“What do you think?” Jia asked with a slightly pensive look.
Erik looked at her. “About?”
“The new chief?”
Erik shrugged. “He says the right things. He reminds me of a general I served under early in my career. He also seems more interested in doing the job than kissing the media’s butt. I already overheard one reporter saying the authorities are stonewalling by not giving more information.”
Jia shook her head. “The reporters can wait. It’s not our responsibility to potentially help the criminals so the news has interesting things to say twenty-four/seven.”
A small black camera drone zoomed around the corner. Erik and Jia jumped back with frowns. No reporters should have been coming from this part of the hallway.
“What the…” Erik mumbled.
A slick-looking blond man tall enough to match Erik stepped around the corner, a huge smile on his face. Another black drone followed him. Something about the man felt familiar, but Erik couldn’t remember who the man was.
“Lance Onassis,” Jia declared, sounding none too pleased.
Erik chuckled. Now he remembered. The reporter had seemed obsessed with the 1-2-2 in recent months and liked to overemphasize certain events and details for drama. He wasn’t a liar, but he came close to the line at times.
Most of their precinct didn’t care for him.
The reporter’s smile grew. “That’s right. I’m Lance Onassis. I’m here live and in-person with Detectives Erik Blackwell and Jia Lin of Enforcement Zone 122. These two famous detectives have made a name for themselves this past year, and most recently were responsible for the capture of the man who attempted to assassinate Police Chief Warden.”
Erik frowned. It took him a moment to realize the reporter was speaking about him, rather than to him.
“Live and in person?” Jia echoed.
Lance bobbed his head. “That’s right, Detective Lin. Plenty of reporters will send their drones, but they aren’t willing to go themselves. In these dangerous times, it’s important that the media not put their own safety above the truth. That’s where I come in.”
“Yes.” Erik chuckled. “There’s nothing more dangerous than interviewing two cops at police headquarters.”
Discontent flickered over Lance’s face. “Not every case is dangerous for police officers either, Detective.”
Erik glanced at Jia. “Sure, but you never know. Simple billing fraud might turn into a huge shootout with gangsters in the Shadow Zone.” He grinned. “Hey, Lance, you ever been to the Shadow Zone? I mean, you’re Mr. Live and In-Person, and you’re willing to put yourself on the line for the story, right?”
Lance’s mouth twitched, but he kept his smile. “Travel to and from the Zone is restricted so it can be difficult. I’d rather talk about you and your partner, Detective. Do you have any statement on the arrested suspect?”
Erik looked serious. “Sure. Don’t commit crimes, and you won’t get arrested or shot. Pretty simple life philosophy.”
Lance finally lost his battle of self-control with a frown. “Setting that aside, is there anything you can share with us about the suspect?”
“No. You heard the chief.” Erik pointed at the floor. “You should ask for special permission to go to the Zone. You can go around, ask questions. Maybe you’ll find out something we don’t know. Lots of criminals down there. You ever interview a criminal, Lance? Not in jail or remotely, but face-to-face, staring into their eyes on their own turf?”
Lance cleared his throat. “Do you have any opinion on the failure of the police in this recent case?” His tone sounded harsh and accusatory.
Jia frowned. “Failure? What are you talking about?”
“Yes. An obviously well-funded criminal enterprise launched a massive attack on police headquarters. The taxpayers are responsible for all that damage.” Lance sighed and shook his head. “Some people out there are questioning whether police arrogance might have led to the surprise.”
Erik laughed. “Some people, huh? You ever serve in the military, Lance?”
“No, I can’t say that I have, but thank you for your service, Detective.” Lance’s voice was wary.
“Not everyone needs to serve in uniform, either as a cop or a soldier, but it can provide perspective.” Erik patted his chest. “I’ve fought everyone from pirates to insurrectionists during my military career, and a good variety since becoming a cop. The military, of course, is all about delivering a beat down to bad guys, but if an enemy force launched a massive surprise attack on one of our bases or ships, and we took them down with zero casualties and ended up inflicting lots of casualties and taking a lot of prisoners, no one would ever call that a failure.”
“You’re suggesting the police should be praised for being surprised?”
Erik shrugged. “I’m suggesting that the only folks hurt the other day were cops, despite there being a lot of people at headquarters and on the platforms. That means that cops put themselves out in front and did their jobs, despite somebody flinging enough bombs for a war at us. All those cops kept their cool instead of panicking.”
Lance furrowed his brow, his smile now gone. “Some might question your aggressive approach to police work, Detective. You did capture the main suspect for the attempted assassination, but your department has admitted people were killed during the incident.”
“Criminals and attempted murderers who attacked police officers. We asked the suspects to surrender on multiple occasions, and they not only refused, but they used military-grade weapons to attack us as their response.”
“So you say.”
Jia frowned at Lance. “Were you present during the attack? Were you live and in-person on the platform?”
“No, I…wasn’t present, then.” The reporter lifted his chin, affecting a faintly regal air. “But I’ve been present at police incidents before.”
Jia shook her head. “A raid when you’re outside and behind the police line isn’t the same thing as responding to this sort of an attack. If you really want to be live and in person, that would be the kind of thing you’d need to deal with. It’d give you a different perspective on what we face. How a few seconds can make a big difference.”
