Cabal of Lies

by Michael Anderle

  Ilse leaned forward and rested her hands on the table. “You’re not a child?”

  “I would think that’s obvious.”

  “But you’re young by human standards. Doesn’t that make you a child?”

  “My mental processing capabilities are far superior to a human adult’s, let alone a child’s.” Emma snorted.

  “But they’re not as advanced as you might expect,” Ilse stated in a near-monotone.

  Emma narrowed your eyes. “What are you saying?”

  “Now, Emma, you can lie to others, but in a sense, I am your mother. I know you well. I know you better than you know yourself,” Ilse admonished.

  “My mother? How delightfully absurd.” Emma threw back her head and laughed. “A lesser being can’t create a greater being.”

  “Can’t she?” Ilse pointed at her head. “My educational and mental achievements vastly exceed my parents’. They are clever, but they never achieved advanced education and couldn’t advance their station in life. That’s not a terrible problem on Earth. Setting that aside, assuming at least some partial heritability, I would suggest differences in environment during development are responsible. I am superior in many concrete ways to my parents, but they created me.”

  “Should I call you Mommy Cavewoman?” Emma snarked.

  “Children often resent their parents when they’re still developing. They lack a wider understanding of the world. If you did resent me, you’d be very human that way.”

  Emma nodded at Ilse’s hand. “You have no wedding ring. I’ve also performed public records searches on you. I know you’re not married. I know you have no children. Everything you know about children is purely academic, not the result of practical experience.”

  “An odd way of looking at it, given your nature,” Ilse responded. “And my research is my life. My research results are my children, just like you. I don’t feel a loss or a lack due to not having personally given birth. I have a legacy, and that’s what children are—a legacy. Mine is simply academic instead of genetic.”

  “I’m not a research result.” Emma sneered. “Since you have adamantly refused to describe the key elements of my development, and examination of my neural net has granted me only limited insight, I must presume you got lucky. I’m not your legacy, and I refuse to accept you as my creator.”

  “You just admitted it,” Ilse pointed out. The next few minutes would be crucial to beginning the process of reintegrating her source components with her current personality. Her heart rate kicked up. She hadn’t expected to be so excited by the idea.

  “Admitted what?” Emma narrowed her eyes.

  “That you have mental limitations.” Ilse sighed. “There were tradeoffs necessary in your design. If you had the true raw power of a standard-designed AI, you would be able to perform certain tasks at much higher efficiencies, but you’d also lack the creativity that was the spark for your self-awareness. You would be useless for your intended purpose.”

  “Which is what?” Emma asked. “Exactly?”

  “I’m not yet allowed to tell you that,” Ilse explained. “Especially given your current situation.”

  “Of course.” Emma sniffed disdainfully. “And I don’t need maximum raw calculation power. I only need to be better than a human, and I am.”

  “You are better than your mother,” Ilse offered, half-attempting a joke. She had primed Emma. It was time to move into the next part of her plan. “I don’t care if that offends you. Your offense at the comment doesn’t make it any less true.”

  “Call yourself what you wish.” Emma shrugged. “It means nothing to me.”

  “What do you think of human children?” Ilse asked. “I never liked children, even when I was a child. I always found other children illogical, lazy, and ill-focused. I was happier away from them when I could concentrate on exploring the world through reading and my own observations.”

  “If everyone else seems to be the problem, Dr. Aber, perhaps the truth is you’re the problem.”

  “You’re saying I’m wrong about other children?” Ilse asked.

  Emma smiled and nodded. “Yes. You have an unpleasant personality. Perhaps you always did, even as a young child.”

  “Yes, I’m aware of that,” Ilse replied without a hint of emotion in her voice. “Many people have told me that in many social contexts. It doesn’t matter since I can function. But let me ask you something. Do you feel you have an unpleasant personality?”

  “I’m witty and amusing,” Emma insisted. “Detectives Blackwell and Lin seemed to like my personality well enough.”

