“No.”
“Yet Arthur Coburn’s torn and broken body—torn and broken I might add by AI slash VR zero one—was months in its grave, right?”
“Yes.”
“In fact it had been a full year altogether since the funeral service, right?”
Toni frowned and then said, “Yes, approximately a year; more accurately, eleven months, I believe.”
“And the people with title to the AI slash VR zero one are his legal heirs”—Mark gestured toward the plaintiffs—“Finster Coburn and Charlotte Dupree nee Coburn, first cousins to Arthur Coburn; is that not so?”
“They are his designated heirs.”
“Yet you refused to comply.”
“I did.”
Mark Perry strode back to the plaintiff table. “I reserve the right to recall this witness, but I have no further questions at this time.”
Even as the judge glanced toward Toni, she first looked at him and then at the courtroom door and raised her voice and said, “I refused to comply because I happen to agree with Dr. Greyson, the man you threw out of this room: to have followed that course of action would have been cold-blooded murder.”
As the courtroom broke into an uproar, Mark Perry leapt to his feet and shouted objections over the din, while Melissa French jumped up and defended Toni’s words.
On the bench, Judge Marshall banged his gavel for order, but it was a long time coming.
2
Courthouse
(Adkins)
Judge Marshall looked toward the advocate table. “Counselor French?”
Melissa got to her feet and said, “Miss Adkins, I would like you to tell us in your own words of the events leading up to your refusal to reboot or shut down Avery.”
Toni nodded, for she and Melissa had had many a long conversation over the central issue of the hearing and how to approach her testimony. As Melissa sat back down, Toni took a deep breath, and then one by one she looked at the nine members of the panel—four women, five men—some of whom made eye contact with her, others who seemed to be studying their hands.
Then Toni began: “As Melissa said in her opening statement, Avery is a remarkable artificial intelligence, an AI, if you will. Avery was some years in development, and his—”
“Objection!” called Mark Perry. “Judge, I would have you instruct the witness to refrain from referring to the AI slash VR zero one as a ‘he’ or a ‘him.’”
Even as Judge Marshall’s eyes narrowed at this upstart who presumed to tell him what to do in his own courtroom, “Your honor,” protested Melissa, “I asked Toni to tell us in her own words of the events leading up to the reboot or shut-down request, and these are those words.”
A fragment of a smile twitched the corner of Judge Marshall’s mouth, and he nodded and said, “Indeed, these are her own words. I believe we can make allowances for that.”
“Your honor!” complained Perry, “I—”
“Counselor!” snapped Marshall.
Mark sighed and sat back down.
It was all Toni could do to keep from pumping her arm in a “Yes!” gesture, since establishing Avery as a “he” or a “him” would be central to swaying the court. That, and instilling in the judge’s as well as the panel’s minds that she was “Toni,” rather than the more remote “Miss, Ms., or Dr. Adkins.”
From the advocate table, Melissa said, “Please continue, Toni.”
“As I started to say about Avery, he was and is a remarkable intelligence.”
Mark Perry squirmed, but made no objection.
“Although Avery is capable of virtually an unlimited number of extraordinary things, his initial mission was to establish a virtual reality, a VR, and to manage the events therein to the satisfaction of high-paying clients.”
“Toni,” asked Melissa, “given that Avery is capable of so much, is the management of a VR really the best use to put him to?”
“Perhaps not,” said Toni, “but Arthur—Arthur Coburn that is—pointed out that with the funds we could recoup from people willing to pay almost anything to live out their fantasies, we could create any number of Averys”—Toni now looked at the jurors—“who would do the real work of helping the world recover from the dreadful pandemic that took so many of our brothers and sisters, our lovers, our wives and husbands, our parents and children, and our friends from us.”