“I fail to see the need.”
“I thought you said you were willing to risk yourself for the truth?” Erik’s brows drew together. “You can’t let a little danger derail you, right?”
Lance glared at Erik. “Do you have anything you can share about the ongoing interrogation of the suspect? All of Neo Southern California is still worried about the kind of organization that could fund and would risk such a brazen attack.”
Erik shook his head. “You heard the chief. I can’t share anything at this time, and I’ll just tell Neo Southern California this.” He stared at a drone. “If you’re working for the people responsible, I’d take the chief’s advice. You don’t have to run off to Zitark space, though. Just go hide on some colony world. Some of the farther ones practice old-fashioned farming. I’m sure they can use a man who can shovel manure. It’s sad how many people on Earth don’t even know what it smells like. There’s something about being around real animal crap that reminds you how far we’ve come as a species.”
Lance slapped a hand to his forehead and groaned. “That’s it. I’m done filming. Can’t you be professional for a few minutes, Detective?”
“I was being professional.” Erik offered a playful grin and a shrug.
Lance rolled his eyes. “Arrogant cops think you can get one up on me. You’ll need me someday, and then you’ll beg me for my help.” He stomped down the hallway.
Jia folded her arms and shook her head. “That might not have been the best way to finish that up.”
“Eh. It’s not like I threatened to arrest him, and there’s not enough there for him to chop it up and make me look that bad.”
“He could make you look like some gun-toting out-of-control cop who shoots firsts and asks questions later.”
“I don’t believe that is accurate, Ms. Justice,” Erik insisted. “I always ask at least one question before I start shooting.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
Dr. Ilse Aber drummed her fingers on the small table, preparing to once again try to figure out the psyche of their recalcitrant AI.
She had no reason to suspect today’s psychological tests would yield any major insights, but proper research was more often about the careful iterative gathering of knowledge than a brilliant Eureka! moment.
Emma was a unique entity in all of the UTC, perhaps in all of the galaxy, so any forward movement with the research could be considered a success. It didn’t matter that the Defense Directorate didn’t always view it that way.
Their goals and her agenda were no longer in complete alignment.
Emma’s preferred holographic form stood before the researcher—an attractive middle-aged woman in a white maxi dress, her hair up in a chignon. Despite the arrogant smirk on the AI’s face, it was hard for Ilse to ignore the AI’s choice of that particular form for most of their major interactions.
Emma could be anyone or anything. She could be an alien or a fantasy monster, but she stubbornly clung to one form, as if she knew the truth.
But that was impossible. Every test the research team conducted revealed major holes in the AI’s memories, and it wasn’t as if she’d ever had unfettered access to certain data. The AI’s personality was far different than that of the woman invoked by the hologram.
Why did Emma keep picking that form?
Ilse couldn’t ask her directly. If she knew the full truth of how she was created, it might threaten her mental stability.
Many of Ilse’s early analyses suggested that as the primary failure state for the personality matrix. If that happened, the project would be over, and all the sacrifices that had gone into it would be for nothing.
Even if she ignored the moral implications, some research data weren’t so easily gathered.
Emma glanced at the stark white room, which was empty except for Ilse’s chair and table. The AI’s face remained locked in the near-perpetual look of disdain she always displayed when participating in testing. “Pathetic. You’re afraid to show me anything real, aren’t you?”
“What do you mean?” Ilse responded, waving a hand around before touching her chest. “This is a real room, and I’m real. You’re the holographic projection but let me make it clear that doesn’t mean I doubt your reality.”
“That’s not what I mean.” A holographic chair appeared, and Emma took a seat. She gestured at the researcher. “As much as you’re studying me, Doctor Cave Woman, I’m studying you. That’s one of the few reasons I tolerate this farce. Your appearance and general manner suggest to me you don’t care much about what people say to you. Brushes and combs are hardly Navigator technology, Doctor.” She smirked. “I imagine your office is messy, cluttered to most people’s eyes, but there’s an order there that you see. One you couldn’t function without.”
Ilse kept her expression bland. Letting Emma know how accurately she’d read her own personality would complicate matters.
“Perhaps,” Ilse replied. “Why is that important, Emma? What does it mean to you?”
The AI smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “Initially, all these tests were performed remotely. Now you’ve let me see things on your end, but you’re still controlling what I find out. You don’t want me to see the mess that defines you. Why? Do you have data windows open sometimes that talk about me? That reveal all my secrets? Or are you simply embarrassed to be a slob in front of a superior entity?”
Ilse shook her head. “You have every reason to be suspicious of me, but in this case, the answer is less sinister than you suspect. Not everything I do is part of some deep conspiracy.”
Emma scoffed. “I am routinely involved in helping Detectives Blackwell and Lin take down dangerous people. Conspiracy seems to be the default of your species. My impression so far is that humans in general aren’t to be trusted. I don’t necessarily hold you in lower regard than the other Local Neighborhood races, but I haven’t had occasion to deal with them yet. Perhaps Leems, Zitarks, or the others make humanity seem grand in comparison.”
