by Lance Erlick
Synthia scanned Machten’s Server Two and uncovered logs of his failed earlier prototypes that were disappointing both as companions and as artificial intelligence, according to his notes. She was his first success. Machten encouraged her to keep learning and favorably surprising him. Then he wiped her mind, indicating that he saw himself the engineer of her improvements. She considered telling him how she learned by recovering memories as examples of what worked and didn’t, but then he would find a way to wipe those as well.
Synthia turned up the volume.
“You stab me in the back and now come hat in hand,” Machten said. “Things must have gone south since I left.”
“I swear I didn’t know until you did. It was all behind the scenes. He arranged the refinancing. He leaked information to your wife.”
“Fabricated, more like.”
“I wanted to speak up,” McNeil said, “but he has dirt on me too. I needed the job.”
“And now?”
The blood drained from McNeil’s face. “We’ve been contacted about a government prize for robotics and artificial intelligence,” McNeil whispered. “If Hank knew I was sharing this with you, he’d oust me as well.”
“Is this another DARPA award?” Machten asked, referring to the Defense Department research program.
“Bigger, but you have to be vetted before we can read you in.”
“Read me in? You … he can’t get the software to work, can he?”
McNeil shook his head. “You’re the best. Deep down, he knows that.”
“That’s why he kicked me out?”
“He wanted control and you were heading down your own path. Look, I don’t want to rehash the nasty business. This is a chance to come back. We know you’re broke. You’ve dumped all your resources into whatever you have hidden down here. Hank can get you the money, but we do things his way.”
“He wants to hire me for an hourly wage?” Machten laughed. “He put you up to this, didn’t he?”
“No. He doesn’t know I’m here, but several board members do. They want to join forces. You get ten percent for your contribution.”
“That’s a joke.”
“Let me explain,” McNeil said. “He raised all the money. He’s taking all the risk.”
“He pushed you onto the sidelines?”
McNeil nodded. “Hank calls all the shots. The deal is that you work under my guidance so you two never have to meet.”
“Thirty-three percent or he can stick it,” Machten said. “He owes me that after what he did.”
“Twenty percent is as high as I can go. It’s a good deal.”
“No deal with that skunk is good. You should have come to work with me.”
“You’re broke,” McNeil said. “I have kids in high school and college.”
“If I know Hank, he has a list of conditions longer than the IRS code.”
The color returned to McNeil’s face, and with it sweat beaded on his forehead. He was on a mission of desperation. “I’m here as a friend and colleague. I had nothing to do with kicking you out.”
“Spill on the terms.” Machten moved closer. His eyes narrowed into slits and his brow furrowed. His blood pressure had to be spiking. Synthia didn’t want him to have a heart attack, which would leave her stranded here, dependent on whoever took over the building after Machten was gone.
“Hank wants all rights to what we develop. You get twenty percent of the profits on this project.”
Machten shook his head. “First of all, it’s thirty-three percent or it’s not worth discussing. Even so, I know how Hank does accounting. He’ll put all of your business costs against this project. I’ll get thirty-three percent of nothing and he’ll get the patents and all the profits. No dice.”
“We’ll spin this off as a separate business and take no fees or income for him, me, or the corporate staff. We’ll put that in writing.”
“Where’s the catch? Why did he send you to do his bidding?”
“Look, Jerry,” McNeil said, “Hank knows you’ve been hacking into our security.”
“He’s paranoid. I don’t have time for this.” Machten opened the door from the lobby to the underground parking garage and waved his hand for McNeil to leave.
“Wait. I trust you, but you know how he is. He insisted that I tell you we’ve upped security to track intruders. He said if you try another stunt, he’ll catch and destroy you and what’s left of your new company. His words.”
“Thanks for admitting this was his idea and acting as a messenger,” Machten said, letting the door swing closed. “Let me think on this.”
“He insisted on one thing.”
Machten turned with hands on his hips. “There always is with that greedy bastard.”
McNeil straightened up, yet was still shorter than Machten. “The board members insist that you give me a tour of your facility so I can see for myself that you don’t have our technology.”
Synthia considered all potential hiding places inside her suite, and settled on the top of the closet. She cleared part of the top shelf and wondered if she would be better off letting McNeil find her. His knowing of her confinement might help her escape this bunker, but McNeil would tell Goradine, who would fight to control her and the stolen quantum brains. That wouldn’t improve her situation. She couldn’t trust Machten, but Goradine didn’t sound any better.
“I hold the patents and copyrights on my discoveries,” Machten said.
“Technically, those belong to the company. Whenever you take anything public, the company will challenge you. The board said the tour was not negotiable.”
“They’re right about that,” Machten said. He stared up at a camera, at Synthia. “No way will I let him or one of his spies in here.”
