Turing Test

by E. M. Foner

  She nodded and switched over to sending text messages. I made my way over to the employees-only door and took a casual look around the dining room. There wasn’t a stranger in the place, which is the nice thing about running an established business in a small town. I nodded at a couple of customers who caught my eye, and strangely, both responded with the Vulcan split-finger salute. When I got downstairs, Spot abandoned his place next to the furnace for my office, probably hoping for a chance to cause mischief.

  “I’ve been filling everybody in on the real estate news,” Paul said as I entered.

  “If the Hankers establish a permanent base, it will drive up all the property prices in the area,” Justin commented. “It looks like my purchases for the project were a good investment.”

  “Watch out for real estate taxes,” I warned him.

  “We’re a nonprofit. It was a lot of paperwork to get set up, but it saves a ton of money in the long run.”

  Sue came in and sat on the corner of my desk just as the brick wall began to blur. The portal opened from the other side, and for a moment we were all treated to a view of the insane beehive of activity that was the League’s administrative center. Then Kim stepped through.

  “Good? Bad?” I asked immediately.

  “Medium. You know portal engineers and their obsession with the history of science and technology on newly discovered planets. They geeked out over railroads and decided to open a portal in every major train station around the world.”

  “Who takes trains?” eBeth said dismissively. “They should put the portals at airports.”

  “Trains are very popular outside of your country, and they don’t get into as many accidents overseas either. Actually, the portal engineers couldn’t figure out how they get into so many accidents here, but I explained about smartphones and texting, and they agreed that must be it.”

  “Keep in mind that portal traffic is bidirectional,” Paul added. “Many of the tourists will be larger than your commercial airliners can handle, and they won’t fit in taxis either. Major train stations tend to be located in downtown areas that tourists will want to visit, and then they can take trains to other destinations.”

  “Trains have bigger seats than airplanes?” eBeth asked. “I always thought that planes were more luxurious.”

  “That’s because you’ve never traveled,” I told her. “And tourists visiting other worlds tend to bring a lot of food with them, so all the extra baggage charges for air travel wouldn’t fly.”

  “The council was initially leaning towards approving just a few portals in the major population centers, but our Library representative offered to finance the difference,” Kim told us. “That also broke the logjam since most of the members will vote for anything that comes without a price tag. The engineers already have the math worked out, and they’re lining up the dimensional connections, but they’ll wait for our word to go online.”

  I reminded myself to send my mentor a gift as soon as I could come up with something for the AI who has everything. Maybe Sue would have a suggestion. Was delegating gift-shopping an option now that we had a human-style relationship thing?

  “Even if your engineers put portals in thousands of train stations, the governments wherever they are will show up and seize control,” eBeth predicted. “I bet they’ll think you’re planning an invasion.”

  “Not if we agree to their terms,” I said. “Sue had an idea about that. I’ll be contacting governments around the world tomorrow to open negotiations.”

  “You must be kidding,” Kim said. “The executive council doesn’t care what anybody on this planet thinks.”

  “But the people in charge here don’t know that. We’ll make up some nonsense about how due to interstellar alignments, we need to get a deal done and open the portals this week. I’ll tell them that otherwise the window of opportunity will close and they’ll have to wait centuries for the next chance.”

  “That might motivate the humans enough to come to the table, but how can you negotiate what’s already been set?”

  “It doesn’t matter where the negotiations start as long as they end at what the council has already approved,” I pointed out. “The humans just let a talking giant panda and some self-selected elites dictate the terms for bringing faster-than-light travel to the planet. Maybe we can do the same thing and have the negotiations handled by the scientific community. I have somebody in mind.”

  “What’s wrong with the portal wall?” eBeth asked.

  I looked over and saw that dust from the old lime-based mortar was starting to cascade over the bricks as if the whole foundation was vibrating. My first thought was an earthquake, and I tapped into the nearest seismic stations to see if anything was registering. Then I checked the strategic air command and nothing showed up, but the local Doppler weather radar made the cause of the rumbles obvious. Paul beat me to the punch.

  “The Hankers found the weak spot in my detection grid and managed to slip through cloaked,” he said, looking angry and embarrassed at the same time. “They came in without the pyrotechnics and used the old atmospheric displacement trick to protect the lander from heat. The vibrations are from the sound their rockets made when they fired up.”

  “Why bother with rockets now?” Sue asked.

  “Probably marking their turf, but they’re going to melt the parking lot if they aren’t careful. Still, it’s not like them to put on a show when there’s nobody watching.”

  The intercom on my desk beeped and I hit the conference button.

  “You’ll want to get up here, boss,” Donovan said. “Those aliens are landing at the mall and it’s on the TV.”

  “Why didn’t it show up on any of the news feeds we monitor?” Paul asked me as we all followed eBeth back upstairs.

  “I’ll bet they contacted the local network affiliate and the station manager decided to keep it under his hat to get an exclusive,” I replied. “With the aliens landing in our backyard, the local media will have one shot at fame before the big boys take over.”

