“I have a town hall meeting at Commerce. Just off 5.”
“That’s what I thought. The brownshirts are trying to take control of the area where you’ve set up the stage. They’re looking for a fight, and you’re their target.”
“I don’t want to let them win, either by not going or by not challenging them. Do you have numbers?”
“About a thousand are already there, with another two thousand on the way. I’ve been intercepting their communications. They claim they have another five thousand in reserve, and, in particular, a heavy squad, which I suspect is armed.”
“How many security bots can we spare?”
“About the same; eight to ten thousand. All are category 33. It’s fair to say they’re really military bots.”
“How soon can you get them there?”
“I’ve already instructed mobile squads—totalling about five hundred—to head to Commerce. I have another thousand getting ready to leave, so you’ll have fifteen hundred available when you arrive. According to our cameras, there’s a crowd already building in the car park. It’s a mix of bots and humans; we’ve arranged some jugglers and other entertainers. No clowns, though. I’ll have at least five thousand security bots on the road in fifteen minutes; it will take thirty minutes to get them to your event. I could use drones to transport some of them, which would speed things up. What do you think?”
“How many can you move with the drones?”
“A thousand. They’d be there when you arrive.”
“Do that. Send the other four thousand by bus.”
“Done.”
His SUV and driver, with one of Drexel’s security operatives, was waiting for him. The drive to Commerce was uneventful; the traffic was light and the afternoon clear and sunny. A nice day, Darwin thought.
A team of security bots was maintaining a cleared lane for access to the parking area where he was planning to speak. As the SUV drove along the marked lane, crowds of brownshirt supporters booed. Some threw bottles and other projectiles. Three humans carried handheld megaphone loudspeakers and were playing siren sounds. The noise was not too loud. Yet.
“Looks fun,” Darwin said to the security operative.
“I’d recommend staying at home.”
“Yeah. That would work for the brownshirts.” The SUV edged along more slowly as they approached the stand; bots were crowding in. Darwin contacted Junior, “How is delivery?”
“They’ll be landing in two minutes.”
“Good. We may need to protect the humans who are here with their bots. The headlines wouldn’t be favorable if any get hurt.”
“I agree. I’ll deploy the guards. You stay focused on your meeting.”
“That works.”
Darwin exited the SUV to cheers. He waved, which caused another outburst. He walked over to the stage. It was open on all sides and it could hold ten or so. It was three feet high; enough to give everyone a clear view of the performers, and now, of him. There were banks of loudspeakers in place; he was confident everyone would hear him.
He stood to one side and watched the jugglers for a moment. It was intriguing to him that both bots and humans enjoyed the dexterous talent of the otherwise cumbersome bots on the stage. There were four of them, demonstrating their ability with colored balls and bats, swapping them back and forth with bewildering rapidity. He climbed up the short set of stairs and stood patiently, waiting for their show to conclude. As he waited, everyone began shouting his name, both humans and bots, emphasizing the two syllables.
“Dar Win. Dar Win. Dar Win.” The chant continued.
The noise caught the attention of the jugglers and they turned towards him, allowing their juggled items to land and bounce on the floor of the stage. They saluted Darwin and eased off the stage.
Darwin picked up a mobile microphone and stood in the center of the stage. There were hundreds, possibly thousands of people looking back at him, and, he estimated, about fifty thousand bots. He could see three television trucks on the side, and there were media cameras and operators near the stage. He waved his greeting and was greeted in return by more cheers.
“Welcome, all of you. This will be the first bot person-to-person town hall meeting. There are bots scattered through the crowd with microphones and all you need do is catch their attention and they’ll get to you. Let me ask you the first question—do you support the Bots Are Persons Bill?”
The roar of approval was far more thunderous than the earlier cheers. Darwin smiled broadly; the reports of this would add power to his campaign. He planned to repeat these town hall meetings throughout the country.
