Текст книги "The Turing Option"

Автор книги: Harry Harrison

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Текущая страница: 24 (всего у книги 28 страниц)

“You can pick it up now. Your machine will be released as soon as you have a customs broker complete the forms and have paid duty and VAT and such. No problem there.”

“Then I am free to go?”

“Yes – but not far. I would suggest the airport hotel for the time being. I’ll push these papers through as fast as I can, but you must realize that fast in Ireland is a relative term. You know, like the story about the Irish linguist. You’ve heard it?”

“I don’t believe—”

“You’ll greatly enjoy it. You see it happens at a congress of international linguists and the Spanish linguist asks the Irish linguist if there is a word in Irish with the same meaning as the Spanish manana. Well your man thinks for a bit and says, why yes, sure enough there is – but it doesn’t have the same sense of terrible urgency.” Fergus slapped his knees and laughed enough for all three of them.

He helped them collect Brian’s bag and the sample robot now released from customs. On the short drive to the hotel they heard three more of what he referred to as Kerryman stories. They could all be clearly recognized as familiar Polish or Irish jokes. Brian wondered which minority or subhuman race might be named as the subject of these same jokes when they were told in Kerry.

Fergus Duffy dropped them in front of the hotel, promised to call in the morning. While they were talking Shelly checked them in, came back with two keys and an ancient porter with a trolley.

“You share with Sven,” she said as they followed the septuagenarian toward the elevator. “I have no desire at all to catch your cold. I’m going to unpack and freshen up. I’ll be over as soon as I feel a little more human.”

“Is there any reason for me to remain in this box?” Sven asked when Brian opened it. “I would enjoy a little mobility.”

“Enjoy.” Brian sneezed thunderously, then attached Sven’s right arm and unpacked his toilet kit.

“What is the electricity supply in Ireland?” Sven asked as it fitted the other arm into position.

“Two hundred and twenty volts, fifty cycles.”

“Easy enough to adjust for. I’m going to recharge my batteries. Use them until we can obtain more fuel for the cell.”

Brian found a tube of antihistamine tablets in his toilet kit and washed one down with a glass of water. Sat back in the chair and realized that, for the first time in what – two days? – he had finally stopped running. The telephone was on the table beside him and it reminded him of the mysterious number that Sven-2 had uncovered. Could it possibly be a phone number in Switzerland? Hidden there by the vanished Dr. Bociort? He still didn’t think much of the theory, but he ought to at least try to place the call before he started running all over Europe. There was only one way to find out if Sven-2’s theory made any sense. He reached out for the phone – and stopped.

Could the phone be tapped? Or was he just being paranoid after General Schorcht’s constant surveillance? He was the subject of a police investigation here so there might be a long chance that it was. He pulled his hand back, took the phone card from his pocket. Five pounds it said and he must have used only a small part of that. More than enough left to call Switzerland. He went and looked out of the window. The sun had come out but the streets were still wet from the rain. And down the block was a brown building with the name “Paddy Murphy” over the curtained windows. A pub – the perfect place. He could have a jar and make his call. He dozed in the chair until Shelly’s knock jumped him awake. She was wearing a sweater with a bold Aztec design.

“You look great,” he said.

“I’m glad one of us does. You look like you have been dragged through a knothole.”

“That’s exactly how I feel. I’ll have a wash and shave, then we’ll go out to the pub.”

“Shouldn’t you be sleeping rather than drinking?”

“Probably,” he called back through the open door. “But I want to make that phone call first, to that number that Sven-2 thinks he discovered.”

“What number? What on earth are you talking about?”

“It’s a long shot but one worth trying.”

“We’re being mysterious, aren’t we?”

“Not really. I’ll try to make the call first. Then there really might be something to talk about. Sven, I never wrote the number down. What was it?”

“41 336709.”

Brian scribbled it on the back of the stub from his boarding pass. “Great. I’ll be out in a minute.” He closed the door and began to undress.

The bartender was chatting with a solitary drinker at the far end of the bar, looked up and came over to mem when they entered and sat down at a table near the open fire.

“What will you have, Shelly?” Brian asked.

“Wine of the country, of course.”

“Right. Two pints of Guinness, if you please.”

“Going to rain again,” the barman said gloomily as he slowly and patiently filled the glasses, placed them on the bar to settle.

“Doesn’t it always. Good for the farmers and bad for the tourists.”

“Get away with you – the tourists love it. They wouldn’t recognize the country if it wasn’t raining stair rods.”

“There is that. You have a phone here?”

“In back, by the door to the lounge.” He topped up the glasses and brought them over.

