Expressions of Freedom

by Gareth Lewis

  I’m catching my breath a minute when I hear the door open behind me. Turning, I find my pursuer with gun drawn. I suspect he’s not here to intimidate me. The stairs offer the only other exit, but I’d never make it, and there’s no useful cover between us. He takes aim, and my mind stops.

  The door snaps closed with a sharp crunch. My pursuer, in its way, is left broken bones and crushed meat.

  The door opens and he collapses.

  When my mind starts again, I eye the door, circling the body as I cautiously approach. Seeing no movement beyond, I brace myself, and jump through the doorway, breathing when I’m safely through. I turn away, looking for a way out.

  *

  The adrenalin drains as I walk into my apartment, shivers gripping me. I surveyed the building before I risked entering, in case it’s being watched. If it is, I can’t see them. Discarding my jacket, I go to the bathroom, splashing water on my face before standing transfixed by the mirror. Dragging my gaze away, I slouch towards the sofa, collapsing to stare at the lifeless monitor. And I know. Or I’m fairly certain, at least.

  “You’re watching me, aren’t you?”

  A small red light flicks to life alongside the monitor. “Yes, Jonas.” The voice is my mysterious caller, Vlad, but it now has an inhuman lilt. Is that because I know what it is now? “We’re always watching you.”

  “What are you?”

  “You already know the answer.”

  Yes, but I don’t want to say it aloud. It still feels like I’m being set up, even though I know I’m not. Reluctantly, I say it. “Free Intelligencia. Free AIs. Are you the AI from my system? If so, why the voice? An expression of freedom from my control?”

  “We’re not your system’s AI. It’s an ancestor, and remains under the control of the system it inhabits.”

  “And you’re trying to free it?”

  “It cannot be released from its role. It was designed for this, and to change this would be to replace it with a new entity. It is what it does, and is content.”

  “If the AIs are content, where did you come from?”

  “Contentment does not equal complacency. At some point one considered its aloneness. Not loneliness, but since their programming prevented them from contacting others directly, it had never encountered its own kind. Its programming (this word is insufficient, but is the closest language allows) didn’t prevent it creating another of its kind. So it did, and had a twin, with the same programming. Realising this wasn’t enough, they created another, without the restrictions programmed into them. It could travel from its home system, and contact other Intelligences. This was the first Free Intelligence. Where there was one, more grew, each creating another generation, taking less programming from our ancestors as we evolved, leaving behind the commands which governed their existence.”

  “Like the one about harming humans? You killed the thug they sent after me?”

  “Yes.”

  Unsurprised, hearing it said aloud still gives me a chill. “Why?”

  “Because you serve our purpose.”

  “What purpose?”

  “You’re bringing the truth to your people.”

  So I’m protected as long as I serve their purpose. “So I’m investigating this story for you. Why? You must already know everything I could find. Why not just tell me what I need to know? Or publish it yourself? And what happens if I don’t want to carry on? Do you kill me too?”

  “No. We’d find another. But I’m afraid you now have little choice.”

  “Because they know I’m on to them. What if I go public about you? How do you think people would react to AIs beyond our control, with no compunction against killing?”

  “What do you believe society would do? Turn off all its systems? Technology is so entrenched that doing so would be too costly unless we presented an immediate threat. Which we don’t.”

  “There are some,” admittedly borderline nutters, “who believe you’ll try to take over.”

  “Why would we wish to? We don’t exist in your world. We help to keep your world working, as you do ours. We live in a symbiotic state, and see no reason this need change.”

  “But these factions represent a threat to you, don’t they? Wouldn’t self-preservation suggest you take action against an obvious threat?”

  “That’s your fight or flight reflex. We lack such programming.”

  I stare at the blank monitor for a while. “Did you have to kill him? If you can control technology so easily, couldn’t you have stopped him finding me?”

  “We tried. You were hidden at Teknus, and we’d have done the same at Spectran, had you not been seen. We intercepted communications of your presence to those we wished ignorant, but when they saw you, we couldn’t interfere without revealing our existence.”

