by Chris Hechtl
“He can verbalize sounds but hasn't spoken much English. Just the word No as far as I know. I'm not sure if he can read either. That's on my agenda, to find out,” Kate said.
“Oh. Wow.” Doctor Casper blinked. “He said no?”
“Yes, Doctor.”
“She mentioned getting him fixed,” Bill said. Gizmo looked up and glared, fur rising into a full bristle of annoyance. He wasn't sure what that meant but he didn't like it.
“Right, buddy? Do you want to be neutered?” Bill asked.
Gizmo's ears went back he shook his head. “Uh uh!” he said in a tiny voice. “NO!” He glared at Kate again, then Doctor Casper.
The doctor blinked in shock. “This is fascinating! Imagine an intelligence in a body and brain that small! Problem solving intelligence! Someone we can communicate with, our own Neo! Right under our nose this entire time. Imagine how much we can learn from him!”
“You mean like birds? Parrots you mentioned?” Bill asked, stroking Gizmo to get him to stop bristling.
“You know?” Kate asked.
“When I realized how smart he could be, I did some research,” the young man admitted.
Doctor Casper nodded. “Ah. Good for you, young man.” Her eyes darted back and forth as she thought of the various implications.
When Bill reluctantly returned home, he was guided into his father's study by James the family majordomo. He discussed the situation with his father.
Richard senior sat on the edge of the chair. “Look, son, I know you are attached to the beast, but you have to understand, the implications of his kind … tinkering with the brain is a huge problem. The company doesn't need or want the black eye.”
“You're talking about putting him down?” Bill demanded. He was clearly unhappy, incensed about the situation. “You're not talking about killing a dog, Dad. He's not sick. He's a person—fully sapient, fully aware.”
“You don't understand how much trouble the lab is in. How much trouble I'm in. The lawyers are screaming bloody murder about liability.”
“And? How many hundreds are out there?”
“We're doing a recall, which is a problem. Some refused to return their pets, even a few of the first generation,” his father said with a grimace as he swirled his scotch.
“I keep telling you, Dad; they are people, not pets.”
“And you don't understand what I meant about liability,” his father rumbled right back, making Bill turn to him in surprise. “Murder? Remember what I said about that? Basically what we've been doing is selling an intelligent being if you are right. That's slavery. And then we've got what they can do. Problem solving, their temper issue … so they could kill. Which means we could get sued for that too!” He threw his hands up in despair. “Don't get me started on criminal charges!”
Bill blinked and then frowned thoughtfully. “Oh.”
His father glowered at him for a long moment. “Yeah, Oh. Damn, I wish you hadn't figured this out.”
“You knew?” Bill accused, hurt and indignant over the very idea. The thought of a cover-up danced in his mind.
“No! But …”
“Then why, Dad, if you hadn't found out by me, then someday it would have come up and bit you in the ass.”
“Yeah, that's what I keep reminding myself and the board. It's still got us in a hell of a fix. Doing the recall and trying to keep it quiet is a problem. We can't force people to turn them over unless we involve the law or skirt outside it. Which …,” he grimaced.
“Dad, once you have them, what are you going to do with them?”
“That's an issue. Honestly, son, I don't know. For now, contain the problem before it gets worse. Eventually someone somewhere is going to figure out how to get around our preventive measures and breed the little monsters.”
“Dad …,” his son started to object at that noun, but his father held up a restraining hand.
“It fits. We're getting reports of frustration issues in some of the latest generation. They start getting mad, shedding their fur, growing … it's weird. That's why we've gotten some minor success on the recall but …,” he shrugged.
“Great. Just great.”
“Yeah, tell me about it.”
“So, what are you going to do? You always taught me to do the right thing, Dad. They are sentient, people to some degree.”
