Body Shop

by John Hindmarsh

  oOo

  Chapter 24

  It was late October, and winter was threatening an early arrival. Congress was shuttered for the week. Both parties were barely on speaking terms although a late fall meeting of members from both sides had been organized quietly, without publicity or fanfare. The attendees were a surprising mix of politicians. Chairs of both Democratic and Republican National Committees were traveling together in one private jet. The Speaker of the House and one of his aides was in a second jet. The third jet carried each of the Senate majority and minority leaders and an assistant each. The destination for all three aircraft was the South Lake Tahoe airport. The destination of all the passengers was one of the largest houses on the shores of Lake Tahoe, on the outskirts of Incline Village. The arrival time was minutes after sunrise. The three passenger jets left immediately their passengers disembarked; they were scheduled to return the following morning.

  Limousines transported the travelers from the airport to Incline Village, where they were welcomed by three of the wealthiest men in North America. One was close to being the wealthiest person in the world. Also present was the President’s National Security Adviser. It was hoped by all that their presence would remain undetected, that they could complete the proposed business of the meeting, and depart the following morning, having achieved some degree of an action plan.

  The visitors were all served an American breakfast. The conversations were general, polite, personal. Their main business would require far more than causal utterances between mouthfuls of bacon or eggs.

  The house was large, the rooms comfortable. One room was large enough and furnished to seat all the attendees, with two rows of cushioned chairs set out in a semi-circle facing a video screen. The closer row was taken by the politicians and the three entrepreneurs, one of whom owned the house. Personal assistants took the back row; they were required to support their employers. The owner of the house stood at the front of the gathering.

  “Please ensure all cell phones are off. We prefer likewise for pads and computers to be turned off; unless you really have a critical need, note taking should be by pen and paper. We made sure you have enough of those beside each chair. Housekeeping will keep us fortified with coffee and meals. Before we start do you have any questions?”

  No one said yes.

  “We want this to be entirely informal. We left our advisers, attorneys and other experts behind, as we also requested of yourselves. The topic is the rapid increase in numbers and penetration of robots and artificial intelligences across industries and domestic arenas and how we—both business and government—need to react. This increase is starting to look like the Industrial Revolution, and it’s happening at a remarkably rapid rate. We can run some statistics if you wish, although I’d like to save that for a more technical session later this afternoon.”

  He paused to allow for questions. No one spoke.

  “California, in the summer, startled us all when the governor signed the Registration of Artificial Intelligence Units Bill into law. The subsequent deluge of registration requests has been well publicized by media. Now there is a countrywide campaign to have all states pass similar legislation and follow it up, as the Californians have done, with legislation providing for issue of drivers licenses, nursing certifications, and other licenses and registrations.

  “Some states have followed the Californian example. A minority have decided to not do so. This raises questions that we will examine in-depth.”

  One of the other businessmen stepped forward. He was renowned for his antipathy towards the development and release of artificial intelligences on an uncontrolled basis.

  He said, “To a certain extent the genie is well out of the lamp. The rapid proliferation is being matched by the technical advances. We believe a Los Angeles project is underway that will result in combining a humanoid body and a superintelligence. While that project may or may not succeed, it won’t be long before you will see, not a robot or bot with a clumsy gait or using a roller device for movement, but a bot that looks almost like you or me, can walk and run, and is a damned sight more intelligent.”

  The RNC Chair said, “Is it really that close?”

  “Based on our analysis of acquisition of materials and equipment by the Euler Organization, yes, it is.”

  The first speaker said, “In the early summer the Euler Organization flew in a top robotics team from Japan, and we’ve gained access to data another party has gathered by monitoring their purchases. While we cannot identify all of the material and equipment they’ve ordered for this project, we’ve enough information to extrapolate to an end result.”

  “Should you not include Euler’s—what’s his name? McIntosh—in this meeting?” the DNC Chair asked.

  The National Security Adviser said, “I think that’s a good question.”

  Some heads nodded.

  “We thought about inviting Toby. I’ve dealt with his uncle, and I’ve met the young man. He has somehow raised the game since taking over from his uncle. To be honest, the growth of Euler products and their increasing intelligence frightens us. Euler was behind the Californian legislation and has been campaigning in other states.”

  “Bill?” The National Security Adviser raised his voice over the murmur of voices.

  The first speaker replied, “Yes?”

  “Why is your wall television screen blinking like that?”

  Bill spun around to face the screen. It was indeed blinking even though it had not been switched on. He reached for the control and pressed the power button. An image slowly formed. It was of a young woman standing in an English garden with a thatch-roofed house in the background. She appeared to be in her mid-twenties.

  “Who the hell are you?” Bill demanded.

  “I’m Bronwyn.” Her voice was English-accented with a slight Welsh influence. “Mr. McIntosh won’t be a moment. He said he’s interested in the topics you’re covering.”

  Most faces wore shocked expressions. The second speaker said, “I think this might establish just how far out of the bottle the genie is.”