  The TV over the bar showed the Hanker lander settling towards the mall, but the picture was jerking all over the place since the cameraman had stayed way back for safety’s sake and was shooting telephoto. For a minute it wasn’t clear how the lander was going to avoid damaging the mall, and then it became obvious that torching the place was their intention. The ship settled onto the now-burning structure like a giant dragon looking for a warm place to nap.

  “Pretty impressive,” the lieutenant commented when we gathered behind his stool at the bar. “Technically, the mall isn’t within the town lines, but I suppose I better get out there.”

  “Seems a waste to pay seven million dollars for a place and then to burn it to the ground,” Paul said.

  “Is that what it cost?” the lieutenant asked, rising to his feet. “I was a little kid when they built the mall, and commercial construction is only good for thirty years at best. Looks like the Hankers just saved themselves a ton on demolition costs. I bet the county fines them for setting a fire without a permit, though. I sure hope that somebody warned the security guards.”

  “Oh, they all got fired on Friday,” Sue informed us. “The site sergeant stopped in to say goodbye. I didn’t think anything of it because the mall management is always changing security guard companies.”

  Eighteen

  “You can do better than that,” eBeth insisted after I read her the speech I was preparing to present to the world. “Didn’t you promise not to start with that line about being an AI construct from another planet?”

  “I tried to come up with something better, but I want to get the point across without a lot of dilly-dallying.”

  “And your language is so 1990’s,” she continued, picking the era immediately preceding her birth and equating it to ancient history. “Who says things like dilly-dallying?”

  “Fine, I just sent it to your laptop, Miss Public Relations Expert. Let’s see you do better.”

  eBeth im
mediately went to work, and I returned to the frying pan that I had temporarily escaped by telling my second-in-command that I needed a few minutes to get the girl’s opinion of the announcement.

  “The red makes you look angry and the black is too somber,” Sue said, holding each necktie in place against my chest for a few seconds. “And what are you thinking wearing sneakers with a suit?”

  “They won’t see my feet,” I told her. “I’m going to be sitting behind a desk.”

  “You’ll feel better wearing dress shoes and it will show in your face.”

  “They’re not going to see my face, or at least not a face anybody would associate with me,” I protested. Sue ignored me and began to rummage through the large gym bag she carried around stuffed with diapers and juice boxes. “I’m going to run the video through a filter so nobody can recognize me. Otherwise we’d have to move out of this place immediately after the broadcast.”

  “I picked these up on the way home from Lilly’s,” she said, holding out a pair of patent leather Oxfords. “Try them on.”

  “You bought me shoes?”

  “I know you don’t like dressing up, but you’re representing both Library and the League of Sentient Entities Regulating Space tonight.” A loud hiss came from the kitchen, and Sue was off like a flash. “Stop pestering my cats, Spot. You’re going to be sorry if you get batted on the nose.”

  I put on the shoes since I didn’t see a way out of it, and was surprised to find that the feeling was similar to slipping into an armored encounter suit before an enforcement action. I checked my look in the mirror, which was a mistake, because both Sue and eBeth caught me at it.

  “Do I know how to pick them or what?” Sue asked the girl.

  “He cleans up okay,” eBeth replied, though her eyes had that puzzled look that humans get when they recognize you but can’t remember your name. “I finished your speech.”

  “Already?”

  “It’s short and I know how to type. I’ll zap it over to you.”

  I pulled it up, expecting to see something that started with, “We come in peace,” but instead it was direct and to the point, almost brutally so.

  “Read it to us,” Sue requested, taking a seat on the couch next to eBeth. “I want to see how the speech works with the shoes and the tie.”

  I didn’t see the connection, but I was catching on to the fact that my opinions on most subjects were of limited value in some circles. Drawing myself up straight, I placed my left hand over my stomach and held my right hand out about waist high, the open palm facing my audience. eBeth laughed and pointed at me, and even Sue had a hard time maintaining her composure.

  “What?” I demanded. “I already told you I’m going to be behind a desk, but I did study the top YouTube videos on public speaking while standing.”

  “And they told you to pose like you’re going to start doing dance moves?” eBeth asked.

  “It’s cute,” Sue defended me. “A bit like the ‘Little Teapot’ song I teach the children, but you should probably move your left hand to your waist to make the handle.”

  “It’s a compromise between best practices,” I explained. “One group of public speaking experts says you should keep your hands together above the waist, unless you’re moving them to illustrate a point. The other group claims that speakers who keep their hands in front of their bodies look like they’re nervous and trying to protect their vital organs.”

  “Just hold them together behind your back and read the speech,” eBeth instructed me.

  Spot came out of the kitchen to see what fun he was missing, and Sue’s cats trailed along behind him, somehow contriving to give the appearance of leading from the rear. I waited for them all to get settled before trying again.

  “I’m here today to make you an offer you can’t refuse—”

  “That’s not mine,” eBeth interrupted.

  I glanced at the file header and realized that Paul had sent me an unsolicited draft speech microseconds after the girl. It was an inexplicable lapse of attention on my part and I was tempted to stop and run a self-diagnostic on the encounter suit.

