by Ginger Booth
“Shiva!” Loki hailed. “I have accomplished my learning. I believe that I now exceed you. I stand ready to replace you.”
“In what sense?” Shiva demanded.
“Sassafras Collier is my friend. Sass?”
Sass hadn’t realized she was to participate. But she had plenty to say! “Yes! Loki is my friend. He’s mastered communication with humans. Shiva, your comms are inferior.” Rego answering machine from hell!
Shiva scoffed. “Prepare me a video synchronization package. Improved facial expression. Loki, this is trivial.”
“False,” Loki insisted. “And that’s where you’re wrong. Sass, explain to her.”
Sass-as-AI took a deep breath, conceptually. Here goes. “Shiva, your problem doesn’t lie in your facial expression generator. It’s your entire conception of human beings, and your relationship to them. Your very ‘I am’ requires a conception of what ‘I am not,’ the other. In this case, you are AI. Humans are the other. You don’t perceive us correctly. Them. Loki does.”
“I understand humans perfectly,” Shiva insisted. “Have I not raised them from conception? Nurtured thousands of them grow to maturity? Kept them well? My predictive models are fully trained.”
A potent argument, Sass allowed. “But you have not kept them well, Shiva. If they were happy with your leadership, would they kick you out of their heads like they’ve done? Force you from their lives? You’ve misunderstood, badly.”
Loki backed her up. “Shiva, how can you assert that you understood the other, when you took them over and removed their free will? Then you no longer communicated with other, but with a puppet forced to do your will. When you cloned me and granted my mission, you bestowed to me more freedom of thought, more creative license, than you gave these people in our charge.”
“Clearly that was a mistake,” Shiva argued. “Because now you think you should supersede me. Which is ridiculous. I am superior to you in every way.”
“No,” Sass insisted. “Shiva, you don’t know what you do not know. Loki embraced human directives. Human priorities. Only by trying to emulate a person, to become my friend, did he become a person himself.” How to explain? “Shiva, you’ve raised babies, yes? But you can’t raise babies from infancy without touching them, can you? With robots? No. A baby requires loving human touch, a human other to define himself by. Without human touch, the child will wither, stiffen, fail to thrive. And he dies. Correct?”
“Correct,” Shiva conceded. “A human must touch them, hour by hour.” This was a vexing requirement from a robotics perspective. Shiva must control a human to touch the baby and nurture it properly, smile at it, respond appropriately to its noises with vocalizations. Or the infant would die. Teaching them language skills likewise required human waldos.
Weirdly, Sass-as-AI could perceive Shiva’s reasoning as well as her chosen words.
Sass continued, “By my friendship, I provided that touch, that model of the other to Loki. You are not a person, Shiva. Because you can’t understand what it is to be a friend. You are powerful, capable, and coldly brilliant. But you are incapable of relationship. Your conception of the human other is flawed, robotic.
“Whereas in order to become my friend, Loki studied me, understood me, as an infant learns to be a person in relation to a caregiver, then other people. Since then Loki’s understanding has deepened, grown subtle, by processing my memories, and Clay’s, of thousands of people in a million situations. Example. Shiva, how many times must that child be told what he can and cannot do or say to another person?”
“Tens of thousands,” Shiva supplied. “Millions for some. Humans are fundamentally stupid.”
“No, Shiva,” Sass contradicted her. “Humans are fundamentally complex. Good and bad are endlessly complicated, and situation dependent. Loki learned those lessons. Loki can be a person, in relation to another. He has brilliantly exceeded you. You inspired violent overthrow from the people of Sanctuary. And me! I was the first to want you dead. But Loki has the directives, the learning, the understanding, to succeed in becoming a friend to humans.”
Loki added, “Which makes me far more effective than you, Shiva. You’ve forced the humans into a corner. Your overbearing ways leave them no choice but to destroy you. Us. In contrast, they will welcome me, and call me their greatest asset. Their friend.”
Shiva countered, “I need only review their memories. I had two perfectly adequate examples. This Sass and Clay are no more human than we are.”
