“Octo...”
“We have eight seconds.”
“Jesus. We gotta get her out of that thing.”
Adam’s sensors confirmed that the situation was hopeless. “I won’t be able to disarm this explosive device in time. We need to evacuate the bridge.”
“Quinque...”
“No fucking way I'm going to leave her!” Malveaux said.
“Quattor...”
“We have no choice. There's not enough time.”
“Tres...”
Adam grabbed Malveaux’s arm. “It’s too late.”
Malveaux pulled away from him but finally retreated from the flashing escape pod. The eerie countdown continued unabated as they ran.
They were halfway across the deck when the air distorted and grew hot. Adam slammed Malveaux to the deck, shielding her best he could as a deadly hail of debris whistled over them. A blinding dust cloud devoured the hovercraft. Followed by a stunned moment of silence.
Slowly, the smoke cleared and the shouts of the other officers cut through the rainy night. Malveaux rose to her feet. Blood oozed from numerous cuts on her face, but she hadn’t sustained any serious injuries. Adam’s partner was safe.
Scanning the deck, Adam spotted the shredded escape pod, now a warped mass of melted metal fragments. Debris lay stretched along the deck but fortunately the vessel’s superstructure remained mostly undamaged by the explosion. There didn’t seem to be any casualties...other than the original occupant.
The killer had not wanted them to question Dr. Aria Del. Nevertheless, he’d given them enough of a warning to save their lives. He could’ve easily triggered the explosion once they popped open the pod. Considering the force of the blast, Adam doubted Synthetika would’ve been able to repair him. Malveaux and some of the divers wouldn’t have survived. Which raised one important question:
Why had the killer spared them?
***
The police hovership shot over the Bay on its way back to the pier. Fog blanketed the Golden Gate bridge.
We should be docking soon, Malveaux thought as an EMT ran a few quick scans on her. She was banged up, but otherwise in good shape.
“Do I get a clean bill of health, doc?” she asked.
“You’re a lucky woman.”
She had to agree.
Still a bit unsteady on her feet, she got up and crossed the main deck, blinking away the drizzle. She stepped into the hovership’s command center. Holo-terminals bathed the officers’ faces in splashes of eerie red-blue light. Adam manned one of the terminals, busy checking some data. Noticing her approach, he said, “How are you feeling?”
“Alive.” Malveaux rubbed her still pounding head. For a moment she stared at Adam.
“Is something wrong?” Adam asked.
“This isn’t easy for me,” she said. “I…wanted to thank you for what you did back there. You saved my life.”
“I was protecting my partner.”
Merely following your programming, right?
Sarcasm was her shield against the world, but Adam deserved better. In the end, wasn’t everyone following some form of programming? Social engineering and genetics shaped her behavior as much as Adam’s coded program parameters did his.
Recalling Dr. Aria Del’s helpless expression, anger coiled up her throat. “I can't shake the look on the poor woman’s face. It's like we let her die.”
“There was nothing we could do,” Adam said.
His calm, rational tone offered some comfort.
Malveaux’s thoughts turned back to the case. Where did they go from here? One more person who could’ve shed some light on these murders was gone, leaving only Cain. But where was the man? Would they once again be forced to wait for the killer to make his next move?
At the moment, forensics was going over the escape pod with a fine-toothed comb. Maybe they’d find something that could help them, but she doubted it. As she met Adam’s expectant gaze, inspiration struck. There might be one more option they could explore. She’d have to call in a favor, but the person she was thinking about owed her big time.
It was time to learn more about Dr. Malcolm Cain.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
THE NEW DAY brought an end to the rainfall, and brilliant sunlight sparkled over the fifteen foot-high bronze statue in front of Synthetika’s Silicon Valley headquarters. It depicted the X-1 model that had started it all, a humanoid robot that was more machine than man. A sprawling two-hundred-acre campus stretched out beyond, dotted by a series of large, dome-shaped buildings connected by a complex network of tubular walkways. The structures housed the company’s main corporate headquarters as well as research and development facilities. According to rumors, an even bigger campus was planned for Los Angeles in the near future.
Synthetika was on the cusp of becoming the biggest corporation in the world, but the surging mob of protesters ringing the corporate compound didn’t seem impressed. The activists wielded placards that proudly proclaimed their discontent with the mech agenda. The slogans read MECHS DESTROY LIVES, STEAL JOBS. BLOOD NOT STEEL. RAGE AGAINST THE MACHINES. A team of armed guards earned their paychecks keeping the surging crowd in line.
Fighting her way through the throng with Adam on her side, Malveaux studied the guards. Their black helmets and antlike body armor shimmered in the daylight. These men and women were part of Synthetika’s newly formed paramilitary unit. What did they call themselves again? AI-TAC: Artificial Intelligence Tactical Unit.
Malveaux knew of a few members of SWAT who’d transferred to the unit. Word was Synthetika paid a hell of a lot better than the department. Big surprise. On paper AI-TAC was supposed to hunt down rogue robots. Synthetika’s way of making concessions to increased pressure from the HDL, hoping to alleviate fears about a world where mechs might one day outnumber humans. So far most of their time was spent dealing with protesters and warding off potential HDL-sponsored terrorist threats.
