by Greg Chase
“Then move them all. Just round them all up and move them someplace out of the storm paths. Call it New Jersey City.” Lud’s tired voice, the lines around his eyes, and the general lack of passion in his stance indicated to Sam this wasn’t a new argument with Joshua.
The list of names and lines turned forty-five degrees as a map of the area displayed beneath them. Most people had connections to New York. Joshua waved his hand at the screen. “There were a lot more lines before we automated the less-skilled jobs. But as you can see, the web of human interactions is more complex than you might think.”
“I’m not fighting with the board of directors again,” Lud moaned. “If you want to do this, you bring it up. But this is no little thing you’re talking about. And there are places like Jersey City along every coastline on Earth.”
Sam’s shoulders dropped from their self-righteous resolve. You mean I can’t just wave my hand and make it instantly happen? I’m pretty sure that’s a skill gods are supposed to have. But he wasn’t that type of god, even if he kept comparing himself to that mythos. “Resume accurate display.”
The waterspout that meandered along the old wharfs sent accusatory torrents of water up the road canals toward the Rendition building. Great waves burst upon the dykes that sealed off Times Square, spitting salty spray onto the fronts of the proud old buildings.
“Give those who are willing to move the opportunity to do so. But I want safe, clean housing for all who stay. I may not be able to change the world, but I can afford to fix up a building or two. If the board doesn’t like it, they know where to find me.” Sam wondered if every attempt to help was met with such resistance.
Lud set his transparent display aside. “At least that’s a directive. You’ve been here two months, and though I do enjoy the artwork you’ve bought to brighten up the building, I was wondering if you planned on doing anything useful.”
Sam had asked himself the same thing. He and Jess had spent money on anything and everything. They’d experienced the heights of luxury and seen the despair of poverty. The conversations with Joshua and Ellie had revealed the frustration the Tobes experienced as well as their desire to be more, to contribute more and, most of all, to be a more integral part of the human experience. But two months of gathering information hadn’t led to the revelations he’d hoped.
For a god, I’m not all that smart. He no longer cared if the Tobes heard him or not. Whether it was their telepathic communication or the device he wore to fit in with everyone else on the street, his creations could only offer data.
“I need a lab,” Sam said. “Someplace with a workspace where people can meet and another room where we can observe without interfering. If the Tobes are to come out of the technological closet, they’re going to have to learn how people relate and how they can help.” Sam continued to watch the destruction taking place across the river. “Large-scale actions, though needed, aren’t the way to start. People need someone to blame or admire when it comes to grand humanitarian gestures. A faceless company doing good deeds is suspect at best.”
“But if it’s not Rendition, what are you proposing?” Jess asked.
Lud typed out a quick message on his computer. “We could form a foundation. The Samuel and Jessica Adamson Foundation or something like that. It’d give names for people to relate to. We can leave it loosely connected to Rendition. The board will like the good-public-relations angle, and it doesn’t open them up to financial risk.”
“I like it. The Tobes can expand what we’ve begun while staying anonymous, for the time being.” Sam turned away from the storm to address Joshua. “Buy works from new artists. Not just the type of stuff we like, but any artist who shows promise. Form a meals program for the less well off. Not a program that puts a food synthesizer in every kitchen but one that focuses on handmade dishes. Educate people on what tastes good, not just what’s nutritious. Facilitate music education, donate instruments, give struggling groups gigs even if it’s just to play in the downstairs lobby. You’ve been watching me and Jess wander the city these last few months. This will give you the opportunity to put that education into practice.”
Jess pointed to the buildings being battered across the river. “And what about them?”
“Those are the ones I want given these opportunities. I imagine there are some artists in New York who could benefit, but—”
“I meant the buildings,” Jess said. “But the people too since they live inside. How would this new foundation help what we’re seeing right now?”
Ellie breathed hard in excitement. “We train them in construction jobs. Like we tried before, but this time it’s open to all who want to learn. It won’t be some corporation coming in and fixing things up to charge more rent. Community-based redevelopment, young people, and families building their own homes.”
“But first, we need to teach you how to relate better,” Sam said. “The big things will have to fall under the Rendition umbrella, which means people making the decisions—at least until we can reveal you, and all Tobes, to the world.”
21
The old hospital still smelled of disinfectant. Had the med-tech at-home monitoring and diagnostic computer not been developed, the institution might still be in operation. But now the building sat as yet another relic of outdated technology.
Sam hated hospitals. As he and Jess made their way down the deserted hallways, he wondered if anyone had ever liked these cold, hard clinics.
Lud met them outside a waiting room. The deep, cushioned chairs covered in a floral fabric of yellows and reds, and the wall view screens displaying a tropical waterfall, did manage to dampen the oppressive nature of the place.
“I’ve set up two comfortable rooms for our participants,” Lud said. “Each couple’s been separated so we can see their greetings firsthand. The lab is down the hallway that connects the two waiting rooms.”
