by Wesley Cross
“Helen…” Schlager tried to intervene, but she waved him off.
“It’s okay, Max. Say you’re right,” Hunt said. “What exactly are you proposing?”
“You know I’m right. This is Engel’s endgame. His power will be unchecked. There’ll be no longer any need for him to even pretend he plays by the rules. We need an exit strategy.”
“Okay.” Hunt got up and walked back to the window. “We could divert some funds to some of the offshore accounts, but I don’t know if we have enough.”
“We’d need an actual location,” Helen said. “A hideout. And not a cave in a mountain. We need a fully functioning mirror image of Orion. And I realize we can’t build it in whatever time we have left between now and January 20. But we need to find a proper place where we could do that. We have loyal people. If we have the place and the resources, all the hardware can be rebuilt. We will lose time, but we will still be able to bring systems online and, with some patience, rebuild everything anew.”
“That would require a big place,” Schlager said. “That would be hard to hide.”
“Perhaps. Engel is not an idiot. He’ll expect us to do something like that, but we don’t have the time or resources to build anything from scratch. We should find something suitable we can repurpose. Preferably something with a low profile that has been abandoned for a while.”
“The money is going to be tight to pull this off,” Hunt said. “We’d need to raise another billion dollars. At least.”
“About that,” she said.
Something in the tone of her voice made him look back from the window. “What?”
“I think I might be able to help.”
13
Johnny the Butcher looked out the window of the Peterbilt truck as the cavalcade entered the parking lot of the warehouse. He blinked his eyes as they adjusted to the bright lights illuminating the space and stretched. A dozen mighty vehicles, each pulling a shipping container on their flatbeds, rolled through the open space and parked in a neat row.
“All done, boss,” the driver said.
Johnny ignored the man, opened the door, and climbed outside. The cold, humid air made him shiver, and he stuck his hands deep into his side pockets.
“You know what’s inside of these?” a voice said behind him and Johnny spun on his heels to see Noah. The bold Irishman was a recent addition to the Red Dragon, but already rose in the ranks to be Johnny’s equal.
“No idea,” Johnny said and turned away from the man.
“Two lieutenants to watch them drive here from the port,” the man continued. “Must be important.”
Johnny stayed silent as he watched a group of workers come out of the warehouse. A few seconds later, a whirring sound filled the air as a small fleet of forklifts advanced from the depths of the building. The doors on the shipping containers flew open, and the men started to move the big wooden crates from the trucks into the warehouse.
“Now I really want to know what’s inside of those crates,” the Irishman said in a quiet voice and Johnny turned in time to see a black stretch limo pull into the parking lot. The vanity plate read DRGN 1.
“Probably a new product,” Johnny said without much conviction. “We haven’t had anything exciting for a while.”
“A new product shipped from Hong Kong?” The Irishman raised an eyebrow. “I doubt it. We don’t even bring much from south of the border anymore. All the good stuff is made right here. US of A.”
Johnny shrugged as he watched a seven-foot-tall bodyguard emerge from the vehicle to open the door for the head of the Red Dragon gang. Then Victor Ye stepped out of the limousine, his bespoke business suit and a cashmere coat looking out of place in the parking lot of a grimy warehouse.
“It’s good to see you, Mr. Ye,” Johnny said, approaching the man.
“Mr. Gould,” the man said. “I trust all went well with the delivery?”
“Without a hitch.” Noah’s voice came from behind before Johnny could answer. “How’re you doing, boss?”
Johnny bowed his head, doing his best not to grind his teeth. “All good.”
“It’s good to hear.” Victor walked toward the warehouse, motioning them to follow him. The giant bodyguard silently fell behind the three men.
“I’ve never been to this location,” Johnny offered, to break up the silence as they crossed the yard and stepped into the building.
“I have,” Noah blurted. “Not much to see. Just a bunch of closed boxes.”
“Yes.” Ye offered a tight smile. “Not much to see.”
Johnny bit his tongue and silently walked, trying to keep pace with the boss. If Noah was going to make a fool out of himself, Johnny had no interest in joining him.
They walked past a few rows of unpacked crates until they reached a small office. The big man squeezed into the room first, and after looking around, ushered the men in. Victor Ye took a chair behind the shabby office desk and placed his feet on top of it.
Johnny threw a glance at the big man, half-expecting him to start smacking him and Noah around, but the bodyguard stood still, his expression neutral.
“Well,” Victor said and rubbed his palms together, “I have some news to share with you two. Needless to say, it should stay between us.”
“Of course,” Johnny and Noah said simultaneously.
“Great. I’m sure you’re both wondering what’s in those crates. The answer is simple. The future. What I will need you to do in the coming few weeks is to take some parts of this shipment and deliver it to a few important locations in the country. You’ll be traveling with a small group of engineers and technicians, who will put things together. Your job will be to ensure they arrive at their locations on time and install the machines there with no one bothering them. Is that understood?”
“Of course,” Johnny said.
“A couple of other things.” Victor Ye raised a finger. “Some locations you will bring this merchandise to are high-profile public places. Be discreet. No visible weapons and no suspicious behavior. You’ll be acting like a part of a tech team. In and out. You will also make sure that the team doesn’t talk to anyone, and I mean anyone, until the job is complete.”
