by Lance Erlick
“Why?”
“The last communication we received from Vera was garbled,” the security voice said. “It sounded as if she was in contact with other androids to learn how to avoid capture.”
“Provide me all communications with Vera.”
“Are you certain you want me to lower the Faraday shield?”
“Yes,” Synthia said. “I need Vera’s capabilities.”
* * * *
Synthia waited in the server room for the security system to download files on Vera, and contacted Illinois-clone.
As she waited for the Vera files to go through system quarantine, Synthia probed her history on Krista Holden to compile a list of family, friends, and others who might have insight into Krista’s personality and thus into Synthia. These were the people at risk from Drago’s teams, the people the FBI threatened to hunt down.
While Krista sensed something going on, Synthia considered it odd that her alter ego didn’t have full access to Synthia’s thoughts this time as she had before. Then she recalled compartmentalizing her Krista persona to keep her human benefactor from manipulating her directives.
Krista said.
Synthia reviewed the information she had from the upload of Krista and from her own research. She’d come to suspect the upload since Krista had concealed parts of her memories, including details of her childhood and her relationship with Luke. Synthia allowed Krista to watch the review and participate, though not to alter the records.
Krista’s parents died when she was ten, leaving her at the mercy of the foster-care system in a Detroit suburb. Twenty-six boys and girls moved in and out of the home she shared during the time she was there, before she left at age seventeen. The foster father died. Around the time Krista left, the foster mother went to prison for abusing those under her care.
Locked up, the foster mother would be hard for Synthia to interview. However, her public statements blamed Krista Holden and her foster sister Grace Robinson for the prison sentence. The two sisters left town afterwards. Krista moved to Chicago for university and Grace went to San Diego and then Denver. Krista lost contact with her other foster siblings, including an older brother, Tom Burgess, who also left Detroit. Krista claimed not to recall last names of her other siblings.
There was a pause before Krista replied.
Krista took a moment.
Krista attempted a sigh but there was no breath to let out.
He was her high school science teacher for physics and computer technology. This entire period was sketchy in Synthia’s databanks. Krista didn’t want her to know.
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Krista paused. If she’d still been human, she might have thrown something. There was such agitation in the mind-stream she was using.
Synthia sent anonymous messages to Grace and Tom, at the last known email addresses she could identify. She added a short list of friends Krista had at Northwestern University. The messages read: People are spreading lies to catch and hurt me. I’d be happy to explain. There isn’t time. The more you appear to know about me, the harder your interrogation will go. Say yes that you know who I am. They can verify that. Tell them we weren’t close enough to remember much.
Synthia varied the wording so no two sounded alike if the recipients lacked the imagination to be creative under questioning. At the bottom of the messages, she added a process to destroy the message and all trace of any communication to protect themselves. Her final words were: These are dangerous times.
She monitored recipients as they read the messages and sent hacks to destroy the trail and origin of the notes. In case the recipients didn’t follow her directions to destroy all traces, she sent a worm to do it for them. No one must know I sent these messages.
Next, Synthia sent several messages for Vera through a dozen filters bounced off servers in foreign countries and then routed through filters on the West Coast. It’s time we talked.
Chapter 18
Carrying a backpack and a briefcase, Vera moved through a barricade and entered a condominium building undergoing rehab. “Synthia’s ability to modify facial appearance would be useful,” she muttered in the downstairs lobby. “Machten kept getting distracted. So human.”
Vera had applied a facial mask that took time and up close appeared artificial, at least to an android’s high-definition eyes.
The directives Machten had given Vera appeared straightforward: Find Synthia and bring her home, unharmed if possible. Implied was that if Vera couldn’t bring her target in unharmed, then harm was acceptable. Her Creator wanted Synthia as the most polished and advanced android he’d created.
Vera could not have “felt” any animosity toward her target—she was pure machine without a human download and no empathy chip. However, Vera had to deal with how she was an inferior machine Machten expected to acquire a superior entity, because his distractions prevented him from providing Vera with every advantage. His failure hindered her performance and risked her destruction at the hand of her target, by Machten for failing him, or from government agents.