Brian sipped at the creamy head of the jet black liquid.

“This is delicious,” Shelly said.

“Nutritious as well. And enough of it will get you drunk. I bet it cures colds too. I’m going to make that call now.”

He took another sip and went to find the phone. Inserted the card and dialed the Swiss number. As soon as he got past the first four digits there was a high-pitched interrupt and a computer-generated voice spoke.

“You have dialed Switzerland from Ireland. The exchange you have entered does not exist. This message will be repeated in German and French…”

Brian crumpled up the slip of paper, threw it into the ashtray next to the phone, went back to the table and drained his pint and signaled for another one.

“You look glum,” Shelly said.

“I should be. It doesn’t work. The number was not a phone number. Sven-2 found the sequence buried in one of the stolen AI programs and seemed to think that it was. It wasn’t. The chances are it was just a line of code that I wrote myself for the original AI. Let’s forget the whole thing.”

“Cheer up. You’re a free man in a free world and that should mean something.”

“It does – but not much at the present moment. Must be the cold getting me down. Let’s finish these and get back to the hotel. I think some sleep is in order now. With the pills and the pints I should be able to sleep around the clock.”

40
December 21, 2024

It was after seven that evening before Brian woke up, blinking into the darkness of the room.

“I detect the motion of your eyelids,” Sven said. “Do you wish me to turn the lights on.”

“Do that.”

Ten minutes later he came out of the elevator and headed for the dining room. Shelly was sitting at a table by the far wall and she waved him over.

“I hope you don’t mind but I started without you. The salmon is absolutely delicious. You ought to try it.”

“You talked me into it – particularly since I just realized that I am starving. Airline muck and cheese sandwiches leave a lot to be desired.”

“You look a lot better.”

“Feel a lot better. The pills and sleep did the trick.”

“Your solicitor telephoned. I had told the front desk that you were sleeping so they put the call through to me. He was quite happy about everything – including the fact that you are going to have to pay a fine of fifty pounds.”

“Why?”

“He wasn’t quite sure. He said that he thinks it is just a slap on the wrist to sort you out – and wind up the case. He has already paid so you are a free man. He is also looking into a passport for you and thinks he can pull enough strings to get one by tomorrow. Said to phone him in the morning. I wasn’t too impressed by that. Takes ten minutes in the States.”

“Ahh, my fair colleen, but you are.not in the distant country where all the computers work and the trains leave on time. Let me tell you – one day for a new passport in Ireland is lightning.”

“I suppose we can use the rest. And maybe you can lick that cold. Have you thought about what you plan to do next?”

“There is little I can do without a passport. Then we start tracking down the mysterious Dr. Bociort. Right now I intend to get tucked into some dinner, with maybe a Guinness or two to tamp it down. Since we are going to be here at least another day, maybe we ought to think about some sight-seeing in the morning.”

“In the rain?”

“This is Ireland. If you won’t go out in the rain you are just never going to go out.”

“Let me think about it. You have your dinner and I’ll see you later I have to make a phone call.”

Brian raised his eyebrows in silence and she laughed.

“Not to the States or to anyone that can be traced. Before I left L.A. I called a cousin in Israel. The only qualm I had about helping you was being out of touch with my family. My father is due to be operated on soon. My cousin will be calling my mother and she has strict instructions not to tell her that I might be phoning Israel. I’m sorry, Brian, it’s the best I could think of…”

“Don’t let it worry you. I’m feeling a lot safer and more relaxed now that we are here. Make your call.”

Brian was just finishing his coffee, along with his second brandy, when Shelly rejoined him.

“That appears to be a lethal but interesting combination,” she said, looking around for the waiter. “Mind if I join you?”

“Be hurt if you didn’t.”

“You look better.”

“I feel better. Food, sleep, pills – and freedom. In fact I can’t remember when I ever felt this good before.”

“That’s the best news ever!” She smiled, reached out and squeezed his hand. Then drew away when the waiter brought the tray to the table.

The touch unlocked a warmth in Brian that was totally new and he smiled broadly. Free for the moment, away from responsibilities and worries. The rain lashing down outside, but it was warm and secure inside. An encapsulated moment of peace and happiness.

“To you, Shelly,” he said when the waiter had gone and they raised their glasses. “For what you have done to help me.”

“It’s little enough, Brian. I would rather drink to you – and freedom.”

His smile reflected hers as they touched glasses, drank.

“I could really get used to this kind of thing,” he said. “How did the call go?”

“It didn’t. Even the operator couldn’t get through. Said to try later.”

“I can’t understand that – telephone calls go through every time.”

She laughed. “Apparently not in Ireland.”