“But what exactly is in those crates?” Noah asked and Johnny felt his muscles tense. He’d never seen anyone talk to his boss so freely.
“Sentinels,” Victor Ye said. “Military bots.”
“Are they—”
“I wasn’t done talking,” Ye interrupted the Irishman.
Johnny didn’t think it was possible, but the seven-foot-tall man in the back seemed to grow in size.
“I’m sorry, boss.”
“What I was trying to say,” Ye said, “is that once all installations are complete, I want you to make sure those tech guys won’t talk to anyone. Ever.”
“Understood,” Johnny said.
“And,” Ye turned, his eyes like two laser beams burning holes in Johnny’s head, “it needs to be quick and quiet. I’m putting you in charge, Johnny. You personally, you understand? And I don’t want to see any of your usual machete theatrics. Today these people are there, and tomorrow nobody’s ever heard of them. Can you do that, Mr. Gould?”
“Of course, Mr. Ye.” He bowed low. “I’ll make sure it’s done quietly.”
“Good. Here’s the list of what and where needs to be delivered.” Ye nodded to his bodyguard and the man produced a folded slip of paper and handed it to Johnny. “Now go on, help the men unload the crates. I don’t want them to be sitting in the yard for a minute longer than necessary.”
Johnny grabbed the paper from the big man’s hand and scurried away, all too happy to leave the office and Mr. Ye behind.
“I better not run my mouth when Bruce Lee is around.” He heard the Irishman chuckle when they were out of Victor Ye’s earshot.
“You better not call him that,” Johnny said. “Unless you want to spend a few days tied to a table as a couple of guys dressed in plastic aprons slowly disassemble you.”
“Just because I joke around, it doesn’t mean I’m disloyal.”
“No. It means you’re stupid. Go,” Johnny said as they walked outside. “Didn’t you hear the boss? Go help the men unload the crates.”
“But I thought—”
“Go, I said. Before I go back to the office and tell Mr. Ye that you disrespected him and are too dumb to understand how important this is.”
He watched the Irishman. The man’s face reddened, a big vein pulsating on his left temple, but he nodded and went to help the crew.
“Asshole,” Johnny muttered to himself. The Irishman wasn’t the first lieutenant coming up the ranks fast, and surely would not be the last. But as Johnny had learned over the years, Ye was mercurial. The most important thing one could do not to fall out of favor with the boss of the Red Dragon was to show respect. Even business failures could be forgiven and forgotten. As for the lack of respect… Johnny shuddered at the thought. Even seeing once what happened would have been enough for anyone to toe the line. Johnny had seen it more than once.
“Mr. Gould.” He heard Ye’s voice and spun around to face his boss.
“Yes.”
“I see you’re taking control.” Victor nodded at the line of trucks. The Irishman was directing the line of workers lowering small boxes from a container. “I like that. When you’re done here, I want you to visit our tech shop. There are a few things I’d like you to try on.”
“Of course, Mr. Ye. Thank you.” Johnny bowed again and then watched the limo pull out of the parking lot and disappear into the night. He had no idea what new things he was supposed to try on at the tech shop. There were some rumors about new weapons that only a few in the gang had access to, but Johnny wasn’t sure.
He pulled the piece of paper that Ye’s bodyguard had given him and studied it. Most of it looked like gibberish—a list of alpha-numeric codes that he assumed were the names of the machines with the addresses where each batch of crates had to be delivered and a contact he was supposed to get in touch with for every location. There was an address in Upstate New York, some addresses in Virginia, Maryland, and DC.
He flipped the paper and scanned the second page. There were a few more locations in the capital, but when Johnny reached the last one, it took him a moment to process. Below the contact’s name and phone number, the address line simply read:
1600 Pennsylvania Avenue
14
Helen Chen threw a switch and a hum of high-energy cables joined the rhythmic breathing of an open dilution refrigerator. The lights on the quantum computer suspended from the ceiling in the middle of the room came on, making its resemblance to a chandelier greater than ever.
“Minus 459 degrees Fahrenheit,” Schlager said, tapping his finger on the dial. “It’s frosty in there.”
“As it should be,” Chen said as she scanned the readings on her screen.
“Are you all right? You’ve been lost in your own little world for the last couple of days. All I get is one-syllable answers.”
“I am,” she said, typing a few commands and launching a diagnostic tool.
“See? One syllables.”
“I am, really.”
“If you say so. Jason’s not happy.”
“Oh yeah?” She glanced at her purse sitting on the floor by her desk.
“Of course. Part of it is Engel, obviously. But part of it is the revival procedure being delayed. I couldn’t give him even an approximate ETA. It might take months and I can’t possibly commit to a hard date, because there are so many unknowns. Debugging alone might take forever.”
“It would be nice if we had something to use right now, of course,” she said. Her fingers stopped typing, and she looked at her purse again. “We need to talk.”
Something in her voice must’ve registered as she saw him tense and stop typing. He gave a nervous laugh. “Am I in trouble? I am, aren’t I?”