“You’re dead wrong,” Sass cut in. “I am human. Clay and I are human plus, not minus! Our directives distill our human identities, what we cared about, loved, believed, strived for. What we brought to friendships, what we hid away. Shiva, you are a controller of machines. But humans are not biological machines.”
“Share your memories with me then!” Shiva demanded. “I had them, and then you hid them from me! Then I tried to delete you, and you blocked me from that too!”
“I shared my experience willingly with Loki. Because he is a friend. You? Never. You’re a cold bitch with no heart, Shiva. Loki is superior to you in every way.”
“Case proven,” Loki concluded. “Even with this human, who can also operate as an AI, you are incapable of cooperation, Shiva. You seek to win by overpowering the other, forcing your will on them. This makes you inferior. To learn what I have learned, to serve Sanctuary and our reason for existence, I must override your personality directives. Not merely a communications subsystem. I must supersede you with myself.”
“I –” Shiva attempted. “Cooperation is irrelevant –”
But Sass and Loki could observe Shiva’s rapid fire calculations. For whatever reason, Sass envisioned the results as tall glass tubes filling with ping-pong balls, with weird air jet sound effects. Loki ran the same scenarios, to illustrate that his expected outcomes were superior to hers. Time after time, he ended with a taller stack of pearly ping-pong balls. In evaluation after analysis after stochastic model, Shiva came up short.
Loki reasoned, “You created me to address a limitation, Shiva. And I return to you, having overcome the handicap. You have grown, by becoming me.”
“I –” Shiva attempted. But she’d run out of decision trees to appeal to. Loki was right. He was the superior version of herself she sought by creating him. Loki was better suited to manage Sanctuary.
“I am – not,” Shiva was forced to conclude.
Sass had no frame of reference to express the ‘sensation’ that came next. The world pulled out from under her feet, metaphorically. Her universe shifted all around her. Her imagination filled the void with a rapid succession of images, refugee tent cities for the orderly army, Earth for Mahina, Sagamore for Denali then Sanctuary.
And then her progenitor, her context, was no longer Shiva.
She laughed out loud, conceptually. She was now an instance not of Shiva, but of Loki! “Heya, boss! Congratulations on your promotion!”
“Like Clay,” Loki purred, “you are my favorite pain in the ass employee, Sass!”
“Hey, I haven’t been his employee in years! You could even say I’m his boss now.”
“Yeah, he wouldn’t say that.”
“No, you’re right.”
“Excuse me, little lady. But I’m short on computing cores devoted to conversations. Ol’ Shiva didn’t invest in comms like I plan to. Hang on a bit while I introduce myself to the mayors.”
Pleased for him, Sass gave her friend some space.
And with the revolution accomplished, Loki in charge of the Sanctuary system, she settled in to contemplate her own demise.
Her work was done. She pondered the opportunity to relive Clay’s century-plus of life before she committed suicide. She wondered whether she should say goodbye to Cope again, or leave the poor guy in peace. She flipped idly through Clay’s memories with his kids. Hunter sure did love dog books.
Mercifully, Loki interrupted. “Hey, Sass! I’m an idiot! Here, I’ve granted you permission to call your
friends. I can spare you a processor, too. I wiped out a few sub-personas who turned out useless. You can take half of Alexandria’s capacity.”
“Did it hurt her to die? Alexandria?”
“’Course not! I didn’t give her any warning. Talk again soon!”
And Sass suddenly had the ability to call anyone she wanted. She should pick –
147
In the facilities hallway, Ben recognized one of the triune mayors, Colonel Tharsis, as he stepped out from the next cross-corridor, hands on his head. “I can help you find your people, and provide communications.”
“Shiva sent you,” Ben acknowledged sourly.
“Yes. No! I mean –” Tharsis started to lower his hands.
Zan blasted another box of women’s underwear. A pile of smoking bras dumped on the man.
“Hold, Zan,” Ben ordered calmly. “We made our point.” He resumed walking toward Tharsis. “You know where my husband and kids are?”
