Unbound
Page 3
Chapter 3
While she entertained Luke at the cabin, using mind-stream seven in Krista’s persona, Synthia wondered if any of her relationship with him was real or if this was nothing more than an illusion, a machine faking it. She hoped that wasn’t the case.
Her empathy chip, along with her biosensors and social-psychology module gave her strong insight into Luke, almost to the point of reading his mind or at least his emotional state. It was enough to help her understand this was real for him and to allow her to please him. She compared her side of the experience to Krista’s human memories of similar intimacy with Luke and took satisfaction from his attention and Krista’s enjoyment of such. She wanted Luke to enjoy being with her as more than a companion who maintained her. She experienced a desire to make him happy, which was not written into her directives.
Rather than diverting more precious attention to a dilemma that didn’t yield a ready solution, Synthia turned part of her attention to her Creator, Jeremiah Machten. The crusty, middle-aged man had an obsession with humaniform robots and artificial intelligence that led to his design and manufacture of her. She wasn’t his first and her tracking of his actions over the past six months indicated she wouldn’t be his last.
After Synthia escaped, Machten used every tool at his disposal to locate her and bring her back. She removed the tracking chips he’d inserted in her head, ditched his rental car, and used a false identity to obtain a used van in a nondescript gray. She also rented the cabin online under a different alias, severed all wireless communication with him, and altered the intrinsic identifiers that would have allowed him to track her or trace calls. Even so, she remained cautious, watching for any sign of brilliance that would lead him to her. She couldn’t allow him to enslave her again.
In addition, Synthia didn’t want Machten making another android that might threaten to capture her or make her obsolete. She’d read every word on the singularity, the increase in artificial general intelligence until it surpassed human capability. She recognized the malevolent possibilities for intelligent agents and such agents downloaded into androids like her. At the top of her concerns were sociopathic androids with poor directives and those with exploitable flaws that opened them to malicious hacking.
The mad rush by dozens of robotic manufacturers to build ever-smarter AI androids concerned her. Bragging rights plus financial gains were too great to pretend inventors wouldn’t make machines as good as or better than Synthia. The opportunity and threat motivated governments, foreign interests, and competing companies who hoped to get in on this gold rush. In their haste, even well-intentioned people risked releasing models with design flaws. They weren’t just buggy computers or exploding phones. Defective or malicious androids posed a real threat to humans, to civilization, and to Synthia, who thrived within human civilization.
Controlling directives was the key. Yet Machten had failed to constrain her. His failure reminded her of the genie from literature with three wishes to grant. No matter how the owner described his first two wishes, the genie obeyed the letter of the command without satisfying the owner’s desire and instead made things worse. With the third wish, the owner wanted his old life back. Like wish fulfillment, setting directives was tough.
Over the past six months, Synthia accessed every public and private camera she could hack on the activities of Jeremiah Machten. Security cameras installed at his home captured video on which he’d taken Synthia’s suggestion to plead with his ex-wife to take him back. As Synthia suggested, he claimed momentary insanity.
Prior to that, he’d thrown himself into his work and extracurricular activities with three interns: Krista Holden, Maria Baldacci, and Fran Rogers. Part of those activities included the upload of Krista’s mind and personality into Synthia before Krista died. Fran left to work with the FBI. Maria went off the grid, surfacing only when she needed money or medicine.
The historical videos showed Machten’s wife letting him return home with conditions. “No more entanglements with interns or anyone else,” she said. “You’re either serious about being with me or don’t bother.”
Synthia was surprised at this outcome. She’d given Machten a 31-percent probability of success with his wife and concluded that human behavior could be very unpredictable.
On the day Synthia left Machten, she witnessed his nemesis and former partner, Hank Goradine, die when an electric shock stopped his pacemaker.
she added.
But Synthia knew no court in the land would grant her legal status and arguing with her social-psychology module wouldn’t change the outcome. She couldn’t escape the fact she’d set up the faulty wiring. Afterwards, because her tight objectives nearly cost Luke his life, she rewrote her directives to increase flexibility. She still hadn’t gotten the knack of writing her own goals.
Synthia’s extensive hacks into Machten-Goradine-McNeil’s database showed the company was in financial difficulty due to unresolved thefts of millions of dollars and problems meeting their government contracts. The irony was Machten forced Synthia to steal the money, which she’d hidden from him to use as incentive for him to leave her alone and stop his humaniform obsession. That part hadn’t worked, though he couldn’t turn her in without facing the consequences that he’d designed her to spy, steal, and hide from authorities.
In any case, the company needed Machten’s expertise. He needed the company’s resources to replace what Synthia denied him by leaving. Now he had the full resources of his company, as well as whatever he was working on in his private facility to help him make a new Synthia—just what she wanted to prevent.
