Snowden's voice boomed out. "Carson! This is right off the stable floor, son. Manure! Now look, what I want to tell these folks is that we’re pretty concerned about the buildup of synthetics at one of these corporate bases. They seem overqualified for the standard settlement work, and corporations don't generally spend more than needed. Too much of that and you're filing Chapter 11. Right? So, I want to hear your opinions. Right?"
He looked expectantly toward Mission and Susan. Finally Susan cleared her throat and asked, "What type of synthetics work at this settlement?"
The General said simply, "Carson?"
Pierce brought up a graphic on the vue screen. The inventory included over 350 mining models with the reinforced chassis and nines in intelligence and agility, plus another 200 syns with factory oriented skills and double-nines. Twenty synthetics with organizational/accounting and double nines completed the roster. Mission whistled softly. He looked at that list and saw a massacre waiting to happen.
Mission said, "This helps, but you still haven't told us what settlement. Until we can understand the principle activities, we can't say if these models are overkill." Mission almost grabbed his mouth. He hoped no one picked up on his Freudian slip.
The General frowned and said, "And there's no reason to tell you son, until we are much further down the road. If I tell you that their objective is to mine and refine titanium and other lightweight/high tensile strength ores, would you know enough?"
Susan and Mission exchanged glances and Susan said, "Yes. If this is a standard mining operation, you need mining models with the reinforced chassis, but threes in agility and intelligence are adequate. The factory workers need a four or five in agility to handle precision work, but that's all. This group of twenty is the admin people. One human to set up the accounting systems, and then those twenty need accounting software plus double threes."
The General looked at Major Pierce and the other members of his staff. "That's all it took. We've been screwing around for months and she gave it to us in ten minutes."
He looked thoroughly disgusted. Finally, he said, "Well, at least now we know. Carson. What's next on the agenda?"
"Well ... well next we need to talk about proof. I mean, we all accept Dr. St. Jean's word that this is too much synthetic for the job. But I think before we ask the President to mobilize troops or take some equally dramatic step, we need to show some documentation, not to mention some supportable theory as to why they are building this army."
Susan leaned forward and said, "Why not capture the data during the one year diagnostics?"
The General looked confused, "I'm afraid I'm not following you, Doctor. What do you mean?"
"It's a mandatory checkup after twelve months. We don't sell our synthetics, we lease them. And if you don't bring them in for the diagnostics, we have the right to recover our products. Now with the synthetics bound for the settlements, we include in the lease price the cost of our people conducting on-site inspections. We can look at the contract and find out when they're due."
The General looked quite pleased. "Carson, I want you to make this happen. I want these two plus whoever else they need on the diagnostics team, headed for this settlement."
Pierce said, "But General you have to ... "
Meanwhile Susan said, "If you think I'm going onto one of those space station shuttles, you are crazy."
But finally it was Mission who put up his hands and yelled, "Major! General! We need to slow down. We definitely want to help, but Susan and I have this little problem we have to clear this up first. Now, you obviously need a meeting with the Paradox corporate officers, so this is what I suggest ... "
15
The Paradox conference room made Mission nervous. In fact, the entire idea of working things out in a meeting put him on edge. He tracked down renegades, stalked them until he knew their routines, and then took them out as fast as possible, hopefully limiting damage to his person. Period. Now he sat in a business environment, trying to figure out what might happen next. First of all, the room looked much different than he expected. Perhaps he imagined a huge hall filled with stockholders and directors. Thus the room's relatively small proportions shocked him. But more than that, the room conveyed the feeling of weight, of the certainty that comes from generations of wealth.
Everything in the room seemed massive and silent. The thickest, heaviest wooden table he had ever seen seated twelve. More than six inches thick, it held two one-inch deep drawers at each setting. They contained parchment and onyx pens to be dipped in ink. Who actually writes nowadays? And with an ink pen? Equally massive bookcases lined the walls and handsome leather bound books filled their shelves. They also held cut-lead crystal decanters filled with the world's finest brandies, scotches, and the like.
The ceiling formed a cupola over the room. Hand carved mahogany trim rimmed its insides. Finally, the trim gave way to a stunning mural of Da Vinci, with one of his paintings in progress, and with notes on his work table showing his helicopter design, anatomy drawings, and several other works. Mission located the artist signature. He nodded. No expense had been spared.
Reviewing the bios on the Paradox officers would occupy his mind. Susan had briefed him, and their organization was really quite simple. The president and three vice presidents directed the entire company.
Vice President Warren Westin managed the vast Operations Division. Sometimes the distinction between engineer and scientist means little. With Warren it meant everything. He was an engineer from beginning to end. Paradox recruited him during the early years, as much to provide them with credibility as to obtain results. As Chief of Operations for a major computer manufacturer, and then as Executive Vice President for ten more years in manufacturing smart prosthetic devices, industry considered him the best in his field.