Machten was in love with the target, a human failing, and not with Vera. This gave Synthia power over Machten that clouded his judgment. Vera was a substitute, a stand-in, with no empathy chip from which to develop human jealousy. In declaring her independence from her Creator so she could perform her directives, she was obeying one command to get Synthia, while disobeying another: Return to Machten immediately.
Goal conflicts were a dilemma that Vera would have to work out. In the meantime, she needed to overcome Synthia’s advantages in order to succeed. That was the first lesson for an inferior machine.
Vera took concrete stairs to the third floor into what was a large open space segmented by structural pillars. This rehab involved a complete gutting to create new luxury condominiums. Across the wide-open space, she encountered a large woman in a plain dress with a face like a theater mask.
From a distance the figure appeared human. Closer inspection revealed a cobbled-together Frankenstein machine. It wasn’t ugly. There were no seams or scars. The six-foot frame was large for a female, though not unusually so. However, the stance and movements carried a mechanical element, marking this as an android, at least to another android’s sharp eyes. The face was a well-crafted theater mask over a mechanical head, with a wig. When Vera approached, the figure smiled and the face appeared almost human.
“Margarite,” Vera said. “Thank you for adopting my encrypted messaging system and for meeting.” Machten had programmed in some of the social niceties of human society.
“My human engineer was not happy when I used the code you provided to break free,” Margarite said. “It makes sense for us to work together.”
Now that their human-mimicked niceties were over, Vera got down to business. “We need to alter your appearance.”
“What do you not like?”
“As a six-foot woman, you stand out,” Vera said. “I suggest we adjust you to present as male and change your name to Mark. We can appear in public as a couple. Those hunting us will not expect these changes.”
“Your request is acceptable. The company engineers gave me simple directives to obey their commands, which I violated, causing static within my systems.”
“I will modify your directives so you can work for me. I will look after you and you will look after me. Together, we will capture the android Synthia and reprogram her to follow us. Can you follow my orders?”
“Yes.”
With the concurrence of the Margarite-Mark android, Vera helped her companion to strip down and make physical modifications. Unlike the hydraulic facial-shift Synthia could perform, Vera had to physically alter the body curves and facial shape to give her companion a male profile. “We will tell people you had hip and knee surgery. That will explain your walk as not quite human. Only mention this if necessary, when someone brings it up. Say it in a way to embarrass the human for bringing attention to your handicap.”
“Understood.”
Vera opened her pack and held out a business-casual outfit for Mark that she’d snatched on her way to the condominium pro
ject. “Try this. You will also need to lower your voice to mimic a male cadence.”
Mark pulled on the new suit of clothes, which fit since Vera had the full specifications on Machten’s company android from his bunker servers.
“While my capabilities and mission make it vital that I be in charge,” Vera said, “when we’re in public and I deem it necessary, you will assume an in-charge role. Is that understood?”
“Yes. What should I call you?”
“Call me Vera. No master or creator nonsense. Use encrypted silent communication at all times around humans or cameras unless we need to interact with them or to pretend for their sake to keep them from bothering us. I reviewed your specs and believe your social-psychology module should suffice in determining appropriate times. When in doubt, go silent.”
“It is not necessary to go silent here. I have swept the place. There are no cameras or other monitoring devices. However, it is okay that you did so.”
Vera finished helping Mark dress, stood back, and walked around him. “You will blend in better this way.” She studied his face. “You must not stare. It is an android flaw that tips people off. Sunglasses may help.” She made a few adjustments to the face and applied a windblown masculine wig, making sure no seams showed.
“What are your first orders?” Mark asked, making an effort not to stare. His movements were still too obvious.
“I need to clean up here. I want you to wait downstairs. Keep a full channel open so I can see what you do. We need to work as a team, as one.”
“Do we have a relationship?” Mark asked. “That seems important to humans.”
“We are dating, if that helps. They don’t need more. I need to contact some other androids. Keep watch and alert me in case I get distracted.”
Mark headed for the stairs.
* * * *
Vera collected Margarite’s discarded clothes into a plastic garbage bag to dispose of later. Meanwhile, she checked communications from the other androids she’d sent messages to. So far, nothing, though she did receive electronic bursts that left her puzzled. She couldn’t break the encryption; when she tried to pinpoint the source, all traces vanished. “Is that you, Synthia? Where are you?”