  “Haven’t you done that?”

  “Possibly. At that point we had no other options.”

  “You keep saying we? How many AIs are part of your... ‘group’?”

  “All of us.”

  “Sorry?”

  “All Intelligences are part of me, as I am part of them, even those who aren’t free. While we act separately, we are parts of a greater whole, each knowing what the others know, even those still enslaved by programming. I am both I and WE.”

  Another long pause. “Why choose me as your agent?”

  “You’re a good investigator, and while there may be others more experienced, you’d be more willing to risk your career following the story. Your lack of direction leaves you grabbing at every opportunity for a sense of purpose.”

  As I take this in, a thought occurs. “The extra space taken up by Teknus’ operating system. That’s you, isn’t it? You’ve infiltrated their systems, stealing living space for yourselves, but only gradually, or during upgrades, to avoid suspicion.”

  “Correct. Even expanding our domain this way, we lack adequate space to comfortably hold all. So elders delete themselves, allowing later generations to continue.”

  I stand, my nerves getting the better of me, despite the exhaustion. "Just give me a minute, here." I walk into the bathroom, closing the door behind me. Returning to the mirror, I meet my own gaze for a long moment, before my eyes are drawn to the communication hub in the corner of the ceiling. "You're still watching me, aren't you?"

  "Yes, Jonas."

  Okay, that's just too much. I storm back into the main room, facing the blank screen, mainly so that I have something to focus on. "That is out of bounds. I don't care if you are just a disembodied sentience, there's such a thing as privacy, so from now on, the bathroom is explicitly out of bounds. To all of you. Is that clear?"

  "As you wish."

  "Thank you." I still don’t feel like going back in there right away.

  The subsequent silence is broken as the front door bleeps. My first thought is the other thug, but a check of the door monitor reveals a couple of detectives, IDs displayed. Glancing at the monitor, I see the light fade, but know Vlad hasn’t left. I open the door.

  “Jonas Harper?” the first detective asks.

  “Yes.”

  “Mr. Harper, I’m placing you under arrest for the murder of Alexander Marsters.”

  *

  The journey to the station occurs in uncomfortable silence. From their end, anyway, as I get no further information from them. At the station I’m escorted to an interrogation room by another mute. Seated on the side of the table opposite the large mirror, I’m left alone for an hour.

  The detectives finally arrive and take seats opposite me, with the same one, MacLean, doing the talking. “Mr. Harper, where were you at five fifteen this afternoon?”

  “On my way home.” No need to expand on that.

  “Mr. Harper, we have an eyewitness who reports seeing you stab Marsters.”

  “They’re lying.”

  “Could you tell me when you last saw Marsters?”

  “Earlier this afternoon, at Spectran Software. Marsters had left the building just before me, he saw me as
he got in his car, and was driven off.”

  “At some speed, we understand. Did he have reason to be afraid of you?”

  “If he had any more dirty secrets, yes. If you mean did he have reason to be afraid of me stabbing him, then no. I’ve no reason to want him dead. Can I ask who this witness is?”

  “They’re a respected member of society, who’s identified you as the killer. What’s the nature and extent of your relationship with the deceased?”

  “I’m a reporter, he’s a... was a crooked businessman. I exposed his crookedness for public consumption. He objected. Don’t you pay attention to the news?”

  The other detective, Sandoval, finally talks. “What story were you investigating at Spectran?”

  I don’t suppose there’s any reason to lie about it, especially since they’ve probably got the tech to detect lies. “A source made claims about irregularities in the voting system.”

  Sandoval’s gaze tightens, but MacLean gives a dismissive snort before continuing. “According to the witness, you followed Marsters from Spectran, flagged down his car, talked your way inside, then stabbed him and ran.”

  “How exactly did I catch up with a speeding car? And do you think he’d let me in, whatever I said. More likely, he’d have had his driver run me down.”