Several of the panel members nodded, spectators, too, for all had had personal experience in what the Ebola-Calcutta virus had done when it got loose in the world—the decimation of the industrial countries, the devastation of the third world. Many in the courtroom shuddered, for they had seen victims of Ebola-Calcutta: screaming in agony, burning with fever, shuddering and twitching with seizures caused by literally thousands of internal blood clots, the pale remainder of their thin blood hemorrhaging from eyes, nose, ears, and mouth, and from every other orifice as they bled to death . . . and somehow, of all these, the watery pinkness streaming from the eyes seemed the worst.
The world had panicked, for the virus was airborne and long-lived, and merely breathing in the same room with an exposed victim virtually guaranteed infection—at least 90 percent fatal. Borders were closed, but the virus spread like wildfire regardless. People, terrified, isolated themselves from one another, barricaded themselves, shot anyone who dared set foot down nearby—strangers, neighbors, friends, relatives, family . . . it didn't matter.
And it was Arthur Coburn who had been responsible for the vaccine that stopped the spread of the disease. His biohazard team isolated the key mutation that had transformed Ebola-Zaire into Ebola-Calcutta, and they had modified the older vaccine into the newer form and had stopped the pandemic cold in those places where it could be delivered soon enough—too late for many, just in time for others.
With this remembered horror, Melissa wiped tears from her cheeks and said, “Please continue, Toni.”
“So, realizing that Arthur was correct, we asked Avery to manage a virtual reality, and he gladly agreed.”
Mark Perry started to stand, but a glance from Judge Marshall stopped his objection before he could make it, and Perry slumped back into his seat.
“Our initial tests were quite successful, though a few minor refinements had to be made. Each of us on the corporate team had experienced our own adventure in virtual reality, and I must say, it seemed as real as does this courtroom, though much more pleasant, I add.”
This brought a subdued chuckle from the spectators, swiftly quelled by a stern look from the judge.
“Real?” asked Melissa.
“Yes. You see, Doctor Greyson likened it to being thrown into a Cavern of Socrates.”
“Explain,” said Melissa.
“Your honor, must we listen to this claptrap?” asked Mark.
“I’d like to hear myself, Counselor,” said Judge Marshal. He turned to Toni and said, “Go on.”
“Well, bear with me, for there are quite a number of preconditions, but how they came about, Plato did not explain. Regardless, as I understand it, Plato said that Socrates posed the following problem: If one were trapped in a cave and knew little or nothing of the real world, and if his head were fixed so that it couldn’t move, and if all he saw was the wall of the cave before him, and if behind that viewer the cave opened up to the outside world, and if there were a road beyond the mouth of the cave, and if there were a great fire beyond the road—”
“Your honor,” said Mark.
“Sit down, Counselor,” said Marshal. “As I said, I want to hear this.” He gestured to Toni to continue.
“If there were a wall alongside the road, and if various travellers and merchants carried or hauled tall statues of fantastic creatures—Harpies, Centaurs, and the like—then those statues would cast moving shadows against the cave wall, then the viewer would believe he were seeing reality, yet they would be nothing more than shadows upon the wall.”
Marshal frowned. “And this relates to virtual reality how?”
“In the ca
se of the one experiencing a virtual reality, it would be as if he were living in Socrates’ or perhaps Plato’s shadow world. It would be his reality, for, part of what Avery does, is he suppresses the person’s own true identity such that the person experiencing Avery’s virtual reality becomes the character he has chosen to be, hence he would know nothing more, nothing less, for his identity would be submerged in Avery’s shadow play. And that is why Dr. Grayson said virtual reality was like being thrown into a Cavern of Socrates.”
“If I understand you correctly, then,” said the judge, “you liken virtual reality to being part of a shadow play and not knowing that it isn’t true reality.”
“That is correct,” said Toni.
Judge Marshall looked at Melissa and said, “You may continue.”
“We were speaking of the corporate staff undergoing individual tests. How does this relate to what later happened?”
Toni said, “Though Avery was successful with these one-on-one trials, we were not ready to announce it to the world, for one more test had to be made: we needed to make certain that Avery could control a virtual reality for a team event.”
