“I would not deny that,” Leonora sighed. “But…”
“Please allow me to activate the language centres. Mr Ngma has mapped them, and assured me that they are ready – and I trust his assessment. There is nothing more to do other than to let nature…” Yuri chuckled, a sound like a dog gargling, “… or I should say, artifice take its course.”
“Very well.” Leonora nodded. “Let’s give him speech. He possesses every other gift after all.”
Leonora stood in silence for some minutes, pondering the events of the day. Yuri remained silent also, watching Zeug with almost inhuman intensity. Leonora repressed a shiver. It was like watching a symbiotic pair. Yuri must be borderline Asperger’s: he had that quality of social nuance bouncing off him. Or he was a typical man. One of the two.
“You spoke about the nexus,” she said.
“Yes, Ms Klee?”
“Did they design it to bring the West down, do you think?”
Yuri shook his head. “Assuredly not, though it was an invention of the Eastern mind, which is different to the Western mind. You Europeans see the world as one thing or another, mutually exclusive – either/or, if you like – whereas the Eastern mind sees the world inclusively – neither/and, as it were. The fundamentals of Chinese societies are different to European equivalents for this reason, amongst others. Capitalism for instance would never have risen in the East because it presumes the existence of individuals in a way no Oriental would, though of course it was taken up with enthusiasm along the Pacific Rim once it had been invented, not least because everyone is selfish. Why do you ask?”
Leonora said, “I want Zeug to be a Westerner.”
“Zeug will be a citizen of the world,” Yuri declared. “This was your original plan, which we should not deviate from. You must understand, when Zeug becomes all he can be, he will be subject to the laws of the world like a human being – for he will have no nationality.”
Reluctantly, Leonora nodded.
Yuri grinned – an event almost unheard of. “Delicate quantum states can be preserved,” he told her, “and this was my pivotal innovation, finding a method of decoupling interactions between the elements of quantum circuits. My father was so pleased! But so long ago now… so long ago. The innumerable quantum states in Zeug’s brain will be manipulated, moved, and stored without destruction. And now we are here, before the man himself, waiting for that unparalleled architecture to organise itself into consciousness… for it was only a matter of processing power, as ever it is in this world.”
Leonora sidled away from Yuri, horrified to realise that he was excited. He looked like a cat about to catch a mouse.
~
Dirk and Yuri stood at the pod window, looking into Zeug’s quarters. The operating table had long since been replaced by chairs and a couch – not required by Zeug, yet essential if he was to function in human society. But the place was cluttered, filled with boxes, tools, computers, and too much dust.
Dirk said, “So you will teach him da English?”
Yuri replied, “We do not have time now to teach him, but in my opinion there was no need to anyway, for the inputting of language will have the same result as the learning of it. It is the result I am interested in, not the methods. Zeug is beginning to understand the world around him, transferring it as a model into his brain. Soon he will need to tell us about it. He may even be conscious at that point.”
“What if he ain’t?”
Yuri looked at Dirk, scorn clear on his face. “You are the technologist of the AIteam,” he said, “not the psychologist. There are trillions of connections in a human brain, which we simulate in Zeug’s brain. How could a brain like that not become conscious?”
Dirk shrugged. “I was only saying.”
“Please do not say, Mr Ngma.”
“I put a little helper in his place,” Dirk said, nodding at a small figure on the floor, like a white doll. “A Nippa. Dey can talk to each–”
Yuri struck Dirk in the face with his fist then sprang to the pod doorway, opening the door and hurrying inside. In a single motion he bent to the floor and grasped the Nippa, standing upright, examining it for a moment, then twisting the head off. Braided neurowires oozing transparent oil squeezed out; fatty globules dropping to the floor.
Zeug ran to the doorway before Yuri could stop him, hastening through. Yuri flung the Nippa torso to the floor and followed. But Zeug stopped at Dirk – on the floor – and in a motion so human it made Yuri gasp knelt to touch Dirk’s shoulder with one hand.
