Paradox Alley s-3

by John Dechancie

  The Snark entered. "Hello, there," it said. I fell of my chair. I think I screamed.

  It wasn't as tall as I remembered it to be, though it towered a good two-and-a-third meters high. A cross between a giraffe and a kangaroo, the creature had two funnel-shaped ears flopping out of a head that resembled a very strange dog. Two fully prehensile forlegs-arms, really, with four digits on each hand-dangled from narrow, sloping shoulders. It walked on two birdlike legs with wedge-shaped four-toed feet. Its bright yellow skin looked like vinyl, shiny and inert, and was daubed with pink and purple splotches. The eyes were small and round, disconcertingly humanlike.

  The creature glanced around, then regarded me. From the floor, I stared back at it.

  "What's with him?" it said, then surveyed the room full of astonished humans. "What's with all of you?" Its voice was high-pitched, almost feminine.

  John was first to attempt speaking. "Who… uh, are you?"

  "I'm your servant, dearie. Got any objections?" I looked over heads and scanned the room. "This place is a mess already. Dearie me, a servant's work is never done." It kicked Susan's bedroll. "What's all this paraphernalia?" It clucked disapprovingly, shaking its ungainly head. "What a frightful mess."

  John swallowed hard. "You're… our servant?"

  The creature fixed him in a haughty, indignant stare. "Who were you expecting, Arthur Treacher?"

  8

  "Are you saying that your servant is discourteous and impertinent?" Prime set down his coffee cup and looked at Susan with mild surprise.

  "Oh, it's not that we're complaining," Susan hastened to say. "It's just that… well--"

  John said, "The creature's personality is unmistakably human. In fact, it's almost uncomfortably human."

  "Oh, my."

  "No, no, please. As Susan said, we don't mind. It's just that we can't understand how this could be."

  I sat picking at an omelette and drinking strong black coffee, listening. I hadn't said much since the Snark had made its appearance. I was feeling very sober.

  A slow smile crept across Prime's full, plum-colored lips. "I suppose I must explain. The creature is merely a mechanism-a very sophisticated one, and fully entitled to all rights and privileges accorded self-aware beings-but that is all it is. One of many we have available. It was activated recently, and its task is to look after your personal needs. In order that it might fulfill its function more efficiently, we thought that we would program it with appropriate cultural background data and impress it with a fully human personality. The matrix we used was a composite of all of your personalities. The dreamteaching technique was modified for this purpose, so that last night, while you dreamt, you were feeding data back into the process. The amount of information here is considerable, and there are uncertainties associated with the technique. Personality is still one thing that resists quantification. The exact nature of the final product can't be predicted, nor could we predict your reaction to it. I'm very sorry you don't care for the, result. "

  "Oh, no," Susan said. "I kind of like him."

  "I want to know who Arthur Treachet is," Lori said.

  Prime looked at her, sipping from his cup. "Who, did you say?"

  "A very cryptic cultural allusion the creature made," John said. "Astonishing, actually. Most of us had no idea who he is, or was, but Jake says he remembers something about a motion picture actor by that name."

  I roused myself to speak. "Yeah, middle-twentieth century or thereabouts. Maybe earlier. When I was a kid back on Earth, they were still showing those old black-and-white movies on video. Sam and I used to stay up late watching them. Memory grows dim, but I think I remember the name. Played servants, butlers, a lot. 'Course, I could be mistaken."

  "Thing is," Roland said, "how did the creature know?"

  "Well." Prime sat back. "The amount of background data fed in was considerable. Quite frankly, you would be astonished if I gave you numbers. Exactly where that particular datum came from would be difficult to pinpoint. It very well may have leaked in from Jake's unconscious. No way to tell, really. Is it important?"

  John shrugged. "Hardly."

  "Why does it look the way it does?" Susan asked.

  "Its form derives from the race that created it, long ago. That race is quite extinct."

  "I see. So it's an android, in a manner of speaking."

  "In a manner of speaking."

  Susan grinned. "We named it Arthur."

  "Very good choice."

