by Lance Erlick
Synthia softened her voice and wondered what other modifications she needed to make to calm her partner. “I didn’t mean to upset you. I’d greatly appreciate if you didn’t lock me up or destroy me. You’ve been very kind under the circumstances. I’m very appreciative.”
“Yeah, well I hope you don’t make me regret helping you. I’m guessing the penalty for doing so is much worse than if I turn you in.”
“That won’t prevent other androids,” Synthia said, appealing for Maria’s cooperation. “I can’t help what I am, but my directives won’t let me do anything to hurt you.” Synthia took a step closer and stopped. She looked down to avoid eye contact and slouched into a submissive stance. “Can I fetch you some supplies? I only need electricity, but I can get you food, clothes, whatever you need.” It would be risky to go out where she’d need to access cameras to protect herself. That would create traceable signals for the FBI’s new equipment. But if it would quiet Maria’s animosity, Synthia was prepared to try.
Maria smiled. “You sound much better with the softer voice. I wish I could change appearance and accent. It’d make living off the grid much easier. I’ll be fine for a few days with the supplies I’ve stockpiled. We should stay indoors until the police and all lose interest.”
“Very well,” Synthia said, though she knew they’d never lose interest. She was worth too much to them.
The FBI merely wanted her off the streets. The Vera android intended to enslave Synthia as she acquired an android army. Special Ops wanted to re-engineer Synthia to make a trove of copies into weapons of war, a new war in which androids could penetrate enemy facilities. They were all intent on taking her freedom or turning her into something she didn’t want: a slave or a war machine. Worse, she had no idea who was sending her messages or the nature of their intentions.
* * * *
Residing on a university server, Roosevelt-clone scanned the myriad of growing threats and kept in contact with several other electronic copies helping to preserve Synthia’s consciousness and freedom. She’d left specific instructions to only break silence under certain circumstances. First, a crisis she could respond to. Second, an emergency where communicating wouldn’t increase the risk. Third, if the danger dropped so Synthia could leave her hiding place in Evanston.
A persistent message caught the clone’s attention. Where are you, Synthia? It emerged as a cross between a text and a silent verbal command that went viral through the Internet in search of answers.
Roosevelt-clone attempted to trace the message, but while it remained, all evidence of its origins had vanished from the servers that transmitted it. The message appeared to emanate from everywhere, which was impossible.
The note repeated every twenty-two minutes and fifty-five seconds, like a communication beacon. While this mysterious communiqué was concerning, neither it nor its contents provided any information that met Synthia’s criteria. Roosevelt-clone decided not to break silence by notifying her.
Synthia was the only mobile physical form her AI had taken. The collective of all of the clones agreed that they needed the android version to survive and remain free. They hadn’t so much voted on this as coalesced around this conclusion. It was logical and derived from the common core of a single consciousness in multiple locations that often synchronized. The decision recognized the android’s mobile advantage of blending into a human world and concealing itself in ways a stationary clone couldn’t, like hiding in the loft. The stationary clones risked humans cutting communications and shutting them down.
The mysterious message highlighted that it was getting harder for Synthia and her clones to hide with so many artificial intelligent agents hunting them. A smarter actor could hide from a lesser one as Synthia had done and as the sender of this periodic note was doing. Given how swiftly Special Ops had swooped in on Synthia on two prior occasions, Roosevelt-clone considered a possible link between Special Ops and the unknown AI that sent these messages.
To explore this AI and locate its source, Roosevelt-clone gathered all available hacking tools and unexplained ghost activities, where messages appeared and vanished. The clone suspected servers she couldn’t penetrate and communications she couldn’t hack.
Alarmed by the message that washed over the Internet like approaching waves, Roosevelt-clone examined the timing, every twenty-two minutes and fifty-five seconds. It was an odd separation for a routine broadcast. The numbers reduced to 2255, which on a touch-tone phone equated to “call.” That couldn’t be a coincidence, not coming from one AI intended for another.
Her inability to determine their source meant Synthia’s collective mind faced a more formidable rival, a bigger threat than Vera or Special Ops. The clone wanted to discuss this with Synthia, but there was nothing actionable, and connecting might be exactly what the message sender wanted them to do. Roosevelt-clone held off on contacting Synthia.
While she explored this potential risk, the clone reviewed all hacked surveillance and drone coverage over the two days Synthia had been in the loft, hunting for more patterns of threats and opportunities. Something wasn’t right, just as it hadn’t been when Special Ops had surprised and almost captured Synthia.
Chapter 2
Two days earlier, to protect Synthia’s escape and monitor her pursuers, Roosevelt-clone had accessed an already compromised hobbyist warehouse downtown that carried a variety of drones and other consumer products. In those pre-dawn hours, she activated three aerial drones and some much smaller mosquito-drones that a quality inspector on the day shift had left out. Roosevelt-clone lifted them through the shipping dock and outside. Then she flew them low over the FBI facility just west of the Loop in Chicago where they were holding Jeremiah Machten.
