by Robin Roseau
“And?”
“She wants some of your time,” Audra said. “Programming AI.”
“I’m grasping at straws,” I said. I relayed the conversation with Felicia about nursing home care robots. “But even if Hunt Robotics builds the hardware, which I could help work on, I can’t program it, and that’s at least as hard as anything else.” I shook my head. “I’m being foolish. That sort of project is going to take a couple of hundred people and years of neural net training.”
“It’s an interesting problem, though, isn’t it?” Muriel said. “It’s too bad you intend to fry your brain before you can do it.”
“I sure would like to work with you, Muriel,” I said. “But if I walk away from this, I’ll never forgive myself. I was in a position to improve your life, but I was too afraid?”
“My life is just fine.”
“Bullshit.”
* * * *
We argued for two hours. Jasmine and I didn’t budge. Felicia and Amanda were largely quiet. Bay only insisted he had done everything he could do to minimize risk, and outlined the steps.
Carolina and Muriel argued vehemently. Verity was deeply uncomfortable with the ethics, and her arguments tended to favor Carolina and Muriel’s arguments, although she mentioned free will and a few other arguments supporting the concept of letting me do what I so firmly was committed to doing.
At one point, the avatar turned to me. “Did you know she has locked me out of my own bio systems?” She looked over at Jasmine, then back at me. “That’s the ‘concern from this morning’, isn’t it?”
“Yes.”
“Why do you get free will, but I don’t?”
“Muriel, let me be clear about something. I already said this to Carolina. Your new avatar represents one of the most amazing inventions ever seen on this planet. And whether or not it ever gets used by anyone else, do you really think I’m going to walk away with it unsafe to use, when I’m convinced we can fix it?”
“At what cost?”
“A little unpleasantness, but hopefully not that much.”
“Jasmine, please don’t let her do it.”
“Darling,” Jasmine said gently, “I drove both.”
There was a long pause, and then Muriel said in a defeated tone, “At least move the bed into the sick bay, and don’t let her near it unless Dr. Depths is immediately available.”
“That’s a good idea,” Jasmine said.
“Then we’re decided,” I said, standing up. “I’d like a break, and a bite, then we’re going to do this.”
“We’re not done!” Carolina said, standing up herself.
“I’d love to go swimming later,” I said to her. And then I turned and headed for the door.
* * * *
I opened my robotic eyes. Oh, I loved this machine. I straightened then moved around before turning to the people present. “Recording, Felicia?”
“Yes.” She turned to the computer screens. “Everything is well within normal.”
“All right. Heading for the arena.”
Muriel followed me; I thought she could monitor the test results from anywhere, but she wanted eyes on me. The rest remained where they were. By Bay’s request, we were going to try water first. We were also prepared to blast me with hot air, which we’d do in alteration for a while. We had a platform in the arena set up, and I climbed the ramp, moving into place.
“Felicia,” I said. “Confirm ready.”
“Ready, Taisha.”
“Please don’t do it, Taisha,” Muriel said.
“Audra, turn it on.”
It wasn’t high tech. She flipped a switch on the fan. Nothing happened. She flipped it off and back on again. Then she did the other fans, and they were dead, too.
Together, we both turned to look at Muriel.
“Maybe the gods agree with me.”
“The gods of kicking a power strip,” I said. I scanned the cords, tracing them back, and yes, a cord was loose, a cord I had personally plugged in twenty minutes ago. I pushed it in, then marveled at the capabilities of this device.
I walked back. “Loose cord. Try it, Audra.”
She flipped the switch. The fan began to power up, then died. When she tried the next, it was entirely dead. I turned and looked at Muriel. “I haven’t moved,” she said.
“Someone check the breaker,” I said.
“The gods don’t want this to happen,” Muriel declared.
“Gott ist tot,” I said.
“Don’t quote Nietzsche at me,” she said. “He was an asshole. Or perhaps you would prefer a little Kirche, Küche, Kinder? And that’s not what he meant.”
“You don’t believe in God any more than I do.”
“I could start if he were to stop you from being foolish.”
“It was a flipped breaker,” Jasmine declared. “It’s reset.”
“She’s just going to flip it again,” I said.
“No, she’s not,” Jasmine said.
“Hit it, Audra.”
She did. The fan started up, and then it died again.
“Muriel!”
“It wasn’t her,” Jasmine said.
“Yeah, yeah. Check for any programs she left behind.”
“It’s the Fates,” Muriel replied. “Lachesis isn’t ready to snip your thread.”
“If Muriel infected our systems, I’m not sure I’m good enough to find it,” Jasmine admitted.
“Does she have access to the systems at Beginnings?”
“No.”
“We’ll just go do it there.”
“No!” Muriel exclaimed.
“Muriel,” I said gently. “Either undo whatever you did, or we can all go to Beginnings.”
“I’ll undo it,” she said after a moment. “Give me my access back, Jasmine.” There was a pause, and then she stepped over and turned the fan on herself. It fired up. Audra did the others.