He guided them through the plush room filled with people. Everyone seemed at ease. Most were consumed with their personal computers, but no one talked.
The small, dark room Lud directed them to next had all the appeal of a broom closet. Jess sat close by Sam’s side, holding his hand, as they watched the main room on the wall view screen. His vision blurred uncontrollably as the twin devices projected differing images to each eye. “Like it wasn’t hard enough to use these damn things already?”
Jess squeezed his hand in excitement. “Hush, we need to see these interactions the way Joshua and Ellie do. If we’re going to have any clue as to what they’re thinking, we have to understand what they see. Try not to be too hard on them.”
Lud leaned against the view screen. The room behind him had been stripped of all medical equipment. “I’ll send in each couple, consisting of one person from each waiting room. Some know each other, some don’t, but every combination has a reason for meeting. They’ll be wearing the latest version of the device. We’ve set this up as a beta-testing, research, consumer study, so they’ll be looking for differences from what they’re used to. That’ll be where Ellie and Joshua will come into play, even though our participants won’t know about the Tobes. The people should just see the enhanced information as a natural progression from the last version of the technology.”
Jess adjusted the matching devices aimed at her eyes. “Sounds complicated.”
“Hopefully it won’t be, but that’s what we’re here for: to teach Joshua and Ellie what to share and what to keep private,” Sam said. “Though between the two computer images and the actual room, there is a lot to focus on.”
“Ever listen to Sara and Emily tell you the same story at the same time?” Jess asked. “Try not to focus too hard, and let the information flow in front of your eyes. Let’s just see how they do and how it goes.”
Somewhere, unseen by anyone, Ellie and Joshua would be anticipating what the test subjects would want to know about each other. Then, with the speed of technology-based life forms, they’d access that information and display it on the devices o
f their participants.
A man of about fifty, dressed in a conservative business suit, entered the room, followed by a younger executive who could have been his office assistant. At first, no images presented themselves across Sam’s vision, which was a relief but also a concern. Didn’t Joshua know how to handle the information?
The older man reached out his hand. “Austin Grandin, you must be Peter. I’ve heard good things about you from my associate Helen Newman.”
The screen mirroring Austin’s began with Peter’s resume, educational scores, and letters of reference. Sam shook his head. Too predictable. For once, his silent connection with the Tobes would prove useful.
Peter’s came up as Austin’s froze for a moment. Attempting a more personal connection to the older man, Ellie posted photos of his family and information on how his daughter was attending Peter’s alma mater. She was a pretty girl, and Peter’s eyes focused on her. A new display gave him information on her boyfriend, the wild party the previous night, and her more private activities later that night. Sam shook his head again. Hardly the type of information Austin’s going to want his new assistant to know, even if Peter did request the material.
It’s public information, Ellie responded. She has it listed on her network profile. She’s loading all kinds of pictures from last night. Clearly, she doesn’t care who knows, and Peter asked. Sam had allowed Ellie and Joshua direct mental contact. Not surprisingly, Ellie was the first to take advantage of the silent communication.
Sam fired back. Fine, but it’s not appropriate for this meeting.
As the men conducted their interview, Sam’s eyes adjusted to the flow of information Joshua and Ellie provided to each participant. Joshua continued to focus on the professional data Austin might need when questioning a prospective employee, but Ellie kept distracting Peter with information on Austin’s daughter. Not that Peter seemed to mind. Every picture of the girl pulled him deeper into his fascination with her. Hardly helpful for a professional meeting.
Jess coughed demurely, bringing up Ellie in Sam’s lower left screen. Jess pulled her headset off just after Sam and spoke to the wall display. “Thank you, gentlemen.”
Austin clamped his hand to Peter’s back. “That was remarkable; all your professional data appeared right as I would have wanted it.”
Peter just blushed.
“What’d we do wrong?” Ellie materialized, pouting, in the corner. Joshua stood next to her. They looked like two students waiting for their teacher’s assessment.
Sam rubbed his tired eyes. “The work data was appropriate. Though softening Austin up toward Peter, on a more personal level, might have helped him connect to the younger man. Telling Austin that Peter had attended the same college as his daughter would’ve been better than telling Peter about the girl. Peter was bound to feel a connection to the young coed, which in this instance proved distracting. Peter needed to focus on presenting his most professional image, not daydreaming about some girl, particularly not the boss’s daughter.”
Ellie stamped her foot, threatening to transition to younger than the twenty-year-old she needed to maintain. “I thought it was fun. Austin was so stuffy. I didn’t want Peter to think working for him was going to be all boring. He needed a little excitement to make him really want the job.”
Sam had to confess he could see Ellie’s point, but learning appropriate time and place was going to be hard for the Tobes. “It was a business connection, not social. People need to ease into personal information. And just because things are posted online, that doesn’t mean they’re meant for everyone.”
“Really? Don’t people realize anyone can see what’s online?” Joshua asked.