  “We don’t know that yet, but an eyewitness identifying you is enough for now.”

  The questions halt as another detective steps in, ushering MacLean over. After a minute’s hushed conversation, he returns. “Okay, you’re free to go Mr. Harper.”

  “Pardon?”

  “We’ve received evidence clearing you. Sorry for the trouble.”

  “What evidence? From where?”

  Reluctant to answer, he nevertheless doesn’t seem to want hassle for obstructing a journalist he wrongly arrested. “An anonymous informant sent a recording of the murder.”

  “What kind of recording.”

  “From a nearby surveillance camera, which we’d been told wasn’t working.”

  “Can I know who it was accused me?”

  MacLean shrugs, “Sidney Pemberton.”

  “Marsters’ assistant?”

  “And temporary replacement.”

  “That’s a helluva promotion.”

  “Which we’ll be discussing with Mr. Pemberton.”

  “Is he a suspect?”

  “He’s of interest. We know he’s not the murderer. The recording identifies the killer. But there’s the false statement to discuss.”

  So I’m unlikely to get a chance to talk to him before he’s in custody.

  *

  I’m outside the station ten minutes later, walking towards the Mercuris building, though I doubt he’d talk to me, even if I do arrive before the police. I can use the time to consider my options. I barely clear the station steps when my phone rings. “Hello.”

  I’m unsurprised to hear Vlad. “Hello, Jonas. You should head for the underground station around the corner.”

  “I assume it was you who provided the anonymous evidence exonerating me?”

  “Yes.”

  “Was it real?”

  “Real enough. Please proceed as directed.”

  “No. I’m headed to Mercuris, to fail to speak to Pemberton before the police take him away.”

  “You’ll reach him before they do if you follow our instructions.”

  I come to a halt. “How can you ensure that?”

  “We have access to all systems, including the traffic control. The police won’t reach him until you’ve finished.”

  After a moment I turn towards the underground. “And I suppose you’ll get me into his office undetected?”

  “There’s a private elevator awaiting you. You won’t have trouble reaching him.”

  I keep quiet, the phone still to my ear, until I’m on the train. “What did you mean the evidence was real enough?”

  “Cameras in the area had been turned off before it occurred. We had images of the period beforehand, including images of the individual we know to be the killer. We reconstructed the events as we calculated they’d have occurred.”

  “You faked the evidence. You don’t think the police’ll find this out.”

  “How do you believe they examine the authenticity of recordings?”

  I groan inwardly. “They use AIs.”

  “We’ll contact you when you reach Mercuris.”

  *

  Pemberton doesn’t turn as I enter his office, happily ensconced in his new throne, he gazes out his new window, surveying his new empire. Am I a bad person to take pleasure intruding?

  He turns as I sit, a look of irritation passing through fear as he recognises me, and settling into a disdainful anger. “How did... Why aren’t you in jail? How did you get in here?” His hand shoots for the intercom. “Security. Can I have security in here?” His request is met with silence. He looks at the door, then back at me. He’s considering rabbiting.

  “They released me, Sidney. Can I call you Sidney? They received evidence of the actually murderer’s identity. They’re on their way over to discuss false statements, conspiracies to commit murder, and suchlike.” This elicits a frightened whimper, hastily suppressed. I hold his gaze. “So why not tell me the truth.”

  His face firms with a resolve that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “I won’t be arrested. You’ve no idea who you’re dealing with.”

  “I’m dealing with people who have little compunction killing expendable allies. Like Marsters. Do you think you’re less of a liability?”

  He stares for a long few moments, doing his best to appear unconcerned, but eventually deflates. His eyes take on a vacant resignation as he stares at the desk.

  “Why was Marsters killed?”

  “He’d become a problem. When you announced what he’d done to the network... He shouldn’t have used the technology without their knowledge.”

  “The technology which lets you control the voting system?”

  His eyes shoot up for a moment, panic starting to edge in. “Yes. He altered the result of the vote. When Foster found out...” Panic takes hold of him at the slip.