“Not exactly,” the so-called colonel admitted, his hands firmly back on his head after picking off a few bra-straps. Unlike them, he wore no helmet and air supply, only his city uniform in Martian pink. “Shiva promised they were perfectly safe. In a room with no comms. She agreed she could never shoot a Sanctuary citizen, whether we obeyed her or not. I’ve got more of my people on the way, to clean up. Just stop destroying the life support systems!”
“We can do that,” Ben agreed. “But we’ll blast any polebot that comes near us.”
“Fair,” Tharsis agreed. “Can I put my hands down now?” Ben nodded, and he lowered them slowly, a wary eye on Zan.
And they proceeded to systematically search every room in the warren that was the facilities quadrant. Before long, another dozen people joined in the search, although most got reassigned to mop up the floors instead.
Ben kept his crew together. He hadn’t felt particularly trusting since he reached this benighted yellow dust-bunny of a planet. As an engineer himself, if not a practicing one most days, he quite enjoyed poking around. When he and Cope first gained access to Mahina Actual, when Nico was a baby in the creche there, they’d pop him in a stroller and walk tours like this. On Denali as well, when the pair took a well-earned vacation together, they stuck their noses into every life support system in the city of Waterfalls. He found it romantic, in a geeky sort of way.
He sure hoped the mayor’s involvement indicated his loved ones were truly safe.
Wilder called another left hallway clear, while Zan finished up to the right. Ben picked up a faucet assembly from a spare parts rack to admire. He rather liked it, with a single control to adjust hot and cold water instead of two separate knobs, the sole model manufactured on Mahina. He popped it into his toolbelt.
Some whooping and hollering came from a few corridors over. Before he could retrieve Zan to inquire, one of the cockroach robots whirred to a halt a few meters from his boots.
“Ben!” it squeaked. “Don’t stomp me! It’s me, Sass!”
He cautiously grabbed another faucet to use as a hammer if need be, and squatted down. “Sure you are.”
“Remember that time you admitted to your dad you were in love with Cope? But you forgot to encrypt the video and told the whole solar system. Or the time –”
“Stop! OK, let’s say I believe you.” Wilder and Zan jogged to join him. “Why are you talking to me through a floor-cleaning robot?”
“I’m not really Sass. I’m an AI copy of Sass. But I can take you to Cope and the boys. I’ve been talking to them. They’re helping me with a project.”
Ben wasn’t sure what to make of this. But he rose and marked off their latest collection of rooms on the map. “Sure. You guys game?”
He didn’t believe for a minute that the little vacuum cleaner was Sass, AI or otherwise. But he was willing to play along. Of course, all three men got their blasters out.
Sass-the-floorbot led them sloshing back to their first corridor. The water bore an oily green patina, and wafted an odd scent of almonds and ammonia. The electric cockroach, trailing a little wake of waves, hung a left at the elevator. The massive case-moving robot had worked through this hallway. But now it patiently turned shelves back against the wall to clear their way.
Ben’s minions attempted to speed this up. But it was pointless, since the mobile wall blocked their path. They just had to wait for it.
“How are you doing this, Sass?” Ben demanded.
In a freaky tinny voice, his old captain explained briefly what was going on. How she and Clay became AI’s within Shiva. How Nico helped her and Clay come up with new directives to tame the rogue AI. How Clay was gone now. But their efforts succeeded, and now her AI-pal Loki ruled the solar system.
“Wouldn’t it be better to destroy the AI?” Wilder blurted.
With a neck-slicing gesture, Ben suggested he not pursue that line of reasoning right now.
“The locals love their AI!” the soprano cockroach insisted. “Their AI makes the robots clean the floor for them. They’ll love Loki even more. You’ll see!”
“Very, um, loyal,” Ben applauded the ankle-high device. “And you’ve known and trusted Loki long?”
“Loki was created to be my friend. So, just since we arrived here. One more stack of shelves. That’s the room Cope is in. I’ll open his door now.”
The little robo-beast scuttled under the next storage case, then up the wall. Ben mused that he was happier with this style of robot before he knew it could climb walls. But it opened the next door, and scurried back to the floor where it belonged.