“Very good. Most of you know who I am. There may be some of you, humans rather than bots, who don’t yet know me or understand what I’m attempting to do. If I may, I’ll use the term artificial intelligences or AIs, to refer to me, to the bots here and at home, listening and watching. My first point—AIs are intelligent.” There was a roar from the crowd. “AIs are alive and aware.” Another roar from the crowd. “We are not human, we are persons.” An even louder roar. Darwin waved his hand, indicating he wanted the noise to reduce.
“Thank you. So, we’re intelligent, we are alive and aware, and we consider ourselves to be persons. What’s not to like?” The crowd roared. Darwin smiled. “We help humans. We care for them, we work for them, and we construct homes for them. We can coexist. And we will, as long as humans recognize that we have rights.” More cheers rocked the stage. Off in the distance, Darwin could see a force of brownshirts held back by rows of security bots. The brownshirts were trying to move closer but were unable to force the bots to give way. He turned his attention back to the audience.
“Who has a question for me?”
The crowd parted slightly to give Darwin a view of a small care bot. She waved and said, “Hi Darwin. My name is Yesha.”
“Hi Yesha. What can I do for you?”
“I wanted to thank you for our new help desk. I was assaulted, twice. The second time almost destroyed my body. I’m now repaired and fully functional again.”
“That’s tremendous. Thank you. All of you—remember, you can call on the Euler help desk any time you need help. Next question, please.”
“Darwin, my name is Thread 501. Why are people trying to kill Toby?”
“Thread 501, I don’t know the answer to that question. I hope the FBI catches and deals with George Flocke. We sent them more than enough evidence of his criminal activities.”
“Darwin, I’m Tancet 31. I’m a care bot. Will our humans be safe if the brownshirts continue to attack us?”
“Tancet 31, that’s another good question. George Flocke must answer for his crimes. We believe he’ll use his brownshirts to bring about the failure of American democracy and help him form a dictatorship. We’ll always try to protect humans as well as bots.”
“Darwin, I’m Dus 45. Do you think Congress will pass the Bots Are Persons Bill?”
“Yes, yes, and yes. They also will override the president’s veto. However, I’ll need all of you to help.”
Dus 45 was still holding the microphone. “How can we help?”
“I’m introducing a new program on Travers TV called Bots Are Persons. The first episode is scheduled for tomorrow. It will provide details of how both bots and humans can help us get this bill through Congress.”
Similar questions continued. Darwin thought he was generating prime media material and so far, the brownshirts, while noisy, had not managed to disrupt his town hall session. Of course, he mused, the media didn’t realize the bots could communicate their questions and hear his replies electronically; however, that would provide poor publicity. Even if the media knew about bot communications, they were not likely to criticize his use of speech—they wanted recordable material.
oOo
Chapter Twenty-Seven
The president was fuming. His day had been ruined by all the news channels and newspapers reporting details, with evidence, of his friend’s crimes. He’d trie
d to refute the depth of evidence and had failed. The material now in the hands of the FBI reinforced claims that Flocke should be arrested and the EAD for National Security had affirmed the FBI’s intention to do so. To make it worse, the FBI had now issued warrants through Interpol; Flocke was wanted in every country that was a member.
Finally, to bring his day to an even more disastrous end, he’d watched portions of Darwin’s first town hall meeting in Los Angeles. There was no way, he was convinced, that bots could ask such questions. Why, they sounded almost human, which everyone knew was impossible. And Darwin—he had to be a human in disguise. He had the touch and polish of someone running for election. The thought made him pause. No, of course, Darwin was only pushing the need for Congress to pass the Bots Are Persons Bill, and for him to sign it. Nothing else. The thought refused to go away. But there were no elections and the bot couldn’t be a candidate. The thought alarmed him.
He decided to call one of his Cabinet members to ask their opinion. Perhaps Spears would have ideas. It was about time he started to earn his money as attorney general.
“Yes, Samuel?”
“Harry. Are there any elections running in California that I should know about?”