Dirk struggled to his feet. Zeug had never been allowed out of his chamber before. “He… he outside… you hit me.”
“Be silent,” Yuri said. “You polluted the pod. But did you see what Zeug did? He interfaced with you like a human would, in a gesture entirely natural.”
Dirk rubbed his cheek where Yuri’s fist had struck, anger in the face he preferred to keep calm. “I telling Leonora what you did.”
“No you will not,” Yuri replied. “I believe your neuromaps are working Mr Ngma, for Zeug has seen us interacting with each other, has remembered that interplay and applied it to you in a single, marvellous human gesture.”
Zeug stood up and looked at them both. Yuri reached out, took his hand and led him into his chamber. A minute later the door was shut, Zeug inside.
Dirk glared at Yuri. “You know nothing,” he said. “You not know the difference between real and simulate. Dat no proof. Dat just Zeug acting.”
Yuri seemed too elated to reply. “The plan is working,” he said, “just as I thought it would. The brain is acquiring input through your interfaces. I offer credit where credit is due, Mr Ngma, you were the correct man for the task.”
Frustrated, Dirk waved a hand at the pod window and said, “But no language! He is a mute.”
“Not for long.” And Yuri pressed a single switch on the pod console.
“What?”
Yuri turned to Dirk and said, “It takes a human child years to acquire grammar, vocabulary and, oh, all the rest of it. With Zeug, and with the subsequent artificial intelligences which we shall sell to the world – acquisition in less than a second. But why not? The quantum brain is better than the human brain. Why not…”
“What you done?”
“Leonora and I agreed to activate the language centres. Zeug is ready for the world.”
Dirk turned to see Zeug staring at them through the pod window. The artificial mouth moved and he heard a faint voice, a single word. “Hello.”
~
Five figures sat around a table at the cave mouth: four of them human.
Evening, and orange light bathed the valley. Zeug’s energy sources were bioelectric, but the others ate and drank; bread and olives, baked cheese and tomatoes, water and wine. Dirk smoked a chocolate brown cheroot.
Yuri said, “Zeug, what do you know of Turkey?”
“A large country in the Near East. Many old cultures. Timid crane, but religious and secular in parallel.”
Yuri leaned over to Leonora and said, “The language centre is balancing itself in a heuristic process, or so I believe – and perhaps these strange sentences mean something to him. We must talk to him as much as we can, so that, through conversation, the errors fade and grammar is improved.”
Leonora nodded, then said, “What do you know of lions, Zeug?”
“Cats of large, with two eyes and a social system of proud. Cats normally not social, so unique.”
Leonora nodded, smiling.
Hound said, “I’m amazed. We did it!”
Dirk said, “Zeug, how do you feel?”
“Sensors of external skin like human, but of different type. Many tiny, individual fronds act in concerto, create touch.”
Dirk nodded, but said nothing more.
“Zeug,” Leonora said, “what is the nearest capital city to us here?”
“Palermo in Sicily.”
“Palermo… not Bizerte?”
Zeug replied, “Bizerte is not capita
l of Tunisia, that is to Tunis.”
Yuri leaned forward and said, “Zeug, what was the underlying cause of the Depression?”
“Do you mean first or to second?”
Yuri glanced around the table, triumph clear on his face. “The second.”
“The rapid dissemination through West populations by the media of emptying oil reserves, and the result, it was confidence, no confidence. Crashes of markets and mass panic. Spill.”
Yuri sat back. “Incredible,” he breathed.
Dirk took a puff of his cheroot and said, “Zeug, d’you see what Yuri means?”
“Yes, I do see him.”
Dirk raised his eyebrows, took another puff and said, “Leonora, you did good.” He stroked the bruise on his face. “Da speaking is good, it all good.”
“And Zeug can walk and run like a man,” Yuri said, “and talk like a man, and he can see and hear and touch – and recharge himself, and understand why he needs to recharge. We have made history here, and we shall never be forgotten!”