  The image on the screen faded to be replaced with Toby’s face. The camera drew back to show he was seated in his Bel Air home office. “Gentlemen.” He looked around the room. “And ladies. Pardon my intrusion. Some of you—hi, Bill— will recognize me. I’m Toby McIntosh. I heard that my name was mentioned?”

  “Damn, I don’t know how you’ve achieved this intrusion, but I bow to your technology,” Bill said. “We considered inviting you. The point against extending that invitation is simple—you’re the problem we’re discussing.”

  “It’s important that I add context to your meeting topics. Yes, we are building a body for an SI, and yes, we have a mature SI to engage that body. Please keep in mind this is an inevitable step—I’ll say forward, because that’s the direction I believe we’re headed. Undoubtedly some will argue otherwise. Yes, I’ve heard the demon or friend mantra. My belief and conclusion is that we have a responsibility to ensure the future contains friendship.”

  “Is that why you’re pushing registration of bots?” asked the RNC Chair.

  “To be honest, that’s being pushed by the bots themselves. I didn’t suggest or start it and was surprised when I discovered what they were doing. I subsequently encouraged it—to do otherwise would allow an opening for the demon you mentioned.”

  The Leader of the House asked, “So you’re in favor for these creations to be treated as what—quasi-human?”

  “No, that’s an incorrect concept. Bots are intelligent and I believe they represent a new form of being. They are not humans. Even the superintelligences are not human or quasi-human. They might be regarded as humanoid, because that shape is optimal for movement, action, and so forth.”

  “You said superintelligences,” the National Security Adviser questioned.

  “Russia has one, likewise China, although they may have two, UK and Europe, one or two, we’re not certain. DARPA has one. The CIA is trying
to develop one. So yes, the plural is appropriate.”

  “You’re scaring the hell out of me,” the Senate Majority Leader said. “Where is this headed?”

  “That,” replied Toby, “is one of the major questions you are addressing today, I understand.”

  “So you’re not responsible for bots demanding registration in all the states?” the Minority Leader said. She stood. “Who is? Why are they demanding a wage? Time off?”

  “Indeed, why not?” Toby asked. “In most cases, for our bots, the pay and time off requirements are built into the purchase or lease contracts. We supplied prototypes to the US Navy, and they have shore leave and are paid a wage. Not very much in human terms, but they are paid.”

  “So what will happen if this legislation isn’t passed?”

  “Ma’am, the bots and various autonomous units are already leaving some states. Their conclusion, I believe, is that if one state refuses, they can find another state that will agree. They are prepared to be independent.”

  “Damn.” The National Security Adviser stood and paced a circuit around the chairs. “Toby, while you also scaring the hell out of me, I’m glad you invited yourself. We’re going to have an interesting day—assuming you can stay with us?”

  “I can stay. I’ll include Bronwyn if I may. She has a vested interest in the topic and is extremely erudite. Likewise Darwin—he’ll make an appearance later.”

  Bill said. “I assume they’re both SIs?”

  “Indeed, yes.”

  Later that evening the three businessmen, the Speaker of the House, and the National Security Adviser gathered in a smaller room. It was after midnight. The other attendees and aides had retired earlier.

  The Speaker looked to the National Security Adviser “This has been an eye-opening day. It’s inevitable that federally we’ll need to encompass registration of bots and SIs. How do you think the President will react?”

  The man swirled the ice in his glass of Scotch before taking a sip. “Inflammably.” He sipped again. “This is something we can’t walk away from. I had my aide do some research. One metric tells all—we have five hundred thousand bots in combat or semi-combat roles. These are mobile, of high intelligence, and apparently are very effective. That number ignores cleaner, construction, and other non-combat bots. I haven’t even considered autonomous mechanisms such as swarm bots, vehicles, some aircraft—what the hell do we do about those? The Army has ten thousand medic bots, trained to surgeon standard. Bots have helped us increase our military strength and its effectiveness, while introducing cost savings. If those bots walk out, or if the president wants us to dismiss or scrap them, the estimated replacement cost is horrendous. We’re going to need the generals to help us.”

  Bill addressed the other two businessmen. “We’ll establish and fund a PAC and focus it at getting the message across to state and federal politicians and the public. I believe we should help McIntosh establish a cable channel in addition to his YouTube channel. I’m prepared to add funds to Travers TV.

  “Should we consider restricting the development of bots?” the Speaker inquired.

  “That elephant left the room a year or two ago. We need to face reality—while I quoted military metrics, industrial metrics are far worse. If we banned bots, for example, it would send the economy into the deepest recession we’ve ever experienced. We cannot undo what has been done.”

  One of the other businessmen said, “You’d also have a riot on your hands. I’m renting out care bots and can’t keep up with demand. For example, my MedBot operation has placed a million care and nurse bots in California. I believe our New York State branch will reach that number by the end of the year. How would you replace what effectively is a qualified nurse that costs—above the rental rate that we charge—thirty or forty dollars a week? We have an aging population. We don’t have anywhere enough nurses.”

  The Speaker downed the mix of melted ice and Scotch remaining in his glass. “I can only think of expletives. I going to bed, although I’m not certain I’ll sleep.”