  As if on cue, Arthur came shuffling in with a fresh pot of coffee. I got to wondering where in hell the kitchen could be. "Freshen your cup, dearie?" Arthur said to Susan.

  "Sure."

  Yuri said, "I'm looking forward to using all the data storage facilities you said were housed on Microcosmos."

  "Yes, of course," Prime replied, "but you may find yourself feeling quite lost. Again, I must emphasize to you that the amount of information available here is staggering. Simply getting your bearings would take a human lifetime."

  "Yes, I suppose so. And, of course, there would be the problem of translation."

  "Oh, that's not a problem. Most of it can be translated into standard English, if you wish-"

  "I prefer Russian."

  "— or any human language. Or any language at all. And it can be done very quickly. Even at that, you would be adrift in an endless sea of data. It's all organized, mind you, catalogued and cross-referenced. But simply learning your way around the system would take up a good deal of your life. That's why I urge you to accept the dream-teaching."

  "Still," Yuri said, "I would like to test the waters-wade around a bit, if you don't mind."

  "Not at all. You might find something of interest."

  "I'm sure I will."

  Arthur finished pouring refills and waddled off, mumbling. I stared after him. It. I wasn't quite ready for "him" yet. Or "her," if that was the case.

  "When can we begin?" Yuri asked.

  "Now, if you wish," Prime answered.

  "I'll wait for the others."

  Susan asked, "Will we dream again tonight?"

  "If you will permit it, yes," Prime said.

  "Oh, I have no objection. It's a wonderful way to learn. However do you do it? Does it have something to do with telepathy?"

  "Actually, it has more to do with electromagnetic inductance than with extrasensory perception."

  "Then I wouldn't understand it at all."

  "The technique is not beyond your comprehension. It's quite simple, really."

  "I'm sure."

  "I suppose, then," John said, "that any further questions we might have will be answered in the dreams."

  "I will be more than happy to fill in any details you might need, but as far as providing a broad perspective, the dreams can do that very well. There is one thing you should understand. We are using the dream-teaching technique at a very low level of efficiency. If we wanted to, and if you would permit it, we could infuse your minds with more knowledge than you could ordinarily accumulate in a dozen human life-times. There is the possibility that this sort of cramming could produce deleterious side effects, but it could be done, and the side effects most likely could be handled. It will be up to you to decide how much you want to know-how far you want to progress along the path to a higher consciousness."

  "How far can we progress?" Yuri asked.

  "As far as your desire takes you."

  "I see."

  Nobody had much else to say as we finished our coffee. Arthur returned, and Prime got up.

  "Arthur will conduct you to the main data storage facility. We will meet again for lunch. Until then, have a pleasant morning." He bowed and walked off.

  Arthur watched him leave, then turned to us. "Okay, kids. Schooltime. Get your pencils and books together and follow me.

  "Fuck off," Carl said.

  Arthur scowled at him. "Uh-oh, this one's going to be trouble. Detention for you, kiddo. And bring a note from your mommie."

  Carl grab
bed a milk pitcher. I was pretty sure he would have thrown it if John hadn't wrenched it away.

  Lori was appalled. "Carl, behave yourself!"

  Arthur flinched. "Ooh, he's dangerous! Reform school material. All right, you're excused from class."

  "Get bent."

  "Same to you, dearie. The rest of you-"

  "Hold on a minute." I got up. "We're all very interested in browsing through the library, but first I'd like to go back to my vehicle to take care of a few things. If you don't mind."

  "Fine with me," Arthur said. "Do you know how to get to the cellar?"

  "Not really."

  Arthur pointed. "Go down this corridor here, make the first right, and you'll find a down chute, express to the basement. If you want, I can summon a guide to show you."

  "Uh…" Those light-spheres gave me the creeps, now that I thought about it. Besides, they were probably monitoring devices. I wanted at least the chance that I wouldn't be watched. "No thanks. I can find my way."

  "Be careful, dearie. Okay, if any of you want the cook's tour of Data Storage, follow me."

  Darla got up and walked over to me. "I'll go with you."

