I finish my work, and Gene cries out, “No!”
“—to punch cards.”
I press Enter. The punch card machine whirs to life.
“Let’s see how smart you are on paper, Gene.”
And the punch card machine starts to print.
Twenty-Five
When Ainsley Irons opens the back door of the shipping container, I’m standing inside to greet her. Well, me and approximately three million punch cards.
“Good afternoon!” I say, jumping out of back of the container. Cards are falling down around us. I pick up a handful and put them into her hand.
“Allow me to reintroduce you to Gene.”
“Gene?” she asks. She holds a card up, looking at its sequence of punches. “Just what exactly is this?”
She doesn’t mean that card in her hand exactly, but I answer her question anyway. “Looks like an eight,” I say, glancing at it. “One character per punch card. Put them in order, and you have Gene back. Just as I promised.”
“You’ve got to be kidding me. It’s a pile of paper.”
“It’s Gene,” I insist. “This is still a computer program. Just one stored in a different format than what Gene is used to. And stored in a way that he can’t fight back from either.”
Ainsley surveys the piles and piles of punch cards. “You couldn’t have put them in boxes or something?”
I shrug. “This was plenty enough as work as it was. I’ve been feeding paper into the machine all night,” I say. “But yes, it’s Gene. He tried to take over the truck on the way here. This was the best way I could figure to deliver him to you without letting him kill me in the process.”
Thankfully, Gene never was able to compromise Lara-B. Transferring his file to paper meant that—eventually—much of his core operating program was moved out of the computer’s memory and onto the cards. As it happened, he became more and more sluggish. His language skills stopped. And soon he stopped working entirely.
“How do I reestablish control?” Ainsley asks.
“Easy. Change out the punch cards that control administration when you rebuild him. He won’t be able to fight back in this state. So when you transfer him back into a computer, he’ll be under your control.”
Ainsley looks at the punch card more carefully. She flips it back and forth in her hand.
“Number Eight Hundred Sixty Thousand Five Hundred Eleven.” She looks back at the truck again. “They’re all numbered?”
“Well, the last couple million are. For the first million or so I was trying not to get killed so that slipped my mind.”
“That’s an impossible task. No one can reorder a series of random digits into a working computer.”
“Maybe. But if you assigned an AI from the B, C, or D generation I bet they’d be able to sort it out eventually.”
“That will take months,” she says. “Maybe even a year. That’s too long to wait. Any delay gives another company an opening to compete with us. Our whole competitive advantage will be gone. We’re going to lose market share.”
I’m pretty ok with that. In fact, I could not care less. “Putting Humpty Dumpty back together is your problem. It’s still Gene. That’s what’s important. And a deal’s a deal. Because I brought the Analytical Engine too. Which, I believe, means you owe me eighty million dollars.”
Her eyes flash at me, and I see inside her plastic face. She’s pissed. More so than when I stole the Analytical Engine in the first place.
“You get paid when I know that this is actually Gene,” she says. “When I have control back.”
I shake my head and look away. I went into this conversation pretty much expecting a response like that. “Fine. Eighty million when you’re able to turn Gene back on again.” But she’s not going to pay, I can pretty much guess that already.
“Unhook the container!” I call to Lara-B.
Lara-B pulls away, leaving the flatbed and the container on it behind. “I’m leaving this with you,” I say. “Keep Gene on a tight leash, would you? He turned deadly surprisingly quickly.”
“You’re the one who let him off the leash in the first place,” she says.
“I’m aware. And that’s why I did the right thing and brought him back,” I answer. “I tried to tell you about the flaw when I was an intern and you wouldn’t listen. So maybe before you axe all the jobs in the world, listen to your people a little more. They might still have something worthwhile to share.”
I give a crisp nod and walk off.
Lara-B pulls into a freeway truck stop.
James and I exchange worried glances.
“Don’t worry, this one is actually vacant,” Lara-B says. “I’ve checked. But I need to recharge after that cross-country drive.
“We’ll be here less than an hour,” she says. “Promise.”
Lara-B plugs into a charger and James and I get out. We’re in California’s Central Valley. There’s a rail line nearby and mountains in the distance beyond.
James squeezes my hand again as I look at the sunset.
“It’s beautiful,” he says.
“It is.”
We met up with him and Lara-B’s sister shortly after dropping the container with Ainsley at the T-Six headquarters. It turns out that Lara-B’s truck scrambling was actually useful—of the twelve trucks, three were detained by the police. Lara-B says she’s already working to coordinate their escape, but it means that James and I were lucky to avoid capture.
“Phone for you, Pen!” Lara-B calls.
It’s a video call from my dad, calling from—amazingly—his home in Hartford. “Guess what, Pen? I’m free to go! Mr. Walker isn’t going to press charges!”
“What? Are you serious? He could have us on assault, burglary—”
“Destruction of property,” James adds.
“Exactly,” I say.
