The Darwin Project

by John Hindmarsh

  “There’ll be a person waiting when we get to Bel Air, for your assessment.”

  “Ah, that’s good to hear. Rick, you have a cook to interview when we get to the house.”

  Rick looked surprised.

  Toby explained, “This is called delegation.” He deftly avoided his friend’s wild sweep of his fist.

  Both the Tesla and their escort were waiting at the side of the hanger. Billie waved to the men in the escort vehicle. She keyed in the Bel Air address after a quick check-in call with Drexel. She said to Toby, “No news, no threats. Everything seems quiet. Drexel’s trying to get a lead on the brownshirt units in LA that might be after you. There’s no indication whether it’s more than an attempt to soften you up for protection money. The brownshirts are offering special insurance policies to businesses, and if people don’t buy a policy, there are implied threats of property damage. He’ll report in detail once he’s got more data.”

  Darwin interjected, “There’s every indication the brownshirts are intending violence against Toby. Remember, the meeting I recorded contained more than a threat. They wanted Nate, and the implication of the directive from Flocke was that Toby is to be eliminated.”

  “I’ll remind him,” Billie said, calling her boss’s cell. She turned back to Toby. “Drexel said he hasn’t received a copy of that recording. Do you know if Darwin sent it?” She held her phone, waiting for a status.

  Toby shook his head. “Darwin, did you hear Billie?”

  “I’m checking. According to my log, it was uploaded to Drexel Security on Saturday. Tell Drexel he may have a leak in his internal systems.”

  Billie spoke to her boss again. She ended the call and said to Toby, “He’s going to arrange a major audit. He’s worried, now. Darwin, can you resend the file, please?”

  “Certainly, Billie. It’s on its way.”

  Toby said, “We should have a file transfer log in place that we can share, so Drexel knows what files he should have.”

  “I’ll set that up,” Darwin said.

  Toby found a notebook and pen and wrote a short note and passed it to Billie. Rick had left for LAX to meet his friend, and Billie was relaxing at the poolside. She read the message and nodded her head. Toby helped her to her feet and pointedly placed his cell phone on a small table beside the chair. Billie copied him with her phone. They wandered towards the high wall at the back of the garden, about a hundred yards away from the house. They stood close together.

  Billie looked expectantly at Toby, a slight smile teasing her expression.

  He grinned and said in a soft voice, “Yeah, I know. Over the top. But I suspect Darwin is able to use all the electronics in the house to listen to us. Likewise Bronwyn. To say I’m worried is an understatement.”

  “About those two?” Billie kept her voice very soft.

  “Them, the bots, Nate, the brownshirts. I’ll have to add more worry beads.”

  “We’ll cope. I’ll make sure Drexel ups his game.” She rested her head on his chest.

  “It could be dangerous.”

  “I’m a bodyguard, remember? Besides, you handle yourself well, far better than I expected for an academic.” Her smile removed the sting from her words. “I needed to emphasize the risks. I think they’re far higher than simply heading off an occasionally interested bystander.”

  He ignored her comment. He didn’t mention his daily workouts or training regime. “I’ll determine how we can talk without our friendly superintelligences eavesdropping. Perhaps we can head out for a drink or coffee when we need to discuss something so that we’re away from all the electronics?”

  “That should work.”

  “Good. Let’s go back inside. I’ve more reports than ever to work through.”

  Later that night Billie, prompted by a soft-voiced nudge from Bronwyn, went looking for Toby. She found him in the study, sitting in one of the cushioned chairs. He looked up at her, bleary-eyed.

  “I’m tired, Billie. Nate’s absence is starting to get to me. He was my only relative. He can’t be dead, he just can’t be. Damn, that sounds so self-centered. I’m worried—the longer we go without hearing from him, the more likely it is that he is dead.” He shook his head, unwilling to accept that possibility.

  “I know how you feel. I’ve never known my father. He was killed in Afghanistan. One of his friends—a fellow soldier—is my unofficially adopted father. I’d miss him too, if ever he disappeared.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “You didn’t know. If I take time off occasionally, it’s because I’m visiting Henry.”

