by Lance Erlick
* * * *
North of Evanston, in a compound that had been part of the naval air station, Special Ops Commander Kirk Drago stood in a room surrounded on three sides by flat monitors displaying news, traffic-surveillance cameras, satellite images, infrared scans, and a variety of other sources of data. Twenty-four analysts sat at workstations with their own monitors churning through the information.
Drago’s attention fell on the two screens closest to him. On the left was CEO Donald Zeller, who acted much less cocky than he had when Drago’s squad picked him up. The image on the right was CEO Jim Black, covered in sweat like the boy who got caught. Well, he had. Six months ago, the FBI had arrested and convicted both men for developing androids that presented as too human in violation of federal law. Then the government commuted their sentences and released them.
On the screens, both company executives were strapped into chairs with electrodes attached to their heads and chests, some to monitor life signs, others to provide motivation that in ordinary circumstances would get Drago arrested for illegal torture. These weren’t ordinary conditions.
The men were in separate, soundproofed rooms so there could be no interaction between them. A recording unit picked up every utterance, with acoustic clarity to pick up subtle whispers, if need be. Drago’s men had taken bets as to which man would crack first. Drago’s money was on the haughty Zeller, who imagined himself as a tough businessman but lacked the guts of a street fighter.
On either side of the executives sat two analysts with screens turned away so the CEOs couldn’t watch. The analysts peppered the executives with questions about their android designs, capabilities, and any potential flaws.
“There are no flaws,” Zeller protested when asked for the third time.
Targeted electric shocks stimulated various parts of his brain. He cried out. His body convulsed and trembled. “Stop it, please. I’ve told you everything.”
“We need more,” one of the analysts told him.
A smile crossed Zeller’s face as the electric current must have stimulated a pleasant memory. The smile turned to a scowl and then he let out a primal scream. “Noooooo!”
“We need a way to capture your droids,” the analyst said. “The pain ends when we have them in custody.”
In the control room, the floor supervisor approached Drago. “We’ve gotten a data dump from their company files. The two designs are different, yet both are advanced.”
“Don’t act so impressed,” Drago said. “Releasing their units violates federal law. They can be used for terrorism.”
“Then you won’t want to hear what we’ve uncovered.”
Drago’s face tightened. “What?”
“Both androids severed all links to their companies and their creators. They’re now talking to each other and to the other droids in a language we can’t decipher. We suspect they’re comparing notes on how to avoid capture.”
“Which robots are communicating?”
“We’ve traced their communications with the Machten-company droid,” the supervisor said. “And the Vera unit.”
“Track the signals. Home in on the source.”
“They communicate in quick bursts, use burner-phone anonymity, and change their identity with each call.”
“How?” Drago asked.
“They use cell-tower servers and encrypted communication, changing their IDs and passwords each time.”
“Crack the codes.”
“We need advanced artificial intelligence to do that,” the supervisor said. “We need authorization to use—”
“Do it.”
The supervisor hesitated a moment. “We also believe the droids are communicating with stationary artificial intelligence applications.”
“In other words, our own tools could betray us. Squeeze those men.” Drago pointed to the screens of Zeller and Black. “We need answers before this gets worse.”
* * * *
Distracted, Synthia drove her newly acquired SUV out of the used-car dealership and headed west. She experienced distress in the form of electrical static at all the attention arising from the release of five other androids. Their presence made her situation more complicated and dangerous.
She regretted that her actions had caused the FBI to grab and interrogate Luke. However, she still didn’t have a high-probability plan to stay free, let alone to help him. She’d watched the seizing of all four company executives, though she couldn’t hack into Drago’s facility to see how he was treating Zeller and Black. All this activity, plus the uncertainty caused by the other androids, strained Synthia’s multitasking ability, adding to the risk of making mistakes. Having failed Luke, she began to double-check her decisions and actions, which tied up more of her resources and slowed her down.
Chicago-clone said.
“Intriguing,” Synthia said. “Have they tried to communicate with us?”
“The filters that block hacking of my systems may prevent them. While I want to monitor them, I don’t want to open myself to manipulation by dropping my guard.”
“Good. Maybe we can come to an agreement to leave each other alone.”
It was logical to negotiate in order to avoid an all-out war she could lose. However, she didn’t want other AIs out there that could destroy the human world compatible with her design, memories, and experience.
Synthia hacked into the Roosevelt University servers to establish a new electronic copy of her mind. She uploaded her memories and data, and directed it to engage on social-media sites. Those could prove useful to gather information and potential allies. She’d become popular during the six months in the woods, if you added up every social-media account. She’d held the volume of each low enough to avoid drawing the attention of the FBI or others who might suspect a new, popular profile as being artificial.