Richard frowned then ran a hand through his hair. “I honestly don't know, son. Obviously I can't dump the stock and shares I've got; it'll cause a panic and inquiries. Oh, you mean them?” He frowned. “I don't have all the answers son. We need to get more of them though before we can make an informed decision. But you need to understand that I'm not the only one making these decisions. We're going to have to live with what happens either way.”
“Yeah, well, some of us might,” Bill said darkly as he left.
Cyber security alerted to a delayed threat. Mister Forester read the report then called Orly in about it. “So, you're saying he downloaded a virus? From his email?” he demanded carefully. “It's not like we haven't seen this before you know,” he said patiently.
“I know that,” Orly said witheringly, trying hard not to roll his eyes in front of his boss. Forester was a dinosaur, barely techno literate. He looked good to corporate, however. “We're still taking it apart. I'm not sure now if he downloaded it or uploaded it to our network.”
“The secure network? How did it get past the hard firewall?”
“That's what we're trying to find out. There is an air gap between our interior network and the machines connected to the outer world network,” Orly said, demonstrating with his hands spaced apart. “Nothing is supposed to connect the two. Information is carefully controlled in either direction, through firewalls and such.”
“And I know this. So …”
“So something breached that. A couple gigs of data were sent out. I narrowed down some of it to Doctor Catheter's computer; he left files on his public computer.”
“Sloppy of him,” Forester murmured.
“Yes, sir,” Orly nodded. “Some were on other computers. I am not sure if that is how they got the data, that there wasn't a breech through the air barrier at all. Just a catch-all virus.”
“How did it get the data out?”
“I'm still working on how it past our firewall in the first place. The second is easy. It collected the files, then cut them into tiny pieces and sent them out as bits in files. Picture and video files streamed by the employees.”
“Through social media?” Forester asked, catching on.
“Yes, sir. It looks that way.”
“So we're going to need a nice memo to everyone and an overhaul of our security procedures. Obviously we've been lax if this happened,” Forester said, voice rumbling. “And on my watch too! That is so not going to go over well with corporate when they find out.”
Orly winced. He knew Forester was going to look for someone to scapegoat. He was hoping that since he had brought him the problem maybe the old saying about the bearer of bad news wouldn't come back to bite him in the ass.
“Send me your updated report. I want hourly updates. Get our best people on it. We'll need to re-interview the source of the contamination, plus whoever he talked to. Get someone to take apart that mail server to see if it passed through there.”
“Yes, sir. We're on it.”
“Good.”
Bill worked with Kate and a psychiatrist to work on testing Gizmo's intelligence. Many of the tests were above the little guy's head. He rooted for him but realized that was unscientific. His bias could contaminate the results. He did point out that they weren't giving the little guy a chance, not briefing him on the symbology and its meaning.
He patiently taught Gizmo, then left the room so they could run the test again. Doctor Casper had the computer randomize the questions then alter some of them to see how he would react. Then they started the test all over again.
> “He's impressive,” Kate said, looking over the doctor's shoulder at the test results.
“These are only preliminary. We'll have to run them several times and then average them. They could be a fluke,” Doctor Loring stated. “And we can't rule out interference factors,” she said, eying Bill and Kate.
“We just needed to explain the situation and work on his social skills,” Bill said. He smiled slightly to Gizmo, then nodded his head to the woman. “Some of us humans could learn right along with him,” he said.
Kate snickered then covered her mouth when Doctor Loring didn't catch on. When she did she was flustered at first. Gizmo, however, was not amused. He did his best to be tolerant of the other humans however.
He was jealous of the human Kate and her apparent affection of Bill. It distracted Bill from him, Gizmo. He didn't like it. But then she impulsively tickled him and played with him when he tried to roll to stop her. That simple act broke down barriers in all concerned. Doctor Loring couldn't help but smile when the infectious giggles got to her. She shook her head.