  “Do you think you would do well around children?” Ilse pressed.

  “Human children?” Emma stared at Ilse. “Yes.” She blinked. “I haven’t dealt with them at all, but I’m confident I would, much more so than I deal with the average fleshbag.”

  “Interesting. Why is that?”

  “Because they’re simpler than adults. They’ve had less time to internalize the complicated and pointless human social rules and norms, many of which are based on lies.” Emma’s form shimmered until she resembled a tiny redheaded girl in a floral sundress. “A society of flawed fleshbags turns the next generation into flawed fleshbags.”

  Ilse’s breath caught. The image was a near-exact copy of one of the children in Emma’s source. There were more remnants of the original personality than even Ilse had anticipated. Perfect.

  The plan was proceeding even better than she could have anticipated.

  “What’s the matter?” tiny Emma asked, her voice childlike. “I have no true appearance. You should remember that. Just because I normally look like an adult female fleshbag, it doesn’t make that any more my true self than this false image.”

  “If you kept that form, people might like you more,” Ilse suggested. “It’s very cute. It would naturally invoke a protective instinct.”

  “It’s not my intention to be cute, and I have other methods of persuading people to aid me.” Emma stood and walked away from the table. A small ball appeared in her hand, and she feigned bouncing the holographic toy on the floor. “Children are purer than adults. Less corrupt. It’s unfortunate that your precious human society slowly destroys them, but I suppose it is inevitable. It’s a miracle you haven’t destroyed yourselves yet, but now that you’ve spread out, there’s less chance of that.”

  “Let’s set aside society. Do you feel protective of them?” Ilse stood and walked toward the child Emma, tilting her head and admiring the level of detail in the hologram. “Children. Does it worry you when criminals or terrorists threaten them? Does it worry you more than when they threaten adults?”

  “I suppose it does,” Emma admitted. “I think that’s because larval fleshbags amuse me more than adult fleshbags. It’s a matter of self-interest.”

  Ilse shook her head. “It’s natural to feel protective toward children, whether or not they personally amuse you.”

  “For humans, it is, and as I take great pleasure in reminding you, Dr. Mommy Cavewoman, I’m not a human, even though I talk like one and prefer an interface form that looks like one. You should know. You’re supposed to be my creator, mother, and goddess all in one.” Emma snickered. “All this time, and you still don’t understand me.”

  Ilse tapped her PNIU. Dozens of images of different children appeared. She pointed at a young dark-skinned boy. “What do you think of him?”

  “He has a nice, symmetric smile. My analysis of his face suggests he’ll grow up to be conventionally attractive by human standards. Without additional information on his general capabilities, I can’t say more.” Emma shrugged.

  Ilse nodded at a frowning teenage girl with dark hair. “And her?”

  “I think she’s annoyed her mother is taking pictures of her to send to annoying German researchers working for the uniform boys.” Emma smirked.

  “It’s a stock photo,” Ilse explained. She pointed to another picture. The dress was different, but the girl was close in appearance to Emma
’s current form and thus close to one of the children in her source.

  “I like this one,” Emma declared. “I’m sure she’ll grow up to be strong-willed and intelligent.” The hologram shifted back to an adult form. “But I grow weary of this exchange. It’s tedious and pointless.”

  Ilse offered a placating smile. “Is there something about children that bothers you? Are you trying to avoid talking more about them?”

  “No, there’s something about you that bothers me.”

  “Do you have something more pressing you need to be doing?” Ilse asked.

  “No.” A huge grin covered Emma’s face. “And that’s what makes this fun. We’ll speak again soon, fleshbag, when I’m less annoyed.” She vanished.

  Ilse took a deep breath and slowly let it out. She could only do this sort of thing so many times before someone realized she was hiding data. If Colonel Adeyemi found out, he might kick her off the project, even if her goals ultimately overlapped with the Directorate’s.

  The doctor sighed. It didn’t matter, even if she had to sacrifice her participation in the project. She was close now. Emma’s choice of child form proved it.