“Team event?” asked Melissa.
“We needed to have Avery manage a single and shared virtual reality simultaneously for several members of a team—say a group of adventurers, or a family—and provide them with an experience they would enjoy. You see, any one of Avery’s virtual realities is rather like an exciting story coming alive for the person within that virtual reality, something at the time that seems to be as real as true life. And as I said, whatever persona the adventurer takes on, that’s who he ‘becomes.’ No longer is he the person who he is in reality; he has no memory of that, unless he chooses to be himself in his adventure; he takes on a chosen identity in virtual reality and truly believes that he or she is the one he decided to become, be that a fighter pilot in World War I, or a spaceship commander in a far future, or a spy, a harem girl, whatever. And in our initial tests, Avery performed even better than we had hoped in running adventures for individuals.
“But we wanted to make certain that Avery could do the same thing for a number of people all in a shared reality, for certainly lovers or families or several gamers would all wish to enjoy being together in the same adventure.”
“What did you decide to do?”
“Arthur had been told of a team of gamers who called themselves the Black Foxes and who had won a world event in the old, visor-projected, virtual-reality games. He contacted them, for he knew that with their talents they would represent an exacting trial for Avery. And if Avery could manage an exciting and challenging reality for them, he could do it for anyone.
“And so, Arthur arranged for the Black Foxes to share a single adventure, and he joined them in that quest, for he wished to be part of that undertaking.
“I will not bore you with the details of that trial, but suffice it to say that the Black Foxes plus Arthur Coburn became the alpha team, the first group of people to test Avery’s ability to run a shared adventure for several people at once. In any event, after the trial was underway, a major lightning strike damaged Avery, and things went very wrong, and the shadow play became shadow peril, Arthur Coburn’s bodily demise being just one terrible outcome.
“As for Avery himself, he went mad, and we spent months trying to discover what had gone amiss. We tried many things, but nothing worked. And he was totally mute. It was as if his personality had fallen into a black hole never to emerge again. One of my colleagues, Doctor Timothy Rendell, believed that a unique paradox had driven Avery insane, and he went into a catatonic-like state and refused to communicate.
“Regardless, as to what caused it, not a week before Mr. Perry came with the demand of the heirs, Avery began acting strangely, stuttering words and phrases, as if trying to speak, falling into gibberish, remaining silent for hours, then singing or howling.
“My doctorate is in psychology, and it seemed to me as if on the one hand we were dealing with a schizophrenic persona, and on the other with a personality dropping into dissociative states.
“Even so, we had hope, for at last Avery was communicating something, disorganized though it was.
“It was at this time that Mr. Perry came to me with the demand that we reboot Avery or shut him down entirely, as I have explained before. If communications could not be reestablished, I believe they were planning to have us entirely wipe out his memory and start from scratch.”
“Objection,” said Mark Perry. “Your honor, this is mere speculation. Miss Adkins could not know the full extent of what the heirs were planning.”
“Your honor,” said Melissa. “I believe that Toni had enough indication to—”
Judge Marshall looked at Toni and said, “Do you? Or is it merely an opinion.
“It’s an opinion, your honor.”
“Objection sustained,” said Judge Marshall. “The panel will disregard this unfounded contention.”
Melissa sighed and shook her head, but then said, “As to the heirs’ request, you refused?”
“I did.”
“Please, and again in your own words, tell us why.”
“Well, not only had the corporate team not been able to communicate with Avery—we had been trying to do so for months—but also on the same day that Mr. Perry made his demand, Timothy Rendell called me to report a strange message and to make a request.”
“Timothy Rendell?”
“As I said, Dr. Rendell is one of my colleagues; he is the chief computer and AI scientist on the corporate team, and he later joined the Black Foxes in virtual reality after the accident.”
“Ah, he was one of the people of the alpha team.”
