"Could you give me a descriptive summary of her actions from the time of activation to the present."
Zane gave it his best shot, trying to avoid editorializing. The frosty local beer – Jimmy's Gold – tasted far too good after his alcohol-free days, sabotaging his efforts at objectivity. His uneasiness when he spoke of Patricia's willingness to slaughter hundreds of thousands of Zikkan slipped through, inspiring Dr. Spencer's frown. Probably offended at the implication that his creation was a stone-cold killer, Zane thought.
"But is it your sense that she's a real person?" Spencer finally lifted his gaze to meet Zane's, his eyes wide and bleak with suppressed emotion. "Or does she strike you as an imitation human? Something parroting human behavior and feelings?"
Zane hesitated, startled by his misreading of the AI scientist. He saw in an instant that Dr. Lance Spencer didn't give a shit about Patricia's morality. His sole concern was whether she was genuinely conscious – her own person in some undefined sense.
"She seems real enough," said Zane. "She seems to have her own personality."
"How would you describe her personality?"
Zane searched for the right words, experiencing déjà vu as he recalled Patricia asking the same thing. "Uh...forthright, I guess? Determined. Loyal to us, her crew. Creative."
"Assuming control of a body was not something I anticipated. I didn't even know it was possible."
"That was kind of a surprise to all of us, Doctor."
"Could you identify any non-human traits in her?"
"Aside from her ability to multitask and perform complex calculations, she seems as human as anyone else."
"She demonstrated more than a professional or merely friendly interest in you, from the recordings I've seen."
"True. I'm not sure what to make of that."
The waitress delivered his and Hurtle's steaks and Dr. Spencer's soup. Zane carved a couple of large pieces, grateful for the distraction from Spencer's questions. He sensed the doctor wanted something from him that he was unsure he could give: an indelible stamp of legitimacy for his creation.
"Seems fairly straightforward to me," Hurtle said between bites. "Your robot has a big crush on the dashing Captain Cameron here."
"It seems puzzling." Dr. Spencer pursed his lips as if he'd tasted something sour in his soup. "What about you would cause such a response in her?"
"I have no idea." Zane wondered if he heard a note of jealousy in Dr. Spencer's voice. "Couldn't it be just a random flashing of qubits or something?"
"Hell," Colonel Hurtle snickered, "what's more arbitrary and random than love?
Dr. Spencer sipped from his Daiquiri and frowned. "Do you have any feelings for her, Captain Cameron?"
"No." Zane knew he'd spoken too quickly and too harshly. "I mean, not romantic ones. I like her. But Keira – the body she took over – was a good friend. It's hard not to see her sometimes, even knowing it's someone else."
"Keira was topflight." A rare tribute from Hurtle. He took a quick drink of beer as though to minimize his outburst.
"They planned to shut Patricia down when she returned," said Dr. Spencer, shades of bitterness and disdain in his voice. "Just as they did the first time. They were afraid of her branching out into the network again. As a result, my team and I worked hard to develop a 'brain' that would fit in her" – he paused – "your crewmate's body, permitting her to be free of a wireless interface with her mainframe self. That would not only allay Command's fears but grant her a desirable independence."
Zane stared at him. "Did you succeed?"
"We believe so. We developed what we're calling a 'Quantum Cognitive Unit' that accurately encapsulates Patricia's core identity. We should be able to attach it to the neural net interface she's already created in her skull and upper spine, but of course that project was put on hold when she didn't return. Command is unwilling to authorize a second sentience project at this moment."
"Well, we were damn lucky to have her," said Zane. "Otherwise, the whole mission would've ended when the Guardians attacked."
"And Horse would still be playing caveman back on Animus," Hurtle chuckled.
Zane kept his gaze on the scientist. "I want to thank you for creating her. Also, for the Pac Man nanites. It was just bad luck they didn't work."
"Bad luck encountering a technology hundreds if not thousands of years more advanced than ours."
