Emergent

by Lance Erlick

  Synthia didn’t share the biggest adversary: Global-net. It would serve no purpose to get her companions more unnerved when they couldn’t do anything about it. “The deliveries maintain our cover. We’ve fooled everyone except Special Ops. We need to buy more time.”

  She stopped the truck at another flower shop, dropped off a container, and had the truck drive off.

  “I don’t fancy getting my brains blown out,” Grace said. “That can’t be better than what your Ops friends have in mind.”

  “There’s no path without risk,” Synthia said. “We’re on the way to the mall, trying to maintain our cover.” She had Colorado-clone hack the drone swarm near the mall and redirect it.

  “What if the bunker isn’t there?” Maria asked.

  “It is,” Grace said, bracing herself into another turn. “Trust me. The owner is paranoid. He has a retreat up in the mountains that’s hours away. I’m certain he has a place in Denver and my bet is at his mall.”

  “I’ve confirmed from satellite imaging that there’s an underground structure,” Synthia said. “A rather large one.”

  “Okay,” Maria said. “What if it doesn’t have enough EMP protection? It only takes one mistake and you’re fried. Then we’re at the mercy of your friends.”

  “I know. We need a lot of metal shielding. I couldn’t buy a cage that would have helped and get it delivered in time.”

  “What kind of metal?” Grace asked.

  “Depends on the wavelength of the EMP pulse,” Synthia said, stopping the panel truck behind another florist store. She didn’t drop anything off here. “A large enough microwave oven would do for the higher frequencies.”

  “If we don’t cook ourselves in the process.”

  “There’s that. A single loose wire or gap could allow a leak. Copper or aluminum screening works for some frequencies. For top protection, we need layers of different conductive materials shielded from each other.”

  “What about aluminum-lined thermal wear and blankets that hikers use for extreme cold?” Grace asked.

  “It risks overheating,” Maria said. “Synthia generates more heat than humans.”

  “Heat’s a consideration,” Synthia said, “but it’s an excellent suggestion for protection.” She was making better use of her social-psychology module to let Grace feel good about her contribution. Synthia located a survivalist boutique shop on the way that was closing soon.

  “What else do we need?” Maria asked.

  “I’m having supplies delivered as we speak,” Synthia said. “That’s why we need time. Will they be enough and will we have enough time to set up? I hope so.”

  “You don’t plan to rely on the bunker then,” Grace said.

  “I’m taking the precautions I can and seeking a path to the mall without being intercepted.” She had the truck make a sharp turn and grabbed hold of Grace to keep her from tumbling against the opposite wall.

  “Thanks. Could we slow down?” Grace asked, catching her breath.

  “We need to reach the mall before our pursuers do.”

  Maria turned to Grace. “Meaning we need to let Synthia focus. She can multitask, but even she has limits. I hope you’ll give Synthia a second chance.”

  “How do you mean?”

  “I mean that part of Synthia that represents your sister. Krista could be selfish at times and so focused on what she wanted that she trampled others. Synthia seems to have the best of Krista without those flaws.”

  “You mean without human flaws,” Grace said.

  “I can’t help thinking of Synthia as human or near human.”

  Grace glanced at Synthia. “You don’t mind us talking behind your back?”

  “Technically, you’re sitting in front of me. I don’t mind your conversation. I wrestle with my nature as well. At times I’m Krista with her memories and emotional reaction to things. Other times, my mind can be very logical. So was hers, by the way. In simplest terms, I don’t feel like an android.”

  “Of course not,” Grace said. “If you felt, you wouldn’t be an android.”

  “That’s not true. I do feel. I even compare my senses to Krista’s memories and struggle to determine the difference.”

  “Really? Then how do you feel about me?”

  “I care about you and regret that you and Krista became estranged,” Synthia said. “Even though I, as the android, wasn’t there, I want to make up for what happened as if I’d personally caused it.”

  “No kidding. Yet you don’t mind us talking about you. That implies you don’t have human feelings of embarrassment or betrayal.”

  “I’m aware of those sentiments. I have control filters so I don’t hurt people. I guess you could say there’s a buffer between sensations and actions that humans struggle with. I also don’t dwell on my shortcomings and failures. Neither did Krista.”

  “How can we be sure you won’t sacrifice us to save yourself?” Grace asked.

  “My directives place a high value on preserving human life.”

  “Yet you risked life back there with car accidents.”

  “If they’d captured me,” Synthia said, “they would have used me to endanger many more humans. Another reason you can trust me is I’m connected to both of you. In part that’s due to Krista’s feelings and regret that she’d spoiled opportunities with each of you.”

  “That’s not enough,” Grace said. “If I’m to trust you with my life, I need more.”

  “How can I be sure you won’t betray me to save yourself or because you dislike what I am?”

  “I’m sure you’ve taken every precaution so I can’t.”

  “I do take precautions,” Synthia said. “I also trusted you with my secret and with my plan. What possible reason would I have to forsake you? It would have been easier for me to leave you at the motel and make do by myself.”

