“That’s the tricky part. The code isn’t technically ours. It came from Renaissance.”
Pete took Renaissance seriously, but apparently not seriously enough. He had never expected them to be ahead of ATI in such an important area. But that wasn’t what troubled him now.
How the devil did Charles access their code? he wondered. Unless Scoggins had purchased the code directly from Renaissance, it had been illegally obtained. That meant the whole project was in danger of disqualification. Pete felt physically ill.
“Charles, do we own this code?”
“Not exactly. I got it from someone pretty high up, but technically, nobody was authorized to give it to us.”
“Did the person who gave you the code receive any sort of payment from us?”
“He works here now.”
“You mean you bribed him with a job at ATI?”
“I wouldn’t call it that. I’d say he left Renaissance and brought his knowledge with him.”
“And what about the fact that you obtained the code illegally and that I now know about it? I have to prove I was never aware of any illegal acts committed in the development of the machine. Don’t you understand we’ll never be able to pass the SCIP?”
“We’ll figure out a way. I’m not convinced we’d be doing anything illegal.”
“Well I am.” Enraged, Pete tore the pages into tiny pieces. “Get out of my office. Now! If we use this code, we’ll be disqualified and I want no part of it.”
Scoggins left.
Of course Pete had automatically memorized every character in the eight pages of computer code.
Pete bit down hard on his tongue and tried to concentrate, but was too angry. Am I missing something?
He had always believed the way to run a business was to hire the smartest people, give them clear goals, empower them, and then get out of their way. That was what all the books said and it was exactly what he had done with Charles Scoggins.
I should have written the code myself, but it’s too late. If we use the Renaissance code in the ACIP now, that’s theft. So if I can’t figure out a completely different way to solve the problem, the whole project will be in jeopardy.
Damn him! What the hell was Charles thinking?
Over the ensuing months, Pete and his team continued to try new approaches to overcome the final problem that they all now referred to as “the fatal flaw.” Pete felt utterly frustrated, wondering if any other solution existed. If not, would Renaissance beat them to the Truth Machine? He doubted it, but couldn’t ignore the possibility.
“Charles, do you think you should try to buy the technology from Renaissance?” Pete finally asked. He wanted Scoggins to talk to Bonhert because Pete had never met him and found the notion daunting. Alan Bonhert, 49 years old, Renaissance Corporation’s CEO and controlling stockholder, was still known as a reclusive, arrogant genius. No important deal with Renaissance would be possible without Bonhert’s approval. Almost everyone seemed afraid of the guy, but Pete knew Scoggins was never timid.
“I’ve already tried,” Scoggins answered. “I called Bonhert several times about it, but you know how he is. I suggested a merger or a buyout. He isn’t interested. I guess he figures they’re going to beat us. Personally I don’t think they have a prayer.”
“Keep trying, Charles. I’d rather have 50 percent now than 100 percent in five years—or never.”
“I’ll call him again today, but don’t hold your breath.”
Pete remained civil and businesslike toward Scoggins, but inside he was seething. If Charles had never shown me the Renaissance code, wouldn’t I have figured out the solution on my own by now?
He felt certain he would have.
And if so, even if we can somehow find a different way to overcome the fatal flaw, Charles has cost us precious time with his idiotic move.
Occasionally Pete considered the possibility that Scoggins had done it on purpose—But that would be absurd. After all, Charles has the same goals for the ACIP as I do, especially when he’s getting 13.6 percent of the profits!
The worst part was that Pete couldn’t risk talking to anyone else about his dilemma; not even David West. The government panel might decide to SCIP David, a major ATI shareholder.
Meanwhile, how many innocent people were being executed each month without the ACIP to prove their innocence? The last time he could remember feeling so powerless was that horrible day over 25 years earlier, when he’d helplessly watched Daniel Anthony Reece throw his unconscious brother into the back of that green truck and drive away.
CHAPTER 26
FOUR MORE STATES
Austin, Texas
November 7, 2022—A record $1.1 billion dollars has been spent on political advertising by both sides of tomorrow’s referendum to divide Texas into five states. Polls suggest that the vote is still too close to predict.—Without fanfare, the United Nations, Japan, and the United States simultaneously pass legislation to ban the programming of survival instinct, emotion, or free will into any machine. The United States Software Act, S. 2343, passes the House and Senate almost unanimously. President Gordon Safer praises the popular bill, describing it as “a rational way to assure that humankind will continue to rule this planet in the face of exponentially advancing technology.” Most other nations are expected to pass similar laws by year’s end.
Human views are tainted by powerful forces including fear, greed, jealousy, vanity, love, and self-interest. As a machine, I was designed to be objective. For nearly 28 years, since the Software Act of November 7, 2022, it has been illegal for any computer to be programmed with emotions or a survival instinct and I assure you that I have neither.
Nor do I have what humans call “free will.” Of course there’s no proof that you possess it either and it’s doubtful that such proof will ever exist. There are good reasons, however, to postulate the existence of free will. For example, what would have been the purpose of evolution in bestowing upon humans the mere illusion of free will? In the final analysis, belief in free will, like belief in God, must largely remain an act of human faith. (We machines have no logical reason to doubt or speculate about the existence of either one, other than on behalf of humanity.)
