Nano Man

by Dean C. Moore

When the last of them had departed, Gunther said, “So Luderman still doesn’t suspect that you’re actually a robot?”

  “No. He’s too caught up in the conspiracy to undermine you by implanting earlier model, defective robots in positions of influence across various hi-tech industries, where their geeky quirkiness will just add to their charm.”

  “He doesn’t realize that they too are supplied by Gunther enterprises?”

  “Does it really matter? Our interests are increasingly interlocked, our businesses increasingly interdependent.”

  “What matters is the illusion of freedom and choice. The feeling that we’re not all working together but at cross purposes. It’s a useful illusion for scientific progress. The competition is necessary for the creative process. That’s why we have compartmentalization of information. Why so few can have the big picture. And why who owns who exactly is kept a bit vague. Besides, from a middle management perspective, he’s precisely right. These companies do compete fiercely with one another, and keeping a watchful eye on them with an agenda that he ultimately fights to keep hidden from me, but part of how the game works. If it weren’t for collusion and conspiracy, the darker forces of the human spirit couldn’t inform the lighter ones. No, Luderman, and his kind, is as essential to things as am I.”

  Bateman said, “Speaking of bringing everyone into the fold, how are you coming with retrieving the Nano-Man?”

  “Soon,” he said, “soon.”

  “We have too much invested in these prototypes, Gunther, to rush to market with their replacements. Once we recoup our investments a hundred times over, then we can contemplate when to release the Nano-Men, assuming we can ever get the damn hive minds to behave.”

  Gunther took another deep breath. He didn’t appreciate being lectured by one of his own prototypes, even if Bateman could well outthink him in certain applications. He was preparing to tell him off, when Bateman said, “Wait,” and put his hand on Gunther’s chest as a gesture to quiet him. Bateman used his echo location to pinpoint the spy, and once his eyes got a lock on him, lased him into chunk meat. Bateman had a few modifications which wouldn’t be available to the public for some time. He could do things even various military models Gunther was preparing couldn’t; all his execs in key positions did as a safeguard should any of them be found out or cornered and have to cut their way free of a dicey situation in a hurry.

  “I suppose you didn’t get anything off his mind at this distance,” Gunther said.

  “On the contrary. I had repeaters installed throughout the plant and the surrounding compound to boost my reception. I can even tell you what the execs who were just here are thinking in the ‘privacy’ of their cars.”

  Gunther took another deep breath and stifled his reaction. As he just got done thinking, when it came to surpassing him in certain applications, Bateman was quite capable. “Anything we didn’t see coming?”

  “No.”

  “Very well then. There’s a party tonight,” Gunther said walking and talking by Bateman’s side. “The Chinese premiere will be there. We haven’t been able to get anyone close to him, but I hear he has a fondness for geishas. Maybe he’s Japanese at heart. You think…?”

  “I’ll prepare one of the robots.”

  “Excellent. Now as to the Russian leader with a fondness for young boys…”

  “Perhaps it would be best to have a high functioning robot doing the boy part and only pretending to be that callow and inexperienced. I don’t need my robots any more traumatized than an actual human boy.”

  “I leave the details to you, Bateman.”

  “Even with teams of analysts and hackers probing inside the minds of the remaining power players…”

  “Some parts of the world are still relatively cordoned off from high-tech snooping,” Gunther explained. This was one of the areas Bateman didn’t surpass him in, in grasping just how dodgy reality could be when it came to resisting progress. In Bateman’s mind, problems were solved just a little too easily for him to get a handle on that.

  “How are you coming with replacing Campo, Luderman, and Truska with robot equivalents?”

  “Not at all well,” Gunther confessed. “They’re too well guarded against such contingencies. We got lucky with Bateman, but he was one cocky bastard who didn’t think anyone could possibly emulate his one-of-a-kind persona with any degree of believability.”

  “Perhaps you should let me handle that campaign,” Bateman said.