Water and heat didn’t work, or I was doing it wrong, or our monitoring was changing the behavior.
Eventually I pulled the fans down to the sand. I got them arranged, checked them, then said, “I’m sorry, Bay,” and stepped into the blast.
The noise was a lot worse than the water. I shielded the robot’s eyes and twisted.
And it crashed.
* * * *
“Get this open!” Muriel was screaming “Get this open!”
“My head,” I said. “Please don’t scream.” Then there was a robotic face looking down at me. “I’m fine,” I whispered. “Please don’t scream, Muriel. Where’s the doctor?”
The Niecor appeared. “Foolish woman.”
“My head hurts.”
“I imagine it does.”
Then Jasmine, Felicia, and Amanda were there. Jasmine took one hand, and Amanda the other, but I turned my gaze to Felicia. “System overload.”
“Total.”
“Tell me we got it.”
“We got it, but it’s going to take time to figure out what’s causing it.”
“Say ‘good night’, Taisha,” Jasmine ordered.
“I have a swimming date with Carolina.”
Then Felicia disappeared, and the Komodo was hovering over me. I couldn’t read her colors, but I imagined I was seeing what she looked like when she was angry. “Say ‘good night’, Taisha,” she told me.
I closed my eyes, and then the bed sealed back over me.
* * * *
When I woke, the bed was open. Jasmine was holding my hand, wrapped in tentacle. “Am I going to be all right?”
“Yes.”
“When is it?”
“Friday morning.”
“May I get up?”
“In a minute; I’ll help you. You should be fine, but you’re going to let me roll you around until we’re sure. Taisha, thank you.”
“Did Felicia figure it out?”
“She was at it half the night, and she’s back. She said it’s a cascading failure, but she hasn’t figured out what the trigger is.”
&nb
sp; “Where is it starting?”
“The balance system, but she says something is triggering it, and it doesn’t make sense. You may talk to her after lunch. Taisha, anything within my power to give you is yours.”
“Am I brain-damaged?”
“No, of course not.”
“Then stop being so melodramatic,” I told her. “I want friendship. That’s all I want for this. Okay?”
“Okay,” she said. “Friends come and visit as often as they want.”
“Now that’s an offer I’ll take.”
“Maybe friends move to be close to their friends.”
I laughed. “If I can still work, that’s also an offer I’d take.”
“Then we’ll worry about that another time. Are you ready to get up?”
“Breakfast?”
“Yes. And a roll about for a while.”
“I’d like that. How is Muriel?”
“Not talking to me. Audra says she’s been crying.”
“We need a movie night, and I want to cuddle her.”
“Agreed. Ready?”
“Ready.”
She sat me up then helped me to dress before picking me up and setting me in the wheelchair. “I could have done it myself.”
“I like doing it,” she said. “I couldn’t carry you far, but I can carry you that far.” She stepped behind me and wheeled me out the door.
* * * *
We had breakfast, and then she took me for a jumper ride, setting down at the cove they were looking at. “Feel like walking, or do you want to roll?”
“I can walk, but steady me, just to be sure.”
She did, but I was fine. We walked down the ramp and then down to the water. Without talking, we sat down.
We sat quietly for a while, tentacles around me. “What’s going on?” I finally asked.
“I wanted to sit on a beach without anyone else,” she replied.
It was twenty minutes later before I asked, “Jasmine, what do you think of humans?”
“Ah. I am deeply fond of individual humans. Humanity itself is deeply frustrating. The best of you are absolutely amazing. But your insistence on free speech means too many idiots have loud voices.”
“Free speech is a cornerstone of American culture.”
“I know.” She looked over at me. “Catseye, too.”
“You hypocrite.”
She snuffled at me and squeezed a little tighter for a moment. “It’s not free speech that’s the problem, it’s that the idiots have big amplifiers. If they weren’t allowed any more volume than the sane voices, they would be drowned out, and that’s because too many other people make money through fear and uncertainty. So they fund the crazies.”
“It’s probably more complicated than that.”
“I absolutely adore people like you, Taisha. I’ve known hundreds and hundreds of humans I really like, and some of you I have grown to adore.”
“Andie.”
“Skye. Audra. Carmen, their mother. Yvette, although that was rocky for a while, entirely my fault. The former and current presidents.”
“I suppose you know them.”
“Yes,” she said. “A lot of people. But even some of my own staff are afraid of me. They’re good people, but they’re afraid of me. I think that’s part of the reason I feel so strongly when I encounter someone like you, like Danette.”
“What’s happening with her?”
“She won’t be going home, but don’t tell her.”
“All right.”
“We’re trying something with her. We’re keeping her in holding until we work it out a little more. Don’t ask further.”
“All right, but I think I consider her a friend.”
“What does that mean?”
“Only that I don’t want her to just disappear, and I never see her again.”
“That isn’t the plan.”
“All right, then.”
We sat for a while longer, and then she looked around. “If you lived here, where would you want your home?”
