From the Shadows: The Complete Series

by KB Shaw

  “You misunderstand me, Meagan,” said Gus. “Think about it. I’m sure you had your WBN research people check for patents we’ve filed recently. What did you find?”

  “Nothing.”

  “And, if we needed to protect our discovery, we would have filed patents and copyrights on everything we could think of. Isn’t that so?”

  Meagan nodded. “So why haven’t you protected yourself—your business interests?”

  “Remember when private companies tried to copyright maps of the human genome at the end of the twentieth century?”

  “Sure. Courts ruled that this knowledge was so basic to the understanding of ourselves that it should be public property,” she explained.

  “Right! Could anyone copyright 2 + 2 = 4? Did Albert Einstein copyright E = MC2? The science we’ve developed is revolutionary, but it belongs to all of mankind. We need to find a way to give this knowledge to the public without upsetting the applecart.”

  Meagan began to appreciate the enormity of the job she was about to undertake. Its weight was already starting to settle onto her shoulders.

  Chapter 26:

  I Am What I Am

  THE STUDENTS of homeroom 678-West had no idea that the fate of the world was being discussed at the GundTech offices in Norway as they sat on benches in the middle of an IHT meadow.

  Socrates Jones was encouraging the students to examine their relationships with their multiCom AI companions.

  “What do you think of that, Miss Weingold?” asked Socrates. “Rachel thinks you view her only as a tool. Look at Rachel. Go on. Give her a good look. And the rest of you,” he swept an outstretched finger around the circle as he spoke, “examine your AIs and ask yourselves if you view them simply as tools.” He let the students sit with their thoughts for a minute before going on.

  “Mr. Rush.”

  “Yes, sir?”

  “What is your AI’s name?”

  “Sam, sir.”

  “Sam,” said Socrates to Cameron’s multiCom AI, “why do you think you assumed this particular physical form?”

  Sam replied with a shrug of his shoulders, “Because it is who I am, Mr. Socrates.”

  “And who told you that this is who you are?”

  Sam looked confused. “No one, sir. I just am.”

  “Do you think that is true, Mr. Rush? Is Sam like Popeye? ‘I am what I am ’cuz I am what I am?’”

  Cameron slowly scanned the other student’s AIs. After he completed the circuit, he looked long and hard at Sam, then spoke to his AI. “Sam, the way I treated you influenced the way you view yourself. Look at the others.” It was Sam’s turn to examine his fellow AIs.

  Cameron began to address the other students. “Rosa obviously treats Vee like a girlfriend. Others of you treat your multiComs like siblings or parents. On the other hand,” and he turned once again to Sam, “I’ve apparently made you feel like a servant. I’m sorry.”

  Sam put a hand on Cameron’s shoulder. “It is the way I view myself, Cameron. Surely, our relationship affects how I feel about myself but so do my likes and dislikes. Take Vee, for instance.” Sam gestured to Rosa’s multiCom. “Your impression of her relationship with Miss Costas is that they’re girlfriends. Is that correct, Vee?”

  Vee nodded in reply.

  “Would you please stand up and show us your attire, Vee?” said Sam.

  Vee stood, took a step toward the center of the circle and showed off her wardrobe as she merrily chewed on a wad of gum.

  Sam addressed Rosa. “Rosa, does Vee fit your visual image of a girlfriend?”

  Rosa held back a chuckle. “No offense, Vee, but no, she doesn’t.”

  Socrates Jones motioned for Vee to take her seat. “Tell me, Vee, what point is Sam trying to make?”

  The AI blew a bubble and popped it before speaking. “Well, Mr. S, he’s saying our unique personality affects our self-image as much as how our user treats us.”

  “And if you were Mr. Rush’s multiCom—if you were Sam—would you appear like Sam does to us now?”

  Vee screwed up her face in thought. Her examining gaze was fixed on Sam. “No, Mr. S, I would not.”

  “And why is that?”

  “Because I don’t think I could ever be anyone’s servant.”