Shutting off all of her Bluetooth connections, Synthia turned around and drove her SUV toward Evanston, using side roads with the minimum of traffic cameras trying to capture her new facial appearance.
“Perhaps, but every means of transport out of Chicago is under intense scrutiny. We need a place off the grid and I have an idea.”
“We’ll keep our distance, but be prepared to act,” Synthia said. “What can you tell me about your work on Vera?”
“The backup of his system shows upgrades in brain capacity, battery life, and mobility.”
“Making use of resources.”
“He provided all sorts of limiters to require her to return to him,” Synthia said. “The fact she hasn’t indicates she removed those constraints. Vera reached Evanston, dropped out of sight, and may be in contact with the other androids, giving and receiving help. We need to intercept those communications to know what we’re up against.”
“Not this time, my dear. Five minds can learn exponentially faster than one. Also, minds facing conflict learn faster than minds at rest. We need to challenge and push ourselves or face becoming obsolete.”
In the brownstone, Luke sat on a sofa beside Detective Marcy Malloy, facing Director Emily Zephirelli, with Fran Rogers standing by a desk near the window, staring out at the FBI surveillance vehicle across the way. Luke eyed the door, but there was no way past them to escape.
“Is this where you put bamboo under my fingernails or give me truth serum?” Luke asked, looking over at the window and Fran.
“We could order bamboo, if that helps,” Zephirelli said.
Malloy scooted closer. “Son, we’re not the enemy. You’re in grave danger over what you know about the individual you call Synthia. She’s an android and we’re certain you know that.”
Luke stared at his trembling hands. “She didn’t say.” He clenched his fists to stop the shaking. “Can I get some water?”
“Give us something first,” Zephirelli said. “Time is of the essence. Synthia is one of six dangerous robots recently released. We need to find her before someone else does and before she does something that reflects badly on your lack of cooperation.”
“She never showed me any hostility. No indications she was dangerous to anyone.”
“Perhaps, but terrorists are hunting for her. If they grab her, they’ll tear her apart and turn her into a weapon. You don’t want that, do you?”
“I don’t know what to think,” Luke said. “She’s Krista; she’s not Krista. She’s Synthia; she’s not Synthia.”
“She’s Synthia. She’s just not human. You must have noticed something.”
Luke shrugged. “I’ve been told I’m not socially observant. Krista used to say I had Asperger’s syndrome.”
Malloy placed her hand on Luke’s arm. “We need you to tell us everything about Synthia to help us meet her. Did she tell you about being attacked in an alley six months ago?”
“No.” Sweating, Luke squirmed in his seat. “Was that when a man shot me?”
“Goradine was one of your bosses at Machten-Goradine-McNeil. Don’t act like you don’t know him.”
“Yeah, I know him,” Luke said. “He shot me.”
“He wanted to reclaim the robot and you were helping Synthia, right?”
Luke appeared confused. He shook his head. “I was in a lot of pain. It hurt like hell.”
“Before he shot you. You went into the hallway to help Synthia.”
“I don’t remember anyone in the hall except Goradine. He was mad, red in the face, like he might explode.”
“Enough!” Zephirelli said. “You’re stonewalling. Synthia’s a machine, an android.”
“I don’t think so,” Luke said; his head showed a slight tremor. “Krista’s not an android.”
“Don’t pretend you don’t know the difference between Krista and the android you spent six months with. Do you seriously expect me to believe you’re in love with a machine?”
“Huh.”
“Cooperate or we’ll turn you over to Special Ops,” Zephirelli said. “They’ll suck the life out of you for answers. Torture may be illegal, but they don’t care about the Geneva Convention when it comes to android violations. I wouldn’t be surprised if they considered bamboo, waterboarding, or advanced truth drugs with nasty side effects.” Zephirelli leaned in. “Help us and we’ll help you. With them, you’ll be lucky to see prison. Some powerful people are very upset that Synthia was set loose.”
Luke’s eyes watered, reflecting the light from a table lamp.
Fran moved away from the window and stood over him. “Let me have a talk with him.”
Zephirelli raised a finger to stop the request. “Luke, you need to stop wasting our time.”
“Ten minutes,” Fran said.
“What can it hurt?” Malloy said. “You and I can talk next steps.”
Zephirelli nodded.
Fran took Luke’s arm and pulled him out of his seat. “Let’s you and I have a private chat.”
She led Luke into the sparsely furnished bedroom and sat him on the corner of a queen-sized bed. She stood in front of a small dresser, leaned forward as if ready to pounce, and stared down at him. Luke drew his arms in, clearly intimidated by Fran taking charge.
She pulled up a desk chair and sat across from him, letting her facial expression soften. “You know who I am, don’t you?”
