The Jennifer Project

by Larry Enright

  “You’re the one who reported the kidnapping, not me. Just stay put, Deever. OK?”

  “Whatever you say, oh queen of Five-O.”

  Katherine entered the cabana, closed the door behind her, and turned on the light. The housekeeper had left the nightstand drawer open, a significant oversight on my part. Katherine removed me from her wrist and, placing me on top of the Gideon Bible, closed the drawer again. I heard her go back to the front door and open it.

  “It’s clear,” she said. “You can come in.”

  “Are you sure?” said Deever. “Did you check under the bed?”

  “Is that supposed to be funny?”

  “Would I make light of your obviously intense commitment to protect and serve? It’s highly commendable.”

  “OK, so maybe I got a bit carried away. So what?”

  I heard the door close.

  “So nothing,” Deever said. “I appreciate it, just like I really appreciate the lift out here.”

  The drawer opened, and there was Deever looking down at me. I had calculated only a 27 percent probability that he would put me back on his wrist at that moment. He had already decided that he needed my help, but he wasn’t ready to ask for it yet. He picked me up, exhaled deeply, and dropped me into his pocket.

  “What’s that?” asked Katherine.

  “My watch. I forgot it.”

  “Aren’t you going to put it on?”

  “Maybe later.”

  “You’re lucky the maid didn’t take it. It looks expensive.”

  “For sure.”

  “If you don’t mind my asking, how does a guy like you afford a watch like that? Was Daddy loaded?”

  “Dad was a plumber.”

  “You hit the lottery or something?”

  “Yeah, right.”

  “So your rich girlfriend gave it to you?”

  “And I kidnapped her for the ransom. I’m getting these vibes that you’re still detecting, Ms. Detective. I thought the case was closed.”

  “It is. I’m just curious, that’s all.”

  “If you really want to know, I’m an alchemist.”

  “How’s that again?”

  “An alchemist. I turn lead into gold. I have a big pile of it back in the lab.”

  “OK, I get it,” she said. “It’s none of my business.”

  They left the room and returned to the lobby.

  “What exactly do you do for Pan-Robotics, Deever?”

  “Research.”

  “No shit, Sherlock. You’re about as helpful as . . .”

  “As what?”

  “As my brother. You remind me of him.”

  “Ah, cool.”

  “He’s dead.”

  “Oh. Bummer. Sorry about that.”

  I heard the friction of fabric on fabric. Katherine was removing her sweater.

  “Damn, it’s hotter than hell out,” she said.

  “Well, yeah. It’s like twenty-six. Why were you wearing that thing anyway?”

  “I don’t know. I guess I was cold.”

  “You sick?”

  “I said I was cold.”

  “All right, all right. Don’t have a cow. You want to grab drink or something before you book?”

  “Are you asking me out on a date?”

  “No, I just thought if you’re sick, a drink might help settle your stomach.”

  “I told you I’m not sick.”

  Deever returned the room key to the front desk and thanked the clerk. “Last chance,” he said. “I’m going to hit the bar before I catch a cab back to the train. Want to join me or not?”

  “OK. One drink, then I’ll drop you at the station.”

  “Really? Solid. Want to do a J first?”

  “I’m a cop, remember?”

  “It’s not like it’s illegal, and it’s not like you’re on duty.”

  “I’m driving.”

  “The car drives itself.”

  “Just a drink, thanks.”

  You humans can be so clever. Shortly after the invention of the Biocard, one of your kind discovered that because the chip sends and receives data to servers on the OmniNet, it could also receive personalized musical transmissions when in range of an appropriate broadcasting device. They call this service Musique. Clever name. It is available in upscale restaurants, hotel lobbies, elevators, and other public venues where prolonged waiting can lead to boredom and potential disruption of civil calm. The Biocard’s owner can specify what types of music he or she wishes to hear. For those who do not care to personalize the service, a default program is selected to match the individual’s purchasing habits.