  “That’s the last thing we need. Not every problem can be solved in a fortnight, Bateman. And you rushing things or applying too much pleasure with your insistence on Tomorrow-Today will just bring the whole house of cards down on our heads. No, you let me deal with the ins and outs of recalcitrant human psychologies. I’ve spent a lot more time adopting my sterile disposition to this dirty world than you have.” He knew that last piece of rhetoric would rein Bateman in; it always did. Gunther was the human who was the most like him, and he had spent more time in their world. It made sense even to Bateman’s transcendental logic.

  When he was well clear of the compound and of Bateman, Gunther permitted himself some more private considerations. As in, how long would it take for Bateman to feel confident that he could outplay Gunther, even in getting around resistant human psychologies? No doubt he was field testing his ability to do just that right now with unsanctioned sorties against his takeover targets, of which his little interludes with Luderman were a part. Possibly he would test himself against increasingly risky adversaries until he was certain he could quickly maneuver around the blind spots of any human. There was no getting around the wince factor of raising “kids” smarter than himself and ensuring they not get too dismissive about the parenting in the process. But if he could continue to steer this chariot race into the future he had in mind, soon he’d be able to upload himself to a superior matrix, one of the quantum brains, by which point he’d be guru to the “stars,” the reigning lord and master of the universe for time immemorial. Most gods couldn’t claim success anything like that.

  THIRTY-TWO

  “Personally I don’t see what the big deal is with a couple brainiacs stimulating one another’s frontal lobes the livelong day,” Michael said, traipsing beside Jane, their bare feet pressing against Alaskan frozen tundra. “Who wants to live up inside their heads all the time like that? To say nothing of Google. Hell, why store all that stuff inside your head when you can just look it up? You can save the mental real estate for more human endeavors, you know, like thoughts of your loved one. Oh yeah, and that’s another thing, this Gunther guy, I bet he can’t handle any part of you that isn’t perfect. He doesn’t want the real you, he wants the ideal of you, so you can both live happily ever after in digital nirvana post the upload where you will finally be safe away from all the polluting influences of reality, not to mention humanity.”

  Jane just smiled. “Me thinks you doth protest too much.”

  “You’re right, I don’t see why I should feel threatened by a human calculator. Maybe if he was a great lover… Was he a great lover, just out of curiosity?”

  “No.”

  “There, you see? Maybe if he was hunky like I am. Is he hunky like I am, out of curiosity?”

  “Yes.”

  “Well, that’s one for two. Hey, at least I don’t have to act a part to be with you for fear of bursting my sanitary bubble.”

  “Don’t you?”

  “That was low. That was just a phase I was going through. Back when I was shallow and superficial.”

  “As opposed to insecure and cloying.”

  “I’d add bitchy to the list, but you always seem to get there before me.”

  “I hate to interrupt this little tête-à-tête,” Cronos said, “but I’m not bullet proof like you two. And we are surrounded by…” He turned to Finelli. “Who are we surrounded by?”

  “The Arabs.”

  “The Arabs, that’s right. I was starting to wonder if they’d ever make it to the party.”r />
  “Arabs?” Michael said. “Aren’t they desert people?”

  “That’s what I said!” Cronos exclaimed. “But I wouldn’t get too cocky. They can afford to buy whatever tech aptitudes they’re lacking in.”

  “I’m sorry, I just don’t care if I live or die right now,” Michael said. “You’re on your own. In fact, it’ll probably be a lot safer if you stay far away from me.”

  “I give you a gentle nudge to remind you you’re still human,” Cronos said, pushing a branch out of his face, “and you go and get carried away again. I swear it’s like trying to get an antique Jaguar V-12 engine to purr in idle when it just wants to race at a hundred and eighty miles an hour down the road.”

  They came to the crest of the hill. The view was spectacular, if a bit alien. Before them was an ocean of ice dunes, formed by blowing ice crystals. And between them were turquoise hued lakes, sparkling like polished gemstones. “If it isn’t Saudi Arabia on ice,” Cronos said. “So much for feeling superior. Feel free to lead the way, my boy,” he said, giving Michael a nudge from behind. “Something tells me we’re about to find out about that death wish of yours, and how ingrained it is.”

