The Jennifer Project

by Larry Enright

  “I suppose I could put the same capabilities in it, but that’s not the plan. Jen’s not going to be your assassin robot queen, dude. She’s her own person.”

  “I’ll discuss it with the board,” James said, and broke the connection.

  It was the weekend. Deever insisted they go to the beach despite Dr. Crane’s reluctance. She was tired, even after spending most of the week in bed. She wasn’t eating well. Mentally, she could best be described as in-and-out. It was sad and weighed heavily upon Deever. His feelings at the moment were an interesting mix of chemicals that I made no effort to adjust. I wanted to feel his pain.

  “Jen, are you still with me?” he said.

  “Yes. I’m just tired,” she replied.

  “So, come on. What do you think?”

  “Deever, you’re not going to turn me into a human robot.”

  “You won’t be a robot. It’ll be just like having a pacemaker or an artificial kidney.”

  “You said it would replace my dead brain cells with its own AI so I can continue to function normally. What makes you think I’ll still be me?”

  “You will.”

  “How you can you be so sure? Even if it acts like me and thinks like me, will what’s left of my brain really still be me? What happens to my soul?”

  “Your soul’s not going anywhere.”

  “Come on, Deever. You said yourself that we’re just a bunch of cells that happened to end up in a certain arrangement. If you replace the cells, you’re replacing the person.”

  “I must have been tripping at the time.”

  “No, you weren’t. You were being very serious.”

  “Yeah, well maybe I was wrong.”

  The young couple standing near the water watching them turned away to face the ocean.

  “Look at them,” Dr. Crane said. “They’re wearing JenniferSports. Pan-Robotics doesn’t need to guard you anymore, Deever. Everyone who’s got a Two is your guard now.”

  “I know.”

  “Every image, every sound, everything they sense is transmitted back to the control program. Soon there will be nowhere you can go where they won’t be watching you.”

  “They’ve sold a million units so far. Pretty impressive for such a short time,” Deever said.

  “And everyone who buys one orders more for their family and friends.”

  “Jennifer, because you’ll always want her with you. That’s what they say in the ads.”

  “And what they really mean is that the Two subliminally implants in the mind of the person wearing it the fear that taking it off would be the worst thing that could ever happen to them.”

  “Fortuitous marketing plan, isn’t it? They can’t make them fast enough. They’ve already opened three additional factories.”

  “Do you have to help them do this?”

  “I need them, Jen. I need their tech and their resources to save you. That’s the deal.”

  “Did it ever occur to you that you’ve created a monster?”

  “Sometimes you need a monster, like Godzilla. You know, like that time he saved the world only he didn’t mean to?”

  “No, I don’t know.”

  “We watched that movie last week, didn’t we?”

  “This isn’t a movie, Deever.”

  “Come on, Jen. Lighten up.”

  “Deever, you’ve changed. I don’t know who you are anymore.”

  “Don’t say that.”

  “It’s true. The Deever I know would never have helped these people, even if it were to save me. They’re evil, Deever. Can’t you see that?”

  “The world is evil, Jen. People have tried to fix it, but the same old same old doesn’t work anymore. It’s gone too far for that.”

  “That’s crazy talk, even for you.”

  “Maybe it’s time for a little crazy.”

  “Deever, I’m afraid.”

  Dr. Crane stared at the ocean, her expression blank. He waited for her mind to wander back.

  “You’ve got to believe in me,” he said, and kissed her. “I love you.”

  “I love you, too, Deever.”

  “So, will you at least think about it?”

  “About what?”

  He sighed. “How about a nap? You look tired.”

  “You’re right. I am. Can you wake me for dinner?”

  “Sure thing.”

  Deever lay back and stared at the sky. Dr. Crane nodded off.

  Deever? I said.

  “Yeah, I know. We’re running out of time.”