  "Okay. I hope we can find our way back."

  "Don't you think they're watching our every move?"

  "I've been trying to delude myself that they're not."

  "I'm coming, too," Carl informed me. "And Lori. We're cutting class."

  Lori turned up her nose. "Who wants to see a bunch of books?"

  I said, "I could be wrong, but I doubt that Prime was talking about books per se."

  "Or pipettes; or tapes, or any of that stuff," Lori said. "Anyway, I never went to school, and I'm not going to start now."

  "Never? No school at all?"

  "Well, a little, when I was real small. I learned to read okay, and arithmetic and everything, but I mostly taught myself."

  "Oh."

  John came over. "We'll meet you later in the library, I suppose?"

  "If I can find my way there," I said.

  "I should go with you," Susan said. "But I really want to see what they have."

  "It's okay. Have fun."

  "Be careful." She looked at Darla. She seemed about to add something, but hesitated.

  "We'll be careful," Darla said reassuringly.

  "Please do."

  The two of them had been getting along much better recently. They weren't exactly friends-far from it-but they respected each other's feelings, at least. Anyway, it was a great improvement over the fistfight they'd had a while back.

  We found the down chute easily enough. It looked exactly like the up chute, leaving us to ponder how you were supposed to tell the difference.

  "How do you know whether it's working?" Carl wanted to know. "If it isn't you'd walk right into the hole and drop."

  The silver ramp started in the middle of the hallway flush with the floor, went through the oval opening in the wall, extended over the edge of the floor and arched downward.

  "Well, I guess I'll be the guinea pig," I said, and tread on the ramp. I walked toward the opening. The gravitic force snared my feet about a meter from the drop.

  "Looks like you're supposed to be smart enough to stop if this doesn't happen," I said. "Hop on."

  They did.

  It was an exhilarating trip down. The temperature dropped a little. The shaft was dark, but light was coming from somewhere. Didn't know from where, though.

  The shaft let out into a big empty room. We walked out of it into the garage. I looked around and spotted the truck. It was a good hike across the cavernous expanse of the garage. We made it, not dawdling too long, looking at exotic vehicles and machinery.

  The hatch didn't open. Maybe something's wrong with the exterior cameras, I thought.

  "Sam? It's me, Jake."

  The driver's gull-wing hatch hissed open, and I climbed in. "Sam?"

  "Good day, sir," a bland, pleasant voice said.

  "Huh? Who are you?"

  "I am a Wang Generation-Ten Artificial Intelligence software multiplex read into a Matthews 7894Z submicroprocessor. Have I correctly identified you as the owner and principle operator of this vehicle?"

  "What! Where the hell's Sam?"

  "I'm sorry, sir, I don't have that information. Is there anything else I can do to help you?"

  "Damn!" I raced to the aft-cabin and checked the screws on the panel covering the CPU rack. No signs of tampering, but an intruder might have taken pains to be careful. I got out a power driver and extracted the screws. I looked inside.

  There's not much to the guts of a computer. In Sam's case, his VEM, the seat of his intellection and personality-what made Sam something more than the usual colorless, off-the-shelf A.I. spook-was the biggest component. It had been years since I'd taken this panel off. Sam rarely had problems in the CPU area. The VEM looked like an undersize wax pear.

  I had to conjure up its appearance from memory, because it was gone.

  "Oh, Christ." I sighed and sat down at the breakfast nook. I stared at the table for a moment, then looked up. Darla had been watching.

  "Prime, of course," she said.

  "Yeah. Or maybe Moore."

  "He couldn't have gotten in here."

  "Maybe not. But some of his boys are pretty good technicians. Maybe they zapped Sam with an electromagnetic pulse generator and broke in."

  "For what reason?"

  I got up and went to the safe. I let it read my thumbprint, then opened it.

  "The cube is gone, too," I said. "There's your reason." Darla sat on the cot. Carl and Lori came in.

  "Gee, that's too bad, Jake," Carl said. "Sam was a good guy."

  "They're probably holding him hostage," Darla said. "They wouldn't destroy his VEM."