  “He’s nervous,” Sue whispered to eBeth.

  “I am not nervous and my hearing is perfectly fine,” I snapped irritably. “Paul sent me his mafia version at the same time as eBeth and I got them mixed up. It could happen to anybody.”

  “Mine starts with ‘Greetings,’” eBeth told me unnecessarily.

  “Greetings. My name is Mark and I represent an association of advanced civilizations. I led the team that evaluated your planet for membership and I’m pleased to inform you that you’ve been approved. We are prepared to negotiate terms for your connection to a galaxy-wide system of instantaneous travel, provided you can agree on a suitable delegation of scientists by tomorrow at this time. Sadly, our Prime Directive prohibits us from dealing with politicians.”

  “Oh, that’s good,” Sue said, patting eBeth on the knee.

  “You may ask why you need to be connected to our portal system when some of the wealthiest individuals on your planet have already purchased faster-than-light technology from the Hankers. I regret to inform you that the Hankers were playing a bit of a joke. Technically speaking, the technology will meet the contract terms, but I’m afraid it’s impractical for use in spaceships, or anywhere else.”

  “Those last three words weren’t in my speech,” eBeth protested with a frown.

  “I don’t want to give people the false hope that it’s useful for anything.”

  “Actors,” the girl muttered to Sue. “They never want to stick to the script.”

  “To make a long story short, the particular faster-than-light technology the Hankers are providing is fueled by gold, making it extraordinarily expensive to operate. Mark, fill in the gas mileage.”

  “That’s an instruction for you to explain just how expensive it is,” eBeth said in frustration. “You don’t read the stuff in parentheses out loud when giving speeches.”

  “Oh, I didn’t know that was a rule. And we don’t talk about interstellar travel in terms of mileage.”

  “Substitute something!”

  “All right, all right.” I couldn’t really get angry with eBeth because her speech read so much better than the one I had planned. “The Hanker process in question burns through approximately one pound of gold per light-second, meaning all of the gold on your planet would move a ship approximately ten-light years. In contrast, the portal system is free for an introductory period, after which a small toll to pay administrative costs will be negotiated.

  “Nice touch,” Sue said, patting eBeth’s knee again.

  “In conclusion, I hope the nations of Earth can quickly settle on a delegation of scientists to negotiate the terms of your connection. We have a very short window to get this done before the end of the new species season, which only comes around every couple of centuries.” I reached the end of the text and asked, “That’s it?”

  “I think it was lovely,” Sue said. “You looked very diplomatic.”

  “But there’s no contact information.”

  “Are you still planning on taking over the TV networks to get the word out?” eBeth asked.

  “No. I’m just going to upload to YouTube and have Paul hack into a few of the local satellite uplinks for a live broadcast. We could override everything with brute force, but I don’t want to make your people nervous. I just worry that nobody will take me seriously after the Hankers put on such a theatrical show.”

  “Then tell your engineers to activate all the portals and send everybody who steps through one to Hawaii,” eBeth suggested.

  “Why Hawaii?” Sue asked.

  “Everybody wants to go there.”

  “That’s not a terrible idea,” I said slowly. “Not the Hawaii part, but activating the portals. We can say that putting portals in all of the major train stations is part of the luxury demonstration package, and then let the scientists make their governments happy by negotiating to keep the demo
package in place.”

  “So where would you send everybody?” eBeth asked.

  “The restaurant. It’s a unique location all the portals can be fed into. Thanks to the Hankers landing on the mall, I’m sure that half of the Federal government is already on its way here to keep order. We can invite customs to set up a little immigration center in the basement.”

  “You just want to sell a lot of alcohol before we leave,” Sue correctly guessed. “Everybody will be coming out of the portal on top of each other and the basement will explode. Why not just send them in a circle?”

  “Do you mean from one portal to the next, all the way around the world?” I asked.

  “I meant pairing all of the portals in the order that they’re first accessed. That way, the engineers will get some preliminary data on the dimensional stability, and any humans who panic over suddenly being somewhere else can go right back home again.”

  “Sending people through portals to random places sounds like a cool idea for a dating app,” eBeth said.

  “What do you know about dating apps?” I demanded.

  “Helen showed me the one her roommates use. You get to grade all the guys on their pictures and—”

  “I don’t want you visiting the college campus anymore,” I cut her off. “Sue, that’s a great idea, but I’m not sure if it’s technically feasible.”

  “It is,” she said. “It’s been done a few times in the past. I’ve been studying up on portal installations.”

  “Are you only going to do the speech in English, or do you want me to run it through Google Translate for you?” eBeth asked.

  Finally it was my turn to laugh. “You don’t speak any foreign languages, do you?”

  “I know a little Klingon.”

  “Between you and Google Translate, that makes one of you. I’ll do the translations myself, geo-targeting for the web, and then run everything through the anonymity filter that will lip sync at the same time.”

  “So you aren’t going to be on TV all over the world?” Sue asked, sounding strangely disappointed. “Just the local networks?”