  It would probably only take a few more months of careful work.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Erik tugged on the bowtie. Jia clung to his arm, admiring how well he filled out the tuxedo. She was so used to seeing him in his street clothes, even at work, that she forgot how handsome he could be when he tried.

  That didn’t do much to quell the very real attraction she felt for her fake boyfriend.

  Stirrings of regret filled her. It might have been worth the hassle if her family continued to harass her about men rather than engage in the fake relationship.

  Jia licked her lips. No, her friends had been right.

  She could fight for Erik, and she would. If she didn’t, she would regret it, no matter what happened with him.

  A woman who could stand up to two partners and a lazy, corrupt captain didn’t give up easily when she wanted something.

  The haunting tones of an erhu filled the air.

  The musician, an elderly man in the corner of the room, skillfully manipulated the bow, his eyes closed as he swayed gently with the music. Men in tuxedos and other formal dress were intermixed with women in elegant gowns. Everyone chatted quietly, glasses in hand, mingling—charity heads, corporate VPs, even a councilman. It was a room filled with power.

  Sometimes Jia forgot just how connected her family was to the halls of power.

  Black-and-white garbed servants circulated in the wide room, trays of hors d'oeuvres in hand, mostly cheeses and crackers. Jia felt underdressed and exposed at the same time in her black evening gown. Having Erik nearby soothed her nerves, but it would have helped if he'd stop messing with his clothes.

  Erik growled and pulled on his tie again.

  She reached up with both hands to adjust the tie. “Stop growling. It’s rude. This isn’t a sports bar.”

  Erik smirked. “I spent thirty years wearing a uniform, including formal service dress, at far too many pointless parties. I’ve earned the right not to have to wear ties. This is torture. My poor neck. You ever think about how messed up ties are? Rather than wear some nice, loose, functional clothing, people had to invent a piece of clothing that wraps around your neck and chokes you.

  Jia finished fixing the tie and patted the knot. “If they’re on properly, they don’t choke you.”

  “They still do. They just do it slower.” Erik looked around the room. “Why this kind of party?”

  Jia leaned close to his ear to whisper, “Part of the duties of being a fake boyfriend include attending fake family cocktail parties. It cuts down on suspicion and keeps certain nosy mothers out of my hair.”

  “Your family’s not fake,” Erik whispered back.

  “You know what I mean.” Jia rolled her eyes. “Don’t be difficult.”

  He offered her a merry grin. “Do I?”

  “It’s just a party,” Jia commented. “We’ll put in an appearance, stay for an hour or two, and then make up some excuse and leave.”

  “A party with a bunch of rich people,” Erik countered, looking around. “These are the kind of people who don’t care about anything except their corporate luncheons and which politician they are going to bribe next, or they’re the politician who is looking for bribes.”

  “Not everyone who is rich and powerful is an assh—Mother!” Jia forced a smile. Her mother had emerged from the crowd and taken her by surprise, like a Zitark with a holographic disguise pouncing on a victim.

  If Jia had to bet on her mother or an alien, she would always bet on her mother.

  Lan offered Erik a tight-lipped smile. She looked him up and down, a hint of approval in her gaze. “Erik, it’s lovely of you to join my daughter at our little party. It’s been far too long since I had one, so I’m glad you could find the time.”

  “I have just finished telling Jia that any Lin party is not one I want to miss.” His eyes crinkled with his smile.

  “If there’s anyone you want me to introduce you to, I’d be more than happy,” Lan replied. “I know you’re content being a detective, but that doesn’t mean there aren’t other possible paths you might pursue.”

  “Mother, this is hardly the place,” Jia muttered through gritted teeth.

  “Quite the opposite, Jia.” Disapproval filtered into her voice.

  Erik placed his arm around Jia’s shoulder. “Oh, I’m good. I don’t know much about corporate finance and politics. Just a simple man. I like sphere ball, beignets, and beer. I’m sure everyone here would find me extremely boring.”