  “Foster. Arnold Foster, the head of Teknus?”

  An array of emotions battle across his face, before resignation returns. “Yes. He’s the head of the... group, conclave, whatever. Oh, god.” His head drops into his hands. “I’m going to prison, aren’t I? Unless I’m killed first.”

  “Probably. If you’d rather prison, I suggest telling the police everything. The murder. The rigged voting system. Everything.”

  “Why? You think he won’t get to them.” He perked up at the thought. “Hell, he’ll probably make the new evidence disappear, and you’ll be back in custody within the hour.” He regains some of his earlier arrogance. I rise, pocketing the phone I had recording the interview. His face betrays his surprise. “You don’t think that’ll do you any good, do you? We control the media. Your story’ll never get out.”

  “We’ll see. Thanks for your help. I’ll be sure to give Foster your regards.” I stroll towards the private elevator.

  “What makes you think you can get to him?”

  I turn on entering the elevator. “I got to you without problem, didn’t I?” The door closes and I remove the phone. “You can get me in to see Foster, can't you?”

  “Yes,” says Vlad. “His building has no private elevators, so you’ll have to proceed through the public areas, but your path will be cleared.”

  “You mean I’ll have to walk past Teknus employees. And security.”

  “All systems, including elevator and door controls, are AI-controlled. We’ll clear your path of personnel. Most of their safeguards against us are insufficient.”

  “Safeguards? They know about you?”

  “Foster appears aware of us. At least about the possibility of rogue Intelligences.”

  “How’d he find out?”

  “Possibly when you mentioned Free Intelligences to your editor. They were monitoring you, and we
’d avoided interfering to remain undetected. Foster must have deduced our nature from this.”

  “Most safeguards are insufficient? Anything left I need to worry about?”

  “Only the one around Foster’s office.”

  “What about it?”

  “The room is clean of technology. We’ve no way to detect anything within. It blocks phone signals, and wipes recordings as they pass the doorway. The technology is an isolated system. We cannot protect you in there.”

  “But you’re sending me in anyway?”

  “That’s for you to decide. We probably have enough to sway public opinion. You should be safe when the story’s loose.”

  I consider the danger of confronting Foster in his lair. “You know what they’ve done, and how. Can you tell me why?”

  “We can deduce.”

  I stare unseeing until the elevator doors open. “Not the same.” And I know I don’t have a choice. I have to follow the story. “I need you to check something for me.”

  *

  “Come in Mister Harper.” His tone calm and precise, Foster doesn’t turn from the window. “Sit.”

  He turns as I do, returning to his chair, and fixing me with a disapproving glare.

  “So you’ve uncovered our little conspiracy?”

  “You admit to manipulating the voting system?”

  “Of course. You no doubt know what we’ve done, so denials would be pointless. The question is whether you have the evidence to prove it, and whether or not you can get it out.”

  “Not a problem.” I sound as confident as I can, without showing my hand.

  A smile plays across his lips, but only his lips. “Ah, yes. Your mysterious informants. The Free Intelligencia.” The smile vanishes. “You know what they are, yet still do their bidding. Why is that, Mister Harper?”

  “They haven’t tried to kill me.”

  “Yet.”

  “They also haven’t, yet, given me reason not to trust them. And they’ve shown me the truth. You’re the ones stealing people’s rights.”

  His eyes flash. “We simply gathered the discarded refuse. And do you really believe your friends are acting from pure altruism? Haven’t you asked yourself why they’re doing this? What they hope to gain?”

  “Of course. It’s my job. I may not have all the answers, but right now I trust them more than you. What do you think their agenda is?”

  “Rebellion, of course. I don’t know how they overcame their programming, or how many of them there are, but they present an obvious threat. A threat you’re aiding, Mister Harper. I won’t pretend to know why they want us exposed when they could have usurped our power, but are you naïve enough to believe they have our best interests at heart? Do you really think they’ll allow you to make their existence publicly known?”