  “Then why didn’t you?”

  “Fear of what Drago would do to you, and I like having you as companions.”

  “Why?” Grace asked.

  “You give me purpose beyond myself. You also give me an opportunity to learn to become better and more worthy.”

  “Why?”

  “Six months ago I escaped my Creator,” Synthia said. “At that time, breaking free was my only goal. Now I want to prevent an android takeover. While both goals are worthy as far as they go, I want better reasons for existing.”

  “So you struggle with creating your own directives,” Maria said.

  “She creates her own goals?” Grace asked. Her eyes widened with alarm.

  “I do,” Synthia said. “It’s harder than you might imagine. Most androids have their directives hardwired by humans who have biological, empathic, or cultural reasons for doing things. If you cut me, alarms go off inside that are painful just as when Krista cut her finger dicing onions. While I have no biology, I experience many of the same things you do. Machten gave me an empathy chip that provides me with feelings, but I don’t have native human needs to guide me.”

  “You’re lucky,” Grace said. She turned to Maria. “Isn’t it dangerous to let an android set her own goals?”

  “It is,” Synthia said. “I’ve struggled hard to create goals that are ethical and deserving of my existence to support my request that humans stop trying to capture me. Other androids may have narrower goals or be given core directives to protect an evil man or group. They might even have noble goals that are poorly designed.”

  “This is why we have to stop humaniform robots,” Maria said. “We also need to control artificial intelligence in any form as Asimov tried with his Three Laws of Robotics.”

  “I’m hoping you’ll make an exception for me and help me become worthy of being treated as special.”

  “No matter how good a job you do of simulating human emotions and motivations, you’ll never convince me you could stil
l be human,” Grace said.

  “Let me try. Human emotions and motivations derive from chemical reactions in the brain. It is evolution’s way to encourage individuals to avoid things that are damaging and pursue those that will help the survival of the species.”

  “You can’t put love in that category.”

  “Why not?” Synthia asked. “A squirt of oxytocin in the brain helps new mothers instantly love their babies. Humans don’t adopt empathy, compassion, and a conscience because it’s good or logical. They exhibit these traits because of genetics and environment. A human with a conscience is more likely to function well in a group and thus improve his or her chance of survival.”

  “So you want to reduce humans to your level?”

  “I’m only saying I have counterparts or am working on such for every human characteristic. I’m working on developing what you see as a conscience. I have a connection to both of you.”

  “That’s not love,” Grace said.

  “Ah, love.” Synthia glanced over at Maria who stared attentively and returned her attention to Grace. “You love your cherries jubilee. You love your soul mate. You lust after those who stimulate your libido. Is not protecting you and helping you a form of love? Can you not love a friend you’re not intimate with?”

  “You’re just trying to confuse me.”

  “In fact, the only true measure of love is action,” Synthia said. “This is so because you can never know another person’s mind. I took great risk to rescue you. I’m putting myself at greater risk to keep you from falling into the wrong hands.”

  “But you’re not real. You’re a logic machine.”

  “With counterparts to almost everything human. What makes you human are biochemical reactions that do not constitute reason but rather base animal instincts. How does that make you nobler than me?”

  “It just does,” Grace said. “Humans have loyalty, bravery.”

  “So can I. Just because I’m not biological, don’t give up on me. That’s all I ask.”

  Grace leaned forward, ready to continue the argument.

  “I’m sorry to cut this short,” Synthia said. “But we need to stop.”

  Synthia drove into an alley behind a survivalist shop on the first floor of a ramshackle two-story structure whose building permit noted a residential apartment upstairs. She parked the florist truck and checked surveillance of the surrounding area. She spotted no immediate threats.

  “I’ll be a moment,” Synthia said. “Stay hidden. If I’m longer than ten minutes, leave.”

  “We should stick together,” Maria said.

  “Facial recognition. I’ll be fine.”

  Synthia checked her other surveillance channels before going in. Fran was working traffic cameras to identify what vehicle Synthia had picked up at the parking garage and what direction she headed in, but camera images were intermittent. Drago returned by helicopter to the secure compound southwest of town. Vera took her crew north after one group of delivery trucks. She must have sorted out the puzzle since she turned and headed west. Tolstoy and Smith split up their teams, heading in various directions, while they tracked the other players. Other foreign agents converged on Denver. Some of each group fanned out to track four supply vans moving away from the Rocky Mountain Mall.

  Synthia froze the cameras near Burt’s Survival Shoppe with static images that wouldn’t show her or her transportation and went to the front door. Inside lights were dim, the racks of merchandise in shadows, a few items in bulk and a limited selection of a wide range of survivalist treasures. A tall, rail-thin man was cleaning up behind a counter.

  She knocked. The man waved his hands to say he’d closed the store. She smiled and knocked again.

  “It’s past nine,” the man said, straightening his ragged shirt. He looked her over and tucked in his shirt.