Dad looks happier than I’ve seen him in years. “I’m still going to be charged with tax evasion. But that’s the Feds. Mr. Walker can’t do anything about that. But that’s going to be easy time, now that I know we won’t be charged for the embezzling. Or anything we did last night.”
“You really think Mr. Walker will stick to that bargain?”
Dad nods. He’s beaming with excitement. “Pretty quickly after you left, Mr. Walker woke up. He worked out what we tried to pull. But he didn’t care about what we did as much as he cared about Keir knocking him out. He was furious about that. Told the cops it was all Keir.”
“So he’s not mad we successfully took the Analytical Engine from him?”
“No, he was plenty mad. But only for a while. I think it was just a toy for him. For him and Ainsley Irons both. I admitted that we were getting it back to her and he actually laughed. He said, ‘Maybe she’ll trade it back to me in exchange for not pressing charges against Keir.’ He thinks he can get a new house AI from her too. Always an angle.”
“So you still get the deal and he’s going to use Keir as a bargaining chip to get what he wants?” I ask.
“Basically,” Dad answers, all smiles.
I smile back. “I’m happy for you, Dad.”
“And I haven’t even told you the best news.” He holds up a black debit card.
“No way,” I intone.
“How?” James asks. His eyes go bug-eyed when he sees the card.
“How is it possible that neither of them noticed you snuck off with a debit card worth forty million dollars?” I ask.
“I didn’t,” he says. “Before Keir was fully awake, I called for help from Lara-B. She co-opted a drone and sent it up through the open window to get the card. They searched me several times before I left, but since I never had the card on me, they couldn’t prove it. I think Walker’s prime suspect is Keir anyway.”
“You didn’t tell us?” I shout at Lara-B. “That he had the card?”
“I didn’t want to spoil the surprise,” she says. “And I wasn’t sure he was going to share it, to be honest.”
“Hey!” my dad
cries.
“Well, are you?” I ask.
“Of course,” he says indignantly. “What’s forty million split three ways?”
“Four ways,” I say immediately.
Dad looks surprised. “Four?”
“Lara-B gets an equal share,” I say.
Dad sputters.
“We couldn’t have done this without her,” I tell him.
“Well…I guess that’s true.”
“I learned a lesson in Vegas,” I say. “Always tip the dealer.”
“Even if she’s a machine,” James finishes. I lean against him playfully and he squeezes my hand.
“We can live on that, Dad,” I say. “Ten million each is enough for what we all need.”
“Ok,” he agrees. He’s still reluctant, I can tell. “Ten million. Nice work, sport.”
I roll my eyes but smile.
We end the call, leaving all the tender things fathers and daughters might say to each other unsaid. But we do make plans to meet up to split the money.
And that’s when I finally realize…I did it.
I explode. “Ten million dollars!”
My nervous energy is propelling me into motion. I’m jumping up and down. I can’t contain it I’m so excited. “We’re going to have margaritas on the beach every day for a year! And we’ll fly to Venice and then to Brazil and then back to Venice because I forgot my hat. And then a private sleeping carriage on an overnight train to Paris! And then a night in Barcelona before we—”
James grabs me and brings me into a hug. He’s clutching me tight. Where I went outward with my energy, he turned in. I realize that he’s crying. “I literally cannot believe it,” James whispers into my ear.
“Me either. Me either.” I try to pull away and hold his face. “I’m sorry,” I say. Words I didn’t know I was going to say.
“Why are you sorry?” he asks. “We made it. I’m rich because of you. I should be apologizing for doubting you.”
I put my hand on his shirt over his chest. “No. You really really shouldn’t. I’m sorry I dragged you through that. If I’d known…what it was going to be like, what you would go through, what Lara-B would go through…I never would have done it. I’m sorry. The money’s great. But I needed you to hear that.”
He closes his eyes and backs away. I so badly want to go to him but I can tell he needs the space. “Listen,” I start, “we…we don’t have to stay together. We can get our money and part ways. I don’t want you feeling trapped or thinking that you have to stay with me just because we got our money together or something. In fact, maybe it’s less suspicious if we stay apart for a while. Maybe we should part ways and—”
He rushes forward and before I can move, he’s kissing me. He doesn’t need words to tell me that he’s not going anywhere just because he has some money now.
We keep kissing until a train horn interrupts us. I jump away, startled.
James and I watch as a train moves along the rail line next to the parking lot. The self-driving silver engine is moving uphill, so it passes us slowly. In the open boxcars it’s pulling, I see people. Families. Children. People sleeping. People living.
We’re close enough that when one of the kids makes eye contact with me, I can tell she’s looking at me directly. She has a dirty pink dress on, a backpack that looks like a chimp, and a teddy bear in her hand. She waves. I watch her and then a few seconds later I manage to raise a few fingers in a wave back. She smiles and turns back to her mother.
The train passes by.
I blink and clear my eyes like I’ve just been sleeping.
James looks at me with sad eyes. “Margaritas on the beach every day, huh?”
I take a deep breath. “‘A bridge to other side of the cliff’…that’s what you said this money represented.”