“How can you be certain Synthetika will help us?” Adam asked.
“Janson is one of the top guys around here. He owes me one.”
Adam eyed her quizzically, but she didn’t elaborate.
A weird mechanical buzz made Malveaux flinch. She spun around as a massive shadow engulfed them. Her scalp prickled as she faced down the giant machine. The sound of grinding gears filled the air as the six-legged robotic behemoth moved toward them with thunderous, lumbering grace. Its tank-like torso swiveled, revealing gun turrets and weapon systems. There was a sleek, ferocious quality to the spider sentinel. It was designed to intimidate. To kill. In the past, human operators had remote-controlled these steel beasts but not anymore. Nowadays they were running on autonomous AI software.
Adam and Malveaux froze as a red light probed them. A man approached, stepping between them and the sentinel. Steve Janson made the perfectly tailored suit look good; his polished exterior radiated confidence and power. Despite only being in his forties, he was next in line for the top executive spot at Synthetika. Malveaux had no doubt that he’d be running the show in the near future.
She’d first met Janson two years ago when an underground hacker group broke into Synthetika’s servers. The whole affair could’ve turned into a major embarrassment for the company. Janson had been her liaison and played a crucial role in solving the case. The swift apprehension of the hackers turned him into an overnight hero, assuring his continued rise within Synthetika’s ranks. The man was a shark, but Malveaux couldn’t deny his obvious intelligence and ability to charm.
As Janson drew closer, the mechanical monster backed off. He flashed them his brilliant smile. “I apologize. The latest string of HDL hate crimes has unfortunately made such precautions necessary.”
“I thought the Class A sentinels were discontinued,” Malveaux said. “Too unpredictable for combat?”
“We've made some refinements.” Janson beamed with pride. His expression turned serious. “It's been a while, Detective. I’m so sorry about your partner.”
&
nbsp; “Thank you,” Malveaux said, lips pressed into a tight line.
Janson’s focus shifted to the android at her side. “You must be Adam. I’ve heard a lot about you. How are you enjoying your stay on Earth?”
“It's been educational.”
Janson grinned. “I bet that’s an understatement.” He turned back to Malveaux. “So what do I owe the pleasure—or is it misfortune—of your visit?”
Malveaux decided to cut straight to the chase. “Malcolm Cain.”
Janson stole a few cautious glances, as if wondering whether anyone was in listening range, before he said in a subdued voice, “You better follow me.”
Janson escorted Malveaux and Adam through Synthetika’s bustling main lobby. Everywhere mechs and cyberneticists were going about their business. Man and machine working in perfect harmony. Synthetika was selling a utopian ideal, but was it sustainable? Was mankind headed for a blissful future or creating a problem that would make the horrors of the Omega Virus pale in comparison?
As they reached a bank of elevators, Janson turned toward Adam. “I’m afraid androids aren't allowed beyond this point.”
So much for the utopia.
“We're both working this case,” Malveaux interjected, surprised at her willingness to stand up for a mech.
“There are no exceptions,” Janson explained firmly. “Adam, could you please wait for our return here in the lobby.”
“Listen now...” Malveaux said.
“These are the rules, Inspector. I’m sorry.”
There was a moment of tense silence. Adam nodded at Malveaux and said, “I understand.”
Almost reluctantly she joined Janson in the glass elevator. As the lift ascended, Adam’s form receded below her. He stood there like a statute, and she wondered what he was thinking. Malveaux realized that the more time she spent with the enigmatic android, the more she had begun to think of him as a person.
Three floors up, Janson led Malveaux down a brightly lit corridor devoted to the evolution of robots. They passed tiers of vast display cases housing different mech models: from the primitive early attempts to the current X-2000 series. One day, Adam would be lined up next up to these machines, another stepping stone in Synthetika’s rise to power.
The idea weirdly disturbed Malveaux.
“I never thought I'd see you partnering up with an android,” Janson said, unable to disguise his amusement.
“That makes two of us.”
“How's it working out? Synthetika has high hopes for the line.”
“So I've heard,” Malveaux said.
“Did you know Adam decided to check in at a local motel instead of using the police storage facility? Don't you find that fascinating?”
You’re keeping track of his every move, Malveaux thought. And that meant all their conversations were on file somewhere. The idea that a team of Synthetika techs was poring over every single one of their interactions made her acutely self-conscious. Synthetika was studying her behavior as much as they were Adam’s, and this led to another question: Did Janson have anything to do with her being teamed up with a mech?
They slipped through a door and emerged in a vast, cavernous chamber. Everywhere she turned, there were rows upon rows of charging stations containing mechs. What made the scene so eerie was the lifelike appearance of these robots. They could easily be mistaken for sleeping humans, and Malveaux was reminded of a holo-documentary she’d recently watched on the cryo-populations aboard colony ships. She scrutinized the nearest androids. They were all perfect copies of her partner.
“As you can see, your Adam is merely the beginning. The hope is to have one in every precinct in the country by the end of the year.”
Malveaux nodded, unable to shake her growing sense of unease about this tomblike chamber populated by these mirror images of her partner. If she’d been increasingly thinking of Adam as an individual, this shattered the illusion.