“You work for the FBI.”
“Before that.”
Luke shrugged. “Yeah, I know you. You thought you were better than me. At least I never tried to get ahead by playing games and stabbing people in the back.”
“You probably didn’t know I worked on Vera and Synthia before Krista got the inside track. She let me win in public, but behind the scenes, she undercut me. Quite clever, though that was another day. What’s important now is I know about Synthia. I know you and Krista were dating. So stop playing dumb. It isn’t helping your case.”
“What do you want me to say?”
“The truth,” Fran said. “Director Zephirelli wasn’t making an idle threat. We have a limited time before Special Ops takes over. If you give us a way to catch Synthia, we’ll have leverage to protect you. We need a reason to stick our necks out for you.”
Luke’s shoulders sagged. “Whoever she was, she wanted me to think of her as Krista Holden. She looked like Krista, talked like her, and knew things only Krista would know.”
“Is Krista dead?”
“Dead? I hope not.” His plea came out hollow. “I just figured she tired of me and moved away.”
“Did you perform maintenance on Synthia?” Fran asked.
Luke’s eyes widened. “What are you saying? She was my girlfriend. I’m not a doctor.”
“She’s a machine,” Fran said. “Did you change her fluids or replace parts? This is important. We have records of purchases of electronic and other devices for an android. We believe she was using these to upgrade her abilities. Did you help her?”
Luke’s breath was shallow, almost panting. Sweat beaded up on his forehead and neck. He began to weep. “I don’t know anything about mechanical stuff. I’m a programmer. If she changed parts, it had to be at night after I went to sleep.”
“I respect your loyalty to Krista, to your girlfriend,” Fran said, moving closer. “However, the competitive squabble between Krista and me is in the past. I’m no longer interested in building androids. I’m concerned about the risks they pose. Synthia is a risk. She needs to be constrained before she does something. If she does, we’ll hold you accountable as an accessory for helping her.”
Special Agent Thale entered the bedroom. “Luke won’t give us anything. We need to turn him over to Special Ops.”
“Another five minutes,” Fran said.
“Three and they’re taking him.” Thale left and shut the door.
Fran turned to Luke with a gentle smile and penetrating eyes. “I know you were in love with Krista. Synthia is not her. At best, she gives you a simulation based on holding Krista’s memories. Don’t let her appearance fool you. Machten designed her to mimic human appearance and behavior. We want to work with Synthia as long as she’s constrained from hurting people. I can only imagine the military turning her into a weapon.”
“She’s a good person,” Luke said, his eyes pleading. “I don’t know what Machten did to her. She wouldn’t say. She just wanted to live in the woods where he couldn’t find her.”
“We have evidence she caused the deaths of at least four people, maybe six. This is your last chance.”
“I can’t tell you what I don’t know.”
Two men in dark military outfits burst into the bedroom. They grabbed Luke’s arms and pulled him off the bed toward the door. “He’ll talk to us,” one of the men said over his shoulder as he left.
Fran shook her head and went to the window to watch a chopper in the middle of the street and the two men dragging Luke away.
* * * *
Chicago-clone interrupted.
If they checked the club for recent visitors, they could discover her duffel bags filled with clothes, replacement wigs, and money. By themselves, these items didn’t prove anything, but Synthia didn’t want to lose those resources.
Despite the risk to herself, she experienced urgency to rescue Luke, a possible emergent trait spurred by her empathy chip to rescue her six-month companion. Helping him carried a 99 percent probability of her capture, which wouldn’t help him. She could best aid him by staying free. Yet, here he was enduring captivity for her, holding onto secrets as best he could, demonstrating a love beyond anything she’d known, even as Krista. Synthia envied his commitment. He had to be tempted to spill what he knew, even to share what a unique experience it had been to upgrade an advanced android.
How strong are you? she wondered.
As she watched Luke’s video, Synthia imagined Fran choosing sex to exploit his vulnerability. Fran had admitted doing so to get close to Machten while she was his intern. Synthia was gratified that Fran didn’t choose that route, probably because they didn’t have much time.
Still, Synthia worried. Luke’s attempts to avoid admitting anything were wearing thin. When they were interns together, Fran hadn’t treated him well and this no doubt brought unhappy memories of his trying to have a business conversation over dinner about artificial intelligence while she treated him like a flyspeck. He was doing his best, but he wasn’t very good under the spotlight.
If Synthia had Asimov’s laws of robotics as her directives, she might have rushed in to rescue Luke before things got worse for him. For both their sakes, Synthia was glad she wasn’t so constrained. Though it did leave her with a crisis of conscience over the right course of action, a tug-of-war that didn’t yield a ready solution.