by Lance Erlick
* * * *
As she kept moving beneath a fading sky, Synthia considered her failures. Since fleeing the cabin in Wisconsin, she’d been on the run, reacting to her adversaries, moving from one crisis to another. She had a superb AI mind for solving problems, but she hadn’t developed a plan to get ahead of her troubles. Instead, she’d sacrificed good people she cared about. She couldn’t create a truce with the other androids. Seeking allies had been a failure. She needed to take a different tack.
Vera’s resourcefulness in recruiting Ben and Mark, combined with Machten’s hand in designing Vera, elevated her as the biggest threat. To reduce the chance of cameras spotting her, Synthia changed her jacket, wig, and facial profile as she switched from train to bus and back to a train. She headed north and then south while she contemplated her next move. Vera hijacked a self-driving car for Mark and Ben, who picked her up and headed north in pursuit of Synthia.
Synthia returned to Evanston, but couldn’t grab her SUV with all of the local attention on the streets. As hunted prey, she couldn’t continue to take public transport, either. Altering her face helped, but she had a limited number of wigs and jackets in her pack. As a trained artificial intelligence on a mission, Vera was making good use of pattern recognition.
When Synthia thought she’d given Vera and her gang the slip, Vera sent out sighting alerts to the police so the communities around Evanston were crawling with officers and the FBI. Synthia considered reentering Machten’s facility to lie low for a while. However, she couldn’t be sure Vera wouldn’t guess and trap her there.
Hiding from the police and the FBI had been one thing. She had enough training to anticipate their behavior and could hack enough cameras and systems to track their movements, but Vera was very resourceful. Thank you, Machten.
By tracing movements and changes of appearance, Synthia tracked Vera, but she couldn’t stop her opponent from doing the same. In addition, Alexander and Roseanne moved in Synthia’s direction, with Roseanne pointing out to John Smith which turns to make. Synthia couldn’t tell if the androids were working together or following similar leads.
Krista gave the virtual effect of a sigh.
From her seat on the train, Synthia looked at the Evanston station, swarming with police. Two FBI agents climbed onboard. Synthia entered the restroom, removed her wig, and went for the masculine look. When an agent pounded on the door, she responded in a gruff male voice. “Can I get some privacy?”
“Sorry, sir. We have to check all passengers.”
Synthia shoved her pack between the door and wall and opened the door wide enough so the FBI agent could see she was alone and appeared masculine. She pointed toward the lowered toilet seat. “Not much room in here.” She let out an odorous smell that mimicked a bad toilet experience.
The agent pinched his nose and moved on. Synthia closed the door. The difference between humans and androids was the latter didn’t let smells and appearance distract them.
As the train emerged from the station, Synthia left the restroom. So much for Machten’s facility and her SUV. Still, she refused to make it easy for Vera and the others or to allow Vera to hold the initiative. The best defense was a good offense. The best offense came from intelligence. Synthia decided to go to the source, Machten, who was in FBI custody downtown.
* * * *
Vera sat in the car with Mark and Ben, watching people leave the Evanston train station.
“She’s on that train,” Vera said. “Ben, go up to the platform. Scan everyone in infrared. If you don’t spot her, get on the train and move from car to car. I’ll pick you up at the next station.”
Ben climbed out of the car and sprinted to the train platform. Vera monitored traffic cameras and the train’s security-system cameras. Several teams of FBI agents had set up infrared scanners, which they used to view the crowds. Vera caused the station lights to go out, giving Ben a distraction while he slipped onto the train. Then she directed Mark to drive away.
Vera contacted Alexander.
Alexander said.
Vera said.
Alexander sounded like the man Donald Zeller aspired to be: confident, in charge, with all of the answers. Vera didn’t respond to Alexander’s demands. Instead, she turned her attention to Roseanne. John Smith and his android had broken off pursuit of Tom Burgess and returned to his SUV. He tinkered under the hood and got it started.
Vera took control of Smith’s SUV navigation and sped up, weaving between cars until it reached a straightaway. Smith tightened his grip on the steering wheel and tried to turn. The wheel didn’t budge. He stomped on the brakes; they didn’t respond. He put the transmission in neutral, which didn’t work. He pulled the emergency brake and the vehicle continued to speed up.
Smith turned to Roseanne. “Are you doing this?” He reached for the remote.
“How? You’ve given me tight directives.”
“Stop the vehicle,” he demanded.
“I cannot hack the drive system,” Roseanne said to Smith. “You need to focus on the road.”
Smith stared ahead at a narrowing of the road beneath a bridge. He tried the brakes, gearshift, ignition, and finally the door, which wouldn’t open. Neither would his window.
Smith stared at the bridge and tried to take control of the vehicle while he braced for impact. Roseanne grabbed the remote and snipped the cord holding it around his neck. She stuffed it into a pocket of her backpack and prepared herself.
“What the—?” Smith eyed the broken cord and grabbed Roseanne’s wrist. “Give it back.” His eyes bulged as the vehicle came to a stop a foot from the bridge.