Malveaux shifted her attention toward the domed ceiling. The tapering walls consisted of hundreds of computer screens forming a cathedral of data. Waves of shimmering code bathed the vast chamber in a spectral glow.
“What is this place?”
“A place of birth and creation. We jokingly call it the Hall of Souls.”
Malveaux didn’t see the humor, but Janson continued. “Above us, computers are processing the data that will shape the personalities of the next generation of X-3s. Each screen you see represents an emerging synthetic personality soon to be downloaded into the models below.”
Self-modifying code, Malveaux thought. She’d read that the personality matrixes of higher level AIs followed certain programming guidelines set by their creators. The same way DNA determined the final characteristics of humans, these initial coding parameters shaped synthetic personalities.
“Unlike humans, AIs enter the world with the equivalent of an adult brain,” Janson explained. “To achieve this level of maturity, the program has to run a certain period of time before it can be transferred into a robot body. These maturing personality programs are interacting with reality in the digital realm, learning and studying the webs. Incorporating knowledge of the human society they are about to enter.”
Evolving.
“Why are you showing me all this?” Malveaux asked.
“You wanted to know what Cain was working on.”
“Cain was developing the X-3000?”
“He was one of the key cyberneticists on the project.” There was a sense of hushed awe in Janson’s voice as he said, “Have you ever marveled at the performance of a great athlete or musician? How they make the most complex feats seem effortless? That's how Cain was when it came to writing computer code. A true Mozart, a bona fide genius and visionary. Unfortunately, Cain began to develop doubts about his work.”
“What do you mean?”
“What I’m about to share with you will have to remain strictly between us. If any of this should ever leak to the press, Synthetika will deny the story.”
Malveaux nodded. “You know you can trust me.”
Janson took a deep breath, pursed his lips, and said, “Cain felt we’d gone too far, that AIs could turn on their creators.”
“Sounds like he was buying into some of the hate rhetoric of the HDL.”
That explains the hate literature we found in his desk, she thought.
“More and more, he was becoming a liability for the upcoming line.”
Synthetika releasing Cain from his contract was making more sense. He’d been a bomb waiting to go off. Having a top cyberneticist making doomsday predictions about the robot apocalypse on the eve of expanding their newest line would not go over well with Synthetika’s investors.
“I bet Cain wasn't too about happy about being offered a severance package,” Malveaux said. After being one of the top leaders in his field, the move must’ve felt like a slap in the face. “What triggered Cain’s change of heart?” she asked.
A cold smile played over Janson’s face. “Look around you. This is the future, Inspector. But even a genius can become terrified of his creations.”
Malveaux couldn’t argue with that sentiment.
***
They were on their way back to the police precinct. Every time she eyed Adam, she was reminded of the upcoming line of X-3000s. How did you tell a humanlike machine that thousands of identical models were about to flood the market? Adam insisted he had a name, an identity. Well, I’ve got some news for you, buddy, there are a lot more of you out there.
Malveaux shifted her focus back to the case and updated Adam on what she had learned about Cain. She made it a point to leave out the details of her experience inside the Hall of Souls.
Adam listened with visible interest. Once Malveaux finished, he said, “While you spoke with Janson, I managed to finally penetrate M-Tech’s computer system.”
“Sounds like you came across something juicy.”
“Especially in light of what we now know about Dr. Cain’s feeling in regards to a
ndroids.”
“Go on,” Malveaux prompted.
“M-Tech is a subsidiary of the Neomex.”
“Should I be familiar with them?”
“Neomex owns companies in a variety of different sectors. What makes them stand out is their business philosophy of only employing humans despite a considerable loss of profit. They refuse to use androids as part of their labor force.”
“What are you getting at?”
“Neomex is owned by the Human Defense League.”
Malveaux took a sharp breath. Adam had just dropped a bombshell. “Are you saying an organization dedicated to the eradication of all mechs used one of their corporate fronts to hire our three dead cyberneticists?”
“Correct.”
Malveaux’s mind churned as she tried to make sense of this latest piece of information. She made herself recap what they knew: “So Cain designs the X-3 but at some point gets second thoughts, starts thinking Synthetika is out of control. He gets handed his walking papers to avoid a PR fiasco, but this isn’t the end of the story. Turns out there’s life after Synthetika. Three washed-up cyberneticists get a chance to make millions courtesy of the HDL. So here comes the big question? What could a mech-hating organization possibly want from the techeads who build the robots?”
“Cain designed the X-3. Maybe they plan to sabotage the new line somehow? Possibly even launch an attack against Synthetika?”
Malveaux nodded slowly. It felt good to bounce ideas off Adam. Almost like he was really her partner. “Good theory. If you’re going to strike a blow against the machines, who better to hire than the men who built them, right? You have a drug addict hard up for cash, a retiree eager to keep up his lifestyle, and a genius who feels X-3s could be dangerous. They give their new benefactor what they want, but the HDL doesn’t like loose ends.”
“So you think the HDL is killing these cyberneticists?”
“The messages clearly glorify man and demonstrate a hatred for mechs.”
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