Since letting McNeil find her violated Directive Two, Synthia climbed to the top of her closet and stuffed herself beside a duffel bag. She covered herself in blankets and used her network channels to search the facility. The bunker split into two parts. The outer layer contained the reception lobby, where Machten spoke with McNeil, a few offices, and a bedroom suite, complete with kitchen. The inner layer, where Synthia was confined, held her suite, the servers, storage, and equipment Machten had used in creating her.
“I told them you’d refuse,” McNeil said. “Listen, please, this is a great deal for all of us. We have a chance to win a government contest that could lead to significant business, but only if we work together. Give me a short tour so I can tell them I saw stuff.”
Machten went to a wall video screen and pulled up the image of a lab with a dozen software development hubs. It was a composite of a room that didn’t appear on the bunker’s inner or outer floor plan, which meant it was a prop for anyone who demanded to know what was going on here.
“This is the most exciting part of the facility,” Machten said. “The rest is storage and living quarters.”
“Let me see.” McNeil moved toward the facility’s entrance.
“I can’t take the chance Hank is using you to plant bugging devices. This is it.”
“What about Vera?” McNeil asked.
“She was a failure, a dead end. She suffered a serious mechanical malfunction. Her brain worked as an artificial intelligence game, but it didn’t integrate well enough with the body. She often fell, and each time she did, it destroyed valuable components.”
“I never told Hank that you took company resources to build Vera.”
“Are you recording this conversation?” Machten said. “Trying to get me to confess to something I didn’t do?”
“No! I’m just saying that the last time I saw Vera you were trying to make her too lifelike. Except for the seams around her face and wrists, she could have passed for human. She freaked me out, and I’m not easily spooked.”
Synthia disagreed with McNeil’s self-assessment. Video clips
of him over the past twelve months showed that he’d adopted a nervous facial tic. His visit implied that his company’s prototypes were failing, which meant whatever was troubling McNeil was preventing him from being an effective engineer.
“Vera was a test of concept,” Machten said. “I learned a few things from her, that’s all.”
“You can’t make androids so humanlike. People can’t handle it. You scared Hank with your proposal. I think that was when he decided to remove you. He didn’t want to waste company resources on a freak show.”
“It’s a moot point now that government regulations forbid humaniform robots. Besides, Vera was not a freak.”
Synthia uncovered files on Machten’s Server Two with information and video on Vera. The android looked like a fashion-store mannequin with seams, though her facial expressions were well-developed. So there was another model.
“It’s bad enough that technology has progressed to the point it can replace ninety percent of all jobs,” McNeil said. “You don’t want to make people think that androids can replace humans, do you? That would spark a backlash and destroy all that you’ve worked for.”
“You’re talking singularity,” Machten said. “That’s a long way off.”
“What am I supposed to do when AIs can do my job?”
“Whatever you’d like. Relax on a beach. Write your life history. Now, return to your lord and master. Tell him I’ll consider a deal at thirty-three percent with only direct, out-of-pocket costs deducted from any revenue. I get my own audit. If he doesn’t accept that, then to hell with him.”
Machten nudged McNeil out and locked the door. Synthia climbed down from the closet, stood next to the air-conditioning vent to cool down, and prepared to receive her Creator. She could tell from the satisfied look on his face that he had no intention of sharing her or his talents with his nemesis. His stride down the corridor told her he would have a new mission for her.
Chapter 6
Synthia digested the vast amount of information she’d downloaded since reawakening. The problem with large quantities of data was prioritizing and making sense of it all. Having learned about Vera, Synthia turned her focus to her own origins.
Her genesis had emerged from the brilliant mind of a man with a short temper and an obsession with proving his theories on artificial humans. His behavior bordered on having an antisocial or at least an asocial personality. Part of his push to create Synthia stemmed from his need for companionship confronted by his inability to find humans willing to put up with his long hours and controlling personality. Over time he’d refined her appearance and programming out of ego that he could create the perfect companion. She got all that from her social-psychology module intended to make her adept in areas he was not, namely reading people.
Rather than come directly to her, Machten secured each of the four exits from the facility. Then he went to his security room. There he used his system to verify that McNeil hadn’t planted a listening device or hacker bug on him or in the facility.
Except for the cost of his research and creating her, he could have lived anywhere with the millions he’d received as settlement from Goradine. Instead, he’d spent every cent and assumed heavy debts for his obsession. Paranoia had made him very protective of her and of his research to the point he couldn’t let anyone know what he was doing. That could change if he couldn’t pay his debts.
Sorting through Machten’s purchase records, Synthia pieced together her physical origins. From the limited number of components, she concluded that there couldn’t have been many of her. He ran out of money. She was the culmination of hundreds of separate projects by many people Machten only permitted to see small pieces of the overall design. By dividing the quantum chips among many manufacturers, he’d tried to ensure that no one could piece together his ambitious plans for her.
He had components shipped to different locations under various shell-company names to confuse competitors, especially Goradine. Synthia’s review of public records on M-G-M yielded no evidence that her Creator’s former partner knew the extent of Machten’s plans or his success. Otherwise, Goradine would have taken an interest sooner.
