Living in Syn (9 page)

He shook
his head.  "No sir, I am not.  I hope I didn't misrepresent this meeting,
because we have much more material to cover.  With your permission ... ?"

Hunt
nodded reluctantly and Snowden continued.  "I'd like to share one more firsthand
account with you before moving on.  Dr. St. Jean, would you tell the group
about your encounter with the synthetic at your apartment?"

Susan
started, hesitantly at first, staring down at the table as she talked.  She
grew more confident as she moved through the story and finished strongly.  As
she closed, Hunt and Matlin admonished her saying, "Susan!  Why didn't you
come to us with this?"

The
General cut them off, lying through his teeth.  "The Army took control,
advising her not to discuss the situation."

The
agony controlled every aspect of Hunt's face.  "Look General, I can see
why you think the way you do, but
I
don't believe it.  I can find a
small number of isolated cases where synthetics become violent, present them to
you, and make a strong argument for killer robots.  But you and I already know
that's not the case.  Show me how these models are modified, what changes are
made, and a motivation for making the changes.  Then I’ll believe."

The
General nodded.  "I tend to agree with you, Chandler, and I think we can
address those concerns later in the meeting.  But there's a question I'm just
dying to ask Professor Matlin."

The
General's remark pulled Fenwicke out of ruminations he clearly found more
interesting than the meeting.  He looked around and said, "Question?  You
have a question for me?"

"Yes,
professor, I do.  You strike me as a man who loves to let his imagination run
free.  To dream up a hundred experiments every day.  So my question is this. 
Have you ever imagined a way to trick a synthetic into hurting a person?  Can
you think of any means to defeat the central logic forbidding a synthetic to
harm a human?"

Hunt
jumped up and said, "We've already told you no!  What more do you
want?"

Matlin
waved him off saying, "No Chandler, that's not what he asked.  Now
General, you have to understand, this kind of talk can prove very damaging.  So
I want assurances that what I am about to say will never be repeated outside
this room."    

Chandler
Hunt displayed the classic signs of an impending stroke.  His face flushed
purple and a huge artery stood out on his forehead and twitched to some
maniacal rhythm.  "This is absurd.  The professor is a theoretician.  He
will bring up some obscure and virtually impossible situation, and you're going
to grab it like it's fact, and crucify us with it!   Professor, don't say
anything else."

General
Snowden said, "I expected this meeting might grow heated.  I wish I could
convince you that we too, want a quiet, happy ending here.  Now, Professor
Matlin has some ideas on the subject.  He can answer in the privacy of this
room, or under subpoena with fifty television cameras."

Hunt
said nothing. But now the positions were clear. Give the Army everything they
want right now or risk a public oversight committee. Conservative senators
would beat the drum for their Fundamentalist constituency. It was a big,
expensive stick that Snowden had just waved in their faces.  Professor Matlin
said, "Chandler, this will be alright.  We’ve done what we knew to be best
at every turn, and we always put safety first.  We have done nothing
wrong."

Then he
leaned forward and said, "I must repeat, no one can ever discuss what I am
about to say."

"Did
you know that visual processing in a human is the most complicated input/output
operation in the entire world?  The lines of resolution, the three dimensional
reconciliation, the ability to differentiate between thousands of different
written symbols?  Simply fantastic.  Paradox includes three specialized
processors in our synthetics to keep up with human abilities."

"And
one visual ability is unique to humans.  The ability to recognize human faces. 
We do it so unerringly that courts consider it proof.  They believe the most
compelling possible evidence is a witness that saw the face of the criminal.  A
large and specialized part of the brain handles processing for visual recognition
of faces.  Obviously, our synthetics also require specialized processing for
the same functionality.  Visual Chip Number Three handles that task.  Number
One processes the right eye information and Number Two handles the left.  Then
they feed their conditioned data to Number Three for 3-D reconciliation and
face recognition along with a few other specialties."

The
professor really enjoyed expounding on the technical aspects of the synthetic. 
He held his hands out to emphasize his point and said, "Now, let us
imagine that the Number Three chip is altered.  Let’s say that every time
visual data is recognized as a face, the chip overlays the image with a
likeness of the metal robots of fifty years ago.  Suddenly the synthetic can
harm any human, because he doesn't recognize them
as
humans."

Hunt
held his head in his hands.  He didn't look up as he asked, "Fenwicke, how
long have you known about this?"

