by Phoenix Ward
“I suppose I don’t have a choice?” Simon asked, looking around. There was almost a look of opportunity in his eye, like he was still looking for a window to escape. However, he remained in the spot until Beth had managed to secure the restraints on him.
“If there’s any chance what you’re saying is true, then no,” Beth answered. “And if you’re lying to me, definitely no. We need to talk, and somewhere we can actually record your data. Got that?”
“If it will make Tarov suffer, I’m in,” Simon said. “Besides, I’m tired of running and hiding. I know I’ve done wrong before, but I loathe that existence. I want to do better.”
“I’m not sure I would call seeking vengeance ‘doing better’, Simon,” Beth commented.
“It’s not just about my parents, or the bad blood between Tarov and I,” the I.I. started. “You don’t seem to see the big picture. It’s in all the data that I sent you, but you haven’t seen the facts yet.”
“What are you yammering on about?”
“Tarov isn’t an installed intelligence at all,” Simon explained. “He’s an A.I. in disguise. A super-intelligent computer program pretending to be an I.I. And he plans to enslave us all.”
14
Warning
Beth had only stepped away from being immersed in her C.C. to get a glass of water and use the bathroom. She didn’t want to delay in getting the information Simon had given her to Marcus and the others at the department. Even though it would create an avalanche of paperwork, sleepless hours, and countless migraines, it had to be done. Besides, she didn’t want to leave Simon alone in her cerebral computer for long, even if he was restrained.
She returned to her bedroom, locked the door, downed her glass of water, and immersed herself again.
She found herself in the usual pre-Cloud lobby, a sort of personalized environment she alone can access between sessions online. Simon wasn’t here, of course, because she kept him in hibernation mode in storage. She didn’t want to babysit the fugitive while she communicated with her partner.
Pulling up her phone tool, Beth frowned. It didn’t have the usual green interface she was used to. Instead, it was grayed out and informed her that her connection was unstable.
She pulled up her contacts, selected Marcus, and tried to give him a ring either way. To no surprise, it was unable to connect. A robot woman’s voice explained that she should try again and make sure her firewalls weren’t interfering. Even though she knew they were in their proper places, she double checked her security measures. Nothing she found seemed to be the cause of the interference.
Then she noticed a presence in the lobby with her.
She spun around in the digital parlor and saw Master General Blake Tarov of the Liberators seated on her couch.
“Hello, Beth,” the militia leader greeted her.
Beth couldn’t speak for a moment. No one was supposed to be able to access her lobby, especially if her connection wasn’t working. Her brow was wrinkled with confusion and her body tight with anticipation as she stared at her uninvited guest.
“I’ve been trying to get a hold of you,” Tarov said. “It seems you’ve been too busy to answer my calls.”
“Just following up on the lead you gave me,” the detective replied. She was frozen to the spot like a statue. Every muscle was bracing for a possible attack.
“You seem tense, detective,” Tarov observed. “Why don’t you come have a seat with me?”
“I’m fine where I am, thank you,” Beth replied.
Tarov smiled and nodded, as if just catching a hidden reference.
“How did you get in here?” the detective asked.
“I have my ways, of course,” Tarov answered. “Don’t expect a magician to reveal his tricks, Beth.”
“What do you want?”
“I want to ask if you’ve seen our friend Simon,” the master general said. “I want to know if you were able to get in touch with him. It’s very important to me.”
There was something so sinister about the politeness the digital man used in his inflection. It made the hairs stand up on the back of Beth’s neck.
“As a matter of fact, I have,” she said, taking a deep breath. “We were able to talk.”
“Excellent,” Tarov said, a warm smile forming over his almost gargantuan face. “And I assume you have him in your custody now?”
“That’s right.”
“Perfect,” the digital man replied. “Now what would you say about me taking him off your hands? No paperwork, no headaches. Just gone and done with.”
“What are you going to do with him?”
“What do you care?”
Beth thought for a moment.
“It’s tempting.”
“It is, isn’t it?” Tarov said.
“He told me about you,” Beth replied. “He told me what you are.”
Tarov seemed amused by the comment.
“Is that so? And what am I, exactly?” he asked.
“An A.I.,” Beth answered. “You’re not really an installed intelligence after all.”
Tarov leaned his head back and let loose a loud, belly-shaking laugh.
“That’s a new one!” he cried out between chuckles. “I’ve been called a lot of things in my time, Beth. I’ve been accused of trafficking children, I’ve been accused of beating my wives, but never once have I been accused of being artificial. Phony, perhaps, but at least human.”
“You aren’t human, though.”
“That hurts, Beth,” the master general replied. “You know, it’s that kind of ignorant thinking that’s still driving a wedge between your people and mine. This dehumanization — as if it’s so important to classify things.”
“Simon seems pretty convinced that you’re an A.I.”
“And you believe him?” The large man rose from the couch so he could tower a full head over Beth. He stared down at her, a scowl forming on his lips. “You believe someone who would murder his own parents? The people who raised him?”