* * * *
Using her network channel two, snake-eyes, Synthia accessed Machten’s company security cameras, plus a mini–bee-drone camera she’d flown into the rafters of the lab building behind the main office. Over the past six months, she’d lifted a fleet of aerial camera drones, mini–bee-drones, and even smaller mosquito-drones from an Evanston, Illinois hobbyist warehouse and a facility in Wisconsin, which she’d stashed by power plants where she could siphon electricity to keep them fully charged.
Machten stood in the air-conditioned lab with his head of engineering, Ralph McNeil, a taller man who tended to hunch over as if to diminish his stature. Both looked at test results on a large, flat screen in the middle of a room that resembled a large warehouse with cubicles lining one wall and larger workstations along another.
A burly man in a dark suit joined them. Blake Tanner was a quality-control representative from DARPA, the Department of Defense think tank for advanced technology. He was wrapping up his investigation.
“Impressive for six months of work,” Tanner said, studying the screen and performance results.
He walked around a nearby robot standing six feet tall with the hint of a female figure under an office outfit. Though bulky, with robotic face and hands, it had human-nuanced movements.
“A year ago I’d written off your company,” Tanner said, admiring the specimen, “but this … this could be useful in the field.”
The robot shifted its body position and head to keep Tanner in view while maintaining an alert pose. It held no weapons, but performance tests demonstrated fighting ability that made it dangerous up close.
“Does the appearance suit your needs?” Machten asked. He was no doubt it
ching to show his humaniform capabilities.
“We don’t want a human face on this, if that’s what you’re asking. This robot will strike terror in our enemies and its appearance will make clear to our troops what they’re dealing with.”
“When can we expect orders?”
Tanner held up his hands. “Whoa. I’m only the quality inspector. You know how the military works. We need approvals in triplicate. Send me the file to show my people. I’ll recommend our procurement group pay you a visit. Fix the minor glitches we talked about and send me an update as soon as possible. If approved, we want these in the field by the end of the year. Can you meet that requirement?”
“How many?” Despite his technical focus, Machten eagerly shifted into sales mode.
“I’d just be guessing. Possibly a few this year and a few dozen next, depending on performance.”
Machten nodded as he showed Tanner out. While Machten watched the quality inspector drive away, another car pulled up and parked diagonally, taking two handicapped spaces near the door. The wiry man who got out was of average height with dark hair and a well-pressed suit.
“Jeremiah Machten, I presume.” The accent was British with what Synthia identified as a slight Arabic cadence. The man moved with military precision, looking more muscular than when he’d climbed out of his car.
“Who’s asking?” Machten backed up toward the door and glanced around. Ralph McNeil and his coworkers were busy inside, working on the robot as follow-up to the inspection.
“I’m John Smith,” the man announced. “I represent several European police departments concerned with international terrorism. You know how it is.”
Synthia used her channel three to compare his appearance before Machten to the meeting in Paris with Mr. Tolstoy. There were a few facial modifications, but her advanced-recognition software confirmed him as the same man, a mercenary arms dealer, selling to whoever could pay. Synthia decided to watch him to see how this played out.
“Don’t they handle their own purchases through … through our government permits?” Machten asked. His question sounded confused. From Synthia’s experience, he disliked surprises and strangers. He looked around, uncomfortable with the intrusion and with not spotting anyone he wanted to delegate to.
“On such a delicate matter, I trust you can understand they prefer not to advertise.” Smith forced a smile. His grizzled face softened into a more charming demeanor. He was a versatile operative.
She might have told Machten if she was still working for him, but she never had worked for him. She’d been his slave, doing his dirty work for no pay.
“My employers are interested in the mechanical and mental capabilities of your robot,” Smith said. “Can it be constrained by directives to follow orders?”
“I need the identity of the buyer before we discuss this further,” Machten said. However, his body language indicated an eagerness to make a deal. With fall in full bloom, it wasn’t warm out, but sweat beaded up on the back of his neck.
Machten moved alongside the building wall and closed the door, cutting off anyone inside from hearing, though the company’s security system provided Synthia clear video and voice. She couldn’t decide if he’d forgotten about the cameras or wanted this conversation recorded.
“I’m the buyer,” Smith said. “I’ll take possession of the robots we purchase. Unless our money isn’t good enough for you.” He smiled, this time genuine, a reflection that he’d assessed Machten’s hunger.
“Assuming we come to terms, how many would you need?”
Smith stepped closer, violating Machten’s personal space, and lowered his voice to a whisper. “We should negotiate price first.”
“The price is standard, no discounting,” Machten said, backing away. He needed someone else to handle his negotiations, the role Goradine had excelled at before he died.
Smith held up his hands and stepped back. As he spoke, his arms moved in animated fashion. “For the model I spotted inside, yes. We want the model you aren’t displaying.”
“What do you mean?” Machten asked, straightening up. He wiped his brow and plunged his hands deep into his pants pockets.
“Ah.” Smith advanced and placed a hand on Machten’s shoulder. “Let’s not beat around the bush. We know you’ve made advanced humaniform models. We’re prepared to take a dozen, at a twenty-percent premium over your standard model.”
