your SUV has a forty-caliber Glock 22 hidden in each door. I’ll show you how to access them. Now we’ll eat breakfast, then you get as much sleep as you need and leave for the meeting.”
Eight
LOWGRAVE’S JET LANDED after midnight on the airstrip that served the CMC bunker, and his car sped up the steep valley road to the bunker access building. Daniels remained at the Zarather mansion to deal with the situation there.
Deep beneath the earth, Lowgrave roused Wiseman from sleep to talk about the pre-CMC plot by Smithson Kerr to install an AI dictatorship that took orders only from himself and his cabal. Carefully Lowgrave watched the computer scientist’s responses for any telltale signs of involvement in the latest subversive activity, but he noticed nothing.
He let the man return to sleep around three a.m. The CMC monitored Wiseman’s brain waves for a guilt reaction but detected nothing specific.
Lowgrave followed a strictly disciplined regimen, so he rose at six in the morning as usual. He thought nothing of waking Wiseman then too.
The scientist sat in the interview room with bags under his eyes. His head and shoulders slumped forward, and it seemed that even his bones sagged.
Lowgrave paced back and forth. “How well do you know Sam Zarather?” he asked.
“I’ve met him numerous times at conferences and the like. Many people have.”
“That’s not an answer to my question. But answer another question. Has Zarather ever mentioned employees, young men perhaps, who are particularly adventurous, or who he may have called upon to do work of a sensitive nature? Covert, or unethical?”
“Oh, he would never discuss that with me. Adventurous . . . well let me see . . . I never found that kind of talk interesting. The work itself, however—”
“Wiseman, I brought you here because this is an urgent matter. I have no time for your blathering on. Sharp, man. Sharp!”
“Okay, okay, he said . . . at the . . . the symposium in Miami he came to the bar and worked the gathering of minds. Didn’t drink though.”
“To the point, man!” Lowgrave shouted, loud enough to make Wiseman jerk back in his chair.
“There was a conversation about hiring. He said . . . he said . . .”
Lowgrave spoke gently. “It’s all right. It will come. I’ll let you into a secret, doctor, but you must never repeat it outside this room.”
“Never. I would never breathe a word if you’re so good as to—”
“If you did, I would need to interview everyone who you may have told. Who knows what’s going on after last night’s business at Zarather’s? Your friends could be involved in a scheme of some sort.”
“They would never! You have my word.” Wiseman reached his fingers to his lips and squeezed them. Lowgrave almost laughed.
“We believe that Zarather leads an organization that aims to destroy the CMC and replace it with a corporate dictatorship. They have their own AI, different from the CMC. A system designed to support their dictatorship, complete with robotic army. It’ll make resistance impossible.”
Wiseman opened his eyes wide, with a genuine look of shock on his face. “Destroy it? Are you certain? But how could they? The CMC bunker is impregnable. This is like Smithson Kerr all over again!”
“We believe they have a plan involving a nuclear weapon. Zarather is in custody, but vital evidence was taken from his residence before our people could secure it.”
He wished he could honestly say that Zarather lay in a cell on that very floor, but his officers still had no idea where the slippery deviant had gotten to. Wiseman had never worked for Zarather Systems, but if he had ties with Zarather and thought his leader was in custody, he might talk to get some measure of immunity.
Lowgrave continued, “The hiding place was so perfect that we had to return with specialized radar equipment to search, but we were already too late when we first arrived. The men who stole the evidence took a trip in one of those escape rockets that were all the rage back during the Strife.”
“He hired some kind of professional thieves?”
“I think they were company men. I doubt there are many people at Zarather Systems who are capable of that. It was very well planned.”
“I’m sorry, I just can’t remember. I’ll keep trying.”
“You sleep for as long as you need to. Ask for anything that you need. Then we’ll see what you remember.”
Lowgrave left the room, went past the elevator, and sprinted up two flights of stairs to an office level. He knocked hard on a door and opened it immediately. The man inside looked up, startled.
“Any word on that capsule landing?”
“I was just about to come and find you. There are some tire marks in rough ground out in the middle of nowhere, well inside the possible landing radius. They can’t find where the tracks start or finish, but they head in the direction of the nearest road.”
“Good. I don’t care if they need to examine every square inch with a magnifying glass to follow the trail. They will not sleep until they find that capsule. Give them amphetamines.”
“Right away, sir. I’ll send a chopper with the drugs if necessary.”
“They can have a week off afterward, but they stay high until they find it. This is why I don’t hire men who are prone to addiction.”
“Any action for us on this Zarather business?”
“Nothing yet,” Lowgrave replied. “He planned his disappearance in detail. He’s not your average subversive.”
“Have you heard, sir? Crimson Unity terrorists have taken out a row of three ultra-high-voltage transmission towers. They draw power from the Mojave Desert solar farm.”
Lowgrave’s face tensed up with hatred. “I see.” He marched out of the room.
Crimson Unity people were the worst for questioning. They spouted nothing but deranged lies. And half of them stank.
He spent the rest of the day breathing down the necks of the people tracking the mansion fugitives and those pursuing the Mojave Crimson Unity cell. Some of his people worked far away, but he’d developed a talent for breathing down their necks through a cell phone.
At eight o’clock that evening, Lowgrave once again sat opposite Wiseman, who looked well rested and held a cup of coffee.
>
“We occupy special positions, you and I,” Lowgrave said. “Behind the scenes. Privilege and great responsibility. We know when the rules must be bent—bent double if necessary. We know better than the common people, whose opinions are often knee-jerk instead of rational.”
Wiseman nodded. “Reminds me of media inquiries I received during the CMC election. Ignorant and sensationalist.”
“Exactly. Anything come up regarding Zarather?”
“I do remember,” Wiseman said. “He was talking about giving talent the time to mature. He talked about one young guy, an adventurous risk-taker who could go far as an executive. But he was going to leave the guy to develop as a low-level team leader. ‘Wet behind the ears,’ I recall him saying. I’d never be that rude.”
“What was his name?”
“That’s the thing—he didn’t say. I guess he wasn’t rude enough to name an employee he’d just portrayed as wet behind the ears.”
“Any other details about this person?”
“I’m sure that’s all he said.”
“Excellent. That’s something to work with. Anything else you remember, you let me know.”
“I will.”
“You’re becoming an asset to this administration, Dr. Wiseman. When the history of these times is written, about how we solved the problem of managing a productive and harmonious society for all time, your role will be mentioned, I’m sure.”
“It’s an honor. Anything I can do.”
Nine
THE LONG DRIVE passed almost in a daze. Jason watched the mountains roll by. One hundred miles per hour was routine for self-driving cars on the highway, and they set a fast pace elsewhere too.
Jason parked in the main street of the town, beside a long row of shops. Beyond those stood a motel. Not far ahead of his parking spot, an aluminum bench seat was positioned outside a convenience store, just as Susan had described.
Nobody was there, which meant the contact was late, or missing. Nothing appeared to be out of place. Jason cast an eye at the rearview mirror.
Silicon Uprising Page 6