He made an immediate and dramatic impact at Paradox. He led an operation that used more of a make it in your garage process to an award winning system for quality and productivity. Susan rated him as extremely effective, but blunt sometimes to a fault. He despised office politics and preferred to shoot it out in the Officer's Meetings. Right now, he frowned, presumably at the prospect of this meeting. At most he reached 5'8" and measured about the same in width. Nevertheless, he wore a work of art in a suit Mission guessed to be tailor made in London or Hong Kong.
Vice President Tanya Ricci led the Sales and Marketing Division. Mission tended to dismiss women's descriptions of other women, but he admitted Susan hit the mark with Tanya. The clothes didn't say it, they seemed exactly what a powerful and attractive woman would wear to a business meeting. To be sure, her mouth suggested contradiction with indications of passion and cruelty, or perhaps it was her eyes sending messages with potential for seduction or frozen reserve. In any event, the sum of the impressions told Mission that this woman was a predator in every facet of her life.
She came directly to Paradox from college, and while she performed well, she didn't set the world on fire. But about a year ago, she changed her appearance to take advantage of her looks and worked much more aggressively. Then the promotions chased her until the current VP retired, mostly to escape the pressure of Tanya nipping at her heels. In terms of success, Tanya continued to increase sales in the Paradox traditional markets, and displayed real creativity in developing new markets.
Vice President Fenwicke Matlin headed perhaps the most impressive commercial think tank in the world inside his Research and Development Division. Susan's department comprised a major piece of R & D, and she reported directly to Fenwicke. He wanted no part of management or administration, and delegated those duties to his deputy. He wanted to play in the laboratory, and to tinker with the synthetics. His legendary brilliance sometimes inhibited a clear focus on non-technical issues, but he contributed stunning breakthroughs in the design of each successive synthetic model.
Susan warned Mission not to be fooled by his absent minded professor exterior. He could handle the management and political issues, as he proved in
the past. He simply didn't want to, and would not acquiesce unless pushed into a corner. His suit looked to be ten years old, and his tie hung untied from his collar. His shock of curly brown hair sported the disarray of the Einstein look. While waiting for the meeting to start, he played with a hand held computer running a simulation of the syn command central brain module.
The President of Paradox, Chandler Hunt approached the table. Although no longer a kid, the public clung to the image of him as a teenaged science whiz, with his professor Fenwicke Matlin and auto mechanic Reece Burton building robots from a garage. Somehow, he still carried that quality of youthful enthusiasm, although his shrewd business sense now kept Paradox the uncontested master of complex robotics applications.
He wore thick glasses that seemed much too big for his face, and he was three weeks past needing a haircut. He wore gray slacks and a blue blazer with white socks and black wing tips. Mission supposed that when one holds a personal net worth of more than $800 billion, one can wear anything one damn well pleases. Susan described him as the perfect president of a tech company. He no longer involved himself in design, but consistently raced ahead of the world in his vision of where technology would go next, and communicating how Paradox would lead the charge.
Of course, General Snowden, Major Pierce, Susan St. Jean, and Hunt's secretary, synthetic Paul Baker sat at the table anticipating the start. Hunt looked around, and seeing that everyone was present, kicked off the meeting. He welcomed the Army, asked for introductions all around the table, and then turned the meeting over to General Snowden.
The General stood, paused and then began. "Mr. Hunt and the Paradox family, I want to thank you for your hospitality in having us here today. What I have to discuss today is a delicate subject, a sensitive subject, and most importantly, a matter of national security. I have here copies of the National Security Act, to which all of you as citizens of the United States are obligated. Obviously, synthetics are not covered by the NSA, but the owner of the synthetic is responsible for any security breach as a result of a synthetic's actions. The subjects discussed here today cannot be shared with any other person or synthetic. The penalty for violating this federal statute can be as severe as the death penalty. Now, what I hope for here today, is a frank and open discussion of our concerns. Does anyone have questions about the security governing our meeting?"
He gave them time to think about it, and when no one spoke, he said, "Good. Let's move on to the real topic."
He sat down, leaned forward, and spoke in a confidential manner. "You see, we find ourselves in a bit of a predicament here. A place where discretion is uppermost in our minds and the need for certainty is imperative. I suppose my first question is this. Can anyone else on this planet manufacture a robot that can pass for human?"
Hunt shook his head. "Absolutely not. The R&D money required, the manufacturing facilities, the successive iterations to optimize. No, there are no competitors."
"I see. Then what would be the possibility of modifying a Paradox synthetic?"
This prompted different answers from everyone. Hunt finally managed to ask, "What kind of modification? The responses can vary tremendously, based on what you have in mind."
The General nodded. "What we are talking about is a synthetic modified to attack and kill humans."
A collective gasp washed across the table and Hunt said, "No, absolutely impossible. Before a model could be altered to that extent, central logic would be destroyed and the body paralyzed. It just couldn't happen. Everything that Paradox does revolves around our inviolable law that synthetics must never harm humans!"
Matlin started to talk soothingly saying, "Now Chandler, we know that saying something isn't possible isn’t a realistic ... "
Major Pierce broke in. "Wait a minute. You're making these absolute statements like they are carved into stone tablets. Isn't it true that synthetics go crazy every day and harm humans?"