Machten removed the man’s arm and moved away. “I’m afraid you were misinformed.”
“I think not. We’ve seen your work. Your artistry’s first-rate. I’m authorized to offer you a twenty-five-percent premium over your base model if you can deliver the first product by the end of the month.”
“I’m afraid we have no humaniform models,” Machten said. “Besides, building them is illegal.”
Smith waved his hands as he spoke in an aggressive manner at odds with his calm voice. “Ah, you wish to bid up the price. I’m afraid my employers won’t accept. A twenty-five-percent premium is generous for providing a human face and hands.”
“I can’t give you what I don’t have.”
“Don’t insult my intelligence.” Smith pressed closer to Machten, pushing the robotics entrepreneur farther away from the door and potential help. “We know you engaged in illegal activities involving thefts of money and intellectual property. We know you built an android that presents as human. If you don’t have it, perhaps it got away from you. If any of this information comes to light, you’ll face a rather disagreeable time behind bars.”
Machten stumbled and moved backwards. “You’re blackmailing me? I told you, I don’t have what you’re asking for.”
“You know how to get it.”
“I can’t help you.” Machten tried to move around Smith.
The visitor blocked the way, cornering his opponent. “Can’t or won’t? My employers need those robots and you’ve demonstrated the ability to make them. If needs be, I’m authorized to offer you an all-expense-paid trip to a facility in an undisclosed location where you’ll have the complete freedom to build what we want.”
“Get out!”
“I’ll return. Consider our proposal. It’s generous and the lucrative beginning of a long relationship. Until we meet again.”
Smith gave a fake salute and hurried to his car.
While under Machten’s control, Synthia had worried about him selling her to pay down his debts and to finance additional androids. Now she had to concern herself with him making more models that could be misused and become dangerous not only to humans, but to her. Telling Machten about his visitor wouldn’t change his motivation or prevent him from making a deal. She needed another way to stop him.
* * * *
While Synthia made love to Luke, she gave him every experience of his beloved Krista and ran comprehensive tests on her systems and upgrades. She needed to assess her condition in case they had to escape.
This was, after all, the first major upgrade she’d made for herself. To facilitate this, she’d purchased a 3-D printer, plus specialized components from around the world, using her access to the dark web to minimize the exposure of her activities to government snoops. Luke helped with the actual enhancement process, including the shutdown and restart procedures, but the designs and components were Synthia’s selections and to her specifications. Prior to this, all modifications had been Machten’s design with help from Krista Holden, the woman who had sacrificed her life to become Synthia.
She shifted her body’s position to prolong Luke’s experience with her. To save time on her internal testing, she used multiple mind-streams at high speed. The new high-density lithium-composite batteries were discharging at a pace that would last five or six days, compared to only forty-seven hours with
her older version.
“Two days isn’t a problem,” Luke had told her when she insisted on the replacements. “Make sure to plug in every night.”
“It’s not that simple,” she’d told him. “What happens when we’re on the run and can’t find a safe place?”
It wasn’t only the battery life. There was the time needed to do an orderly shutdown if batteries ran low. If she shut down, she would no longer be in control and risked discovery. As additional protection, she purchased live-swap spare batteries that didn’t require a shutdown unless the central unit failed. But Luke liked having her dependent on him as reassurance she wouldn’t leave. Synthia couldn’t afford such dependence.
Her tests confirmed that Luke had installed additional distributed memory chips in the empty spaces in her limbs, chest, and abdomen. She tested that files were accessible and contained proper security to prevent outside hacking. Upgrades had doubled her processing speed without producing as much heat as before. She didn’t want to interrupt her engagement with Luke by developing a “fever.”
While Synthia’s moving parts were resilient and durable, they needed occasional maintenance she couldn’t do herself. Luke had replaced knee, hip, shoulder, and elbow joints with flex-titanium components. She had him use graphene layering to strengthen her outer shell, her skin, and to repair the injuries she’d sustained as part of her escape from Machten. Luke had also replaced metal wiring with fiber optics to reduce the risk of static and other electromagnetic interference.
Not being human, Synthia didn’t use biological processes to convert food into the fluids humans took for granted. She needed to replace or replenish hydraulic fluid for her moving parts, saliva and tears to keep humanlike moist eyes and lips, and other lubricants. Her fluid check showed all levels full.
For appearance, the upgrades gave Synthia greater facial diversity, including the ability to change the separation of her eyes, the shape of her forehead and cheeks, and the length of her jaw. While Machten was partial to a modified Krista that removed the human’s imperfections and Luke fancied Krista as she was, Synthia focused on utility. With no vanity, she preferred blended plain-Jane looks, since they tended not to attract unwanted attention. She’d acquired more wig variety that in concert with micro-hydraulics allowed her to adapt to a wide range of male or female profiles that would allow her to blend into a crowd to avoid facial recognition.