From the Shadows: The Complete Series

by KB Shaw

  This suited Cameron’s personality just fine. However, for many people, the level of courtesy demanded by the multiCom was hard to get used to. Consequently, some people resisted it altogether and chose to bypass the AI personalities whenever they used their multiCom. It was rumored that the enigmatic creator of the software had insisted on this feature. This made Cameron wonder if the inventor of the multiCom was a lot like him and Rosa.

  Cameron’s multiCom obediently complied and Rosa’s image filled the large screen on the wall. “Thanks, Sam,” said Cameron.

  “Gracias, Vee,” Rosa was saying on the other end. Obviously, she had requested Cameron’s image to go to full screen as well. Rosa’s eyes were wide with wonder. “¡Mierda!”

  “Ditto,” said Cameron, grinning.

  “What do you think someone would need to do to get into the school they’re starting?” asked Rosa.

  “I dunno, but wouldn’t it be neat if we both could get in?” said Cameron.

  “Should we...?” they spoke in unison. Without replying to each other, they addressed their respective multiComs, Sam and Vee. “Go to mcn dot IHTAcademy dot sch, please. Inset message window.”

  In an instant they were at the GundTech International Academy site on the multiCom network. “Thanks,” they said.

  Words started to scroll over a field of stars that filled the screen.

  Welcome to the GundTech IHT Academy.

  We will be selecting qualified young men and women from the ages of 12 to 18 to form our first IHT Academy class, which will convene on September 3 of this year.

  Please fill out the online form that will appear after this message. Application materials will be sent to you shortly.

  All information requested in the registration form is confidential and will not be used for any purpose except to send you an application packet.

  Thank you for your interest…

  …and good luck!

  G. Johanssen

  Director of Communications

  After the last line of text faded from view, a registration form appeared.

  Rosa spoke first. “Should we?” It wasn’t so much a question as an affirmation—the beginning of a brief ritual, in the form of a mock debate, designed to justify what they were about to do.

  “They only want our name, age, and home address,” said Cameron, building the slight argument needed for taking action.

  “Maybe we should check with our parents first.” Again, it was merely a formality of the game, demonstrating their due consideration of parental authority. Rosa already knew what the answer would be.

  “What can it hurt to just get an application?” This was offered by Cameron as the conclusion of the discussion.

  “Nothing, I guess,” said Rosa with a feigned tone of resignation. “Let’s do it! Vee, fill in the requested information, por favor.”

  Cameron made the same request of Sam. The forms were instantly filled with their names, birth dates, and home address.

  The young man from Wisconsin and the young lady from New Mexico looked at each other’s image inset on their multiCom screens. Rosa nodded, then smiled, confident in their joint decision. Together, they said, “Send, please.”

  • • •

  ROSA SAT ALONE in the rear of the bus. Her family’s ranch was so far from town that she was the first person picked up in the morning and the last dropped off at night. Depending upon the weather, the ride could be anywhere from forty-five minutes to an hour-and-a-half each way. The ride seemed to take forever this beautiful Monday afternoon, for Rosa’s mind was far away from New Mexico. She was daydreaming about the IHT Academy. Only a weekend had passed since she and Cameron submitted their names, but she had expected an email reply from the Academy by now—at least to say her name had been received. She checked with Vee almost every hour, all weekend long, but there was nothing. Cameron hadn’t received word either.

  In the distance, Rosa could see the large ranch house set about three-quarters of a mile off the main road. It sat atop the crest of a small ridge surrounded by an oasis of trees, which shaded its red-tiled roof and adobe walls. As the bus got closer, she could see the dust-trail of her father’s truck as it came down the long drive to pick her up. What would her parents think of her hopes to attend the academy?

  The bus came to a halt at the junction of the main road and the ranch drive. Rosa got up and walked slowly to the front, lost in her thoughts. The driver, a Navajo woman in her late forties, watched her in the mirror. “Something wrong, Rosarita?” she asked as Rosa approached.

  “Just thinking about things, Mrs. Tsossie,” said Rosa glumly.