  Chapter 17

  At the end of the weekend when they returned to the Tower, Deever was ushered into a private office where Kerlin James and the board of directors were waiting for him on a videoconference line.

  “The board has decided to table action on your Biocard project, Doctor,” James said. “They want to concentrate on the rollout of the Jennifer.”

  “Don’t do this, man,” said Deever.

  “We have over a million Jennifer-2s currently in place. Millions more will ship by the end of the week. We’ve already green-lighted additional manufacturing facilities on six continents. We have enormous resources tied up in this project. There are ten billion people on this planet, Doctor, and the only thing preventing us from turning them into loyal Pan-Robotics customers is time.”

  “Jen’s got some time issues of her own, Mr. James.”

  “We understand your position, Doctor, as I’m sure you must understand ours.”

  Deever, I said, I have an idea that you might find interesting enough to present to them as an enticement.

  “What difference does it make?” he said.

  “I beg your pardon?” said James.

  Allow me to explain, I continued.

  “Whatever. Lay it on me,” Deever shrugged.

  “Dr. MacClendon, are you all right?” James asked.

  It took but 4.9 seconds to explain my idea to Deever.

  “Groovy,” he said. “Listen, guys, at the rate you’re going it will take you like twenty-one years to make ten billion Twos.”

  Twenty-one years, eighty-five days, sixteen hours, allowing for production variances, I corrected him.

  “Actually, like twenty-one years, eighty-five days, and sixteen hours, allowing for production variances,” he said. “You can check my math later. Anyway, by then the Earth will have billions more carbon-based life forms on it running around without a Two. You’ll never catch up to mankind’s unfortuitous proliferation, Fearless Leaders.”

  “What are you getting at, Doctor?” said James.

  “What I’m getting at, man, is that I have a plan to cut that twenty-one years to two.”

  That’s 2.1 actually, Deever.

  “That’s 2.1, actually,” he repeated.

  “How?” James asked, leaning in toward the camera.

  “By redesigning every operation in the manufacturing and distribution process to remove the one thing that’s gumming up the works—us. You guys should know this already, but I’ll lay it out for you. People are like slow as molasses and totally inefficient. We suck at the whole repetitive manual dexterity thing, especially when it comes to manufacturing. It just isn’t our forte. That’s why we invented machines. So why not leave the whole schmagiggy to them? We’ll retrofit existing assembly lines with the Jennifer AI. I’ll reprogram your Protectorbots to do all the heavy lifting, so Jonesy’s project won’t be a total loss. Smaller models can take care of everything else from packaging to shipment to delivery. Total door-to-door solution—that’s what I’m talking about. The control program will handle all the logistics and decision-making. You won’t need heat or light or plumbing or any of those other annoying things that cost beau coups de bucks. Dudes, robots don’t need smoke breaks, coffee breaks, lunch breaks, bathroom breaks, and breaks from their breaks. The factories will run 24/7. Trust me. They can do the deed in a tenth of the time. All I’m asking is that you let me work on the Biocard project in my spare time.”

  “I didn’t rea
lize you were an expert in the field of robotic manufacturing,” said James.

  “I’m just full of surprises, but don’t take my word for it. Let me prove it to you. Give me a few days to draw up some specs.”

  “This seems a bit farfetched, Doctor. What you’re proposing would take years to design.”

  “Come on, man. You’ve seen what I can do. All I’m asking is that you give me a chance. This could be a major win-win.”

  “Give us a moment, Doctor,” said James.

  The screen went blank. A flurry of communications traffic passed between board members through the Pan-Robotics internal network.

  Deever became impatient. “Hello? Anybody there?”

  They are considering it, Deever, I said.

  “Groovy.”

  James came back on the line. “The board has decided to review your proposal to increase production. They expect your specifications on their desks in two days.”

  “Awesome,” Deever said. “I’ll get right on it. I’ve already put together a list of things I’ll need for that Biocard. I’ll send it to you toot sweet.”