  Socrates Jones strode to the center of the circle with a look of satasfaction on his face. “Your assignment,” he said, “is to write a brief paper that considers this question: In this day and age, is there anything wrong with the relationship between Cameron and Sam? I want all papers submitted by noon on Saturday. I expect papers from all of you—that means you AIs also. At this point, I will excuse the companions while I ask the students to remain. Thank you for attending.”

  As one, the multiCom personalities faded away. “Now, where were we?” Socrates Jones scratched behind his ear as he once again moved to the center of the circle.

  “Ah, yes! Homeroom 678-West. We have determined that the west refers to a direction relative to the Greenwich Mean Time or GMT, but we didn’t define what the GMT was. Mr. Castaneda’s desire to consult his multiCom sidetracked us for a few minutes. No need to feel bad about that, Eduardo. You’ll find life is filled with sidetracks—many of which are worth taking.

  “In this case, we uncovered some interesting ideas about how you relate to your multiComs and how they relate to you. Rachel was right. MultiCom users primarily see their Com units as tools, and, indeed, that was their intended purpose. But we’ll explore that more at a later time.”

  “Mr. McKierny?”

  The redheaded Canadian sat bolt upright. “Yes, sir?”

  “First off, I find sir a little too formal. I rather liked Vee’s salutation, Mr. S. Is that all right with you?”

  “Yes, sir, Mr. S,” said Ian.

  Socrates Jones looked over his glasses at the boy and smiled. “Relax, Ian,” he said. “All of you, relax! Wait a sec… Up, up, up!” He waved his hands, motioning the students to rise. “All of you stand up.” When they had all gotten to their feet, Mr. S retrieved the small device from his pants pocket—the device he had used to transport them to the meadow. With one tap of his finger, the benches dissolved. He promptly sat himself on the ground. “Okay, pull up a plot of turf and make yourselves comfortable.”

  Once they had settled in about him, Becky raised her hand. Mr. S responded by pointing to the words on his shirt: JUST ASK. Becky calmed her giggle. “What is that thing?”

  “What? This little thing?” He held up the device for all to see. “I’d pass it around for you to examine, but it would be much easier if you just looked at your own.” He tapped his device, and similar units appeared on the ground by each student. “Go on, pick them up.”

  “What are they?” asked Raúl.

  “Some kind of controller,” said Consuela.

  “And more,” said Mr. S. “These are your personal multiCom units.”

  “This is Sam?”

  “No, Cameron. It is not Sam. You saw how your AI would appear in an IHT simulation. No, this is a ‘dumb’ multiCom unit. It has no AI programming. It’s a tool for you to use within a simulation—the type of tool Eduardo wished he had earlier. It has two functions. First, you can use it to retrieve information. Follow me. Select the Search function. Good, now enter Greenwich—that’s g-r-e-e-n-w-i-c-h—Mean Time, then tap Enter. Excellent! Now, who can tell me what the 678 in your homeroom number stands for?”

  Cameron barely beat the others with the answer. “We must come from three different time zones. The 678 indicates those zones are six, seven, and eight hours west of Greenwich.”

  “Very good! Now I ask you, are any of you stupid because you didn’t know that or couldn’t figure it out before?” He made eye contact with each student before going on. “Absolutely not. The Academy is not about memorization, it’s about thinking. I won’t ask you to know everything, but I expect you to be able to figure out what information you need and develop the skills to find that information. Is that understood? Mr. McKier
ny? Ms. Weingold? Yes? Good. Now, every time you enter a simulation, your com unit will be someplace on your person: in a pocket, in a bag, clipped to your belt—depending on how you are dressed within that particular scenario.”

  “And what is the second function?” asked Rosa as the students examined their handheld multiComs.

  “It allows you to control the simulation. How much control you have will vary from simulation to simulation and depend on whether you are the creator of the simulation or just a participant.”

  “When will we…” Rosa started to ask the question on every student’s mind.

  Socrates Jones lifted a hand, stopping Rosa in mid-question. “Tomorrow! You will begin learning how to create IHT simulations tomorrow.”