  “Not that again? Thinking? How terrible! Well then, think happy thoughts, little one.” Mrs. Tsossie smiled at Rosa and Rosa smiled back. “Here’s your Papá. Hágoónee’ Rosarita.”

  “Hasta luego, Mrs. Tsossie.”

  The bus doors swung open and Rosa stepped down to the dirt road as the new red pickup with “Rancho Verde” painted on the doors came to the mouth of the drive. Mr. Costas waved his white straw hat out the window. “¡Hola! Mrs. Tsossie,” he called out as he swung the truck about in a U-turn.

  “Yá’át’ééh,” the woman answered. “Rosa’s been thinking again, Bernardo. Just thought you should be warned.”

  “Consider me warned. Muchas gracias, Mrs. Tsossie.” Mr. Costas laughed as Rosa opened the passenger door and got in. “C’mon, Rosa. No time to waste. We’ve got chores before dinner.” Dirt and stones flew in the air as the truck sped down the drive toward the sprawling hacienda. “So, what’ve you been thinkin’ bout, mijita?”

  Rosa was gazing out her window. “Nothing really, Papá... and everything... You know what I mean?”

  Mr. Costas turned and looked at his daughter. He was amazed every time he stopped and looked at her. Rosa was no longer “just” his little girl. She was growing up, and he was getting to know this new, amazing person she was becoming. He turned his eyes back to the road. “Sí,” he said wistfully. “I do understand.” He waited a moment, then asked, “Anything you want to talk about?”

  “No. Not now, at least.”

  They drove silently up the hill toward the house. Mr. Costas turned off the main drive onto a side access road that went around the luxurious, modern version of a classic New Mexico ranch house. Rosa could hear the children playing by the pool out back. When the truck came around the house, two young boys and a small girl stopped and waved. “Rosa, Rosa, Rosa,” shouted the little girl merrily. Rosa waved back as the truck proceeded down the backside of the hill.

  A minute later, they pulled up to a modest house nestled among some cottonwoods and willows hugging the bank of a small river. Mama was standing inside the screen door, an apron tied around her waist. She had been cooking; Rosa could smell it as she approached the house.

  “Why are you waiting at the door, Mama?” Mrs. Costas’s eyes looked past Rosa at her father. Rosa turned to her Dad. “Is anything wrong?”

  Her mother pushed open the screen door. “Come inside, Rosa.”

  Rosa entered the house, followed closely by her dad, who moved around Rosa and stood next to his wife. They stood silently, looking at their daughter.

  Rosa was feeling anxious. “¿Qué pasa? What?”

  “Is that what you’ve been thinking about?” Papá motioned to the end table by the living room sofa.

  Rosa’s eyes followed her father’s gesture and landed upon a package wrapped in shiny, white plastic, bound in what looked like red ribbon. It was about eight inches wide and eleven inches long. Papers of some sort? The package was three or four inches thick. If it’s papers, she thought, there’s gotta be hundreds of them.

  “A man from GundTech drove all the way from Albuquerque to bring you that,” said Mama. “He delivered it up at the main house, but Mrs. Holstein noticed it was for you and sent him down here.”

  “Is that what you’ve been worrying about all week?” asked Papá. Rosa looked surprised. “Don’t think I didn’t notice how
often you checked your machine. It was unusual, even for you.”

  “It’s not a ‘machine,’ Papá,” said Rosa. “Vee is an AI. She can think for herself.”

  Papá held up his hand in surrender. “I stand corrected. I wouldn’t want to hurt its feelings if it heard me calling it a machine. Your mama and I are very thankful the Holsteins had it installed for you. Anyway, is that what you’ve been thinking about?”

  Rosa walked over to the table and lifted the packet. It was heavy. It’s gotta be papers—or maybe a large book, she thought. On closer inspection, the ribbon was not ribbon at all. It was red tape, which sealed the package and bound it firmly together.

  “Well?” asked Mama.

  “Uh, yes,” said Rosa.

  Papá looked over her shoulder at the package. “What is it?”

  “An application, I think,” said Rosa. She winced at the thought of an application several hundred pages long.