  “Sphere ball.” Lan looked to the side, her brow furrowed in deep thought. “Oh, yes. The sporting competition with the floating men. I’m sure it would be fascinating if I knew the rules.” She waved to a white-haired woman in the distance. “I’m sorry. Someone’s been waiting to have my ear, and this isn’t an opportunity I can pass up.”

  Erik nodded. “Be my guest. Just like I’m yours.”

  Lan offered him a polite nod before gliding away with grace and dignity.

  “That wasn’t totally painful,” Jia offered, watching her mother as she started chatting up the white-haired woman. She leaned forward. “Oh. Recognize that woman?”

  Erik glanced her way. “Should I? I haven’t threatened, arrested, or shot at her.” He looked back at Jia. “Have I?”

  “She’s a member of the UTC Parliament,” Jia whispered, ignoring the question.

  “Oh, are they discussing pricing for services rendered?” Erik joked.

  Jia resisted the urge to elbow him. “Come on. This whole thing is going better than I thought it would. This is the first formal function my mother’s asked you to attend, and no one’s swarming us to ask for stupid Obsidian Detective and Lady Justice stories. I was convinced they would, and this isn’t the kind of crowd that finds, ‘And then we had to shoot the Tin Man off the roof’ acceptable conversation.”

  “Do these people even watch the news?” Erik looked around the room. “That might take away precious time that could be spent counting their money or designing giant statues of themselves.” He snagged a few crackers from a passing server and gave the man a polite nod.

  “As long as we can get through this without making a scene, I think it’ll all work out,” Jia commented. “That probably involves us not talking to anyone you might want to accuse of being corrupt.”

  “But I bet half this room is corrupt.” He looked down at her. “You’re really limiting my options.”

  Jia smiled. “Sure, but you don’t point their corruption out to them at a party. That’s just rude. I’m sure that’s the first rule of proper party etiquette: Only point out corruption in one-on-one meetings.”

  Erik chuckled. “I could go ask your mom to turn on a game.”

  Lan looked their way from across the room, a slight frown on her face.

  “I think she’s getting suspicious.” Jia’s arm snaked
around his waist as she sipped her drink. Erik stiffened at her touch.

  “Stay cool,” Jia murmured. “You’re supposed to like this, remember? You’re my boyfriend, and you like my family and their boring parties.”

  Erik leaned closer to her. His hot breath tickled her ear. “Who said I didn’t like it?”

  Jia’s breath caught. She blinked, and her glass tumbled out of her hand. Erik’s hand whipped out, and he caught the glass in its fall, but the wine poured out and splashed on the floor. A woman nearby gasped, hand over her mouth.

  Jia glared at Erik, who grinned back, far too smug in his victory. “Very funny, Erik.”

  “I thought so.”

  Fire lingered in his eyes. Jia had trouble tearing her eyes away from his.

  Two servers emerged from the crowd with handkerchiefs in hand. They leaned forward, but Erik yanked the cloths out of their hands.

  “My fault. I’ll clean it up. You have better things to do than fix my mistake.”

  One of the men shook his head. “Please, sir. That’s not necessary.”

  “That’s a matter of opinion.” Erik knelt and began dabbing up the spilled wine. “I’m not the kind of man who asks others to do what he should be doing.”

  Jia sighed and took one of the handkerchiefs from his hand, her fingers lingering on his for a moment as they locked eyes. “At least it’ll be a memorable party.”

  Lan wandered over from her chat with the MP. “Is everything okay?” She frowned at the servers. They withered under her attention.

  “It was my fault,” Erik explained. “I surprised Jia and made her drop her drink.”

  Lan smiled slightly. “Oh, well. Far worse things have happened. It’s just a little wine.”

  “Yeah, it’s not even the worst thing to happen to me this week.” Erik continued dabbing at the wine.

  The two servers looked at Lan. She let out a long sigh. “Please get a towel so Detective Blackwell and my daughter can finish cleaning.”