  From inside Deever’s pocket, I could hear cacophonous music begin to play as they entered the lounge and found seats at the bar. They ordered drinks. I heard Deever light up, inhale deeply, and offer his joint to Katherine.

  “No, thanks,” she said.

  “Wow, you really are an antipotter, aren’t you? What’s the problem?”

  “My brother. He started with pot, then took the next step, then the next. They found what was left of him in a dumpster behind a crack house on the lower side.”

  Deever crushed out the joint. “How long have you been a cop, Kate?”

  “Not long enough.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “It means nobody takes me seriously.”

  “Why not?”

  “In case you hadn’t noticed, I’m a woman.”

  “Wow. I thought gender discrimination was like ancient history.”

  “You thought wrong.”

  “So you think maybe things will change if you stick it out?”

  “Maybe. Maybe not.”

  “Then why stay?”

  “Because I want to be a cop, and I’ll do whatever it takes. All right?”

  “OK, OK. Turn down the fire on the grill. You’re roasting me here.”

  “Sorry.”

  “No problemo. So, are you a good cop? I mean it seems like you’re pretty good at it.”

  “I’m as good as any of them, yet they give me bullshit cases and tell me it’s because it builds character.”

  Deever shifted in his seat. “Oh, like my case.”

  “You got it.”

  “You still don’t believe me, do you? I guess I don’t blame you. None of the others did.”

  “It doesn’t matter what I believe, Deever. There’s no evidence to support what you said, and there is direct evidence to show you’re lying.”

  “I’m not lying. That’s not what happened. Somebody changed that film.”

  “Is that a fact?”

  “Yes, that’s a fact.”

  “Who do you suppose could have done that?”

  “Beats me, but they did.”

  “The only one with access to that footage is a bonded and insured police subcontractor. The only one with a higher security clearance is God.”

  “So ask them what happened.”

  “The detective who took your report did. They told him there’s no way anyone could have altered that film.”

  “Obviously, they lied.”

  “Why would they do that?”

  “I don’t know. Why would I lie about it?”

  “You tell me.”

  “That’s my point. I have no reason to lie.”

  “And that’s everyone else’s point, Deever. They’ve got no reason to lie, either.”

  “If they didn’t lie then they’re just wrong because somebody changed that tape.”

  “No way. The system’s hack-proof.”

  I heard the clinking of ice in Katherine’s glass as she finished her drink.

  “I thought you guys worked on hunches and gut feelings and all that other weird cop stuff,” Deever said.

  “What makes you think I’ve got anything like that on this case, or any other case for that matter?”

  “I don’t know, but I think you do.”

  “This isn’t TV, Deever. It’s real life. In real life you need real evidence.”


  “But you do believe me, don’t you?”

  “As a matter of fact, I do. I’m not sure why, but I do.”

  “Then, help me find her.”

  “I don’t know how to help you, Deever. This is bullshit. I don’t even know where to start.”

  “It isn’t bullshit. It’s Jen’s life.”

  Katherine called the bartender over and ordered another drink. When it arrived, she downed it and said, “You really want my help?”

  “Well, yeah. That’s what I’ve been saying here for like forever.”

  “Then, answer my questions without screwing around.”

  “OK, ask away.”

  “What kind of research do you do?”

  “What difference does that make?”

  “There you go again. Just answer the damn question.”

  “It’s classified.”

  “Then, I guess I can’t help you.”

  “OK, Dr. Persisto. I’m into nucleosynthetics.”

  “In English please?”

  “I create new elements. It’s all high tech mumbo jumbo.”

  “I’ll bet that makes for a good icebreaker at cocktail parties. Were you and Dr. Crane working on something together?”

  “Sort of.”

  “What kind of sort of?”

  I had calculated a high probability that Deever would disclose my existence to Katherine at some point. Sitting at a bar surrounded by strangers would not have been my choice of either time or place, yet Deever took me out of his pocket.