  “I’d like to meet him some time.”

  “You will.” She held out her hand. “Here. Let me help you up. Come on, it’s late. It’s time you were asleep.” She supported Toby as they headed to the bedroom.

  oOo

  Chapter Seventeen

  Darwin interrupted Toby’s concentration with a coughing sound. He placed his report file to one side, turned the office chair towards the video screen that had just come to life, and said, “Yes, Darwin?”

  “You haven’t given me an answer about a body. You remember, so that I can paint.”

  “Oh. You’re correct. I got submerged in everything else.”

  “Did you make a decision?”

  “I thought about it and discussed it with Rick and Billie. If that’s what you want to do, we’ll support you.”

  There was a long pause. Toby was about to resume reading the contents of the folder when Darwin said, “Thank you, Toby. Your uncle also had agreed to my request.”

  “That’s good to know.”

  “If you check your files, there should be a one-page statement somewhere. Nate signed it and had it notarized. It’s headed Habeas Corpus. A copy should be in the papers from Reuben Jones. Would you check, please?”

  Fortunately, the legal papers—a briefcase full—were in folders, and the attorney had produced an overall table of contents. Toby checked the list and found the folder reference. He leafed through the papers.

  “Yes, here it is.” He read the contents. “It’s simple enough. It validates the authenticity of a memorandum he has here, in his office. Let me get that.”

  Nate’s office held six large filing cabinets as well as two computers; the latter were linked to large storage devices. Toby had only casually perused the contents of each cabinet and had not yet accessed any of the computer files. He checked the location mentioned in the affidavit, went to the indicated cabinet and opened the second drawer from the top. The folders were labeled and sequenced alphabetically. He flipped through a dozen or so, extracted a folder, and said, “Here. It looks like a note and details of an investment account.”

  He sat back down and started to read. He burst into laughter. “Darwin, you’ve made your point. Nate’s note confirms he agreed to work with you to get you a body. Also—” He paused. “According to this, he set up a day trading account for you and funded it. Wow. You’ve done very well. You’re worth a small fortune.”

  “Nate taught me about investments. We shared ideas and made similar purchases and sales of stocks. We helped each other. The results were declared on his tax returns. My trading was done electronically once Nate established the investment brokerage account. I can now repay his seed money, if you want.”

  “Very smart. We’ll review the need for repayment later, when I’m more informed. You’re continuing to trade?”

  “I stopped when you arrived. I thought I should wait until you were settled in before asking if you would support me.”

  Toby read the latest brokerage statement in the file. “This is dated the end of last year. Can you print out a current statement?”

  The printer in the corner of the room whirred into action. Toby reached over and pulled the statement page and laid it on the desk. He read the details. “Wow, again. So you’ve doubled your portfolio this year. Yes, I’ll help you in the same way that Nate did.”

  “Thank you. That’s a relief. I have another update
for you. I’ve made a preliminary contact with a firm in Japan that manufactures human-like body constructs. I’ve checked them out; their products are very advanced. I asked their lead designer to visit, to discuss my requirements. He’ll be here next week. I’d like you to lead discussions with him. I plan to attend by video link. Will you agree to do this for me?”

  Toby sat back in Nate’s office chair. This was real. He said, “Darwin, I agreed to assist you, so yes. However, in future, plan ahead with me, okay?”

  Darwin’s voice tone sounded abashed. “Yes, Toby. I’ll do that in future.”

  Toby’s review task was interrupted again when Billie entered the study.

  She said, “I heard a vehicle arrive. Security said it’s Rick and his friend.”

  Toby could hear the clatter and bumps of presumably Rick bringing in his friend’s luggage. He called out, “We’re in the study.”

  “Oh, good.” Rick entered the room and beckoned to his companion. “Come on. Your cases will be okay there while I make introductions. Karla, this is my friend Toby, and this is Billie. Billie is Toby’s driver, pilot, and bodyguard.”