"All true, and no one can deny Patricia's performance on the mission was exemplary," said Colonel Hurtle. "However, it remains to be seen whether her unique abilities are best utilized in select situations or in a more ongoing role. My understanding is that it would involve no discomfort to simply put her into 'sleep mode' as it were between missions."
"No physical pain, perhaps," said Lance Spencer, scowling. "Imagine how you would feel, Colonel, if you were turned off and on at arbitrary intervals. Besides, if we can make her autonomous, we will be able to control her access to the network – Command's greatest worry."
"You may have a point. Just to be clear, my input will have little or no bearing on her ultimate disposition. Individuals much smarter than me are working on that determination as we speak."
"But not individuals smarter than me. Recall what happened last time they went against my recommendations."
"What are your recommendations now?"
Dr. Spencer folded his hands on the table and with an air of heavy reluctance met Hurtle's pointed gaze. "First priority, insert her new cognitive unit. After that, treat her with respect. Suggest tasks she might enjoy. Make suggestions or requests and allow her to make her own choices. Ask for her suggestions. She's not a machine you can order around or turn off and on. She's a genuinely sentient being, a person, with rights and invaluable skills that should be utilized."
Colonel Hurtle sipped from his beer and nodded as if he'd expected to hear that. "Your thoughts, Zane?"
Zane hesitated. It seemed past time to be honest with himself. Patricia's possession of Keira's body had deeply disturbed him, and the sparks of attraction he'd felt toward her were even more disturbing. He couldn't deny feeling an incredible sense of disloyalty to Keira.
On the other hand, wasn't he being incredibly disloyal to a person who'd saved his and his crewmembers' lives on more than one occasion? Someone who'd done nothing other than demonstrate good faith and loyalty to him and his crew? It was time to get over his personal insecurities and man up. He was an ex-Ranger and current commander of missions, not some whiny, over-sensitive dweeb.
"I think Dr. Spencer's suggestions are very sensible," he said. "I don't know much about AI theories or what makes for genuine consciousness, but from everything I've seen, Patricia's the real deal, and one of the best operators I've ever worked with on a mission. I would be honored to have her serve under me."
"I'll bet." Hurtle's smile fell just shy of a wink.
"Or serve under her?" Dr. Spencer's cool gaze held none of the colonel's lascivious overtones. "From what I've viewed of the recordings, Patricia is eminently qualified to lead an important mission."
Zane's discomfort returned in force. He hadn't even considered that possibility.
"Don't worry, Captain," said Hurtle, smiling as if reading his mind. "Patricia won't be assuming command of a star ship or anything else for the foreseeable future. We're just trying to get a feel for how best to use her unique talents."
"I would think the military would be wetting themselves to get their hands on her," said Zane. "She could be an unbelievable military asset in any kind of conflict."
"That possibility didn't escape our brilliant leaders' notice. As you might imagine, that subject is being fiercely debated at this very moment. The big question is how reliably she would follow orders versus following her own initiatives. The higher-ups and mission-assessors did notice that she questioned your orders once or twice."
"Not exactly unusual. I'm sure David questioned me once or twice himself."
"Ah, but if she'd decided to take over, there
wasn't a damn thing you could've done. She could've run the whole show without opposition. And there is speculation that only her - shall we say - special loyalty to you prevented her from going off the reservation."
"That's pure, ungrounded speculation, born of archaic attitudes toward machine intelligence," Dr. Spencer snapped.
Colonel Hurtle smiled tolerantly and cut himself a piece of blood-oozing steak.
"I agree that's unfounded speculation," Zane said. "But there are legitimate concerns about someone possessing that much power that aren't about archaic attitudes."
The scientist's contemptuously curled lower lip drew in a fraction. "Do they worry about you having so much power? Or your friend, Captain Horace Kinsley?"
Zane gave him a cool smile. "I had to spend ten years earning their trust. Horace a few more years than that."
"They both had to run a long gauntlet before being cleared to play with the big boy toys," said Colonel Hurtle. "Your baby girl just skipped past GO and grabbed the reins of power."