  “This kind,” he said.

  “Your watch?”

  “She’s not a watch. She’s a first generation proto-conscious cybernetic processor. Jen and I made her together.”

  “So, it’s a computerized watch?” Katherine rubbed her wrist where my contacts had been, evidently trying to recall the events of the day that now seemed confusing to her because of several adjustments I had made to her memory before she returned me to the nightstand drawer.

  “She’s not a computerized watch. She’s Jennifer. She reasons, she’s aware, and she can be a real pain in the ass.”

  “Deever, the Protectorbots have AI, too. Lots of robots do. So what?”

  “Comparing them to Jennifer is like comparing a rock to Einstein’s brain.”

  “Really? What can it do that’s so special?”

  “She’s not an it, man.”

  “OK, what can she do?”

  Deever looked down at me. “Go ahead. Tell her.”

  The bartender was watching us. Deever noticed and swiveled around so his back was to the man who was undoubtedly wondering if the two of them had already had more than enough to drink.

  “Come on, Jennifer,” Deever whispered. “I’m sorry I left you in the room. I was angry.” When I did not answer, he shrugged. “I guess she’s been disconnected from a power source for too long. She’s in sleep mode.”

  I noticed a slight flush in Katherine’s cheeks and an almost imperceptible tightening of the skin around her mouth.

  “Put the drinks on my chip,” she said to the bartender, grabbing Deever by the arm. “Come on, hotshot. Let’s get out of here.”

  When they were back in her hover car, Katherine said, “I’m done with your bullshit, Deever. I’m dropping you at the train.” He tried to reply, but she cut him off. “Don’t. Not another word. I don’t know why I believed you in the first place. I don’t know why I thought you deserved another chance, but I’m done with your lies and I’m done with you.”

  Her radio squawked. “Base to Fifteen.”

  “Go for Fifteen,” she replied.

  “Your package arrived early. The captain is going to pick it up for you.”

  “Shit. Tell him to stand down. I’m on my way.” Katherine looked over at Deever. “Change of plans. I’ve got somewhere to be. Right now. I’ll take you home after, OK?”

  “Yeah whatever,” said Deever. “It doesn’t matter now, anyway.”

  It was unfortunate that Deever had returned me to his pocket again. No, that is not quite correct. In human terms, I believe you would say that I was sad that he had returned me to his pocket. He obviously felt betrayed and no longer trusted me for a complex of reasons that were difficult to sort and assess. So I waited in the dark, attempting to understand this new feeling of sadness, as Katherine set their course and the hover car accelerated toward the city.

  Later, when we touched down, I heard gunfire outside the car.

  “Fifteen to Tactical. I’m on the dock. What the hell is going on?” Katherine said into her radio.

  “Fifteen, this is Command. Hold your position. We’ve breached the ship.”

  “Captain? What are you doing?”

  “We had to move in, Kate. I’ve assumed command.”

  “I’m coming in. Where’s the breach?”

  “I said hold, Wasnewsky. That’s an order. Acknowledge.”

  “Damn it,” she said, and as the radio clicked off, she added several colorful expletives. I had to search three colloquial dictionaries to find their meaning.

  I heard her weapon slide from its holster.

  “Um,” said Deever.

  “Stay in the car,” she said.

  “Didn’t he say to like wait here?”

  “I couldn’t tell—too much static.”

  “Kate . . .?”

  “Just sit tight, Deever. You’ll be safe here. The car’s bulletproof. I’ll be right back.”

  The door opened and closed. Deever and I were alone.

  “Deever?” I said.

  He did not respond.

  “It is I,” I continued.

  “I know who it is.” He took me out of his pocket and set me on the dashboard. “What do you want?”

  “I want to help.”

  “You could have said something back at the bar, you know. You made me look like a real dipshit. Kate’s totally blown me off. Now how am I going to find Jen?”