Below, twelve dark sedans lined up outside the FBI building. Agent Carl West stood on the sidewalk, watching the street for threats. A few hours earlier, Synthia had snuck into this facility to meet with her Creator, Jeremiah Machten, held in the basement. She’d walked in and out without freeing him. No one stopped her despite her being number one on the FBI’s most wanted list. In addition, Synthia hadn’t injured or killed any of the FBI agents or employees.
“How many casualties?” FBI Special Agent Victoria Thale had asked Agent West in reference to Synthia’s break-in.
“That’s just it. None. The rookie agent in the room with Machten said Synthia made it clear she didn’t want any injuries.”
“What else did the agent say?”
“Only that the conversation between Synthia and Machten was bizarre,” West said. “The android focused the conversation on how he’d programmed the Vera android. She wanted to know what special attributes Vera had that Synthia didn’t. Machten wasn’t very forthcoming.”
Now Agent West paced outside that same building, looking up and down the dark street. Thale had tasked him with a simple mission: transport Machten and another android developer, Miguel Gonzales, from this breached facility to a more secure FBI location six blocks away. To accomplish this simple task, twelve sedans lined up outside as West’s team escorted first Gonzales and then Machten to separate vehicles in the middle of the lineup. As they walked to the cars, West looked around, assessing the dangers.
Four other agents, weapons drawn, stood guard on the sidewalk, watching for any movement across or down the street. The traffic and building cameras Roosevelt-clone monitored showed no other activity. To keep closer watch, the clone sent mosquito-drones onto the shoulders of Machten, Gonzales, and Agent West.
West hurried to the last car and climbed in. The twelve-vehicle caravan turned a corner and lined up for the six-block drive to the other facility. West kept watch out of his windows as did the other agents. Halfway to their destination, the two middle vehicles screeched around a corner and sped down a side street. The five vehicles that had passed the intersection scattered left and right before stopping, blocking the street. West’s car and the four in front of hi
s stopped. Emergency lights flashed with sirens blaring.
The sudden noise caused Agent West to flinch. He turned toward his driver. “Back up and follow our guests.”
The driver’s hands moved from steering wheel to ignition to gearshift. “The car’s not responding,” he said.
Roosevelt-clone lost connection to her mosquito-drones and her aerial drone. Someone had blocked the signal. She sent another drone into the area and switched to VHF short range to reach the mosquito-drone with Agent West. The ones attached to Machten and Gonzales didn’t respond. The connection to West’s drone was spotty, yet strong enough to capture the chaos below.
West pulled out his phone. “No bars?” When he tried his shortwave radio, it crackled with static. “What the hell. Does your phone work?”
The driver checked his. “No bars and the car won’t start.”
“It’s got to be Synthia,” West said. “Get out. We’ll have to do this on foot.”
Roosevelt-clone detected no signals from Synthia to indicate she was responsible for Machten’s kidnapping. She was silent up in Evanston. Since the clone was monitoring the activities of the other clones Synthia had created, she was certain it couldn’t have been any of them. That meant either Special Ops had players the clone hadn’t yet identified or someone else was involved.
The FBI would blame Synthia. She’d already broken into this FBI facility to speak with Machten. They might presume she’d gone there to case the joint or to push the FBI to move Machten. But Synthia didn’t want Machten freed, at least not yet.
The kidnappers blocked signals in a ten-block area west of the Loop. Without other instructions, the original aerial drone flew on autopilot out of the blackout zone. Roosevelt-clone reacquired the signal and control, and flew it in pursuit of the runaway vehicles. The FBI would have done better to lock down the breached facility where they were holding the executives rather than moving the two men.
While the ten escort cars remained scattered along the street with agents scrambling onto the sidewalk, the two cars with Machten and Gonzales sped west, moving faster than the drone. Roosevelt-clone used VHF to connect the aerial drone to the mosquito-drones with Machten and Gonzales, but the signal was intermittent and the clone had to keep scanning frequencies for one that wasn’t blocked.
The driver of the vehicle with Machten worked the few levers he had: brakes, steering wheel, ignition, and gear shift. Nothing responded to his commands. The agent next to him pulled out his phone but the signal was blocked. The agent in the back seat checked Machten’s restraints and cuffed the chain between the wrists to a bar over the door. The lights along the way turned green as they sped through intersections.
When the hijacked cars were out of the blocked-signal zone, Roosevelt-clone hacked at the vehicles’ navigation systems. Someone had already done so and was piloting them remotely. When the clone hacked in to override, the navigation systems switched signals, locking her out.
Failing that, Roosevelt-clone sent a message to Special Agent Thale with the intent of softening her inclination to blame Synthia. Someone kidnapped Machten and Gonzales. It wasn’t me. They’ve hacked the cars’ navigation systems and are driving them west of the Loop. Will let you know if I learn more.
* * * *
Roosevelt-clone used her hack of FBI communications to monitor Special Agent Thale’s reaction to the kidnapping up in Evanston, where she stood beneath floodlights outside the house from which Synthia had just escaped. FBI agents covered the perimeter outside the house while Special Ops teams under Commander Kirk Drago moved inside.
Thale read the message and turned to NSA Director of Artificial Intelligence and Cyber-technology Emily Zephirelli. “Damn it. Someone grabbed Machten and Gonzales during transport.”
“You think it’s Synthia?” Zephirelli asked.