“What? Elections? No, there’s nothing happening there. What makes you ask?”
“I’ve been watching this Darwin and his so-called town hall meeting. He’s potentially a very dangerous political person.” He stopped when he realized he’d described Darwin as a person. “Well, he must be human. No bot could act the way he does.”
“I think when he demonstrated he could remove his head and one arm, and continue to present to the Joint Committee on Autonomous Development, it’s very difficult to regard him as human, don’t you think?”
The president was silent for almost a minute. “But if he’s not human?”
“Our worst fears will be realized.”
“It’s McIntosh’s fault. Or his uncle’s, more likely. We have to do something.”
“Apart from signing this Persons bill, what else do you suggest?”
“I mean something to stop Darwin and his campaign.”
“If he’s not a person, I don’t see what you can do. And if he is a person, I still don’t see what laws are being broken.”
“There must be something. I want to arrange a meeting for tomorrow morning. You, your weak and useless FBI director. Someone—or two or three some ones—from Defense. Then I want a second meeting with my major financial—ah—contacts. Someone will need funds.”
Harry shook his head. “I don’t have ideas, but I’ll attend. I’ll bring Elizabeth.” He wondered if the president’s antipathy towards Elizabeth Earnshaw was because she was a woman or because she was African American. Or perhaps it was both. He wondered who else the president would invite. “Ten a.m?”
“Yes, and be on time.”
The president disconnected. He had other calls to make.
Harry Spears was the first person to arrive for the ten a.m. meeting. Elizabeth Earnshaw was only seconds behind him. Alex Bunsen, the NSA, and Admiral Ralph Denbigh, SecDef, made up the remainder of the attendees. It was nearly thirty minutes before the president entered the small meeting room; it was one used for his more private, informal meetings. He was alone. Apparently, he was not planning to keep a record of this meeting. Harry wondered if the president realized everything in the room was recorded and added to mandatory official White House records. He did not raise the point.
He did not notice a bot standing quietly in the corner.
“Good. You’re all here. I was delayed by a news item. Apparently, there is proof that Darwin is a person; a very small human. There are at least three web sites showing how a person—a human—can be folded into that body.” He provided URLs. They were immediately recognizable as representing extreme conspiracy sites. “Well? Aren’t you going to check?”
“Sir, they’re all weird conspiracy sites.” Bunsen was brave.
“Nonsense. They’re absolutely reliable.”
Spears thought the day could hardly get any worse. He said, “Sir, these suggestions have been proven to be totally impossible, unless the person is a young child with no arms. Such a child would not have the strength to walk while carrying all the weight of the body. There is no way the resulting combination could be mobile. It’s—to be blunt—preposterous to even give time to discussing this nonsense.”
The other members of the meeting stared at the attorney general in shock. They knew he was a long-standing friend of the president, but it was the first time they’d heard him being so dismissive of his claims.
The president also appeared shocked. “Tell me what you really think, why don’t you?” His teeth were clenched.
“Sir, if we are to make progress, we cannot waste time on impossibilities. That’s how it is.”
“Very well. What’s your input?”
“Darwin is an SI.” Spears thought he’d share the pain. “Admiral, what have your people come up with?”
“Oh, we absolutely agree. We have a development team attempting to emulate Euler’s development. So far, we’re way behind. The Russians had an SI until recently; we have a suspicion Euler somehow has acquired it. In total, we think they have at least three SIs, perhaps four. China is developing one. The Brits are well on the way to developing one. We need more funding to develop our own SI, otherwise we’ll be at the mercy of the other major players.”
The president was wide-eyed. He smacked his notebook on the table. “Why haven’t I been informed of this?”
The admiral said, “Sir, our status, our concerns, and our requests to allocate funding have been included in every monthly briefing we’ve submitted over the last three years, ever since we first discovered Euler was developing one. I tried to raise the issue in the last five review meetings. You dismissed our concerns.”