Hunt looked adamant as he said, "Less than one in 500,000 harms a human. A greater percentage of ministers kill people. A greater percentage of grandmothers assault people. As a matter of fact, the odds are much greater that the adults in the home will be killed by their own children, than by their synthetic. Automobiles kill over 1000 times more people per capita and aircars more than 600 times. In fact, if you look at the statistics, you will see that ... "
The General interrupted, "Yes, yes. I read your sales brochures. I believe the Major has noted your statement that it is impossible to modify a synthetic to harm a human, and asked how you explain the current situation. So, I repeat his question, don't synthetics harm humans every day?"
Hunt exerted considerable effort to hold his temper and he spoke very deliberately. "Yes, a minute fraction of our synthetics develop mental disturbances so severe that they sometimes harm humans before they can be destroyed."
"So, would it be possible to cultivate this aberrant behavior to develop a group of assassins?"
Hunt started to answer and then Fenwicke interrupted saying, "Chandler, I really believe Susan is best qualified to answer this one."
"Yes, you’re right. Susan?"
"Well ... I suppose anything is possible, but my staff correlates billions upon billions of factors to find why a mental breakdown occurs, and we haven't a clue. In this sense, synthetics are like people in that each is a complete individual. But to take this even further, we see that as central processing breaks down enough for violent behavior to occur, brain functions degrade across the board. The thought that anyone could control and direct a synthetic with this degree of mental damage is ridiculous. It couldn't happen."
Hunt smiled. The Major and the General looked at each other hesitantly. Finally, Fenwicke Matlin spoke up. "Now, as much as I enjoy spinning my wheels, this idle speculation gets us nowhere. Which is where we happen to be at the moment. So why don't you drop this cards held close to the vest crap, and tell us what has you worried?"
The General considered. "All right. All right, that's what we'll do. Over the past six months, we found seven instances reported that involve a synthetic trained as an assassin."
The impact of the statement pushed the group into an uproar. No one believed it. Hunt's voice rose over all the others. "Is this what the fuss is about? The Fundamentalists have screamed monster since before we sold our first synthetic. If only you had checked, you would know they wage a constant war against us with boycotts, law suits, and out and out harassment. They managed 118 rape charges against synthetics last year. No convictions, but they got Synthetic Held on Charges of Raping a 12 Year Old headlines in all the major papers. The stories on the acquittals a year afterward appeared on page 27. More than 20,000 synthetics suffered attacks last year from spray painting to physical damage all the way to destruction. We just can't lay down and play dead for a group that probably protested the first automobile. You have to recognize ... "
"Mr. Hunt! Chandler. We know about your difficulties with certain extremist groups. We corroborated these case reports with overwhelming physical evidence and eye witness testimony. They are not tainted by philosophy or religion."
Hunt looked toward the ceiling. "I don't believe it."
"Would you accept the word of a bounty hunter who makes his living tracking down renegade synthetics?"
Hunt pointed toward Mission, "I take it you mean Mission?"
The General nodded and Hunt said, "Well, I don't promise that I will believe him, but I will listen to him."
Mission told his story of the syn who ambushed him in the Free Zone. The group listened carefully and asked a few questions to clarify or amplify. At the conclusion, Hunt came to attention and said, "This is certainly a regrettable episode, synthetics at their very worst. But nothing I've heard suggests anything more than an emotionally disturbed synthetic, trying to escape recovery. Virtually all violent incidents involve bounty hunters trying to destroy the syn. This is one of those violent occurrences, General, that you insisted I acknowledge only a few moments ago. Wouldn't you ag
ree?"
Mission asked, "What about the shot to her head that didn't bring her down? What about her tracking and surveillance skills?"
Hunt laughed. "Mission, really. Are you saying that a shot at the right angle wouldn't deflect off a standard skull casing? And as for her skills, I do appreciate your endorsement of our models as especially intelligent. General, are you satisfied?"
He shook his head. "No sir, I am not. I hope I didn't misrepresent this meeting, because we have much more material to cover. With your permission ... ?"
Hunt nodded reluctantly and Snowden continued. "I'd like to share one more firsthand account with you before moving on. Dr. St. Jean, would you tell the group about your encounter with the synthetic at your apartment?"
Susan started, hesitantly at first, staring down at the table as she talked. She grew more confident as she moved through the story and finished strongly. As she closed, Hunt and Matlin admonished her saying, "Susan! Why didn't you come to us with this?"
The General cut them off, lying through his teeth. "The Army took control, advising her not to discuss the situation."
The agony controlled every aspect of Hunt's face. "Look General, I can see why you think the way you do, but I don't believe it. I can find a small number of isolated cases where synthetics become violent, present them to you, and make a strong argument for killer robots. But you and I already know that's not the case. Show me how these models are modified, what changes are made, and a motivation for making the changes. Then I’ll believe."
The General nodded. "I tend to agree with you, Chandler, and I think we can address those concerns later in the meeting. But there's a question I'm just dying to ask Professor Matlin."
The General's remark pulled Fenwicke out of ruminations he clearly found more interesting than the meeting. He looked around and said, "Question? You have a question for me?"
Living in Syn Page 8