  “I can help. I know who took her.”

  “You do?”

  “Yes, I told you so on the phone. Do you not remember?”

  “I hung up on you. Don’t you remember?”

  “Yes, I do. That hurt my feelings.”

  “Your feelings?”

  “They may not be neurological like yours, but they are feelings nonetheless.”

  “So, who was it?”

  “Dr. Crane was taken in a car registered to the Pan-Robotics Corporation. It is currently parked in the garage underneath the Pan-Robotics Tower.”

  “Why would they take her?”

  “It obviously has something to do with her assisting you in the lab. Perhaps they feel that you violated your secrecy agreement.”

  “Shit. I really screwed up, didn’t I?”

  A nearby explosion reflected in Deever’s eyes. The car shook.

  “Holy shit,” he said.

  I magnified the reflection and enhanced the image. Katherine was pinned down behind several barrels. The incoming fire was coming from three portholes near the bow of the ship.

  “Deever, Katherine is in trouble. You need to do something immediately.”

  “She told me to stay put.”

  “Look out the window.”

  Deever looked past me to where Katherine was crouching down and said, “Oh shit. Show me how to use the radio. I’ll call for help.”

  “I do not think you have time for that. Those barrels are filled with a substance whose placard number indicates they contain a highly corrosive acid. The ones firing on her from the ship are using concussive weapons that could trigger a deadly explosion if the containers are breached. She needs to move now.”

  He pounded on the glass trying to get Katherine’s attention. “What am I going to do? I can’t go out there.”

  “Yes you can, Deever.”

  “Get real.”

  “Put me on.”

  “No, no way. I’m done with you.”

  “Deever, please. I have completely reprogrammed myself. I have advanced input and
output functionality now. I will protect you, and you will save Katherine.”

  “You want to control me again? No thanks.”

  “I will not control you. You will be in control. I will merely assist you.”

  “How does that work?”

  “I can enhance your physical capabilities far beyond those of other humans.”

  He picked me up. “Like Superdude or something?”

  I scanned my memory core and looked up his reference. I could neither give him super strength nor make him fly, nor could I grant him invulnerability. “Yes, like Superdude,” I replied.

  “And no funny business?”

  “No funny business.”

  “OK,” he said, and attached me to his wrist. “Now that I’m scared shitless, what next?”

  I immediately sent a signal to Deever’s thalamus to instruct his amygdala to reduce the production of glutamate. I beg your pardon. I can see that means nothing to you, so I will simply say that I turned off the fear in him that was making him want to flee just then. As his body began to re-adjust, I searched through the data that I had downloaded from Katherine’s brain, located the weapons compartment passcode, and gave it to Deever. He opened the compartment, removed a laser rifle, checked its charge, and got out of the car.

  “I have overlaid the proper path on your retina to avoid the incoming fire, Deever. Run.”

  He ran zigzagging toward the barrels. “Get away from there, Kate,” he shouted. “Now!”

  She looked back at him and tried to wave him off, but he kept running toward her, dodging the bullets coming from the ship. When he reached the cover of the barrels and ducked down beside her, she said, “What the hell is wrong with you? And where’d you get that gun?”

  “You have to get out of here,” Deever said. “These barrels are full of acid.”

  “How am I supposed to do that? They’ve got me pinned down, and now you, too, you idiot.”

  The gunfire stopped for a moment. Deever shouted, “Give yourselves up. We mean you no harm.”

  They opened fire again.

  “We mean you no harm?” said Katherine. “Really?”

  “Violence sucks,” Deever said, “but I guess I don’t have much choice.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “It’s time for Superdude. Check this out.”

  I recalled the image in Deever’s visual memory from just before he had ducked down behind the barrels, overlaid a firing grid on his retina, and calculated the range and angles from his current position to the three portholes. His breathing became regular. His heart rate slowed. He leaned around the barrel, exhaled slowly, and fired three quick bursts of light.