Roseanne opened the door and yanked free from Smith’s grip. She rolled out and slammed the door behind her as he drew his gun.
“I paid for you, damn it. I own you. You have to—”
She sprinted away from the SUV. When he fired, she used her android strength to jump up and climb onto the railway tracks.
Smith got out of his SUV to pursue Ros
eanne up the railway embankment. Vera had the vehicle drive away. He turned, spotted police heading his way, and hid in the bushes below the tracks. He made a call routed to Tolstoy.
“You have the target android?” Tolstoy asked.
“Someone hacked the one I bought and my vehicle. Both got away. We need plan B.”
“A team of inferior agents does not replace one good agent. I’m guessing I no longer have one good agent.”
“I’ll get the job done,” Smith said. “The problem isn’t the FBI or Special Ops. These androids are smarter than we were led to believe.”
“Perhaps you’ve met your singularity, Mr. Smith. Perhaps you’ve become obsolete.”
“Give me plan B.”
“You have twenty-four hours with a dozen of our best robots. Try not to lose any more.”
Chapter 23
Synthia rode a crowded train south from Evanston, keeping watch through the train’s surveillance cameras and a few mosquito-drones she’d brought onboard, as well as several aerial drones over the city. Ben boarded the train and moved car by car, searching for a female android. His support, Vera, was distracted helping Roseanne. Alexander had stopped to reorient himself since he’d lost Tom Burgess.
With most of her pursuers momentarily occupied, Synthia used burst transmissions to contact Chicago-clone for any progress in hacking into Drago’s Special Ops compound for an update on Luke and access to their plans.
Synthia severed the connection and closed as many of her applications as she could to minimize her electromagnetic signature. She had Ben’s physical location in the next compartment and intercepted his communication to Vera, saying he hadn’t found anything yet.
He didn’t respond.
Her social-psychology module offered up an emotional appeal, but she was not dealing with an emotive creature. Synthia chose a different approach.
Ben said.
Ben said,
During their burst communication, Ben hesitated in the next compartment. Vera called him. Synthia intercepted and sent out an electromagnetic pulse through the train’s electrical system to block Ben from receiving the message. Vera was heading to the next station, but would be a few minutes late. Ben was to wait for her.
* * * *
Synthia watched Ben through the train’s surveillance system and blocked all outside communication, to the annoyance of the human passengers trying to use their phones. While she waited to reach downtown, she sifted through the video clips Chicago-clone had provided on Luke in the Special Ops facility.
The hardware they’d hooked him up to was similar to what had sucked the memories out of Krista, except there were three times as many brain connections. The video showed Luke in a sleep state, close to unconscious. The intensity had to be stronger than what Krista experienced, though she also dealt with her brain tumor. Synthia couldn’t be sure in Luke’s case, since she had no biosensors to describe his medical condition. The videos tugged at Synthia’s emotive responses, her social-psychology module, and the feelings Krista had restored of loving Luke.
He woke from his subdued state and screamed. “Leave me alone. Stop digging.”
Synthia wanted it to stop, yet kept watching.
Chicago-clone downloaded Drago’s copy of Luke’s thoughts through the access a nearby analyst used to review them. Unlike Krista, Luke’s memories rambled, disorganized; reflecting his mental condition. Synthia experienced urgency to rescue him, but Special Ops wouldn’t let him go alive. Besides, she had her own troubles. Krista was right that helping him would increase the risk. She had to find allies. Ben stared out the window of the next compartment. Maybe he could help.
Synthia said to Ben.
Ben said.
As they pulled out of the station with no visual on Vera, Synthia released the electronic shield long enough for a burst exchange with Chicago-clone, looking for updates. Then she resumed the shield.
Chicago-clone sent Evanston surveillance showing Vera picking up Roseanne and sending communications to Ben, which the clone intercepted. Vera drove south, following the train and hacked into stations as the train arrived. Synthia would need to deal with Vera before she could get off.
Synthia unblocked the signal for a moment, sent a burst transmission to Chicago-clone to stop Vera and blank out train cameras system-wide for an hour.
As they left another station, Synthia considered the footage on Luke. She didn’t see anything different in the mind-upload setup Drago was using, compared to what Machten had—except Machten was in love with Krista and didn’t want her in unnecessary pain. Drago was in a hurry.
Synthia stored the videos of Luke and his spotty-memory download next to Krista’s. He was in pain, alone, wanting this to stop. Yet something was absent. In the data Chicago-clone shared, there were no memories of Luke loving Synthia or knowing she was an android. The two ideas were intimately connected. His struggle to resist the upload was a different form of love.
In contrast, Luke’s love of Krista was robust, rooted in their time together before she’d disappeared into Machten’s bunker eighteen months ago. The memories in the cabin centered on work, cutting down a tree, and chopping it into logs for a fire. Luke went out in the forest with a shotgun to hunt for dinner. He didn’t have a shotgun and hadn’t gone out to hunt. Synthia would have feared putting a gun in his hands; he might hurt himself. These were not his memories.