“Is that a bribe?”
“No, just your opinion.”
I looked about. “It depends on whether mine was to be the only home. If so, then as close as makes sense, but I don’t know what storms do here.”
“And if this were a village?”
“Then this beach should be for everyone, and the homes should be back there.” I gestured. “With a view, but they shouldn’t dominate the view. More forest than houses.”
“The Komodo want better access to the water.”
“Then put their houses at the end,” I said. “Down there. Or even outside the cove, if it’s deep, and they like it there.”
“This should be the center, but it should be kept like this,” she said. “I suppose if this were for humans, you would want houses.”
“I don’t know what homes are like on the station.”
“Not that different from the apartments at The Center,” she said. “Although typically smaller. Architecture isn’t something I know much about.”
“Hire a company, Jasmine.”
“You’re right. Humans are very, very good at this, and we can afford to hire the best.”
“You can let people decide: modest homes here, near the water, or more expansive inland homes.”
“Yes,” she said. She turned to look at me. “Catseye don’t think about things this way. I knew I wasn’t fully comfortable, but I didn’t know why. Andie thinks very, very creatively about people, but she’s bad at things. Oh, she’s a decent tech, but it’s not hard, and even then, she’s thinking about it from the perspective of people.”
“Jasmine, you don’t have to rush. Take your time to do it right, especially the first one.”
“I’m normally good at that,” she said. “But when opportunity drops in my lap, I feel like I should jump on it.”
“So, jump. Space at The Center isn’t optimal, but if people see you working on a plan, it’s still better than the space station, isn’t it?”
“Yes, or at least I think so.”
I grinned at her. “Put them up in some of the mating candidate quarters.”
She snuffled. “That would go over well. You experienced the small cells, the ones that we were using when I arrived here. We’ve been combining cells into small suites, for anyone who is going to be in them for a while. We use them as rewards for good behavior.”
“You still do a lot of things the way you have been?”
“Yes, a lot. It works.”
“To be clear,” I said. “You don’t need to play any of those games with me.”
“We’ll see.”
“Jasmine,” I said warningly. She tightened around me for a moment and snuffled.
“You have been decidedly undecided, Taisha, which could end up leaving things entirely out of your hands. You have taken interest from several species whose mating habits do include kidnappings.”
“Maybe I should eliminate those.”
“You can try,” she replied.
“Jasmine?”
“Hmm?”
“Thank you for becoming my friend.”
“Thank you for becoming mine.”
Interference
I plopped down beside Felicia. “How are you?” she asked.
“I’m fine. Please tell me we learned something.”
“We learned something.”
“Enough?”
“I don’t know. There’s a cascading critical failure of systems that shouldn’t cascade. The cascade starts at our balance system.”
“Something is triggering it, and I don’t understand how we can affect anyone else.”
“Neither do I. Our signals go crazy before shutting down, but they’re within tolerance. I don’t know how they can override any of the other systems. If we were doing it, there would be a balance failure, but it wouldn’t reset the other systems.”
“Then our system is a symptom, not a cause.”
We talked it through. She s
howed me the data. Eventually I asked, “What does Bay say?”
“I want you to consider something. How many people do you know who could be experts in all the systems we build?”
“What are you getting at?”
“Bay is a brilliant artist, and he constructs the most amazing things. Do you believe he understands the internal systems?”
“Oh,” I said. “He knows how to plug them together.”
“Like stereo components. Taisha.” She pointed at the avatar. “The tech in that thing comes from at least three species. The skeleton, the servos: those are actually human, although there’s nothing special about them. The balance system is human. The physical design is Loris.”
“The human interface is Tutor,” I pointed out.
“And we don’t know about the rest. They’re each black boxes to each other, and I bet inside each component, the technology from one to the other is entirely different. We’ve promised not to open any of those boxes, so we can’t look, but do you really think we’re going to find circuit boards that resemble ours?”
“No.”
“For all we know, there’s a positronic brain in there somewhere.”
“And a quantum computer.”
“They could use chemical rather than electrical transfer.”
“They could easily be generating some type of interference we don’t even know exists, much less have the tools to detect.”
“Yep.” We stared at each other. We both looked at the avatar. And then we both scrambled from our seats.
I got there first only because she stopped to get the tools. But then I did my job: I became the assistant as Felicia carefully opened the robot.
Oh, we didn’t do a thing we weren’t supposed to. We’d had it open before, after all. We had to, as we’d put a variety of sensors in all over the place, and we’d swapped balance devices. We weren’t doing a thing wrong.
But we were on a mission.
Felicia took off all the access panels. I pointed to our device. “What order were the failures?”
“Ours first.” I ran and grabbed a pad of Post-Its. I wrote a numeral one and stuck it to the little box that said, “Hunt Robotics” on it. We added more Post-Its to other places, and there was a clear wave, the failures moving to the extremities.
“It’s an interference wave of some sort.”
“Yep,” she agreed.