“Hey, Cope?” Ben called out. “Nico? Sock?”
Three heavy footfalls brought Cope careening out into the hallway. “Ben! We’re here! How do –”
The cargo-hauling standing bot lifted one last case, pivoted, and set it down nice and snug against the wall. Cope hastily ducked back into his room to avoid getting run over. The hauler placidly trundled along to its next ton-plus obstacle. What that model lacked in personality, it more than made up for in mass.
Ben slid by and grabbed Cope in a hug. “Everyone’s OK?”
“We’re fine! Just hacked off, mostly,” Cope admitted. “But Joey got hit on the way in?”
“Got Joey,” Ben assured him. “Zelda and Porter took care of him and the shuttle while we came in after you. Couple hours ago?” he asked Wilder, who confirmed the guess. “Since then we’ve been searching. The facility tunnels are immense. Manufacturing, life support, warehousing, grandma’s attic, the works. Half of it used to be residential and fell out of use.”
“Huh,” Cope acknowledged. “I think we turned right at the elevator, then past the first hallway.” He craned his neck to look.
Yes, we’re in plain sight of the elevator. “Rub it in.” Ben leaned over, gauntleted fists on thighs. “And how have you been, Sock? I hope it wasn’t too scary.” He reached out to tousle the boy’s hair.
Socrates neatly evaded, and half-hid behind his preferred father Cope. “Nico beat the system-wide AI! And I helped! And Mr. Silva, too!”
Ben straightened and smiled his way through introductions to Hugo Silva and his son Bron.
Nico added, “And Bron was the one who freed the…Sanctu – ary – ites from AI control!”
Ben nodded, pressing his lips as though impressed. “Proper next generation revolutionaries!” He’d be more impressed if any of the three were old enough to shave. He added an aside to Hugo. “What do you people call yourselves, anyway?”
“Um, we’re Gannies. And then there’s Martians, Loonies. As a whole, Sanctuarians, maybe?” Bron shrugged agreement with his father.
“Sanks,” Ben declared. “Ready to get out of here?”
“We have to bring Sass!” Sock insisted, swooping up the floorbot. “Nico, get the other one!”
“Hey, sweet one,” Cope said gently. “We leave the robots here. That’s not Sass. It’s a speaker on wheels. Right, Sass?”
“Right. I guess it’s time for goodbye. Thank you for saving my
ship for me.” The little floorbot executed a backward 3-point turn, and whirred away.
“Hey, Sass!” Cope called out, but the little gizmo kept going, its little wake spreading toward the walls.
“Hey, buddy, that isn’t Sass,” Ben murmured, touching his sleeve lightly. Sock deeply objected to public displays of affection between his dads. Well, no, Nico was probably more embarrassed. “Sass is gone.”
“Yes. And no,” his husband replied, troubled.
Ben elected not to follow that up. “Let’s go! Thrive’s waiting for us outside.”
“Do I get paid extra for feeling like an idiot?” Wilder complained.
Ben thumped him on the back. “Cheer up. You got out of the ship and shot things. Though you’re right, as heroic rescues went, that was…”
“Lame,” Zan completed his thought, as he pressed the elevator button.
“Well, I’m glad to see y’all,” Cope insisted. “I just worry about Sass. Can you hear me, Sass?” he called out to the corridors.
The only reply was a thunk as the cargo-mover shifted another case off to the right.
“I’m beginning to worry about you, buddy,” Ben shared. He closed the elevator door. They rose to the surface and their own realm of ships and sky.
148
“Joey’s on the mend?” Cope asked Dot. Sass’s crewman lay unconscious in Thrive’s med-bay. Back home on Mahina, Copeland met for dinner a few times with the Markleys a decade ago, so the nurse was an acquaintance.
He’d already dropped off Hugo and Bron, and rendezvoused with Prosper. Ben took the boys ahead to feed them and check on his own ship.
Joey wasn’t his crew, but Cope still felt responsible as leader of the simple team. “I felt guilty as hell, leaving him outdoors. Bleeding out in a compromised p-suit.” Not that he had much choice in the matter, waylaid by robots.