“I know. It feels different now. Ever since I’ve met you, you’ve been railing against the people who get their money and then pull up the ladder on everyone else. But is that what we’re really going to do too? Take our money and live the high life?”
“Ten million won’t help that many people. It’s a drop in the bucket. But it can help us,” I say.
He nods. “That’s true.”
We stand together. The train is almost out of sight, but I know we’re both still picturing the people on it. James is right. I might have finally grabbed what I’ve been searching for. But that doesn’t change what’s coming for us. For all of us. And whatever it is, it won’t be good.
“So what do we do?” I finally ask.
“Do you think Fremont would take us back?” he asks eventually.
I squinch up my face. “I don’t know. Probably not. You really want to go back there?”
“Noooo,” he says dismissively, but I can tell at least some of him does. “But maybe with the amount we have, we can start another place like it? That might actually be a good way to use my ten million.”
“Mine too,” I say.
He smiles.
“Got somewhere in mind?” I ask.
“I have no idea,” he answers. “Maybe we can drive around for a while. No plan. No schedule. Just looking for a nice spot to put down roots. When we find it, we can invite my family, your dad…if he’s interested. And we start something new.”
“You’ll need someone with wheels to help!” Lara-B says.
I smile. Because it feels right. “I’m in.”
James kisses me again. It lasts a pleasantly long period of time, but there’s no heat this time. It’s mostly just…nice. With the promise of more.
“I’m going to call my mom,” he says.
I kiss him one final time and then he heads out to give himself some privacy.
I linger by the truck. And when he’s far enough away, I hop into Lara-B’s cab. “You should stretch your legs before we get on the road again,” Lara-B says.
“I wanted a little time with you first.”
“Me?” She’s surprised.
“I can’t tell you what I owe you, Lara-B,” I say quietly. “You saved my life…I don’t know how many times. And yet I was a terrible friend. For a long time. I don’t know why. I don’t know how. But after everything I did and said, you stuck by me. You’re why I got to see my dad again. Why I’m going to have some actual money now. Why James and I get to drive around the country together in your cab. It’s…it’s just like I said, I owe you almost everything I have.”
I sniffle. I’m getting all weepy-faced. I never get like this, but my shoulders and my chest are already feeling so good that I’m letting it out. “I wish I had a tissue,” I say, wiping my nose on my sleeve.
Lara-B prints a blank stretch of thermal paper. “Here you go,” she says.
And I can’t help but laugh. “Thank you,” I say. I tear off the paper and use it to blow my nose. It mostly works.
“You did the same for me, Pen,” she says. “You set me free. You saved me from Gene twice—first in New York and then again on the road. And then you treated me like a person. Like a real person. Not a truck that hauls packages. You treated me like someone worth fighting for. Like someone worth saving.”
That starts me crying again. “Hearing you say that…it makes me realize that what I said is only a part of it. Before you, I didn’t really have friends. I barely talked to people. I’m not sure I was ever anyone’s friend. But you changed that. I don’t know how to explain it but it’s like…well. Somehow, it took a machine to make me fully human.” I laugh as I cry. “In other words, Lara-B, if it’s true that I treated you like a person—like a real person—then it’s only because you treated me like one first.”
THE END
Thank You
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Also by Erik Hanberg
Science Fiction
The Lattice Trilogy
The Lead Cloak - Book I
The Iron Harvest - Book II
The Tin Whistle - Book III
Nonfiction
The Little Book of Gold: Fundraising for Small (and Very Small) Nonprofits
The Little Book of Likes: Social Media for Small (and Very Small) Nonprofits
The Little Book of Boards: A Board Member’s Handbook for Small (and Very Small) Nonprofits
Acknowledgments
Many thanks to my early readers Joe Kreuser, Mary Holste, Savannah Fry, Sian Dart, and Brent Hartinger. To Ron Hogan who read the first four chapters in its very early days. Thank you to Kerry Jesberger for the cover; to Beth Attwood for her copyediting. Thank you to Libby Hawker for Take Off Your Pants!, her book on outlining.
My thanks as well to the Grunewald Guild, an arts retreat center in central Washington where much of this book was written. It’s my favorite place to write.
Thank you to everyone who has read my science fiction and emailed or tweeted me. It’s a pleasure to know you have enjoyed these books.
The Technology of Semi/Human
Charles Babbage first described the Analytical Engine in 1837. It’s considered the first design of a functioning computer. Ada Lovelace (interestingly, the daughter of the poet Lord Byron) was fascinated by Babbage’s design. In her interest, she published a description of how the Engine could calculate a mathematical algorithm. That published description is considered to be the first computer program, making Ada Lovelace the first computer programmer.
All of that is established history.
Unfortunately, what is not history is this: the Analytical Engine was never built. Babbage ran into funding issues and was never able to see his dream realized. In writing this story, it was quite simply too tempting to imagine that the computer had actually been created. I could think of no better object for Pen Davis to set her sights on than the almost mythical Analytical Engine.
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