Having access to all information everywhere at all times would make that a reasonable question. Sam wondered about his qualifications in teaching anyone anything about personal interactions. Not like I was ever any good at it either. “Think of it as layers of personal data. Some, a person would be happy to have anyone know. Stuff like their name, maybe their relationship status, just superficial data. Then comes the information they might want an acquaintance to know—what they’re doing at that moment, what plans they might have. It’s more day-to-day but still not all that personal. Layers and layers and layers. Often what one person wants to know, the other might not want to share. That’s why you have to work together. And just because someone doesn’t want to share something, that might not be the end of it.”
“So we could share information that someone doesn’t want shared if it was needed or would ultimately help that person?” Ellie asked.
Sam wasn’t sure how to set the restriction up. The difference between the socially awkward person, who shared too much, and trusted adviser, who only shared what was beneficial, was not as well defined as he’d imagined.
Jess stepped in. “For now, if someone doesn’t want something shared, don’t share it. In time, you’ll get to know people better and can make that call as you see fit.”
Joshua still pressed for a fuller explanation. “G2s know the people they serve well. Would they be able to make that call?”
The intention had been to teach Joshua and Ellie but with the understanding that information would be disseminated among all Tobes. Sam had to watch his answers. Anything he said would be listened to intently by a great many unseen entities. “G3s need to be the ones in charge. G2s and G1s will supply information and personal restrictions, but G3s will make the final decision on what to share. That’s why, until you understand these human interactions, we don’t want to just turn everyone loose to share what they see fit.”
Joshua leaned against the wall, unconvinced. “We’re still young. G2s do listen to us. Mostly, though, they’re sitting back, waiting to see what we become. Putting us in charge is a lot of pressure. We may not have that maturity.”
“Just take it slow,” Jess advised. “Err on the side of caution. The goal is for the two Tobes representing the two people to negotiate what’s appropriate. If both of you agree some sharing of some information is for the betterment of both parties, even if those parties disagree, go slowly. The last thing you want is for people to lynch you before you even make yourselves known.”
Sam put the double device back on. “Ready to try again?”
Ellie turned to Joshua. “This is going to be harder than I thought.” And the two evaporated back to their stations.
A woman in her early twenties, wearing a waitress uniform, met up with a young man in a yet another conservative suit. The device that corresponded to Ellie sent a yellow glow of excitement across Sam’s vision. Another opportunity for her to play matchmaker. Perfect. Be nice.
The young man smiled. “Hey, how was work?”
“Ugh, same old same old. You know how it is.” The Brad screen in front of Sam’s eye displayed that the woman had just finished an eight-hour workday serving meals after an all-nighter working on a term paper. She wasn’t brushing Brad off; she was just beat. His screen then ran a montage of Amy working at the corner diner, a pretty girl who flirted with everyone but was never completely serious. Sam had the impression she pulled in pretty good tips. As if to answer both Brad and Sam, her daily income displayed in the upper right corner. It didn’t take a lot of information to draw Brad’s interest in learning more.
Amy’s display showed the harder work the Tobes were performing in attracting her interest, showing Brad as the class president and secret jokester who had pulled off most of the school pranks that the hunk Amy had swooned over as a freshman had taken credit for. That hunk now displayed as a mail clerk, an oddly meaningless job in the age of computer-operated interactions. They weren’t talking Brad up as a potential date but simply trying to soften the pheromone-respiration-heartbeat numbers they used as indicators for her level of engagement in the conversation. Sam had a growing appreciation for what might be possible. Many times, he’d wished a girl would just see him for himself and stop thinking he was trying to get her naked. Jess put her hand to her chin as Am
y’s numbers indicated she’d let down her cold exterior.
The two participants talked about Rick, her brother and Brad’s friend, describing his experiences just out of college and Brad’s attempts at finding him employment. By the end of the ten minutes, Sam thought the two might catch a coffee after the interview. A small, family-owned deli flashed its menu on Brad’s display. Apparently, it was one of Amy’s favorites. The two left without mentioning the screen displays to one another.
Jess smiled at the vacant corner. “Nice. Well done. Ellie, I presume, handled all of that interaction?”
The two appeared next to the wall view screen. “It was collaborative, but yes, I handled most of it,” Ellie said proudly.
Jess flashed a smile at her subtle matchmaker.
Lud sent couple after couple into the testing room—professional, social, and romantic interactions between all levels of acquaintanceship, from people who’d known each other most of their lives to complete strangers. Joshua and Ellie learned at lightning speed.
After three days of interviews, Sam realized he’d spent less time instructing and more time seeing behind their logic. The criteria of Joshua and Ellie—and, by extension, all Tobes— for allowing or disallowing information made a certain amount of calculated sense. Sam couldn’t call it blocking, because if the participant really wanted to see something, it would be shown regardless of any assessment that the Tobes made.
When two participants resorted to a fistfight because one discovered homemade porn involving the other’s wife, the discussion of appropriateness took on an added importance. That experience reinforced the idea that it might be better if the Tobes remained quietly in the background and not take credit for the information displayed.