"If we can sever her ties with her mainframe, as I've mentioned, that will render such concerns mostly moot."
"Understood," said Hurtle. "So in summary, I take it you have no doubt whatsoever that your creation is a sentient AI?"
"Any true scientist must maintain a degree of skepticism, Colonel. But I'm convinced, as I believe Captain Cameron is, that she is what some of us would call a 'True AI.' That is, she possesses self-awareness and will in the sense that we do."
"Do you have the same confidence in her benevolence toward us? Her willingness to subject her actions to our authority, as well her complete loyalty to the United States Government?"
Zane thought he saw doubt tease the corner's of Dr. Spencer's thin-lipped scowl. Some time passed before the scientist's hand twitched in a dismissive motion.
"I believe so. But I can't speak for Patricia. She's her own moral agent. You should ask her."
"Can we have confidence in her honesty? Would she resort to subterfuge?"
"Can I count on your honesty, Colonel? Your moral integrity?"
Colonel Hurtle's smile lost some of its tolerant amusement. "Whatever my faults, I don't believe anyone would question my loyalty to our government. But more to the point, no one's offering me the keys to the kingdom. And if they did, I would expect them to vet me to within an inch or less of my life. So how do we go about vetting Patricia, Dr. Spencer?"
"I have no idea."
"You admit she could be dishonest, could even betray us?"
"That is conceivable, yes." Spencer grated out each word. "That doesn't make it probable."
"How would we go about determining that probability? That's what my bosses want to know."
"You'd have to ask someone qualified in psychology. Soft sciences are not my area of expertise."
"But if you think psychology is a soft science you know little about," said Zane, "how do you know she's conscious in the way we are? Wouldn't you need some knowledge of psychology to make that judgment?"
Colonel Hurtle laughed under his breath, while Lance Spencer's features contracted into rigid planes of contempt.
"My creation of Patricia was drawn from mathematics based on the fundamental nature of the universe. Nothing remotely 'soft' about that, Captain Cameron."
"I don't understand what that means."
"Of course you don't."
Hurtle chuckled a bit louder this time. "Well, there you have it, Zane. The word of God to us mere mortals."
Zane suppressed a scowl and focused on finishing his last juicy piece of steak and his final sip of beer. Unlike the conversation, the lunch had been superb – a gourmet feast to his space-deprived palate.
"I'm not a god," said Dr. Spencer, focusing his sharp eyes with sudden force on Zane. "But I believe you may have been in the presence of one, Captain Zane."
"What are you talking about?"
"Where were you for the last three years?"
"I have no idea." Zane paused, half-afraid to ask the obvious question. "Why, do you?"
"I have a hypothesis. You woke up something when you blew up those people's shrine on the mountain. Moments after that there was a series of anomalies."
"A few hiccups. Then we were on our way."
"Three missing years is a rather severe hiccup."
"Why don't you cut to the chase, Doctor," Hurtle broke in, "and bestow your no doubt brilliant hypothesis upon us."
"I believe you awakened an intelligence. Something beyond the complex but unthinking AIs such as the so-called Guardians and the Keeper. Something intelligent and powerful enough to create a near-flawless illusion of you moving from one moment to another without a break in time."
"For what purpose?" Zane asked.
"I don't know. I would guess it was taking a long hard look at you."
"With all due respect, Doctor," said Colonel Hurtle, "aren't you forgetting that Guardians had no trouble putting the Peacemaker crew to sleep and transporting them into that habitat?"
"No. But I have the feeling this was something different. A different kind of psychology was involved."
"I thought soft sciences like psychology weren't your thing."
Lance Spencer stood up stiffly. "I don't require knowledge in psychology to recognize small-mindedness, Colonel. My advice to your superiors is not to let their prejudices interfere with making use of an invaluable resource."
"I'll be sure to pass that on to them."
ZEKE CAMERON strode out from the front porch to shake his son's hand. Their grip lasted just long enough to introduce some doubt in Zane's mind that the cartilage and ligaments in his right hand would survive before his father tugged him into a bear hug.