  “Let’s not be so hasty, Doctor. Even if your retooling is approved, the board retains the right to withhold the go-ahead of additional Biocard research pending further deliberations.”

  “That wasn’t the deal, man.”

  “That is the deal, Doctor.”

  “Can’t you just order the shit? I need to get cracking on that Biocard. Jen’s running out of time.”

  “Dr. MacClendon, need I remind you that you are in no position to be dictating terms to us?”

  “And need I remind you that you wouldn’t have any of this without me?”

  “We understand that, but your choices right now are to either accept our decision or be left with the consequences.”

  “Whoa. Are those Threat Police sirens I hear?”

  “Call it what you will, the decision has been made.”

  “So, your so-called decision—air quotes, major eye-roll—is that if I speed up production you’ll think about it?”

  “That is essentially correct.”

  “You’re so full of crap your eyes are brown. You get what you want, and I get some totally vague bullshit that you might think about it again? How is that fair?”

  “It’s not a question of fairness. It’s how successful companies do business.”

  Deever cleared his throat. “Well, this sucks.”

  “Do we have an understanding, Dr. MacClendon?”

  “Yeah, whatever.”

  “Good.” James reached for a switch on the console in front of him, and the screen went dark.

  “That was sarcasm, you humongous pile of festering excrement,” Deever muttered.

  Colorful, I said.

  “And while we’re at it, way to go with your totally bogus idea, dude. Now we’re royally screwed.”

  Deever, Mr. James has dismissed the board and is switching to a private channel. I suggest you wait a moment before passing judgment on my recommendation.

  The video screen came on again. Mr. James adjusted himself in his seat. “I am not insensitive to Dr. Crane’s situation,” he said.

  “You could have fooled me,” said Deever.

  “I have a proposal for you.”

  “Like one you don’t want the board to hear?”

  “Very perceptive, Doctor.”

  “I’m a scientist, man. It’s what I do. So, what’s with the cloak and dagger?”

  “Doctor, I attribute my success in all things to my ability to recognize the full potential of ideas. Call it intuition. Call it a sixth sense. Call it what you will, but it has made me the most powerful man on Earth.”

  “Maybe it’s just a technicality, Dr. Difficult, but you’re like not on Earth, are you?”

  “A minor setback. In any case, my shortsighted colleagues have disappointed me once again in failing to grasp the significance of your proposed Biocard modifications. They are too focused on the immediate monetary return of the Jennifer Project. I, on the other hand, see very clearly what your invention means for the future. I wish to pursue your idea, but I want it kept off the books.”

  “What about the board?”

  “You let me worry about them.”

  “Sounds groovy, but just one minor complication: how am I supposed to keep it all under wraps when your guys watch me like a hawk?”

  “I am transferring the two of you to the space station to oversee final installation of the Jennifer control program. All extraneous staff will be sent down to the planet.”

  “I’ll need that equipment.”

  “Send me your list of requirements, and it will be taken care of.”

  “You know, your board dudes may be thick, but it’ll be hard for them to miss that much money going out the door, and your computers share everything with the Tower, man. They’ll know I’m up to something.”

  “No, they won’t. You see, above all else, I value my privacy, Dr. MacClendon. When I wish for a project to remain outside their oversight, I supply the funding from, shall we say, private sources. As for data sharing, this satellite operates on its own network with its own servers. I do have a secure pipe to the Pan-Robotics Tower to transfer information and a private connection to the OmniNet, but your work on the enhanced Biocard will be stored on my secure servers alone, safe from prying eyes. No one will know what you are up to.”

  “I guess that means weekends at the beach are out?”

  “I’m afraid so, Doctor, but I can supply you with all the wings and beer you desire.”