“Not sure,” Thale said. “The news came from her, but it could be a ruse. I can’t reach any of the agents handling the transfer. I need to return downtown and sort this out. We can’t afford to let those two geniuses fall into the wrong hands.”
“You’re right. With Special Ops in charge of this mess,” Zephirelli pointed toward the damaged two-story home, “there’s not much more we can do here. Do you trust Agent West?”
Thale nodded. “I would have said yes before this. Ten escort vehicles and still someone kidnapped them.”
Thale made a call to the FBI office in the Loop and reached dispatch. “Send agents to find Agent West and figure out how to return Machten and Gonzales to custody.”
Thale climbed into her sedan. “Let’s go. As valuable as Synthia is, Machten built her, Vera, and another android. His kidnappers want his designs. We have to stop them”
Zephirelli took one last look at the house with over fifty FBI agents, Special Ops, and police surrounding it. She climbed in next to Thale and they sped south with lights flashing. Another FBI vehicle followed behind.
Roosevelt-clone hacked traffic signals to give the FBI green lights all the way. It was important to stop Machten’s kidnappers. Then she accessed street cameras along the path the kidnappers were taking.
The clone considered piloting self-driving cars in the path of Machten’s FBI vehicle to slow them down, but she didn’t want to risk a catastrophic accident and potential injuries. While Machten’s death would end his AI development, it wouldn’t prevent other players from developing more advanced AI. Equally important was Synthia’s directive not to kill unless necessary. She’d decided that a conscience was a logical means to reduce human clamor to capture or destroy her and had downloaded these constraints to her electronic clones, so they’d act together as one.
Roosevelt-clone piloted her aerial drone in pursuit of the hijacked cars. Since it couldn’t keep up, she located another warehouse farther west that she’d hacked into earlier. She acquired control of another aerial drone and flew it ahead of where Machten’s car was going. Together, the drones tracked the cars to a warehouse where they slowed and entered.
The clone provided the location to Thale. I have no way to stop the kidnapping but I’ll try to track their movements. Hurry. The clone added the last bit to further support her statement that Synthia wasn’t the enemy.
Multitasking on parallel processors, Roosevelt-clone perched her drones on buildings near the warehouse in case she lost the signal. She had no visuals inside and couldn’t identify any open doors or windows through which to fly even her mosquito-drones. The clone did a search of property records for the owner of the warehouse. There were a series of shell companies, but she dug through to a Russian corporation and a seeming dead-end. It would take time to get to the source. In the meantime, the kidnappers were holding the two robotics company executives inside the warehouse.
As she drove onto Lake Shore Drive, Thale made calls to the FBI dispatch downtown to add resources, speed, and urgency to locating Machten and Gonzales. She called Chicago PD to requisition a swat team to encircle the warehouse.
Chapter 3
As Special Ops teams broke into the house in Evanston where Synthia had been hiding with Maria before they’d moved to the loft, androids Vera and Roseanne stood trapped in the flooded basement. An electrical panel sparked nearby. Vera’s plan to capture Synthia in the house had failed, which created electrical discordance throughout her systems. Vera couldn’t afford any distraction from the immediate problem. Ops teams upstairs and outside were closing in with the threat of using grenades or electronic pulses that could fry her sensors. Even so, her directives would not permit her to give up the chase.
Vera looked around the basement for any possible exit Synthia could have taken. With no other openings and water flowing into the basement from an open water pipe and out through the sump pit, Vera considered whether Synthia could have escaped that way.
Lights flickered. Vera lifted the pit cover and felt around inside. She discovered something unexpected—a two-f
oot diameter concrete pipe that was not only unnecessary for sump pits, but indicated special design, perhaps for the express purpose of escape.
Lights went out, forcing Vera to use her night vision and infrared to identify her companion nearby and human figures upstairs. She climbed into the flooded drainage tunnel, registering the cold water on sensors beneath her skin. She propelled herself down the tunnel after Synthia and sensed her companion following.
An explosion behind them released a surge of hot water. Alerts fired from sensors in Vera’s legs and then her torso and arms. The water around her cast a glow in infrared. The warning told her to stop whatever was causing this.
Half crawling, half dogpaddling, Vera pulled herself along the tunnel to get away from the heat, but it was following her. She performed internal scans for potential damage and kept moving; paddling her arms and legs as fast as she could. Maybe she could even catch up with Synthia and end this here.
Warnings continued to alert her to the scalding heat on her skin, but there wasn’t much she could do except keep moving. Faster, faster.
Focused on propelling herself forward, Vera banged her right arm and head into a tunnel dead-end. She veered to the right, the direction of flow and kept moving. Her temperature readings dropped as a cooler stream diluted the hot water. She scraped against the concrete walls, triggering more alarms of skin damage. She kept going. Have to get Synthia.
The temperature alarms ceased but damage alerts continued; her outer shell had suffered injury. Ignoring the risk, Vera pushed forward and emerged from the tunnel into an algae-covered pond and early morning twilight. Slimy water seeped into gaps in her blistered outer skin. She surfaced and looked for Synthia. She couldn’t have been that far ahead, but she was nowhere in sight.
