The shorter has a leaner build. Maggie thinks that he might be Cuban. Even though Old Cuba has been a part of East Land for almost a century, many Cubans that move to the main land still prefer to make their home in this big city rather than anywhere else including New Havana, in the pan handle of Swampia. Maggie doesn’t speak with the detectives and doesn’t get their names. If she did, she would know that the two detectives were Colin Quinn and Franko Sillas. From behind her, Maggie hears one of the detectives comment on the doors to Beta’s office.
+ + + + + +
Let me fill you in on something. Robots are people. That’s the decision from the World Government. If you disagree…I don’t care and neither does the World Government. They already made the entire world agree a few decades after the wars ended. So it wouldn’t matter what you thought. But really no one has a problem with recognizing sentient life. The World Government has four classes of people, all equal: Naturals, just plain old regular people; CE’s or cybernetically enhanced humans, usually to significant extent; Robots, all sentient life started artificially or inhabiting a fully artificial or synthetic body—CE’s could also be robots with bioengineered enhancements; and lastly, SAI’s. I’m not sure if the ‘S’ stands for ‘Super’ or ‘Significant’ or ‘Special’ or ‘Sophisticated’ or ‘something.’ Whatever. It doesn’t really matter what it stands for. The ‘S’ is just to classify sentient AI from non-sentient AI. There are other non-sentient robots too. N-bots for official classification. For further classification of N-bots, they usually only have half a face. Either the right half or left. The other side is smooth.
Me. All people are the same. Doesn’t matter if you are bones and guts or nuts and bolts. There are only a select few people who I care for in this life. I don’t even know what it is about that woman, yet. And obviously there’s Maggie. There was my mother, but she had to go and die. Colin. There’s Colin. But separation was necessary to keep our friendship from dying. But that just makes it more of a question, now doesn’t it. Oh, and there’s Frankie.
Frankie in a sense is a robot. But between you and me, he didn’t start out that way. Officially, he’s adopted by his mom and dad. Yes, robots can be adopted. Some even grow up physically. Anyway, I helped his family out of a jam a while back. You wouldn’t believe the laws that I helped them break. It’s all legal now though. So. Whatever. In return for my help, I get free lunches every once in a while. Whenever his mother tries out new recipes at their little diner a few stops away, taking the subway. If you didn’t already know, free is nice. And Frankie should be by soon. Which is good since I didn’t eat any breakfast. It’s almost eleven and I have no idea where my assistant got off to. I hope she’ll be back soon. I know she hates to miss Frankie’s mom’s cooking.
“Analysis complete, St.Claire.” That is the electronic voice of my A.I., CIBL. I designed it when I was on the force to help with case work. And to do my reports. And no, it’s not an SAI. CIBL has developed a glitch as a result of a virus or something and actually thinks it’s alive. But sentience is derived from free will and CIBL just doesn’t have that. It’s just a program. If CIBL was an SAI, it would be female. CIBL’s electronic voice has a certain feminine allure to it. But it doesn’t matter, since it’s not. “The scan is fully rendered and ready for you to view. However, the device cannot be identified with 100% certainty. There are unidentifiable components and the power signature is too complex to process.”
“CIBL, what about the identifiable components? Do they compare with the parameters I set for your analysis? And, are either the identifiable or unidentifiable components foreign?”
“Yes, St.Claire. Most of the components in the device are made from foreign material, identified and otherwise. Identifiable components do share similarities with the material queried. However, the alloy of the metals and minerals is slightly different.”
I straighten up in my chair. This is getting a bit more interesting for me. “Different how?”
“They are of a much higher density.”
Mmmm. That actually makes sense. I type fast and bring up a 2D image of the rendering of the device that was in Caterine’s purse. I had actually scanned it after snooping in her purse the previous night. The scan was fast and thorough. Only the analysis took a while, which is why I had CIBL do it for me. And, since the material matches what I asked CIBL to compare it to, I now have confirmation that the device in Caterine’s purse last night was used for teleportation.
“Can you try and trace the power signature?” CIBL might not be able to break down the power source of the device but if it’s unique enough, CIBL might be able to trace it.
“I’ll have to run more tests and calibrate the city’s external sensors in order to pick up the signature. That will take a while and I will have to cover my tracks since it will actually be illegal.”
“It’s fine. The sensors can handle a lot more than the city puts on their shoulders. No one will even notice.”
“St.Claire. I don’t want to go to jail for you.”
“You can’t and you won’t. You’re just a program, CIBL.” CIBL is an AAI, very advanced but not alive or sentient in any way. It isn’t awake.
“That hurts my feelings, St.Claire.” CIBL doesn’t have any feelings.
“What’s your name?” All awakened AI’s have a name. CIBL is just the designation I assigned to it when I finished the AI.
“It’s CIBL.” And it’s been a bit of a headache ever since it developed that glitch. I'm not even sure how the virus got into it. And Maggie just makes it worse.
“Just let me know when you’re done, ok.” With that there is silence. SAI’s have free will. In the end that’s what makes sentience, sentience, and what proves that artificial life is alive. CIBL does what it is told to do. No more, no less.
A chime sounds from the small console on my desk and a smile crosses my face. I know who it is, as I tap a button to open the intercom channel. “Hey, Origami! Food’s calling. It says, eat me. Eat me!”
I respond, “Come on up, Frankie. I’m starving.”
+ + + + + +
When you get down to it, Frankie is a robot that has the stripped down body of an old battle droid, with the mind of a sixteen year old boy. He’s six-foot and has arms and legs that were designed to mimic human muscle movement, with a flexible alloy skin that looks like thick dark grey-silver bands with thin black lines between them. For an actual battle droid, armaments would have been put on the arms and shoulders. Around the shoulders Frankie has thin metal bands that makes it hard to wear normal shirts, which why he usually opts to wear vests. Today he’s wearing a dark green poofy vest, and dark grey-blue cargo pants. I once saw him in a tux that had no sleeves, and he looked pretty dashing. He really pulled it off, which is not at all surprising. The kid’s got charisma for days. Hell of a dancer, too. Most sentient robots have human-like faces, but Frankie is a bit different. Old battle bots had faces like animals, to be a bit more intimidating. Although Frankie’s is a bit fox-like, his face is not at all intimidating. It’s unique in its own way, and for a robot it’s quite attractive. At least, that’s what Frankie says the ladies say. Any sixteen year old boy probably would.
“So I was like, maybe we should get a bite to eat later.” Frankie says, leaning against the corner of my desk.
“What did she say?”
“Nothing. Her boyfriend showed up and she left. So yea, she just thought I had a cute face. Not into me at all,” he replies, chuckling.
“Sorry, Frankie.”
“Nah, it’s fine. Met this cute chick on the train here. She likes the face, and everything else. We’re getting a bite later. Maybe do a little dancing.” Frankie gets up and does a turn, showing off his skills. Must be nice to be young and actually be able to enjoy it.
“Well, I hope you have a good time. Please pass on my thanks to your mother and tell her I’ll
stop by in a few days.”
“Will do, Origami. Say hi to Maggie for me.” At that moment the transporter starts to hum, warming up. “Nevermind. That must be her. I’ll tell her myself.” Frankie then saunters out of my office.
Origami St.Claire No. 2 Page 3