When Kate finished Gizmo was flustered and gasping. “Going to be good?” she asked, stroking his pelt. He growled at her, but his heart wasn't in it. Bill handed her a small brush, and she brushed Gizmo. The little guy closed his eyes and purred as the brush worked its magic on him. He started to trill a song, a happy song. When she slowed her strokes and then stopped, he got annoyed and took the brush to brush himself.
“That alone proves he can use and understand tools,” Kate said triumphantly.
“As long as they are his size,” Bill said with a smirk as they watched Gizmo try to wrestle with the brush.
Doctor Loring snorted. She had to admit her cat couldn't brush himself. “Tool using, music, symbology … he's definitely up there in the intelligence quotient,” she admitted slowly. “I am not sure how self-aware he is.”
“How far would you put him, Doc?” Bill asked, clearly interested in an answer.
“I'll let the computers do the final tally of results once we get all the test results in. He had a good score on the Raven's Progressive Matrices test as you know. The others were a mixed bag, but as you said, once he understood the process repetition kicked in and his scores improved. The follow-up tests should bear that out. And of course they'll have to be independently verified.”
“Which means more tests,” Kate said with a slight grimace. She was glad Bill was patient and treating it like a game. Privately she put Gizmo's IQ well above 50, which meant human level. She was curious about his attention level without Bill in the room and how strong his memory and cognitive skills were over time.
“So I'll be seeing more of you?” Bill asked, eying Kate. She caught the look and blushed, looking away. She brushed a hand through her bangs, brushing them away.
“I think so. I've been reassigned to this project.”
“Oh. Cool,” Bill said, bobbing a nod.
“So, if we're finished for the moment, I am going to lunch,” Doctor Loring stated.
“Good idea,” Bill said with a smile to Kate. “Care for lunch, Miss Beringer?”
“Why, Mister Cosmos, are you asking me out on a lunch date?” Kate teased.
“Perish the thought. That might be construed as prejudicing the testing official,” Bill quipped, glancing at the departing psychologist.
“Oh dear me,” Kate said frowning. She did like Bill but …
“Why don't we take Giz here to the cafeteria?” Bill suggested.
“Isn't it bright there? And there are a lot of people,” Kate said, now concerned.
Bill frowned, looking down at Gizmo. The little guy yawned, then smacked his lips. He curled up in Bill's arms.
“On second thought, we can drop him off for an afternoon nap, then go get lunch. If that's okay with you,” he said looking up at Kate.
“Sounds good to me,” she said, stroking Gizmo's soft pelt as they carried him to the lab.
“This guy?” Clamp asked, holding up an image of Bob Iggy. “You're sure?”
“Yes, sir. We've got him going into a couple of casinos. Our intel people picked up chatter that he's on the hook for a lot of credits. That is a red flag right there. And Ory in cyber reported that the virus didn't breach our firewalls, it came from the inside. He pulled that desktop apart and found parts of its log had been erased.”
“Still circumstantial.”
“Yes, sir. But we need to put him under a microscope.”
“Do one better. See how this plays out the rest of the week. Tail him, monitor his phones, bug his home, whatever it is you need to do, do it. But find out one way or another.”
“And if it takes more than three days, sir?” Foster asked.
“Then we'll see what your people turn up over the weekend. But,” Mister Clamp put a finger up, “if you get nothing, he's clean. If you get anything more, we're going to sit him down and sweat him hard.”
“On Monday, sir? Let him come to us?”
“Yes. We need to put this to rest now. Find out how much we've leaked, to who, and plug it.”
“Yes, sir.” Foster replied, grimacing. He preferred to identify a leak, cocoon it, then feed it a mix of false and true intel. That way the enemy learned only what he wanted them to. But the boss was more of a direct action sort of guy, getting right into the thick of things.
“You handle this. Anything on the Mogwi problem?”
“We're looking into it. We may need to take direct action with some of our customers to um, liberate their subjects.”
“Another problem. Figure it out, Foster, that's what I'm paying you for.”
“Yes sir, Mister Clamp, we're on it.”