Fenwicke
was puzzled.  "What do you mean,
known about this
?  It's an idea
from several years ago.  It required no actions, because we control all the
chips that are used.  And if someone tried to make the changes, they'd probably
destroy the brain.  And if not, we would catch them during diagnostics."

The
General asked, "Do you use more than one type of chip for the
visuals?"

Hunt
nodded, "Yes, we offer different levels of visual capability in
conjunction with special skills.  It's like an options group on a car.  When
you get a bigger engine, you also need a heavy-duty suspension and better
brakes."

The General
said, "I see.  And if a customer was happy with everything on his
synthetic except the for the visual acuity, could you accommodate his desire
for an upgrade?"

Again,
Chandler nodded.  "Yes, it's a delicate operation, because there is a
chance of injuring the eyes or the brain, but we have done it."

The
General pushed, gradually redirecting the conversation.  "Does Paradox
manufacture its own computer chips?"

Hunt
shook his head.  "Very, very few.  And those are usually for prototypes. 
We used to make all our own chips, but we found our designs worked better if we
built on chips already used in the industry."

"So
if you wanted say, an ITEK888, you would shop for the best price.  And if
ITEK888 was temporarily out of stock, but the vendor told you the EAGL101 was a
lower priced lookalike, you might use that?"

Chandler
looked over to Warren Westin, who nodded.  He turned to the General, looked at
him over the tops of his reading glasses and said, "Of course we would. 
That's the whole idea of competition in the computer chip market.  Exact
duplicates in terms of function and reliability go head to head on price."

The
General nodded.  "That makes sense.  Now.  I'd like to talk about a
particular purchase.  Our intelligence sources tell us these combat models were
bought in one lot of 300.  Did you make such a sale in the last three
years?"

Chandler
nodded to Tanya.  A portion of the table yielded a small directional
microphone.  As she whispered her authorization and access routines, an eight
foot vue screen sprang to life.  Tanya said, "Searching.  There it
is."

The
General squinted at the screen and said, "Now help me out.  The buyer
doesn't matter right now, but what they purchased does."

Tanya
said, "Well, they purchased 150 MM995s and 150 MF995s."

"And
did they order any options, like visual processors for these models?"

"Checking
... no.  No options."

"Can
you show me the associated invoice or inventory pull for the visual
processors?"

Tanya
focused on the task.  "Hmmm, this shows they waited 90 days for the chips
and then reordered."

The
General scratched his chin.  "Isn't that unusual?  To not have the visual
chips for 90 days?"

Now
Westin squinted at the screen.  "Oh, I see.  The combination of the double
nines does it.  That combination of intelligence and agility requires our
highest visual sensitivity and acuity.  We use the RAM7000s for the 99s, a real
high performance chip."

The
General prompted Tanya.  "Can you find the invoice for the RAMs?"

"Searching
... searching.  Here it is.  Let's see, they substituted ROK900s for the
RAMs."

Westin
said, "I never heard of that brand."

Matlin
said, "Neither have I."

Chandler
said, "Tanya, search through our commercial lists of computer chip
products and find that chip."

Again
she whispered rapidly to the computer and the answer jumped onto the screen as
Tanya shook her head, "No such chip."

The
General turned to Chandler Hunt.  "Now do you believe that combat models
can be built?"

Chandler's
face turned white and he could only nod his head.

The
General stood up.  "Thank you Mr. Hunt.  I wanted to make sure.  Army
Intelligence already combed the Paradox computer records as well as those of
the
vendor
that shipped those chips.  It took three solid days of
computer time to track each one of the trails from that purchase.  The
modification and subsequent erasure of the table entries that permitted the
chip substitution.  The sales and technical staff involved with the order.  And
finally, tracing the purchase of the chip manufacturer unit through dummy
corporations to delivery at an interim location.  Now we have all the
information we need.  Mr. Hunt, would you call your front desk, and ask them to
send the Military Police?  They’re waiting in your lobby."

He
looked down at Hunt with real sympathy and said, "I'm sorry Chandler.  We’re
going to make an arrest."

Chandler
picked up his com, mumbled a bit, and then hung up.  He looked up at the
General and said, "They are on their way."

Mission
still worried.  He didn't believe they could identify the insider at Paradox,
even with the data trail.  And this meeting put Susan's life at considerable
risk.  He rested his head on the table and heard an ungodly shriek.  As he
looked up to see who screamed, he saw the massive conference table flipping
over on top of him!