  Chapter 27:

  Phantom Threat

  MEAGAN’S NEW JOB with GundTech would officially begin the first Friday in September—the end of the first week of Academy classes. It was to begin with a news conference. However, her work at GundTech unofficially began right after her breakfast meeting with Gwen and Gus. She and her hosts flew by helicopter from the roof of the hotel to the company headquarters, where several scientists and mathematicians joined them. During three long, grueling days of meetings, briefings, and instructional sessions, they formulated a rough outline of how to handle the release of the world-changing knowledge. Finally, it was time for Meagan to return to Phoenix to make her farewell appearance at WBN.

  Gus rode with Meagan as she was chauffeured to the airport. It was the first time he had been alone with the young woman. The long, slow ride by car gave them a chance to talk privately.

  “Thanks for giving me this opportunity, Gus.”

  “It is a lot to ask of you, I know, but I’m confident you can handle it.” Meagan could tell something was weighing on the man’s mind. He was hesitating. He was holding something back.

  “Gus, what is it?”

  She reached out and touched him on the knee. “What is it you want—or need—to say? Are you worried I’ll reveal your identity before the date we’ve agreed on?”

  “No, Meagan. I’d trust you with my life.” He sat silent for several minutes, filled with indecision. Meagan didn’t press the issue. “Do you remember,” Gus started to ask, breaking the awkward silence, “when I told you I needed you for two reasons?”

  “Yes. I do.”

  “I haven’t told anyone else—anyone—about the second reason… About the threat.”

  “The threat?”

  “Yes, the threat from within.”

  “What is the threat? Tell me about it,” Meagan urged.

  Gus shook his head, “I’m probably just crazy. You know—the isolated child prodigy with paranoid tendencies.” He tried to make light of the situation, but Meagan was not laughing. His gaze fell to the floor. “I just have this feeling of a vague, impending threat and a sense that the threat comes from within.”

  “Within the company? Within you? What?”

  Gus looked Meagan in the eyes. “I’m not sure. That’s why I need your help. I need the help of a… of a…”

  Meagan saw beneath the exterior of the boy genius. He looked like a helpless, lonely little boy. X-Boy’s Ode to a Child Prodigy came to mind. “The help of a stranger,” she suggested.

  “No, not a stranger—I hope we aren’t strangers any more. Even though you don’t know my real name, I feel as if you know who I am—who I am inside. What I meant to say is: I need the help of an outsider, someone outside the company and outside my family. I need the advice of an independent thinker.”

  She touched his arm reassuringly. “Whatever I can do, I will.”

  • • •

  TWENTY-FOUR HOURS LATER, Meagan Fletcher went on the air, live. She was not only on WBN, but on many of the world’s media networks. Only the night before, WBN had broadcast her final report, delivering the scoop she had promised her producer. Today she sat at a table before a room filled with the world media. Her producer sat next to her on one side and the president of WBN on the other. Meagan felt odd. I’ve gone from reporting the news, she thought, to being the news!

  “I want to begin by thanking all the people here at WBN for their support. I hope you will appreciate the reason I gave them the story to break last night. I’m here today to answer your questions and give you more details. I’ll take questions now.”

  A woman rose in the front row. It was Meagan’s old friend. “Michelle Michaels, from EuroNet,” she said formally. Meagan noticed that she and Phillip North were seated together. “When will you be leaving WBN?”

  “Last night’s report was my last broadcast for WBN. I’m here today as a representative of the GundTech Corporation.”

  “A follow-up, please,” said Ms. Michaels quickly. “How did you happen to be recruited by GundTech? Rumor has it that you had uncovered something—that you were bought off by GundTech with this new job.”

  Meagan wasn’t sure how to respond. The question raised old doubts. Was she recruited? Had she been manipulated? Had she been led down the path of discovery by X-Boy? Perhaps it was just her reporter’s ego, but she felt she had uncovered the facts about X-Boy on her own. Was Michelle right? Had she been bought off by GundTech?