Dirk glanced at Yuri and said, “You got dat right.” He turned to Zeug and said, “You forget anything, paleface?”
Yuri interrupted, telling Zeug, “Mr Ngma is asking you whether your memory has the capacity to forget.”
“I forget very little,” Zeug replied. “My goal is to forget nothing.”
And then Zeug sat upright, as if alerted by an inaudible alarm.
Hound too sat up and turned his head. “I feel something, man,” he said.
Leonora put her hand on the table. “An earthquake?”
Hound jumped to his feet. “Copters. Evacuate!”
CHAPTER 5
Tsuneko June sat in a public caf with a mug of coffee before her. Despite an extensive search, she had found nothing in and around Valletta. Had that location been faked during the secret conversations?
An Oriental man sat opposite her, appearing, it seemed, out of lemon-scented night. She jumped.
“Who are you?”
He nodded. “I am your contact for tonight.”
“From…?”
He nodded again. “Tortoiseshell is pleased with your work so far, but speed is essential. If the AIteam suspect you are here they will vanish.”
“But I don’t know what any of them look like! I told you.”
“We know. When we monitor your jaunts, we look at the responses of those around you, hoping to see an expression of shock. Such an expression would mark out, for instance, Hound.”
“Hound was my contact, but I don’t know anything about him. He could be a Martian.”
“Do not worry about that aspect of our search. We know Hound must be one of a limited number of nexus witch doctors because of the exceptionally high quality of the AIteam’s security work. We have all the likely faces and physiques on file. Even if Hound has had plastic surgery, dyed his hair, taken to wearing contact lenses, we will locate him. Our computers see through all disguises.”
Tsuneko shuddered. “They’ll have left Malta by now.”
“Possibly – if they are here at all. There is much doubt. But they will depart only if they have seen you. Keep travelling, keep moving. Let as many local people see you as possible. We believe we will see the facial reaction we seek.”
Tsuneko glanced out into the solbike-infested night. LED strings shone from posts that once carried telegraph wires. “Why haven’t you paid me yet?” She thrust her duocard in the direction of the Oriental.
“Half at the beginning, half when we find the AIteam. That was the deal.”
She put the duocard into her pocket. “I don’t trust you.”
“Nobody trusts us,” came the reply. The man’s face remained impassive. “But this is not a question of trust. Our relationship is financial. If we succeed, Tortoiseshell may well induct you into his team.”
“For life.”
“Tortoiseshell knows no other way.”
Tsuneko sighed. She felt confused, upset. “What if I want to join the AIteam?” she said. “I didn’t like the way Manfred took his research. Would you stop me?”
“There will be no AIteam soon. You will either have to apply for a job with a Pacific Rim company, or, perhaps, you will join the team I work for. Too much is uncertain at the moment for me to make any meaningful guess. You mind me saying this?”
Tsuneko wiped tears from her cheeks. “It’s not how I imagined my contract ending,” she remarked. “I invented biograins, you must want me. You must help me.”
“You did not invent biograins, you developed them to the point that they became commercially viable. I say this not to denigrate your achievement. And, speaking personally, I think it is more likely than not that Tortoiseshell will want to employ you.”
“Some hope. Not much for me from the sound of it.”
“When we start out in life we do not imagine its end. Such is the way of things. Your circumstance is hardly unique.”
“You don’t sound very sympathetic.”
“If it’s sympathy you want, find a man. I am an employee of Tortoiseshell.” The Oriental stood up and bowed to her. “Goodnight.”
~
In her dusty Valletta hotel room Tsuneko took off her spex and wristbands, then all her clothes, which she put in the laundry basket. From crinkly leaf-plas wraps she took the clothes she had bought in Virenza village: underwear, shirt, trousers, socks, and a pair of hi-grip trainers. These clothes, she knew, could not have nexus bugs in them. She washed her hair in avocado shampoo; now that too would be bugfree.