Mission's
mind raced in a hundred different directions.  Would the edge of the table
flipping over smash him against the wall behind him, or crush him on the
floor?  Did an explosion do this?  Pierce, Westin, and Baker sat on his side of
the table too.  They would be crushed as well if he didn't do something.  All
these thoughts ate less than 1/10 of a second.  Mission swept up the empty
chair beside him and swung it up to eye level.  The table rammed the chair into
the wall and he heard a structural member give, but it didn't collapse.  The
spinning motion stopped and for an instant, the table hung in mid-air.  Mission
snatched his feet back as the table dropped, and Baker, feet wedged against the
wall, rammed it with his shoulder.  This pushed it far enough out from the wall
to miss Westin and Pierce's legs by inches.

As the
table fell, Mission knew what had happened.  Tanya Ricci threw the table over
in panic, not just because she was the insider but because she was a syn!  She
wrapped her left arm around Susan's neck and held her stiffened right index
finger about an inch from her eye. 

Anger,
rather than fear, radiated from Tanya's face.  She said, "This doesn't
have to be messy.  You back away and I’ll walk out of here with no one hurt. 
Understand?"

Terror
smothered Susan.  Tanya squeezed her throat enough so that Susan slowly choked,
gagging and gasping.  Mission jumped over the table and held up his hands. 
"Look Tanya, no tricks.  Let me trade places with Susan.  Okay?  You still
have a hostage.  And you'd rather hold me.  Remember, I'm the bounty hunter. 
Instead of watching out for me, you get to hold me by my neck.  You want me,
not her." 

As
Mission took another step toward her, she tightened her grip on Susan's throat
and screamed, "You take another step and I won't have a hostage. 
Understand?  I don't need to trade."

Susan
couldn't last much longer.  Her arms and hands jerked spasmodically.  Mission
looked around, desperate for an opening, for the slightest opportunity.  Then
he saw the MPs coming up the aisle.  As they turned the corner, they virtually
ran into Tanya, catching her by surprise.  She reacted by throwing Susan into
them with enough force to send them tumbling fifteen feet back.  Tanya turned
to run in the other direction and Mission took a quick lateral step to
intercept her.  Unfortunately, no one explained to Tanya that if you run into a
stationary player, you lose the ball and the other team gets a free throw.  She
ran right over Mission.  Her shoulder caught him just below the chest and
slammed him on the floor.  One of her feet stepped on his right thigh and the
other foot stomped his left shoulder.  As that foot came up, Mission snatched
at it and caught her ankle.

Mission
thought his arm would come out of the socket when she took her next running
step.  The force of the movement pulled him almost two feet off the ground. 
Then as the stride ended and the foot touched ground, so did Mission.  He
reached up to add his other hand to his grip as she took her next step,
propelling him straight into the side of a desk.  Mission pulled his head down
into his shoulders but the impact still stunned him.  His vision dimmed and
then returned as Tanya drug him through the office, banging him into chairs and
coat racks and doorjambs.  As she rounded a corner, he rolled through a trash
can, a side chair and partially under a desk.  As Tanya continued to run, the
movement yanked him out from under, upending the desk and leaving much of his
skin on the exposed corner.  As he screamed, he pulled back the fingers of his
left hand and pushed with his palm.  20,000 volts hit her and she went limp. 
Their momentum tangled them up and smashed them partially through a desk.

Mission
lost it.  He tried to get out from under Tanya, and it seemed to make no
difference to him that she was dead.  He struggled, screaming, "Get this
goddamned thing off of me!  Get it off!  Get it off!"

General
Snowden reached him first and spoke soothingly.  "Easy Son.  You're okay. 
We're going to get her off you.  Just take it easy.  Okay?"

As other
people reached them, they helped pull Mission out.  Susan ran over, chalk white
and trembling.  "Thank God you're alright."

Mission
tried to smile.  "Thank God you're alright.  I thought she’d kill
you."

He
turned to look at the crowd.  "How about Pierce and Westin?"

Snowden
said, "Shaken, but undamaged.  That table would have crushed all of you. 
You moved fast son."

The MPs
approached the General and he barked, "Well, what is it?"

The
senior MP said, "Your orders sir.  Tuna on whole wheat for you, corned
beef on rye for the Major."

Chandler
Hunt was incredulous.  "That was what the com call was for?  To bring you
your lunch?"

The
General blushed and said, "Well ... yes.  We didn't have any idea who to
arrest, and I was hungry, so ... "

Hunt
stared at the General and started to laugh.  Soon everyone laughed, and most of
them had no idea why.