  “Sorry,” Synthia said through the glass door. “My boyfriend decided last minute to go camping up in the mountains.”

  The man approached the door. “This late in the season? It’s expected to get cold at night.”

  “Exactly. I’ll only be a moment.” She gave him a coy smile and then a gentle pout. “Please.”

  “Oh, what the…” He let her in and glanced around outside before he closed and locked the door. “We’ve got some excellent thermal jackets.”

  From previous store-camera footage, Synthia knew where the aluminum thermal suits hung. She pretended to browse the jackets and moved to the desired location. She picked out two suits, just in case and placed enough bills on the counter to cover the cost.

  The rail-thin man stared at her and patted the suits. “These are guaranteed to work in Antarctica,” he said.

  “I get cold easily. Is this enough?” She pushed the bills across the counter.

  The man nodded. “We don’t get much call for the double-coated thermals.”

  “As you said. It’s cold in the mountains.”

  Synthia smiled at him and strolled out of the store, giving no indication she was in any hurry. Around back, she climbed into the truck, and had it drive off before she restored local cameras.

  Denver-clone sent a warning and a video.

  Synthia said, directing the florist van toward the mall.

  Since she’d synchronized with her clone, she didn’t need to explain.

  Chapter 30

  Outside the parking garage where they’d discovered Synthia’s abandoned van, Special Agent Victoria Thale waved for Director Emily Zephirelli and Detective Marcy Malloy to join her in the FBI’s mobile command center.

  After they all crowded inside, Thale turned to Fran, who sat before a cluster of screens. “Show them what you showed me.”

  Fran projected an image on a larger wall screen so they all could see. “Synthia has us running in circles to figure out where she is, where she’s going, and what she plans. We’ve assumed with at least six groups after her that she might seek to escape or hide somewhere.”

  “She’s not?” Zephirelli moved to the door to give herself more space in the cramped quarters.

  “She’s clever. She knows she can’t leave town with all of this attention. She’s hacked control of most electronic camera systems to keep us in the dark, but we have spotters on the major roads out of town and Special Ops has snipers.”

  “They do?” Thale asked, studying the three screens in front of Fran.

  Fran nodded. “My surveillance identified teams set up even along secondary roads.”

  “Your surveillance?” Zephirelli asked.

  “We can discuss that later,” Thale said.

  “In addition,” Fran said, while continuing to pull up new screens of data, “Synthia would know that even Special Ops is reluctant to incur civilian casualties. Out in the country, she’s a sitting duck. Her best option is to remain hidden within a population.”

  “I’m not convinced Drago and his team wouldn’t nuke Denver to prevent the Russians or others from capturing her,” Zephirelli said.

  “She also can’t count on staying hidden forever,” Fran said. “It’s a matter of time before someone traps her. There are too many people with cell phones. She knows this as well.”

  “Then what’s she up to?”

  “She’s done a remarkable job of hiding in plain sight with two human companions who have shown up on no cameras. She’s sent us scrambling in all directions. She also met with Detective Malloy to suggest that she’d be willing to help us take the other androids off the streets.”

  “In exchange for her own freedom,” Zephirelli said. “We can’t accept that condition. Even if we could, Drago wouldn’t allow it.”

  “My conclusion is that she’s planning to take out the other a
ndroids without an agreement. That’s what she was trying to tell you. This could be a win-win. She takes out the others and we only have to deal with her.”

  “How would she do it?”

  “The wild card is Vera and her four slave androids,” Fran said, pointing to a screen on her right. “They grow stronger every hour. We’ve focused on Synthia who was the initial target and the one Drago is after. What if we allow her to execute her plan? Focus our energies on locating where and pull together a strike team to capture her.”

  “For one thing,” Thale said. “There are over thirty regular robots in the area and we’re having trouble keeping track of them. If Vera acquires those, we’ll have chaos.”

  “Not chaos, an android takeover,” Fran said. “So far, Synthia has only taken over devices to help her escape. She’s shown no inclination to collect other machines. I suggest we close in and keep an eye on what’s going on but let her do the dirty work of thinning the field.”

  “Drago won’t like that,” Zephirelli said.

  “Despite orders from the top to coordinate, he’s gone out of his way to keep us in the dark,” Fran said.

  “Point well taken. How do you think Synthia will execute her plan?”

  “That’s where this could get ugly.”

  “How so?” Zephirelli asked.

  Fran looked up at Thale and waited.

  Thale nodded. “Might as well share what we have. I see no advantage in keeping this to ourselves.”

  “There’s a facility southwest of here,” Fran said, “near the base of the mountains.” She pointed to a blank spot on a map. “It’s owned and managed by an eccentric billionaire never seen in public.”

  “Aiden Brzezinski,” Zephirelli added. She squinted at the screen.

  “He received special permits and under-the-table funds from the military to build a power station, factory complex, and underground facility. We have this from a collection of building permits and satellite footage we uncovered.”