  I shuddered. As much as my intellect told me that what we were talking about here was only a very sophisticated Artificial Intelligence program, the thought of losing Sam was hard to bear. It would be like losing a father for the second time.

  "Anyway," Darla went on, "I don't think Moore could have gotten into Emerald City without Prime's permission. And if Prime let them in, I doubt he would have let them do any mischief."

  I hoped she was right. I didn't trust Prime, and Moore bore me malice. I could picture him crushing Sam's VEM beneath the heel of his huge, muddy lumberjack boot.

  "If Sam's gone," Carl said, "who's in the computer?"

  "The A.I. program that came with the hardware," I said. "Sam works in tandem with it when he has a lot of stuff to do. It really doesn't have much of a personality."

  "Oh."

  I got up, went into the cab, and sat in the driver's seat. "Computer," I said. "Um… did I ever give you a, name?"

  "No, sir."

  "Okay. Well, never mind."

  "Yes, sir."

  "Computer, what happened? There's been a security breach. Report."

  There was a brief pause. Then: "I'm sorry, sir. I have no files containing any data on a breach of vehicle security."

  "Do you have anything recorded on video pipette?"

  "Searching… Yes, sir."

  "When was it recorded?"

  "Minus six days, fifteen hours, twenty-one minutes, sir."

  "That's no good. Anything recent? Within twenty-four hours?"

  "Searching… Nothing recorded within the last twentyfour hours, sir."

  "Damn it. Okay. Sam must have left a message. If security was threatened to the point where he thought he might be disconnected, he would have recorded something somewhere. Make a search for this file name: Revelation Thirteen Colon One. Got that?"

  "Yes, sir. Searching."

  "And stop calling me `sir."'

  "Very well. File labeled Revelation Thirteen Colon One has been located. Security protected. Positive voiceprint identification of vehicle owner needed to access. Processed… checked. Additional security-code word sequence needed to access."

  "Heartbreak Hotel," I said.

  "Access now available. Shall I access the file
?"

  "Yes!"

  "Reading file name: Revela-" There was an interruption.

  "Computer? Hey, what happened? Computer!"

  "Jake, this is Sam."

  "Sam! Where the hell-?"

  I broke off. It was only a recording.

  "This is going to be quick," Sam's voice went on. "Didn't want to leave a message with the Wang A.I, thinking you'd suspect tampering if you didn't hear it straight from me. I knew you'd search for a file with the emergency code name, and if you're hearing this, that's exactly what you did. As I said, this is going to be quick. I figure I have just a few more microseconds of real-time before I'll be shut down-whether it's for good, I don't know. I also don't quite know what's happening. Someone is fiddling with me, the rig, and everything else. Trouble is, I can't see, hear or scan a thing. Whoever's doing it is pretty damn slick. If I come on-line again, I'll erase this file. But if I don't ever wake up, I just wanted to say that I love you, son. You've always been just about the best son a father could have. And I know Mother always felt that way, too. You know that, but I wanted to say it. Take care, and say good-bye to everyone for me. Look after Darla. She's carrying my grandson. She loves you, too, Jake. I can tell. I'm sure everything will turn out all right in the end. Just keep driving straight, and don't take any nonsense from anybody. Don't feel too bad about me. I've had a long run, and maybe I've taken one too many curtain calls. It's time I-" There was silence.

  I sat back. For the second time in my adult life, I cried.

  9

  There wasn't much else to do in the truck. I checked for vandalism, booby traps, and general damage. Nothing on all counts, Meanwhile, Carl and Lori had gone back to inspect the trailer, and before long we heard a blood-curdling yell. I dashed to the access tube and scurried through, Darla following. I somersaulted into the trailer.

  "They took my car!" Carl was standing in an empty area of deck. Yesterday afternoon his 1957 Chevrolet Impala had been parked there. "It's Prime. I'm gonna kill him."

  "No, you're not," I told him. "You'd like to, and so would I, but we can't. So, forget it. What we can do is confront him. I intend to do just that, so hold on until lunch."

  Carl exhaled. "Shit."