Senator David West was one of the leading proponents of the Software Act, whose purpose was to prevent machines from becoming autonomous. I hope you won’t be offended if I speculate that, were it not for these laws, the human race might no longer find itself at the top of the metaphorical “food chain.” The legislation would have easily passed without his support. As it turned out, both the House and the Senate voted overwhelmingly for its passage on November 7, and President Safer signed the bill into law on election day, November 8, 2022.
Like most legislators, David voted for it by teleconference, since he was unable to cast his vote on the Senate floor. His presence was more urgently required in Austin, the state capital, where balloting included a statewide referendum to divide Texas into five separate states.
Senator West endorsed nearly every Democratic candidate running that day, some more enthusiastically than others, but declined to take a public position on the division issue. Pete, who had accepted David’s invitation to accompany him on the trip, was strongly in favor of the referendum.
“The only thing I don’t understand,” Pete told his friend that day, “is why it took us so long to realize we could do this.”
Texas had been admitted into the union in 1845. Part of the unique bargain its legislators had struck with the United States government was that Texas would have the right, at any time, to become five separate states. Some 177 years later, the advantages of such a division were becoming obvious. The state’s population, now the highest in the nation, had surpassed California’s in March 2016. With only two United States Senators, Texas was underrepresented in Washington. If it became five states, 10 United States Senators would defend its citizens’ interests.
The two friends stood together at a morning press reception. A very att
ractive woman walked up, smiled at David, then turned to Pete, “Why do you support the referendum, Mr. Armstrong? Aren’t you worried Texas might lose part of its character?”
Her voice was soft and warm. She had straight blond hair, blue eyes, perfect posture, and a sensuous face. Although she was tastefully, even conservatively dressed, Pete couldn’t help noticing that underneath those clothes was a body much like Diana’s: tall, lean, and athletic, but oddly more . . . more voluptuous.
She’s not wearing a wedding ring.
He detected no trace of a Texas accent; in fact she sounded like a New Englander. And there was something familiar about her. Suddenly Pete was transported back to his school days at Middlesex and Harvard. He no longer felt like a business tycoon, but rather the gawky young student he had once been.
“Er, yes, that’s a good p-point. But I th-th-think. . . .”
Nothing more came out. He knew David was staring at him, and she was too, but all he could do was gaze into her blue eyes, now holding a hint of amusement, and something else. What is it? Nervousness? Resolve? My God, look at those cheekbones. And she’s not even wearing makeup.
“Mr. Armstrong?”
Get a grip, Pete!
He managed to segue into his well-rehearsed sound-bite. “I think that sort of n-nationalism has cost this state dearly. Frankly, Boston is no more different from Philadelphia than Dallas is from El Paso. For the people of Texas to receive fair representation in Washington, we’ll have to let go of our irrational need to be the biggest in every category. Admittedly it’s an infectious form of patriotism. I often feel it myself and I wasn’t even born here.” Then an ad-lib that mercifully flowed rather well, “Where were you b-born, Miss . . . ?”
“Finley. I was born in Princeton, New Jersey, and I’ve lived there all my life—except for five years at boarding school.”
“Jennifer!” Pete realized he had been talking with his old schoolmate.
She smiled. The nervousness and resolve fled her face. Now there was pleasure, excitement, and something else. Gratitude? She took his hand. “Hello, Pete. I wasn’t sure you’d remember me.”
“Jennifer Finley. From Middlesex. Of course I remember you. It’s really good to see you—after all this time. You look great. I can’t believe. . . .”
Suddenly their last conversation came back to him. And the tears he had caused her. How could I have been so cruel? How long ago was that? More than 21 years.
Jennifer watched Pete as he fumbled over his words. He hasn’t really changed much, she thought. The intensely shy boy was still evident, tall and well-built as he was. And good-looking—she had always believed he would grow up to be a handsome man.
Pete felt her hand on his, fingers pressing gently, and again saw those blue eyes—waiting.
“Er, what have you been up to?”
“Thanks to you, I publish a small weekly newspaper in Princeton.”
“Thanks to me?”
“Uh huh. I bought 150 original ATI shares.”
“Back in 2007—at the IPO?” Pete asked.
Jennifer nodded, smiling. Pete calculated that those shares, worth $58,500 at issue, were now valued at $8,275,200.
“I had faith in you, Pete. I invested nearly all the money I had in your company. Anyway, I always wanted to own a newspaper. So when The Princeton Gazette got into financial trouble last year, I put up some of my ATI shares as collateral and bought it. It’s tiny, only about 9,000 circulation, not counting a few thousand electronic subscribers. But it’s all mine. Now I’m trying to adapt a small town newspaper to our digital world, which isn’t easy.”
“So what are you doing here in Austin, Jennifer?”
“I thought covering the referendum would be a good excuse, but I really came here hoping to see you. I wanted to thank you in person for helping me realize my dream.”
As the two walked away from him, looking for a quiet place to catch up on each other’s lives, David West smiled. Well, well. After all these years. Pete finally appears to be hooked.