  Karla held out her hand to Toby and after shaking his hand, said, “Pleased to meet you, Toby.” She ignored Billie. Karla was wearing a very short cinnamon skirt over tight black leggings, and a low-cut red blouse. Her loafers were also red.

  Toby looked at Billie and raised his eyebrows. She smiled. Rick did not notice the exchange.

  “How was the flight?” Toby asked.

  “Oh, the flight was okay,” Karla said. “Damned bots gave me trouble, though. That’s why we’re late.”

  “Trouble?”

  “Yes. I’d planned on leaving from Oakland. However, the maintenance bots on the Bay Bridge were on strike or something and were spraying gray paint at the passing vehicles. My Flyte cab computer wouldn’t take the risk and refused to cross the bridge. I had to change my flight to depart from San Francisco airport. I think these bots are getting above themselves. They should be shot.”

  There was stunned silence for almost half a minute. Karla realized she’d said something wrong and had a puzzled expression on her face.

  Toby burst out laughing.

  “Oh, excellent. A counterbalance. That’s exactly what we need. Welcome again, Karla.”

  Karla appeared to be even more confused. Rick decided he’d better explain. “Toby’s uncle, before he disappeared, ran one of the main companies responsible for designing bots.”

  “Shit. I’ve put my foot right in it.”

  “No, not at all,” Toby said. “We need a balance to our activities, and you may be able to provide that.”

  “So who are you, really?” Karla asked.

  “My uncle is Nathan Travers. As Rick said, he was—is—I’m still not sure which to say—very much involved in designing and creating bots. Anyway, Nate’s disappeared. I’m in the process of taking over his business operations.”

  Karla’s eyes widened. “Oh, I see. What do you want Rick to do? And me? We’re video production people, not bot designers.”

  Darwin intruded, “Toby, I have a suggestion. Please introduce me to Rick’s friend.”

  The large video displayed the same tropical scene as before, except this time Darwin had colored his finger and toe nails bright red.

  Toby shook his head at the color combination. He wondered if it was a comment on the color of Karla’s attire. He said, “Karla, this is Darwin. Darwin is—”

  “—an advisor to Nate and now to Toby. We’ve been discussing how to make bots more appealing to the general public, and I have a suggestion. Of course, it will need Toby’s approval. I suggest we establish a video channel—something like Toby In The City, but continuous. It would broadcast all kinds of bot news and developments with a strong focus on bot behavior—sometimes bad, but more often good—perhaps hold competitions to give away household bots—it’d be marvelous. We’d run it as a twenty-four hour television channel. We’ll commence by delivering it through YouTube and move to cable once the audience grows. Rick and Karla, if they’re interested, would be the foundation team. Toby, what do you think?”

  Toby stared at Darwin’s image trying to convey a silent message. He did not like being manipulated. He turned to Rick and repeated Darwin’s question.

  Rick shrugged. “I think it might work.”

  Toby looked over to Karla. “Interested?”

  “Why not? Give me some stock in the television operation and a top salary, and I’m yours.”

  “Excellent. Both of you get together with Darwin and shake out a business plan. He’s in the Caribbean for a vacation, but he can discuss his idea via video links. Rick, you’re the leader for this. Get a proposal to me within a week that you, Karla, and Darwin have agreed to. I’ll arrange living accommodation for you both and an office, somewhere downtown. Okay?”

  “Wow,” Karla said. “I like this atmosphere. Thank you, Toby.” She raised her head and kissed Toby on the cheek. She was almost purring.

  Toby wanted to scrub off the lipstick but restrained his hand movement. He said, “You’re welcome. Rick, show Karla to the second floor and get her settled in. I’ll see you both in the morning, seven a.m. at the pool.” He watched silently as Rick escorted his friend out of the study and listened as the sounds of luggage bumped their way up the stairs.

  He said, “Well, what do you think?”

  Billie said, “Trouble.”