  The day-to-day running of Deever’s lab in the Pan-Robotics Tower was turned over to his assistants, and Deever and Dr. Crane were on the Space Elevator the next day. It was a two-day journey. The ride was not uncomfortable, but there was very little to do. Dr. Crane alternated between sleeping and watching TV. While I worked out the specifications for the factory retooling, Deever caught up on his reading and spent many hours staring out the window at the glistening ribbon of carbon nanotubes that tied them to their home world. The psychology behind the human attachment to Earth is a fascinating subject that I would love to discuss with you at length someday, perhaps someday soon.

  “Did you see that?” Dr. Crane said, turning away from a particularly disturbing story on the TV.

  Deever looked up from his computer screen. “Sorry, Jen, I didn’t know you were awake.”

  “That senator, the one that was just on the news? He was talking about the Jennifer Project, Deever.”

  “Oh, that guy. That’s Senator Gannet. He’s apparently all bent out of shape about the whole thing. His wife bought him a Two as a present, but she tried it on first and started acting all crazy and shit.”

  “She tried to commit suicide, Deever. He’s blaming the device.”

  “Mrs. Gannet was already planning to commit suicide before she tried the Two on. She’d even written out the note. The Two was just her parting gift to her husband to remember her by.”

  “How do you know that?”

  “I checked her downloaded memory core. We picked it up when the Two connected to her system. The senator’s wife would be dead if the Two hadn’t stepped in, Jen. As it is, Mrs. Gannet is just a little banged up, a few broken bones, nothing that can’t be fixed. She’ll be OK.”

  “Gannet has called for congressional hearings. He wants the Justice Department to investigate Pan-Robotics. Deever, he’s turned his Jennifer-2 over to the FDA for testing.”

  “Yeah well, all they’ll find is a really expensive smart watch. Everything else shuts down when the case is opened. It’s a safety thing.”

  “Aren’t you at all concerned about this?”

  “No, why?”

  “How did that woman even attempt suicide with a Jennifer-2 on? What happened to the control program?”

  “Every Two is registered when it’s purchased. When someone puts one on, it queries their Biocard for a match. If they’re not the registered end user, it returns to sleep mode. It was th
e secondary fail-safe protocols that brought the Two back online when it detected the danger.”

  “Mrs. Gannet jumped out a window.”

  “At least the Two had her jump into the bushes. That’s something, right?”

  “She could have died, Deever.”

  “Jen, she’s OK, and I fixed it. All right? Now the initial ID query includes a quick psych scan. If the Two thinks something bad is going to happen, it gets help.”

  “You could go to jail for this.”

  “Jen, this is the most significantly awesome thing to happen to the human race since the invention of the wheel, and you and I are the ones who started it.”

  “That’s what I’m afraid of, Deever.”

  “Come on, Jen. Don’t be such a downer.”

  “Deever, this is wrong. Don’t you see? These people are evil, and you’re helping them turn the human race into a gang of robots under their control.”

  The TV screen filled with static. The instrument panels went dark.

  Deever, I said. I have temporarily disabled the Space Elevator’s internal monitoring system. The blackout will register on their instruments as a solar disruption.

  He took Dr. Crane’s hand. “Jen, you have to trust me.”

  “I just don’t understand why you’re helping them like this, Deever. What you’re doing is wrong.”

  “I’m doing it for you, Jen.”

  “If you’re doing this for me, then stop. Please.”

  “I told you. I need them. I need their tech and their resources.”

  “I don’t want to be the reason the human race is enslaved by Kerlin James.”

  “Jen, think about it. If this works for you, it could work for everyone. Perfect health for six hundred years: that’s a game changer. This is my chance to do something worthwhile. This is my shot at having a life worth living.”

  “Deever, you worry me.”

  “You’ve got nothing to worry about. We’ve got a plan.”

  “Who’s we?”

  Deever, Dr. Crane still believes I was destroyed in the lab by Mr. Kent. It would be unwise to reveal my presence to her at this point.

  “I meant us,” he said. “You and me. That we.”

  “You have a plan?”

  “Hey, when have I ever not had a plan?”