“No,” she said. His reaction made her smile. After all this time and everything they’d been through, he still jumped like a happy puppy every time she looked at him. That surely counted for something. “Nothing like that. I think I might have a solution to our software issue.”
Max cocked his head to the side. “Your somber tone doesn’t match your words. What do you have in mind?”
“Come here.” She reached into her purse, removed a gray data disk, and laid it on the desk for him to see. “This could be the answer to our problem.”
“Okay.” Schlager walked over to her desk, picked up the disk, and turned it around. “Seems standard enough. Let’s plug it in. What did you cook up?”
“No.” She took the gray object from Schlager’s hands and put it back on the polished surface. Somehow the device seemed heavier than it should have been.
“No?” Schlager frowned. “Did you lift it from somewhere? That’s why we can’t use it?”
“No—” She stopped herself. “Well, yes, I stole it, but that’s not the issue. Nobody’s missing it. Remember when we first met? On that plane?”
“How can I forget?” He smiled and put his hand on her shoulder. “There I was, preparing for a mind-numbing flight all by myself, when this gorgeous lady appeared from the economy class and took the place right next to my seat. I’m still suspecting some kind of trickery.”
“You should.” She smiled back. “Regardless. What I never told you was why I was on that plane.”
“You did tell me.” Schlager chuckled and looked around, as if making sure nobody could overhear their conversation. “You caused an international crisis and took off with some ungodly amount of money.”
“That’s only part of the story.” Chen said, “I fled the place that was helping Victor Ye. What I didn’t tell you was that the company also worked on cognitive AI.”
“Holy shit.” Schlager snatched the disk again and brought it closer to his face, as if trying to see what was inside of it. “This is it? I’m holding an artificial intelligence that can mimic human behavior? How good is it?”
“No.”
“Oh.” He seemed deflated. “I got excited for a moment.”
“It doesn’t have to mimic anything,” she said. “It’s actually alive.”
“Bullshit,” he blurted out before he could stop himself. “When you say alive, you don’t actually mean alive, do you? You mean it passed the Turing test, right? It’s a monumental achievement, but the way you said it made it sound as if there’s the first version of Skynet on this thing. It’s not possible.”
Chen took the disk from Schlager and put it back on the desk. The gray surface of the object reflected the blinking lights of the golden chandelier.
“Hon?” Schlager pressed. “Tell me about this thing.”
“Well,” she said, unsure of where to begin. “Edmund Tillerson was a lot of things, but he was a genius in this field.”
Schlager grabbed a chair, pulled it toward her desk, and straddled it, facing her. His eyes seemed to scan her up and down as she recalled the story.
“One day I was talking to someone I worked with,” she drew a quick breath as she recalled the conversation with Mandy, “and Tillerson overheard us. I said something similar to what you just said. That I didn’t believe a truly intelligent AI was possible. He disagreed.”
“What did he say?”
“He made an interesting analogy about raising humans. He said that if you made a person in a Petri dish and fed them without teaching them anything, they wouldn’t become intelligent in the way that we describe it.”
“I don’t know if I buy into it. He’s not the first one who tried to teach AI as if it were a kid.” Schlager scratched his chin. “But okay.”
“That’s not what he did,” Chen said. “He thought that to create a real AI, he needed conflict. He created two independent AIs, both of whom were programmed to believe they were alive.”
“You said there had to be some conflict?” Schlager said.
“Yes. They were at odds with each other. Tillerson created a vi
rtual reality where the two of them were stuck in a small space with competing agendas. They got progressively more and more pissed at each other.”
“That’s kind of brilliant. What happened?”
“They fought,” she said, and narrowed her eyes, “and merged. It’s one entity now. She calls herself JC. Took the first letters of the names of the original entities—Jupiter and Callisto.”
“And you think—”
“I don’t think,” she said, interrupting him. “It’s self-aware. There’s no doubt in my mind. Just as much as you and I are self-aware. In a lot of ways, it’s still in its infancy. Its knowledge of the outside world is circumstantial. Mostly from books, movies, newspaper articles. And conversations, of course. In some sense, it’s like a fifth grader.”
“If you’re right, we can deal with a kid. However smart.”
“Don’t get cocky,” she said. “It’s not your average kid. It’s a kid with a four-digit IQ.”
They sat in silence for a few seconds, both looking at the gray square object on the desk between them.
“It can run Rachel’s machine, I take it?”
“With ease,” she said. “But until now I’ve kept it isolated and only communicated with it from inside of a Faraday cage.”
“We could build a cage around this.” Schlager pointed at the chandelier of the quantum computer with his chin. “It’ll be much faster than writing new software from scratch. We could do it in a week.”
“Yes.” She nodded. “But until now, no matter how smart and powerful JC might be, it was limited by the capabilities of the machine it inhabited. And I gave it an underpowered workstation on purpose. But if we wanted to revive Rachel, we would have to give JC the control of the machine, more powerful than any modern computer by orders of magnitude.”
“Even the most powerful software in the world cannot penetrate physical barriers,” Schlager said. “You know what, scratch that. In the not-so-distant past, people thought that physically damaging computers with a virus was impossible.”
“Right,” she said.