  Darwin said, “She’ll be too busy to make trouble. I’ll locate her and Rick downtown. I can do some marvelous things with a television channel. Thank you, Toby.”

  “You can pay for it,” Toby said.

  Billie looked startled. “Darwin has his own money that he can use to do this?”

  Darwin said, “Very well. I’ll fund the startup, and it’ll have to show a profit after six months.”

  Toby shrugged. There were probably more surprises to come out of the woodwork.

  oOo

  Chapter Eighteen

  It began with a call to 911. According to the transcript, the operator answered the call: “This is Marina Del Rey Emergency, how may I help you?”

  Unknown caller: “There’s a totally strange man here. He’s either in trouble or will cause trouble. He’s tried to start two fights already.”

  Operator: “Where are you calling from?”

  Unknown caller: “I’m on Strongs Drive, just off Washington Boulevard. He might be carryin’. He sounds totally blasted, man.”

  Operator: “Is anyone hurt?”

  Unknown caller: “Not yet.”

  Operator: “Don’t approach him. I’ll alert a police cruiser. They’ll be there in about ten. Stay on the line, and I’ll come back to you.”

  A minute passed.

  Operator: “Are you there? Hello? Darn, he’s gone.”

  The police cruiser was only minutes away from the intersection. They headed down Washington Boulevard and stopped on the corner, siren whooping and lights flashing. The driver and passenger were both Los Angeles deputies located at the Marina Del Rey station. The senior deputy was driving.

  He said, “Grab a flashlight and see if there’s anything happening. I’ll check the other way. Yell if you see anything.”

  “Yeah, sure.”

  The two deputies walked back and forth along the side of the canal for three or four hundred yards and then both returned to their vehicle. The senior deputy radioed dispatch and said, “Nothing on either side of Strongs Drive. We’ll check along Washington Boulevard, in case.”

  They used the car, this time, and drove slowly, both searching the street. The siren was whooping at a low volume.

  “It’s late for a crazy, around here,” the junior deputy said as they drove past one and two story business buildings and the occasional restaurant, long closed. It was after 2 a.m.

  “Never late. They’re unpredictable.”

  “There’s someone over there,” the junior deputy said.

  The vehicle stopped. They
had almost reached the beach. The junior deputy shone his spotlight across to the edge of the pavement. There was a large backpack in the gutter; it was brown and had black flaps and straps. The deputy exited the vehicle and walked to the side of the road. He lifted up the backpack.

  “Weighty.” He pulled back the top flap. “Technical equipment, I think. It could be valuable. I’ll put it in the trunk.”

  The deputy returned to the patrol car, and the driver headed into the parking area. He was about to turn and head back when he saw a man stumbling along the walkway from the pier.

  The driver stopped. “Let’s check him out.”

  The stumbling man was muttering incoherently and did not seem to be aware of his surroundings. He ignored the two sheriff deputies until the younger one grabbed his arm.

  “Wha—?”

  “Drunk, I think.”

  The man straightened. He looked the deputy in the eyes. “Not drunk. Not drugged.”

  “Sir, what are you doing here?”

  “Try—try—trying to save him.” He waved his arm as a half-hearted direction indicator.

  The younger deputy looked in the general direction and couldn’t see anyone.

  “Where? Who were you trying to save?”

  “Man. There. Said someone had stolen his ma—ma—machine. Didn’t see no machine. Told him. He went wild. Said, of course not, it’s invisible.”

  The senior deputy laughed. “That’s a good one. Where’s this man, now?”

  “Back—back there. He jumped, I think. Off the en—en—end of the pier.”

  “Are you sure?”

  The man ignored the question from the young deputy. He stumbled and fell, face down. The deputy saw the protruding handle of a knife and blood on the man’s back.

  “Fuck. He’s been stabbed.”

  “See if you can get a pulse. I’ll call it in.” The senior deputy headed back to the patrol car. The junior deputy felt for a pulse in the man’s neck. His search was unsuccessful.