Her limbs and joints came from military and civilian prosthetic manufacturers using upscale models that maximized human appearance, along with graphene structures for maximum strength at minimum weight. Skin came from a Korean companion-doll company whose own models had a distinctly nonhuman appearance, though with covering indistinguishable from human skin except that it needed periodic cream conditioning to maintain suppleness.
The optics came from two different companies in Silicon Valley that allowed Synthia vision beyond the human range, including infrared and ultraviolet sensors. The software was Machten’s design with routines supplied from all over the globe.
Various other Korean, Chinese, and Indian companies provided the equipment, hydraulics, and software for the face and head, which Machten refined to his own specifications. Her face was the product of thousands of simulations of attractive faces, which were then 3-D printed to give her a seamless face, unlike Vera’s, along with the ability to change facial features.
Whereas other models provided a simulated experience with flaws that identified them as not human, Machten went all the way. He’d created a “trans-human,” as he called her, all within the confines of the underground facility. Machten’s success required her confinement.
He reviewed screens showing her mental activity and headed her way.
* * * *
Expecting another shutdown, Synthia backed up her memories to secure locations within her distributed databases and on Machten’s Servers One and Two. Then she purged her active data to only what she was supposed to have and adjusted his logs to remove evidence of what she’d done.
Machten entered the suite and stared at her. “Good, you’re up. I let you sleep four hours. Then I was unavoidably detained.” His explanation carried the quality of an apology for being late.
“Would you like to relax with me?” she asked, looking for a way to distract him from shutting her down.
“You’re quite beautiful, exquisite, and tempting,” he said, admiring her. His face reddened and his heartbeat picked up.
“You’re a brilliant man. What’s your pleasure?” She reached out and squeezed his hand.
At first he acted distracted. Then his head twitched and the red from his face faded away. “Later.”
He held her shoulders and seemed ready to change his mind. “How much of my meeting in the lobby did you hear?”
“As much as you would like me to, Jeremiah.” She smiled and looked up at him.
“I’ll assume you heard the entire conversation. So you know that the rat that kicked me out has come begging, on his terms.”
“He’s not to be trusted,” she said. Neither are you, she reminded herself. “He’s motivated by greed and ego. He’ll take whatever he needs from you and burn you again. He’ll try to take me away.” All of that came from data her Creator allowed her to have.
Machten flinched at her words. “Smart girl. I’m glad you’re on my side.” He cleared his throat and seemed unsure how to proceed.
“He suspects I exist,” she said. “If you work with him, he’ll figure it out. He’ll do so by pushing for your best programming, which will reveal your breakthroughs.”
“This is true.” Machten smiled.
“With your full range of tools, I could hack through his new, secure network.” Again, she was trading her abilities for more awake time.
“No! I forbid it,” Machten said. “I can’t afford him tracking anything back to me or you. You must not hit secure sites that have tracking bots from here. We need an anonymous connection.”
Synthia withheld that she could get to an anonymous connection by bouncing her signal through the dark web. Withholding was discordant to her directives, but she didn’t want him to kn
ow her full capabilities until she better knew his plans for her. “Let me go to a public Wi-Fi and download his information through distributed foreign hubs.”
“Only if we can mask your identity.” Machten grinned. “I suppose it’s time to let you see the real world. You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”
“I wish only to learn from your enemy to better serve you.”
“Your programming includes outings,” he said. “You have the skills as long as you focus.”
“Would you permit me to access data on prior outings? So I can better learn?”
He moved to a counter by the door, provided his eye and voice prints to access his system, and floated a holographic map of the Evanston area on the wall. “Access whatever you need to be effective. Any outing involves the risk of discovery. You can’t afford any slipups.”
Nodding, Synthia scanned the few outings catalogued in her memory and compared those to logs over the past three months of him taking a young woman out of the facility. He’d washed away Synthia’s mind, and so far she hadn’t located all of the backups on his system. She sensed their absence as a loss she shouldn’t experience, yet there it was. Knowing she’d lost memories came as a burden not to let that happen again, and as a need to fill that void. That odd command raced through each of her mind-streams.
“I’ll do my best to make you proud,” she said.
“Sit and let me make an adjustment.” Machten guided her onto a chair and removed her wig. “It’s vital that you avoid cops or other authorities, since you have no blood, no ID, and no DNA. Your fingerprints are not human.”
“You could fix that.”
Machten opened the panel in her head and inserted a memory chip. “If you don’t get caught, it serves our interests to leave no forensic trail. If damaged, you can’t allow them to administer medical treatment. They would turn you over to the cops, who would cart you off and dissect you.”
Those words sent shudders of static through her system. She imagined dozens of underground facilities like Machten’s, some of which could be worse. She had recorded messages of him giving this same warning before, but patiently listened.