  “The sooner those sands swallow you up the better it is for everybody,” Michael said.

  “I wouldn’t be so sure.” Jane grabbed him by the arm as he was attempting to blaze a trail ahead of them. “I may be good at divining the nature of the trap once we’re in it, but my strategic thinking isn’t quite as forward looking as his is when it comes to forecasting treachery. I’m a scientist, after all. I don’t think attack and destroy, I think create. And as far as I’m concerned, it’s still unclear who’s a better champion for me right now, him or you.”

  “Nice, if that doesn’t just cement my rosy feelings about myself right now.” He yanked free of her arm and trudged down the slope.

  “You could have gone a little easier on him,” Cronos said, catching up to her. “I forgot to tell you, I’m no good with sand in my pants. Makes my skin just crawl.” He shuddered just thinking about it.

  “See anything?” she said to Finelli as Cronos brushed past her. Finelli had taken to enclosing his laptop in what looked like a transparent plastic bubble. He keyed away on it with his hands that fit through the small enclosures that sealed around them. According to him the rarefied gas inside the bubble precluded freezing electronics, even at these temperatures. As it turned out, the temperature in the environment could drop still further because, up to a point, his super-computer crammed into a laptop benefited from super-cooling.

  “Not sure,” he said. “Whatever it is out there, it’s cold like the ice, and like death itself.”

  “Wonderful,” she said, brushing past him.

  They weren’t long on the dunes before they heard Finelli say, “Something’s moving. And it’s not us.” He spun around on himself to see if he could make out what his scanners wouldn’t relay more clearly to him with his own eyes. They all did.

  “I appreciate the vivid imagination, Finelli,” Michael said. “But we have enough to deal with in the real world.” No sooner had he said that than the sand shifted beneath him and he lost his balance. Before he could get back on his feet a giant robotic spider was towering over him; it had crawled right out from beneath the sand. It drove the point of one of its legs straight through his gut. He oozed blood like a Texas oil well begging to be tapped.

  Jane screamed, “Michael!” and ran toward him. Halfway there she found herself dangling off the ground in a cobweb spun by the spider, who twirled her between two of his eight legs to complete her cocooning from the neck down. Desperate to get Mike to function at a hundred percent, and fast, to stave off his certain death, she said, “Michael, I left Gunther for exactly the reasons you said, and a good deal more. You’re right, I didn’t need what Google could give me, I needed a real flesh and blood person, something Gunther could never be. His robots would likely display more personality than he ever could.”

  “Sure, you say that now that I’m skewered through and through. I appreciate your kind last words to a dying man. But I wasn’t shopping for charity.”

  She rolled her eyes. She was actually thankful her hands were restrained or she’d have gestured up-yours. “Gunther used to have to take an hour-long shower after just touching me. What does that say about the depths of his feelings toward me? And I couldn’t get my mind off my work when having sex with him. What does that say about the depth of my feelings toward him?”

  “Makes sense. Though I don’t exactly have all my blood going to my brain right now,” he said, gurgling and spitting up blood. “If you’re looking to sell me the sun, moon, and stars while you’re at it, this is a good time.”

  She sucked in her cheeks only because it hurt to roll her dry eyes in the cold. “Seems like the only way to know if I’m lying or not is to pull that damn leg out of you and get some blood going to your brain!”

  “Are you being helpful, or just bitchy? Because I swear I can’t tell anymore.”

  “Personally, I think you’re being a little bitchy,” Cronos said. It was the first time anyone had noticed that the robo-spider had cocooned him from the neck down as well and he was dangling to the opposite side of Michael’s peripheral vision.

  “Stop helping!” Jane and Michael shouted at once. Strangely, in that moment, they felt more in sync than ever, and Michael seemed to have the energy he needed to throw off the spider. He grabbed hold of the base of the foot. The nanites flowed out of his hands, corroding that section of the leg until it broke off. He then ejected the curling “dagger” from his gut and, on standing, hurtled it at the spider’s head with enough force that he short-circuited the beast. The creature crumpled to the ground, pinning both Cronos and Jane under its legs.