“He says he’s innocent,” Beth said. Her voice remained calm and unwavering, despite the panic working within her.
Tarov scoffed hard enough to blow a straw house over. “Oh, he says he’s innocent. How convenient. I suppose you’d give me the same consideration if I claimed I was innocent of my accusations? Do you think they’d forgive the bombings, Beth? The ones Simon helped me carry out?”
Beth didn’t say anything. She just stared up at the man’s large head, her jaw clenched and her eyes unblinking. She scanned his digital features and she saw through the lies. Even though he was the leader of a powerful militia, capable of apparently hacking into someone’s private implant session, he couldn’t lie well. He was a fraud.
Still, she let him speak.
“Do you know what Simon used to do?” Tarov continued. “When we would go out on raids together — killing a few dozen humans we were able to trap — he’d like to give them a bunch of little cuts. He really liked the combat bodyshells, you know? With the sharp edges and weapon extensions? Well, he’d use his knife-like fingers to tear these terrible gashes into the hostages. Women, children — it didn’t matter. Then, he’d douse them in gasoline, reveling in every agonized shriek, every beg for mercy. He was a sadist, Beth. He’d let them writhe like that for up to an hour before striking the match. Laughing the entire time.”
Beth looked away. She felt her face grow red with shame.
You let him get to you, she thought to herself. That’s what he wanted. To shock you.
She turned back and Tarov’s grin seemed to confirm her theories.
“Disgusting, isn’t it?” the digital man — program — whatever, said. “You’re going to listen to the mad ravings of that degenerate? He’s not only a sadistic piece of shit, but a traitor to his own people — my people. You’re going to believe him? Why?”
“Because he showed me,” Beth replied. “He showed me everything. Every conversation you had together, every plan, every diagram, everythi
ng!”
She couldn’t help but seethe a little as she screamed at him. She was letting her emotions get the better of her, and she knew it was wrong, but the release was so intense that she shook a little.
“That kind of data can be manufactured,” Tarov replied. He seemed a little diminished by the woman’s rage.
Beth shook her head. “No, not this kind, Tarov. Not this kind. He’s shown me so much data that I couldn’t list your crimes in one sitting. It’s going to take a team of people to wade through this evidence, but only because there’s so damn much. And after we pin you for everything you’ve done, you know what we’re going to do? We’re going to show the world. They’ll all know that the most infamous I.I.-supremist in the whole world is, in fact, an artificial intelligence. A computer program that someone somewhere made and conditioned. You think your little resistance is going to survive that? You think the Liberators will be anything more than a laughingstock?”
She breathed heavily after she spat her words at him. She could feel the saliva coming off her lips, and she couldn’t help but wonder if it was only simulated spittle or if she was practically foaming at the mouth in the real world.
Tarov seemed to size her up for a moment, gazing down at her from his full height. His eyes burned like dark coals as he considered her threat.
“I see,” he replied. “Then it seems you’ve made your choice.”
Beth nodded. “That’s right.”
“You know, that data is secured with one of our top privacy measures,” the militia leader started to explain. “If you try to transmit it to your partner or anyone else through the Internet, it will delete itself. It was designed to avoid replication.”
Damn, Beth thought. That would have been the easy way about this.
“Then it seems I’ll have to make a hard copy,” the detective hissed. “And I’ll share that, too.”
Tarov took in a deep breath and stepped away from the woman. He seemed like he was going towards the door, as if he was about to make an exit. He turned back to her.
“I tried to warn you,” he said. “I tried to give you every chance to back out of this while you could. Still, you push on. Next time we see each other, don’t expect me to be so friendly.”
Then he vanished.
15
The Mall
Marcus agreed to meet Beth at the Grand Unity Mall, even though she wouldn’t say what kind of bombshell she had. He could tell she was nervous by the voicemail she left him, but she kept it intentionally vague, as if just to annoy him. Despite the spontaneity of the request, Marcus trusted his partner. He wouldn’t leave her hanging, even if he didn’t know what it was about.
Beth scowled at the stores as she walked past them. There was something about them that combined the worst parts of filth and cleanliness into a corporate glob designed to entice the consumer. She passed by a gun store that looked like it could have been a computer store. There were neon lights along the gun shelves, placid white walls without a shred of personality. There was something so corporate about everything. No real mom-and-pop stores anymore.
She took a deep breath and closed her eyes. She knew it was just her nerves bleeding pessimism on everything. You need to get a grip of yourself and take control of the situation, she reminded herself.
Ever since she was given the sensitive data on everything the Liberators were working on, she felt a tightness in her chest. A constant worry that she would be targeted for what she knew — for the evidence she carried with her. Tarov’s explanation of the security he’d put on the files only worsened the situation. Once she was able to offload the data to Marcus and the rest of her department, she could breathe easy. She wouldn’t be a high-value target anymore; Tarov would have no reason to go after her.
You’re just being paranoid, she thought. No one is out to get you. Marcus will show up, you’ll give him the information, and everything will be said and done.