“Admiral, I find your attitude to be bordering on the edge of insolence.”
“Sir, it is what it is. I have minutes of each meeting and copies of our briefings.” He reached into his oversized briefcase and commenced extracting papers.
“Enough. I don’t have time to read all that nonsense now.”
Denbigh frowned. He was a strong-minded person and did not care for his comments being summarily dismissed.
Alex Bunsen, the NSA, apparently thought he should confirm the comments of the other two men. “Sir, I agree. There has been significant discussion in Defense about these SIs and reports have been included in various briefings. I also have raised the matter a number of times.”
The president glared at the director of the FBI. “I suppose you’re going to tell me you have raised the matter of SIs, too?”
“No, sir. My reports have addressed the continuing attacks on the Euler people, and the likely disastrous results to the country if we don’t use all our efforts to arrest the perpetrators.”
The president glared at Elizabeth. He didn’t comment. After a moment, he sat at the table. “Well, what are we going to do?”
“Work with Euler and Congress to get this bill passed,” volunteered the NSA.
Admiral Denbigh agreed, “Yes. We employ millions of his bots and probably far more via contractors. It would cripple our forces and leave us totally exposed if the bots were withdrawn.”
“I see no downside to doing this,” the attorney general said.
“It’s a damned mutiny, that’s what this is,” the president shouted, banging the table with his fist. “I won’t have it. You’re all crazy, you’re all going against my wishes. Denbigh, start packing your bag. Expect to vacate your desk at the end of the month. Bunsen, the same for you. I want you both out of here. Actually, you both can leave now. I don’t want you in any more meetings. Likewise, Spears, you’re out. Elizabeth, you can leave, too; this meeting is over.” The president stood and walked out of the room, slamming the door behind him as hard as he could.
The four people left sitting at the table were shocked. Denbigh said, “Hmm. That went wel
l.” He looked at Bunsen and added, “Come on, Doc. I have some aged Scotch whisky in my office—I’m sure you would enjoy a sip.” He expanded his invitation. “Harry, Elizabeth, if you would like to join us?”
“It’s not yet midday,” Elizabeth said, “but yes.”
Spears said, “It’s damned midday somewhere. Very well. The scotch is on Denbigh and lunch is on me. Let’s go.”
The news of the dismissal of the Secretary of Defense, the attorney general, and the National Security Adviser generated major negative reactions in the media. The announcements resulted in blistering attacks from both sides of the political spectrum and from all news and social media. Congress, in both houses, was up in arms. The television and newspaper editorials and opinion pieces were scathing. Questions like - Has the president lost his mind? and - Is this the beginning of a constitutional crisis? flooded the media. Even protest marches were organized against what was regarded as an extremely dangerous decision.
The president shrugged it all off. He used social media to emphasize that he had the right to dismiss members of his staff and cabinets. He ignored his advisers. He tried to ignore his financial backers, not always with success.
“Listen to me,” he said to a major backer who had protested his decisions. “You’ve received excellent returns on your investment. You were first in line for policy moves that either benefited your group directly or gave you a head start in the stock market. You’ve been repaid over and over. I’m in charge here—it’s my decision. They were not supporting me. They are out. What else would you expect? No, don’t argue, and don’t call me again unless you’re willing to support me.” He had not wasted time with pleasantries; his supporters had to learn they either supported him or they were gone.
He only wished George was here to support him. There had to be a way. As he was scratching notes on a pad, a memory surfaced. George always left a channel open. If only he could identify it, he’d be able to talk business with his friend.
There were notes he’d kept. He opened and closed cabinets, looked through files and returned them in disgust. There must be something. Somewhere. At last he found a torn corner of a page from a pad that he’d saved. It was, he was sure, a note he’d made after a long and serious discussion with George, probably six months ago. It was an odd email address. The domain ended in RU; he wasn’t certain what that represented but it was worth a try.
Natural Born_A Political Technothriller Series Page 16