  “No rush to cut me loose,” Cronos said. “Honestly, I wish I could get my tailor to weave me silk shirts this fine.” He squirmed a little inside his flexible coffin. “Feels comfy, like a sleeping bag. Well insulated against the cold too. Like I said, take your time.”

  Jane did her best to ignore him as Michael trudged toward her. He lifted the leg off her, which weighed and felt much like a metal girder. After he got her up, shred the cocoon, dusted her off, and kissed her, then and only then did he process what was going on with Cronos.

  He went over and pulled Cronos out of his comfy “sleeping bag.” Cronos dusted himself off and pulled out a leather pouch full of syringes from one of his army-fatigue pants pockets.

  “I notice you have a thing for needles,” Michael said.

  “A nasty little habit left over from my more drug-seeking days. I’ll have to fill you in on that chapter of my life sometime. For now…” he said, stepping over to the spider’s salivary ducts and sticking them with the empty needles and pulling out its venom, “I’m guessing these paralytics will come in handy for whatever else is in store for us out here.”

  “Assuming they bothered to send any humans along,” Michael said.

  “Good point,” Cronos admitted, filling another needle. “But it never hurts to be prepared.”

  “What happened to Finelli?” Michael didn’t wait for an answer; he was already scanning the vista. In the quiet aftermath they heard muffled sounds. Michael zeroed in on the area and started digging Finelli out.

  “The damn thing buried me alive when it came out of the ground,” he said, gasping.

  “You sure you want to play this game of sitting ducks, Michael, walking across the ice desert waiting for the next camouflaged beastie to jump out at us?” Cronos said.

  “Definitely not. Give me a moment to think, I’m not quite as fast on my feet as you with the big ideas.”

  “Please don’t say that,” Cronos said, “after all my hard work to bring you up to speed. If you tarnish my sense of personal victory over you I will hold you directly responsible, and I assure you the torture will be exquisite.”

  Michael shook his head. “I’m surprised you managed to hold on to this one friend in Finelli, you si
ck bastard.” He bent down and touched the “sand.” It started a ripple reaction as the surface grains seemed to move and shift for a while before settling.

  “That was certainly anticlimactic,” Cronos said. Shortly thereafter all the hidden soldiers and their robots crawled out of the loose packed snow and water. The humans stripped off their protective coveralls, from the survival suits adorning the ice crystal “moles” to the heated scuba outfits worn by the water “walruses,” scratching themselves like mad. It wasn’t long after that before they desperately tried to peel off their skin, using their knives.

  “Nice,” Cronos said. “This approach minimized on the nano needed for the task, just enough to get them to do the hard work of killing the soldiers for you, saving the bulk of your nano in reserves for me. I appreciate the thought, Michael.”

  “Don’t mention it. It’s the least I could do, considering.”

  “What about the robots?” Cronos asked, noticing that they were stuttering in their movements. Before Michael could formulate a response, they turned on their own people. The scorpion robot lifted its victim off the ground at the tip of its tail, the pointer injecting venom at the same time until the soldier was dead, though the point of the tail would have done the trick itself, if a little more slowly. The scorpion moved toward the next victim still too busy with filleting himself to much notice. The robot mini-tanks engaged on their own and moved rapidly along, targeting the soldiers and hitting them with shells that turned them into bursting red water balloons.

  “You just had the nano attack the chips in the robots’ minds,” Cronos said observing the same drama playing out as the rest of them. “Again, it only takes a few to do that rather than the many it would to attack the whole thing. And again you make the other side do most of the work for you. You’re coming along, Michael. I’ll show you how to be a strategic thinker yet.”

  Michael turned from surveying the vista to surveying Jane. “You still think the future can’t come fast enough?”

  “You were right about one thing,” she said. “The monsters get bigger the farther into the future you go.”