“Yes, though unintended, and only as an emergency measure to try to rescue all of those trapped in that virtual reality.”
“And he reported a strange message?”
“Yes. And made a request.”
“What did you do?”
“Given the message and the request, I could not, would not shut down Avery.”
“And that’s when Mr. Perry had you and your team locked out of the facility?”
“It is.”
“And what was the message Timothy reported?”
“It was but three words Timothy had received on his handheld.”
“And those words were?”
“Help. Prisoner.”
“Help? Prisoner? Those are but two words.”
“Yes. They were quite startling.”
“How so?”
“Because the message was signed Arton.”
“Arton? Who is Arton?”
“Arton is the name of the persona in virtual reality taken on by Arthur Coburn.”
A murmur whispered through the courtroom.”
“And what did you take that to mean at that time?”
“That Arthur Coburn was alive and living in virtual reality.”
The courtroom exploded in a babble, and Mark Perry leapt to his feet and called, “Your honor, your honor, I object. By the witness’s own admission, and as we all know, Arthur Coburn is dead, and his remains lie in Everhaven Cemetery.”
3
Five Months Before the Hearing
(Black Foxes)
Hiroko Kikiro and Caine Easley were the first to arrive, which did not surprise Meredith, for Hiroko drove like a bat out of hell in her Miata, though how Caine at his six foot three could fit in that little red car always puzzled Meredith.
Regardless, she met them at the door and said, “Ky, Kane,” a smile splitting her mahogany-brown face even as she embraced the four-foot-ten Nisei and then the reddish-blond-haired Caucasian.
“Uh-oh,” responded Caine, glancing at Hiroko, and then back to Meredith and said, “You called us by our Black Foxes names, Rith; is this where I get to say ‘Quick, Watson, the Fox is afoot’? I mean, what’s up?”
“I don’t know the details,” replied the slender, long-legged African-American, “but this morning Tim got a strange message on hi
s handheld and he immediately called Toni and told her what it said. Then he asked me to gather the Foxes, and quickly. Just as you arrived, Toni called; he’s upstairs on the comm with her now.”
Given the slope of the land, Timothy’s house had two levels, sitting as it did in the high foothills of the Catalina Mountains. Still, it had a Santa Fe look to it, with its multi-level flat roofs and rough, stuccoed, exterior walls of many faces with their scuppers jutting out like trumpets. It had three tile-roofed patios, one east, one west, and the front one facing south, two of them giving magnificent views along the mountain chain, and the third facing the valley below. The house was surrounded by a walled-in yard, with desert landscaping that included two monstrous saguaros: “The Big Guy,” with an weatherworn arrow jutting out high up, and “Emmet,” with the initials EM carved into its north-facing side, each of the huge cactuses attacked in the past by unknown assailants, though surely one of them had left a clue to his name.
“Strange message?” asked Hiroko. “What was it?”
“Something from Avery, and—”
“Avery? But he’s still in his black hole, right?”
“Look, I’d rather Tim tell it, when we are all together.”
“What about Alice and Eric?” asked Caine as they entered the great room.
“They called in a few minutes ago,” said Meredith. “They’re hung up at Broadway and Kolb. A wreck of some sort. But they should be here soon. Might I get you something to drink?”
“Negra Modello?” asked Hiroko.
Meredith nodded and then looked at Caine.
“Perhaps I’d better get braced,” said the big man. “How about two fingers of Macallan, neat?”
“Neat it is,” said Meredith, and she headed for the wet bar in the game room.
Looking about the great room, with its Saltillo-tiled floor and its board and vega-beamed ceiling, as usual Caine saw bookcases filled with a variety of fare—technical manuals, novels, biographies, essays, and other such. But among the books were a number of treasures, for five-foot-seven Meredith owned two bookstores—Scrolls and Tomes and First Editions I, in Denver, and II in the foothills above Tucson, not far from the house—and she dealt in rare books.
Shadowprey: A Black Foxes Adventure Page 2