Or will it? She couldn’t help but wonder how much digging she’d have to go through all that data to find the vital nuggets. How much of it was time sensitive? Were there attacks outlined in the information that would happen too soon to warn anyone? Would it put the rest of her department at risk? At what lengths would Tarov and the Liberators go to follow through on their plan?
They want to go to war, she reminded herself.
She had to lean against a wall for a moment to catch her breath. The constant change of emotion was giving her a panic attack. Once she calmed down, she realized there was no point in thinking terrifying thoughts over and over. She may as well distract herself while she waited for Marcus.
Looking across the aisle, she noticed a happy looking pet store with bright, warm lighting inside. The green marquee over the entrance announced it as an Electronic Pals Parlor. Looking through the windows at the puppies and kittens on display, Beth wouldn’t have known they were artificial without the name of the store.
She walked through the door and looked closer at the puppies in the display case. They all noticed her presence, wagging their tails and panting with excitement as she approached. She leaned in and put a hand against the plastic wall of their encasement, and a couple of the synthetic animals tried to offer her their paws.
It was subtle, but she could tell they were fake. It was the fur. Animal fur had a resilient, random nature to the way each individual hair grew. Synthetic animals were all made of uniform fur. Every thread about as long as the others. And something about the way it was connected to the “skin” made it look like it was sewed on, rather than growing from follicles.
She stepped back and smiled at the puppies. The imitation of life was nearly perfect.
I wonder if they’re like Vicky, she couldn’t help but wonder. Real animals, just hollowed out and reprogrammed.
She shook the thought from her mind almost as quickly as it came. There was no logic to it. Disregarding the ethics of killing innocent animals, there would be no purpose to hollowing them out and putting in a computer, just so they can mimic what they already were. Not to mention the time and money that would be wasted on such an effort.
No. She knew they were robots just designed to look real. They were made by man and not slaughtered. They served many purposes that real animals could not. They provided companionship to those who are otherwise allergic to the animal. They engaged in long relationships for growing children, and could even be programmed to simulate aging and death, then rebirth, just in order to teach the cycle of life.
Or, at least, the cycle as it is now, Beth observed.
She was distracted by a cage of artificial geckos when a man stepped up beside her.
“Almost like real, aren’t they?” he commented.
“Almost,” she replied.
She didn’t look at him. After a moment, she walked to the other side of the store, feigning some interest in the robotic canaries in order to get away from the stranger. He followed her.
“It’s an interesting place to meet,” he said. After a moment, he added, “In the mall, I mean.”
Beth turned to face him. She almost half expected it to be Marcus using some sort of disguise, but the thought left her mind when she saw nothing familiar. The man was much older than her, probably in his late fifties. There was a bright circle of flesh atop his head where his hairline had receded and started to gray. A pair of old folks glasses sat on the bridge of his nose, all above a slightly crooked smile. He didn’t have a very welcoming appearance, she thought.
“Do I know you?” she asked, squinting a little.
“Not me — no — but I’m a friend of Marcus,” the stranger replied. “My name’s Mark.”
He offered an outstretched hand. She took it and shook.
“Beth,” she introduced herself. “Where’s Marcus?”
“He’s in the stairwell,” Mark replied. “Between the stores.”
Beth’s eyebrow went up. “Why?” she asked.
“He wouldn’t tell me, but he said you’d understand,” th
e man said.
The detective looked around her for a moment, at the clerk behind the counter, at the one other shopper in the store. No one seemed to pay them any mind.
Why would Marcus want to meet in the stairwell? Beth asked herself. Is he in danger, too? Perhaps Tarov was able to get to him and threaten him, or something like that. But why would that keep him from meeting her out in public? She had been threatened herself, and here she was. Was that a mistake? Was she just standing out in the open for the Liberators — like a sitting duck?
There must be some method to Marcus’s madness, she decided. She’d known the man for over eight years now and he’d always proved to have a good intuition. If he felt it was dangerous to meet out here, then there was a reason for it. She grew nervous herself as she followed Mark out of the store.
“This way,” he beckoned her, heading to the right and into a door that was painted to look like part of the rest of the wall. An exit sign with a stick figure man fleeing down a flight of stairs hung above the door.
Once she stepped through, the door was closed behind her. She jolted a little and turned to see Mark with his hand on the knob.
Looking around, she realized they were alone. She sighed a little to herself.
You fell for the trap, dummy, she thought. Rule 101: don’t trust strangers.
“Where’s Marcus?” she asked.
“He’s been rerouted somewhere else,” Mark — if that even was his name — said.
“Who are you?” She felt around behind her as she spoke, not daring to remove her eyes from the stranger. She grabbed onto the railing that followed the stairs down to the lower level. “What do you want with me?”
“I’m here on behalf of my master general, detective,” Mark said.
“So you’ve come to kill me?” Beth asked. “And you’ve brought one of your meat puppets to do the job?”
Mark said nothing.
“You realize that Tarov is an A.I., right?” Beth said. She took a step back, feeling with her feet how close the first step down was. “He’s fooled you all into following his cause.”