  Mr. Costas looked amazed. “An application for what? I mean... that’s one heck of an application. What could require that much paperwork?”

  “Remember the GundTech announcement last Friday? You know, it was on the news.”

  Mrs. Costas nodded, a faint smile showing.

  “Sí, we remember,” said Papá. “The news was filled with it.”

  Mama placed her hand on the package and smiled at her daughter. “And you want to enroll in that academy they’re starting, don’t you?”

  Rosa glanced from her mother to her father, then back to her mother. “Yes, Mama. I do. Cameron and me...”

  “Cameron and I,” said Mama.

  “Your virtual boyfriend and you...” Papá teased.

  Rosa glared at her Dad. “Cameron and I thought it wouldn’t hurt to at least get an application.”

  “It most certainly would hurt—if you dropped that thing on your foot or something,” said Mama. She and Rosa laughed at the thought.

  Papá remained stern. “You know we can’t afford any sort of private school and I wouldn’t want to ask the Holsteins...”

  Mrs. Costas cut off her husband. “Bernard, it’s free. If Rosa should happen to be accepted, it would be free.”

  “Well, we couldn’t send her off to...”

  “I wouldn’t go anyplace,” said Rosa. “Well, physically at least. I’d stay right here.”

  Mr. Costas was at a loss for words. “What can I say? If you want to fill out a three hundred page application, the more power to you.” He looked at the package and shook his head in disbelief. “C’mon into the kitchen; we’ll help you sort it out.”

  “Uh, thanks, Papá.” Rosa hesitated. “I want to go over this with Cameron. Do you mind?”

  “¡Es lo que pensé! Go on!”

  “I’ll call you for dinner,” said Mama as Rosa headed off toward her room, the package in hand.

  Mr. Costas was amused. “You know, I thought we had it bad our senior year because we lived at opposite ends of the county.”

  Mrs. Costas took her husband’s hand. “But then we both went to NAU,” she said with a twinkle in her eye.

  “But they’re not college students.”

  “And they wouldn’t actually be together, Bernard.”

  “What a strange world we live in.”

  “And a wondrous one.”

  “So, does this boy still think we own the ranch?”

  “How can I know what he thinks?”

  “Okay, Esmer. No games.” Bernardo gave her a stern look, which only elicited a chuckle from his wife. “Has she told him I’m just the ranch foreman?” Esmeralda Costas simply kissed her husband on the cheek, turned about, and padded into the kitchen. It was all he needed to know. Bernardo let out a long and deep sigh as he shook his head. “¡Mierda!”

  • • •

  CAMERON HAD BEEN sitting on his bed for almost two hours. The heavy package, still bound in white plastic and red tape, rested in his lap. “Incoming message from Rosa, Cameron.” Sam’s voice startled Cameron.

  “Oh! Thanks, Sam. Put her on, please.”

  Instead of Rosa’s face, the screen was filled with white plastic and red tape. “You got it!”

  Rosa pulled the package back from the screen. “I knew you’d have one, too. You didn’t open it, did you?”

  “Nope, it’s right here.” Cameron held his package up to the screen. MultiComs had no cameras, as such. A multiCom screen captured images as well as displayed them. That way you could actually make eye contact with the person to whom you were talking. It was said the young inventor of the multiCom insisted that users must be able to keep eye contact.

  “How many pages do you think?”

  Rosa closed her eyes and weighed the package in her hand. “Three-fifty, I’d say.”

  “Nah! You’re way off. It’s more like five hundred.”

  Rosa’s eyes gleamed with anticipation. “Only one way to tell.”

  “Yep,” said Cameron, his fingers anxiously squeezing the packet. “On three?”

  “Right... on three,” said Rosa. “Uh, who’s counting?”

  Cameron grinned. “Three,” he said suddenly.

  “You rat!” Rosa tore at the red tape sealing the white plastic wrap. “Geez, this stuff is tough!”