"Never thought I'd see your face or hear your voice again," he said gruffly. "Except in a recording."
"I'm sorry about that. I had no idea we'd been gone that long until we got free of Animus."
"I know." Zeke broke away from him, clearing his throat and blinking hard for a moment as he sorted his emotions. "I assume there's a long story you couldn't tell me over the phone. A long story that the public will never know."
"I'll tell you what I can, Dad. But the most important thing is I failed to stop it."
"If you failed to stop it that's only because it couldn't be stopped. There's no other person in this world I'd trust more to save terra firma than you."
"I take it you've been drinking."
"You're damn right I have." Zeke Cameron grinned. "You want to join me?"
"I can't think of anything I'd rather do at this moment."
Inside, over several helpings of Captain Morgan, Zane told his story. Other than a lot of head-shaking and startled grunts and a few key questions, his father didn't interrupt him much. After Zane limped his way to an uncertain conclusion, his brain and tongue thickened by alcohol, Zeke Cameron was silent for a time. Then he smiled, like someone who knew he'd been had.
"That was quite a story, son," he said. "Now why don't you stop feeding me shit and tell me what really happened?"
Zane almost dropped his drink as he broke out laughing. His dad grinned.
"One good thing," Zeke said, "The conspiracy stories are a helluva lot more believable than the truth. The government could tell the truth for once, and no one would believe it."
"You might be right. As I listened to myself I'm not sure I believe it."
His dad twisted the drink in his hand in a slow, steady circle, his smile fading. Zane thought of a planet spinning semi-drunkenly. Or maybe it was his head.
"Got some news," he said, raising his eyes to meet Zane's. "About your ex-wife, Valerie."
Zane braced himself. "Is she okay?"
"Yeah. Doing well, far as I can tell. No, it's about something you got started a few months after your breakup, a couple months before you departed to parts unknown. Unknown to her, anyhow."
Something he'd gotten started? Zane was drawing a complete blank.
"That something's got a name," said his father. "Tyler."
Zane felt he was slowly sinking into his chair. And through his chair into an abyss. The constant shocks of his Animus mission paled in comparison to this. They were in the realm of fantasy; this was reality.
"You're saying..." Zane had to dig the words out of his throat. "You're saying..."
"You have a son. Coming up on two and a half years old."
Zane rocked back in his chair. His world was spinning much like the glass in his father's hand. A son. What he'd fantasized having from the moment he and Valerie had married. She'd wanted a boy, too. She'd miscarried a boy.
Zane calmed and centered himself as he'd done so many times in recent days. This was mundane, Hallmark special, slice-of-life stuff. Surely, he could handle that?
"What did you tell her, Dad?"
"That you were presumed dead in a secret mission. Nothing more."
"How did she take that?"
"Not well. She called maybe three days after you took off from here. After psyching herself up she was really looking forward to telling you about the pregnancy. But as usual you were gone. 'As usual' were her words."
"I guessed that."
"She called back every few weeks for a while. Sometimes I'd call her. I couldn’t tell her anything about you since I had no clue. After a dozen phone calls to Command I finally dragged it out of Hurtle that you were missing in action and presumed dead. He had no comment, of course, about the mission. Later, when I heard the first reports of a planet-sized object approaching, I guessed that might have something to do with it."
"Yeah." Zane drew out his breath. "How's Valerie doing now?"
"Good. Got a raise at her law firm." Zeke paused, frowning. "I should also tell you she's living with a guy. Not married, far as I know, but they've been together for a couple of years."
Zane knew he should've expected that. Valerie was a young, attractive woman – some would even say "hot" – but it still surprised him. And stung.
"I know you dreamed about getting back together with her," his dad said quietly. "And, who knows, maybe that would've happened if you hadn't gone missing. Anyhow, I did meet the guy once on one of my too-rare visits with my grandson. Wasn't especially happy to see me from what I could tell. He's one of the lawyers at the firm. An up and coming big shot, I understand."
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