She took a biro and a piece of paper. Paused. The biro had not been used for a decade or so, its transparent sheath misted with age, and split at the end. She herself had not written for a decade, the pen strange in her left hand.
She heard helicopters passing over Valletta on their way inland.
Dear Rosalind,
I’m writing to you from Malta. I need help urgently. I daren’t use ordinary methods, the nexus is hanging right over me and the place is crawling with Japanese. I’m in trouble. Sort of. I don’t know, but I do need help.
You saved me when mum and dad were killed, you’re the only one I can turn to, just now, anyway. Please please help.
Here’s the plan! I’m going to walk at night (solo) to Rabat, six miles inland from Valletta (where I am now) in the hills to the west of the island. I need you to pick me up there in the cyclo-wing and take me to London. I’ll be in Rabat market square from the sixteenth onwards. That gives this letter a week to get to you on the ferries, and you time also. If you can’t help, send a mini-robo with ‘No’ on it.
Love,
Tsuneko.
CHAPTER 6
Pouncey took them to a new Hyperlinked hide far away from Center City East, a few strides from Vine Street, Franklintown, overlooking the greenery between Fairmount and the river. She wanted to settle a long way from Six-Fingers and the Hispanic – and Tsuneko, who now counted as a loose cannon.
Manfred struggled with his anger. Frustrated that they had moved before he had a chance to help the bis, he insisted that Pouncey give the BIteam a week in their new apartment. Pouncey shrugged, agreed, stroking the scabby wound on her right arm.
Joanna focussed on the bis. Something weird was happening to them.
The new apartment was a scuzzy wreck. At the top of a wasted office block, empty, dangerous in places where the metal exoskeleton had rusted and the glass shattered, the apartment sat like last-ditch eyrie. In the dogcrap-strewn chambers at the base of the block there was evidence of junkie habitation, but Pouncey said the traces were weeks old.
Manfred took thirty minutes out. Walking along a street he saw a black girl with a tray in front of her, spex pure white, retro fashion, a pistol displayed with ostentation in the holster at her shoulder. Tough area, Manfred thought.
But the girl was selling chocolate. Manfred stopped, checked it out. “This real?” he asked.
“Sure,” she replied.
“But, you know… the blockade.”
> The girl shrugged. “Some of the warlords in Cote D’Ivoire didn’t sign up. They called it Pan African, but it wasn’t really. You don’t believe me, take a crumb. Free sample.”
“Expensive?”
“You get what you pay for, asshole. When you last see chocolate round here?”
Manfred nodded. Almost nobody bothered exporting to America any more. “Okay,” he said, “I’ll take three bars. Nice meeting ya.”
He returned to the apartment with a grin on his face. This would cheer the BIteam up. The loss of Tsuneko had been a disaster.
Inside, all was quiet, but he noticed the look of concern on Joanna’s face. Handing her one of the bars he said, “What’s up?”
Pouncey dozed on a sofa. With a silent nod of her head, Joanna directed him into the bis’ room.
They were toddling around, happy enough, or so it seemed. Joanna pointed to the indigo coloured bi and said, “Watch.”
The bi did not seem to have the same dexterity and confidence of movement shown by the others. After a moment, Manfred thought of a reason. “It’s blind,” he said.
She nodded. For the bis they had bought the finest artificial eyes, made by the Korean masters, the finest ears from Singapore, the most sensitive micro touches from Tokyo. And other, less human devices. But the problem had been interfacing. Dirk Ngma, Manfred’s preferred choice, had vanished a long time ago, leaving Tsuneko to create interfaces for the BIteam; and now she was gone.
“If it is blind,” he continued, “there’s nothing we can do now.”
“They could be individuating,” Joanna said, picking up the nearest bi and holding it like a toddler in her arms. “We need to give them names.”
He nodded. “Okay… so you’ve got the red one. We’ll call it Red. The blind one is Indigo. That’s Grey, that’s White.”
Joanna shrugged, though with a smile on her face. “Practical, if simplistic,” she remarked.
Beautiful Intelligence Page 5