  “Duh! What I need is a scissors.” This posed a problem, Cameron realized as he swept his eyes about the room. His bedroom was completely littered with piles of “stuff” that never seemed to get put away—well, almost completely littered. Cameron always made sure the part of his room that Rosa could see on-screen was neat and tidy. However, this didn’t mean he put the stuff from that part of the room away. It only meant that he shifted it to another part of the room. Rosa was already cutting the tape on her package before Cameron could remember which pile contained his scissors.

  Rosa shouted in triumph, “Voila! Who’s the fastest?” She looked up at her multiCom screen. She couldn’t see Cameron, but she could hear him digging around somewhere off-screen.

  “What’s the problem, Rush?” Cameron came back into view with a pair of scissors in hand. “I bet the rest of your room is a mess. Isn’t it, Cheese Boy?” She could see Cameron’s face flush pink with embarrassment. “Vee, I must be having a color problem with my screen. Mr. Rush’s face looks unnaturally red. Could you check it please?”

  “I assure you Rosa, the color sync is 99.86% accurate. Well within design specifications,” replied the not-quite-male, not-quite-female voice of Rosa’s multiCom. “Might I suggest the young man’s face has, in fact, shifted to the red end of the spectrum? Yes. I am sure. See. I have isolated his face from the background. Look. Even now his face is shifting more to the red, while the background has stayed true.”

  “Thanks, Vee.” Rosa doubled up with laughter. “I’m right, aren’t I?”

  “Guilty,” said Cameron, his eyes looking down in mock shame. “You’re a terrible person, you know.”

  “That may be true, but at least I’m not a slob.”

  “Okay, it’s agreed. You’re a tidy, terrible person.”

  “Agreed! Now get your packet opened, will you, Cheese Boy?” Before Cameron had the wrapping off, Rosa said in a dejected tone, “We’re both wrong. The application is seven hundred and fifteen pages long! It’ll take us all summer just to read it and fill it out.”

  Then, as Cameron was pulling away the last of the red tape, he had a sudden realization. He started to chuckle.

  “What are you laughing about? I’m sitting here feeling blue, and you’re sitting there chuckling.”

  Cameron looked up at Rosa’s image. “Someone at the Academy has a sense of humor.”

  Rosa looked puzzled.

  “Don’t you get it?”

  “Get what?”

  Cameron hoisted the seven hundred and fifteen pages of forms to be filled out. “What do you call it when you have to fill out tons of forms like this?”

  Rosa thought a moment then shrugged her shoulders in defeat. “I don’t know.” She watched as Cameron lifted a piece of the material
that had bound the packet together. It struck her like a bolt of lightning.

  “RED TAPE!”

  Chapter 5:

  The Real News

  MEAGAN FLETCHER’S seventh floor office faced east. During the day, she had a clear view of the spectacular cliffs comprising the western edge of the legendary Superstition Mountains. At about the time Cameron was searching for his scissors, the reporter was standing at her office window, looking down at the large array of satellite dishes that sprouted like lopsided mushrooms from the ground below. These were the uplinks and downlinks that moved WBN broadcasts and comNet data around the world at the speed of light. Up until a few days ago, she thought she was surrounded by the most advanced technology that existed, but not anymore.

  After GundTech’s stunning introduction of the IHT, there was a mad scramble by the media to get the story behind the technology. How did it work? Who created it? The answers to those questions would be news.

  Meagan contacted all her sources within the tech sector. No one knew any more about the new technology than she did. Everyone told her the same thing: even the largest super- computers simply could not achieve the computing power required to do what the IHT did.

  Something bothered her. Something was wrong. She didn’t trust GundTech and their mysterious boy-genius. You are a he, aren’t you? That slipped out at the news conference, didn’t it? You’d be about my age now—thirty-or-so?

  And what was with that absurd application form people around the world reported receiving today? It would take days for the WBN legal department to review the copy they had obtained and summarize it for the news department. How were mere kids supposed to fill it out?

  • • •

  MEAGAN MENTALLY REVIEWED what she knew about GundTech. The company had grown from a minor producer of massively multiple player games to one of the largest computing companies in the world, practically overnight. Its meteoric rise to the top was due entirely to the work of a child prodigy who had conceived a new approach to AI—artificial intelligence.