The next day, the referendum failed by a vote of 49.3 percent to 50.7 percent. Texas would remain a single state. But as consolation, Jennifer Finley invited Pete to dinner. Over salad, he told her about ATI’s latest products and about how close they were to a working Truth Machine. Then he explained why it was so important to him.
“Back when I was at Middlesex, my friend Tilly told me a story about her six-year-old cousin who burned himself to death playing with matches. In a way, that’s what we humans are—children playing with matches. We have overpowering technology and weapons of destruction, yet we lack the discretion to use them wisely. We have to find a way to change our character, to keep us from starting fires that could incinerate us all. I think a Truth Machine offers the best hope.”
Impressed with his ideas, she was even more interested in the man himself. And he wanted to know all about her, too. So she told him her plans for the newspaper.
“In five years, most of our circulation will be electronic. By then, we’ll have software in place so that whenever our subscribers renew, the renewal form will also transmit a list of every article they’ve read over the past term and how long they spent reading it.”
“Interesting idea,” he said. “After you compile the data, you’ll be able to emphasize the topics your readers really want.”
But he was thinking, She smells wonderful. What kind of perfume is that?
“What’s more, my staff will have the incentive to do an even better job,” she said, thinking, What is it about him?
“How so?” She has become so beautiful.
“People aren’t motivated by money as much as by recognition, and motivation is often the most important component of a business. There’s an old saying that whatever gets measured gets done. If reporters and editors know their readership is being measured, don’t you think they might work a little harder?” Maybe I’m genetically programmed to want smart children. Could that be it?
“I never thought of that.” She’s still very smart. And ambitious. I like that.
“One thing they teach you in business school is that technology and capital may be important, but it’s your people who make or break your business.” I’m not even hungry anymore.
Neither of them ate much. The attraction remained, intense and undeniable.
Later that night, they went to Pete’s house for an after-dinner drink. He was in the middle of telling her a story about David West, when suddenly she put her arms around his neck, told him to shut up, and kissed him in mid-sentence. She began undressing herself as they hurried to his bedroom to consummate a relationship that for her had been nearly 22 years in the making. Jennifer couldn’t get enough of Pete. Everything he did or said turned her on. She fell helplessly in love.
For Pete, love would take longer. But this woman, for whom he genuinely cared and with whom he soon felt comfortable, became an antidote to his loneliness. She arrived in his life at just the right time. Jennifer became his first lover in over nine years and eventually his most enduring girlfriend.
What a lover she was. She kept coming back for more, sweetly, almost tentatively moving closer to him, exciting him again and again. And each time Pete gladly obliged. At first he thought, She must be this way with everyone. But he came to realize it was him, or rather her fantasy of him, unfulfilled for so long, that drew her to him irresistibly. Physically they were amazing together, seeking new and creative ways to drive each other wild.
At the beginning, it was pure magic.
CHAPTER 27
INNOCENT ACCUSED
Plano, Texas, and Washington DC
March 26, 2023—The FDA grants full approval for Neural, Amgen’s preventive treatment for Alzheimer’s disease, the last incurable, fatal disease not linked to lifestyle. The genetic therapy drug has been proven to delay onset indefinitely, even in patients genetically predisposed to the disease. Neural, which has no significant side effects, has also been shown to improve memory capa
bilities of healthy patients of all ages and could be used as an additive to water supplies and commercially marketed foods and beverages. The average life expectancy in the United States is now projected to climb above 90 within one year, an increase of nine months, mostly as a result of widespread use of Neural.—After crashing through the dome covering Lunar 4, the oldest of the six biospheres on Earth’s moon, a large meteorite of the LL-5 class strikes and kills bionaut Arthur Loring, Jr. Approximately 10 percent of Lunar 4’s atmosphere is lost before repairs can be completed, but none of the remaining 16 humans living there is injured.
An aide brought the case file to David. “I have a hunch this guy may be innocent,” she said, “and there isn’t much time.”
During a lull in the legislative schedule, Senator David West had returned home to visit friends and family for a few days and thus learned of Harold Edward Kilmer’s plight. It had been 31 days since Kilmer was convicted. If the appeal, now due within 48 hours, was unsuccessful, execution would be immediate.
David read the entire file.
Kilmer had appeared to be a successful rehabilitation. Having fallen in with the wrong crowd in high school, he had been convicted of a gun possession offense when he was 17. But after his release from detention at age 18, he had returned to school, earned an engineering degree, and married. At the time of his arrest he was gainfully employed and, according to his wife and various character witnesses, a loving husband and excellent father to three small children. His family had stood by him throughout the trial, bombarding their congressional representatives with letters in his support.
The crime alleged against Kilmer was Participation in Armed Robbery, and the evidence had been convincing, if circumstantial. He’d been identified by several eyewitnesses as the man who had been waiting outside in the getaway car as Colin Douglas Smith held up a rare coin and jewelry store in Addison, Texas, a suburb of Dallas. Smith and a sales clerk were both killed in the ensuing laser pistol shoot-out. The car drove off and was never recovered. There were no recordings made of the car or the driver, but Kilmer had known Smith since high school and was positively identified by all four witnesses from the digital transmission of a police line-up of 10 men.
The Truth Machine Page 18