“You'd better be. Don't think I haven't forgotten whose watch these screwups fell on.”
Foster grimaced then nodded.
“Get out of here. Get back to work. That's what I'm paying you for after all.”
“Yes sir.”
Bob was nervous the rest of the week. He walked on eggshells, expecting the ax to fall. He got a reprimand on Friday from his supervisor Dick, but that was it. He kept looking over his shoulder but never saw anyone suspicious. Of course, the company could employ enough people to watch over someone. He reminded himself he was getting paranoid. He knew better than to admit it to Bart; it could be a death sentence.
He couldn't help it though; he had to gamble to relax. It was his only relief since his girlfriend was in Axial 2. But in doing so he amassed an even greater gambling debt over the weekend. “A fool and his money are soon parted my friend. We need to settle up,” Yin told him, slapping him hard enough on his shoulder to make him wince.
“Um, yeah, about that,” he drawled, looking for the exits. He noted security stationed near each. So much for that he thought. He felt his stomach grumble. At this rate he was going to get an ulcer … or worse he thought bleakly.
“Don't worry. You've got a friend who's covering you this time,” Yin said.
“A friend?” Bob asked with a sinking sensation. He was pretty sure he knew who it was. When he saw his bookie talking with Bart, he shuddered. He was on the hook for life he knew it. He picked up a couple of bottles of vodka and got roaring drunk when he got home.
The next morning he was hung over and in a lot of pain. Also very much aware of how deep in trouble he was in. The new guy that had replaced Paul didn't play around with the security check, and he was thorough! It made Bob feel a trace of anxiety that helped to brush the crushing hangover briefly aside. He should have called off, but he'd used up a lot of his sick time already.
When he got to the lounge, he was sure he was in trouble. The desktop computer that was set up to allow employees to check their mail was gone. A new one was in its place. “Cool, huh man?” Rory asked, coming up behind him so quietly he nearly jumped out of his skin. “You heard about Paul?”
“Paul?” Bob asked, still a little bleary despite the brief adrenalin rush. “No, what about him?”
“Got fired man. Foster's rolling heads. He's just the first according to scuttlebutt. Didn't you notice the new guard? And the new procedures? They practically check your underwear!”
“No, I um, must have just sailed through most of it,” Bob admitted. Rory stared at him. “Sorry, bender,” Bob muttered, looking away.
“Yeah, I can tell. I'm surprised you came in at all.”
“With the bosses on the warpath, I didn't want to get my ass in anymore of a sling than it already is,” Bob said, racking his lunch box into his locker. The locker swung differently he thought, swinging it back and forth.
“You got the north end. Dick said you are on his shit list still, probably for a while so it's yeah, a smart thing to have come in and not call off,” Rory admitted. “But you'd better get squared away fast, man.”
“Yeah. Look, sorry about the mop and the dog thing man,” Bob said turning to Rory.
Rory looked at him, frowned, then looked away. After a moment he shrugged in the uncomfortable silence. “I can't say it's forgotten, man, but be more careful.”
“Yeah, definitely,” Bob muttered.
“They put new alarms and locks on the cages with the dangerous animals in them. Some of them are getting moved from the small animal labs to better facilities or so the scuttlebutt said earlier this morning.”
“Oh?” Bob asked.
“Yeah. Check on cleaner bots 2 and 3. Then when you get done making the rounds in the north wing, I'll meet you in the kitchenette and I'll catch you up.”
“Thanks,” Bob said simply, getting back to work.
It wasn't so easy to get back into the routine though. Half way through his normal schedule, he noticed more than just the locks had been changed. The cameras in the corners of the room seemed to be tracking him, which bugged him. They didn't track other people … just him.
Cleaning out some of the cages would have to wait; he didn't have the codes to the locks. Apparently someone had forgotten that little detail he thought, scowling. He passed the dog's cage and moved hastily on. Perhaps it was a good thing he thought.