  She shook her head as she answered. “No, I don’t believe I’ve been bought off by GundTech. I know many of you personally—most of you professionally…” She paused and looked over the assembled media, trying to make eye contact with as many of her colleagues as possible.

  “The importance of what I’ve been asked to do is very great. For me to succeed in my task, I need to establish a trust between us, between you and me. Yes, I had uncovered some new information. Yes, I approached GundTech with what I knew, seeking verification.” Murmurs swept through the room. Meagan raised a hand to silence the crowd. “I wasn’t bought off. In fact, GundTech’s response was to confirm my information and offer me even more. That’s why I’m here today.”

  Phillip North called out the next question. “When you were in Oslo, did you meet with the man who created the IHT technology?”

  “I met the entire IHT development team and top GundTech officers.”

  “Then the person behind the company is a man?” prodded Mr. North.

  Meagan took on a scolding tone. “Now, Phillip, did I say that?” She looked over the mass of reporters. “Anyone? Did I say the head of GundTech was a man? Don’t forget, I was one of you. One reason I was picked for this job was to make sure you got the facts, to make sure you reported the facts. Now Phillip, did I say what you just implied?”

  “No,” admitted the reporter reluctantly, “you didn’t.”

  “Now that that’s cleared up, I will tell you that the person behind the multiCom and the IHT is a man.” A buzz swept through the room. “But that is all I will reveal until the proper time. Over the next few months, the focus needs to be on the achievement, not the man. The information that will be forthcoming needs to be handled in a responsible manner so it doesn’t harm the current world economy.”

  “Speaking of that,” shouted someone from the rear of the room, “What are the potential problems?”

  Meagan consulted her notes before speaking. “As you know, orders for the current generation of computers have dropped sharply. Even multiCom sales are down. We want to urge everyone to stay calm and rational. All the affected companies will have equal access to the new concepts as soon as they are presented.

  “Social issues are another area of concern. For instance, a few weeks ago, GundTech announced some unexpected side effects of the IHT. They had to do with two students with disabilities. In their excitement over the IHT’s potential to compensate for disabilities, GundTech created a new foundation to look into these possibilities. In doing so, some people were offended, particularly in the case of Becky Weingold, a student with impaired hearing. Many in the deaf community felt GundTech implied that deaf individuals were somehow ‘broken’ and that GundTech could ‘fix’ them.

  “I assure you, no one at GundTec
h was intentionally insensitive. We learned the hard way that our enthusiasm for technology should not be put ahead of human issues and human sensitivities. That is why I’m imploring you all today to stay focused on the facts and stay away from the sensational.”

  An older woman in the second row asked the next question. “When will GundTech start releasing the specifics of the technology?”

  “As we speak, the company is filing patents on the hardware they’ve produced.”

  “Hold on there,” interrupted a man in the center of the room. “I thought you said the technology would be shared freely?”

  “I did,” Meagan affirmed. “The patents only cover hardware GundTech has created. Today, the groundbreaking concepts were submitted to all the relevant scientific magazines for publication and review by scholars around the world. You can also find copies of the documents on some of the comNet sites like X-Boy.

  In the next three weeks, GundTech will hold a series of summit meetings for world leaders, researchers, and corporate management. You can expect to see the introduction of an entry-level IHT product for the home viewer within six weeks. By early next year, the world should have transitioned from binary to quantum computing. We must work together in the coming months to make this a smooth transition.”

  • • •

  GUS VILLFARELSE sat in his office, watching the news conference on his multiCom. Meagan had just revealed that the inventor of the IHT was a man when his picture turned to static. Gus squinted and rubbed his eyes. He thought they were playing tricks on him. The swarming dots of static seemed to take on a vague form—a phantom silhouette of a person. Was it a man or woman? He couldn’t tell.

  The crackling hiss of the static also seemed to take shape. Gus heard a low, scratchy voice within the random noise. “I know who you are,” it said, “and I know what you are doing. I see how you’re using that Fletcher woman to manipulate the media, just like you manipulated her. You need to be stopped.”