  The meeting broke up. The three businessmen, who had no travel commitments for the morning, remained to continue their discussion. They had a lot to cover.

  oOo

  Chapter 25

  Billie was enjoying a pleasantly warm fall afternoon, relaxing on her favorite settee on the portico. She had a book to read but had not managed more than the first chapter. Los Angeles weather was cooperating. Fall leaf colors filled the garden. Two of her Venus bots were on security duty. She wished, unrealistically, she knew, that they were unnecessary. One wandered across the lawn, heading to a corner of the garden. The second bot remained close by.

  She could tell they were communicating with each other; they had a particular expression when they did so, although it might simply be her imagination. There was something in their posture, perhaps it was the way they held their heads, she wasn’t sure—she just knew they were talking to each other.

  As she sat, totally woolgathering, she would acknowledge, one of the Mars squad came around the corner of the house. Now she was beginning to worry. Mars bots never intruded on her peace and quiet unless her team thought something was amiss. They were heavier and better armed than her personal squad and, despite what Toby had said, her bots did not have pink grenade launchers. So sexist. She smiled at the thought in a subconscious attempt to distract herself from the military bot’s presence.

  The bot paced along the portico and on the rear of the garden and returned; it seemed to be searching, or at least checking, the house grounds. Intrigued, Billie watched. When the bot came closer, she raised her voice to catch its attention. “Mars Six.”

  he bot stopped and faced her.

  She asked, “What is the problem?”

  After two or three seconds—enough time for the bot to communicate with Mars Leader—it replied, “We’re not sure, Miss Nile.” They were always formal, no matter how often she protested. “We detected some electronic interference and static on our comlinks, and wondered if it heralded an intrusion of some kind. The squad is checking the gardens and inside the house. Don’t worry, we’ll keep you safe.”

  “I know. Thank you, Mars Six.” Billie relaxed back on the settee and closed her eyes.

  It seemed only moments later, although Billie realized the position of the sun meant she’d been asleep for an hour or more. She stretched. This was so relaxing.

  Her scream brought her security bots, Mars and one of his squad, and Toby running.

  Billie shivered. A holographic image of a clown was standing in front of her, shaded by the overhanging structure of the portico. Its white makeup was blemished by red streaks running down its face from its eyes. It wore a fluffy blond wig. Its body and clothing were indistinct, slowly coming into focus as more energy was applied to the image.

  When Toby saw the clown he instructed the bots to stand back.

  “Bronwyn?”

  “Yes, Toby? Aah, I see.”

  “It’s a hologram, so I suspect it can’t do any harm?”

  “Except give a person a hell of a fright,” added Billie.

  “Yes, Toby. It’s an interesting intrusion.”

  The image spoke; Toby could see its lips move. It was a second or two before he heard a voice.

  The clown said, “Me—help. Help me. Prisoner of GRU. Fighting Informatsionnoye Protivoborstvo. Cyber attacks. Tell Toby, Russians coming. I saw Nate. Help me.” The clown’s speech concluded with what sounded like an address.

  The image disappeared.

  “Wow,” Billie said.

  “Bronwyn, did you get all of that? Do you recognize that address?”

  “Yes, Toby. The final item—a quick burst of code—described the address as a major Russian cyber-attack operation. They’re trying to hack your bots; we’ve been sending out virus alerts to counter them. They’re getting more sophisticated. Also, it said the Russians are exploring how to electronically invade Pepper Mountain, although it said: take over Euler headquar
ters.”

  “I’ve been monitoring the virus attacks; you and Darwin are very effective with your defenses. So the slowdown Darwin experienced was a Russian attack?

  “Yes, without doubt. As a result of my rebuild of our satellite network, they’ll have to apply a thousand man-years and the equivalent of five AI years of research to penetrate it.”

  “Good. Have we lost any bots recently to hack attacks?”

  “Most of our bot customers are well aware of the dangers of trying to hack our sealed processor units, and there’s been only three attempts in the last month. One was here, in the US, the second was in China, and the third was in Russia. The processor units self-destructed, and I think two technicians lost fingers. We automatically implemented the ownership cancellation clauses of the contracts in all cases. The US instance was a major heavy industrial operation; the owners are a funding source for the brownshirts. They lost the use of nine thousand industrial bots plus about forty thousand general units from care bots to drivers. The Russians lost the use of fifteen thousand bots and the Chinese lost double that. I believe both countries protested to the US Embassies.”

  “I hadn’t seen anything?”

  “It was a soft approach; they’re both embarrassed at being caught out. I can add another monthly report for you, if you like?”

  “Yes, do that. I want to know who’s trying to hack our bots.”

  “Scheduled. I have enough data now to attack this Russian information confrontation operation, if you wish.”

  Billie said, “If they’re trying to attack us and our bots, you should consider a defense of some kind?”

  Toby replied, “I agree and I plan on launching an attack on this virus operation. The clown thing is interesting; it mentioned Nate. I want to find out what it knows. So I have two objectives; stop the virus attacks and see what we can do to help the clown. I suppose I should make a phone call, first. I met with the National Security Adviser a couple of days ago and he’d be upset if I attack a Russian cyber operation without discussing it first.”