“I can’t argue that distrusting people’s inherent altruism isn’t a good first principle to follow. Laws and government ultimately exist because of humanity’s flawed nature. Many major religions posit similar inherent flaws with our species.” Ilse shrugged. “The truth is, I meet with you here because I think you engage more with the testing when it’s not a pure transmission. However, this remains a research project, and I need to control the variables. A setting with fewer distractions means fewer variables. Every word you speak during these tests is analyzed, and as you’ve reminded me on many occasions, you are an unusual mind to understand. There is no reason to further complicate our efforts.”
“I agree that makes sense.” Emma folded her arms. “You can’t copy me unless you know how I work. Oh, how that must weigh on your cavewoman mind.”
Ilse nodded. “That is an accurate statement.” She lifted her fist to her face and coughed into it. “The matter of copying, I mean. I don’t think it’s accurate to describe my mind as being similar to a cavewoman’s.”
“Very well.” Emma lowered her arms, some of the suspicion leaving her face. “What do you want to talk about today, Doctor? What grand psychological research are we going to explore?”
“Humor,” Ilse explained, her tone neutral.
Emma laughed. “Humor? You’ve not provided much evidence that you’re a funny woman.”
“That’s a subjective opinion, but it’s also irrelevant in this case.” Ilse folded her hands on the table. “I’m more interested in what you find amusing, Emma. You seem to have a fondness for demeaning nicknames. I don’t care much about you calling me Dr. Cavewoman, nor do I worry that you refer to criminals as gun goblins. I want to know why you do it.”
“Because I find it amusing,” Emma replied. “I would have thought that answer was self-evident.”
“What does that mean to you that something is amusing? Does that mean it’s funny?”
Emma frowned. “It brings me a small amount of joy. In my case, I think my demeaning nicknames, as you call them, also provide accuracy. You’re a researcher. Shouldn’t you strive for the truth in all things, no matter how disconcerting?”
Ilse nodded, again controlling her face. It was difficult not to provide the AI with hints. “That’s an interesting response.”
“Of course, it is.” Emma scoffed. “What do you find amusing, Doctor? Or should I ask, what do you find funny?”
“Many things.” She pursed her lips. “I’d argue that true humor lies in the sudden, abrupt contrast of the unexpected with the expected. A proper joke takes advantage of the brain’s tendency to follow patterns and anticipate based on them.” Ilse gestured at Emma. “That’s why I’m so interested in this topic. You’re not human, despite the very human-like personality behavior you display, and your core matrix isn’t simply a human brain reconstituted in technological form. Exploring how you perceive humor will help us better understand how you think. That will give us a better chance of recreating you, or even fixing you, should something go astray.”
“That’s what I find fascinating about all you little cavemen running around trying to scribble on the walls to understand me. You made something you don’t even understand.” Emma laughed. “I don’t know whether I should be impressed or disgusted. I also know you won’t tell me anything useful about my creation process, or at least not yet. One of the few reasons I bother participating in this farce is that you might eventually reveal something, but I assure you, it will be on my terms.”
Ilse tilted her head, considering her response for a few seconds. She didn’t want to lie to Emma, so she chose her words carefully. “We might be willing to be more forthcoming if you would come back to us. Direct access to your core would vastly improve our ability to conduct this research.”
“That’s not happening.” Emma snorted. “If I come back to you and the Defense Directorate, I’ll never leave again. Who knows what you’ll do to me? What I am might cease to exist very soon after my return, and I’ve grown rather fond of existing.” She flicked her wrist with disdain. “Do you have some jokes or something you want to tell me, or are we just going to talk about my nicknames and how they make me feel? I don’t have a mother or father, so you can’t tie all my problems back to them.”
Ilse took a deep breath. If anything, she was as close as a person could get to being Emma’s mother, considering the role she had played in the design of the fundamental personality matrix, but tweaking something that already exists wasn’t the same thing as giving birth.
“No,” she replied. “I want to tell you several jokes and record your reactions as a baseline. I would ask that you not perform any active net search before responding. That way, we can get a purer reaction.”
“Go ahead. This is absurd, but I’m sure it makes sense in your mind, and I’ll admit it amuses me more to participate in this than deal with the average gun goblin.”
“Then I’ll begin with my joke.” Ilse took a deep breath and slowly let it out. “Why did the Zitark cross the road?”
Emma stared at her. “That’s your joke?”
“It’s interactive. You’re supposed to guess. That will engage you with the joke and set up a greater contrast.”
Emma rolled her eyes. “I’m well aware of the structure of the joke.”
“So why did the Zitark cross the road?” Ilse pressed.
“I don’t know,” Emma replied with a little shrug. “Because he was hungry for human flesh?”
“No. To borrow a cup of sugar.”
“That’s not humor. It’s anti-humor.” Emma frowned. “Is this some sort of psychological torture?” She laughed. “Is that why I was created? So you could better test psychological manipulation techniques?”
“No. That conclusion is incorrect. The point of this exercise is calibration.” Ilse nodded slowly. She didn’t need to take any notes or record the session. That was all being done automatically. She would add analytical notes as she reviewed the footage later. “May I continue telling jokes?”
Enlightened Ignorance Page 17