“Are you sure you have the right number?”

“Pretty sure.”

“Better check directory inquiries before you call again.”

“Good idea. Let’s finish these and I’ll do it right now, from the phone booth in the lobby.”

The booth was occupied and after a moment Shelly shook her head.

“No point in waiting, we’ll go to my room.”

It was easier to climb the stairs than wait for the ancient elevator. Shelly unlocked the door, opened it and turned on the lights.

“Bigger than mine,” Brian said, “more like a suite.”

“Maybe the manager is partial to women. Do you want a drop of duty-free while I put the call through?”

“Yes, please – some of that buffalo vodka you bought on the Aeroflot flight to kill the pain.”

She punched up international inquiries and spoke her cousin’s name and address, but had to repeat the name twice slowly before the voice recognition program was satisfied. She wrote the number down, then laughed.

“You were right about phone calls always going through – I apologize to Ireland. I got one digit wrong when I copied it down.”

“I’ll drink to that. To technology.”

He emptied his glass, filled it again, sipped in a warm haze as she made the call. He was probably getting drunk – but the hell with it. This was for pleasure, not escape, a very big difference. The call went through and he half listened to Shelly’s voice. She sounded relieved so the news was good. There was some more chat about the family, then she hung up.

“Sounded okay from where I sit.”

“It was. No problems at all and the prognosis is fine. So good in fact they are scheduling the operation.”

“Good news indeed.” He struggled to his feet with an effort. “I better be going. It’s been a great evening.”

“I couldn’t agree more,” she said. “Good night, Brian.”

It was natural to kiss him on the cheek, a simple kiss of parting.

Then it wasn’t that simple. She found him returning her kiss with a sudden warmth that she responded to. Neither of them had expected this – neither could say no.

It was closeness, an easy pleasure, a natural joining. It was emotion, sensation for Brian, something to be done without thinking, without logic. A flicker of memory, Kim, stirred at the edge of his attention but he rejected the thought. Not Kim, not that. This was different, better, very different.

But Kim would not be put aside. Not Kim herself but the memory of his feelings. His anger – anger at himself for that one loss of control.

Then it all drained away. Brian became aware that something was very wrong. In the darkness, Shelly’s naked body was against his; but it was not right. He felt drained, distant, soft where he should be hard, aware of an immense distaste at everything that was happening. He rolled on his. side facing away from her, pulled further away when she stroked his shoulder.

“Don’t worry,” Shelly said. “These things happen. Life hasn’t been that easy for you.”

“Nothing happened – I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Brian, honey, after what you have gone through, you can’t expect everything physical to work—”

“Physical? I don’t expect anything to work. I have been shot, operated on, recovered, attacked, locked away. How am I supposed to feel? Not very human if you want to know. Not very interested in this, what you are trying to do—”

“We, Brian, not just me. This is something that takes two to play.”

“Then find a game you can play by yourself.”

He heard her gasp of shock in the darkness, could almost see her tears. Nor did he care.

“I thought that I made it quite clear when I said that I didn’t want to talk about it.”

Shelly began to speak again, changed her mind. Instead she went in silence into the bathroom and closed the door. Brian groped about until he found the light, turned it on. Dressed and left. Back in his own room he went unseeing into the bath, threw water on his face and rubbed it dry with the towel, would not look at himself in the mirror.

The bedroom was still dark; he hadn’t turned the light on when he had come in. He did it now and saw that the curtain had been pulled open and that Sven was standing beside the window. He started to speak but the MI raised a suddenly formed hand in a very human gesture to stop. Brian shut the door and saw that Sven was now pointing to a sheet of paper on the bed. It was a note printed with precisely formed letters:

I have determined that there is a device inside the telephone in this room that is acting as a tap. In addition to this there is radiation directed against the window of the proper wavelength that is used to listen to conversations by monitoring the vibrations of the glass. We are under surveillance.

Who could it possibly be? The Irish security service? Possibly – and he certainly hoped so. What had happened with Shelly was forgotten for the moment. Investigation by the locals would be a lot better than thinking the unthinkable. The legions of General Schorcht could not have found him here, not this quickly. He fervently hoped. But what could they do to him? He went to the window and stared out into the darkness. Nothing. As he closed the curtain a motion caught his attention and he saw that Sven was signaling to him. The MI had printed out another note. He went over to look at it. The message contained just one word:

Communication.

As he read it Sven held up the end of a fiber-optic cable. Of course – a connection between both their brains would be completely secure and untappable.

But they had never communicated before in this manner, had always been assisted by Dr. Snaresbrook and her connection machine. But Sven was just as skillful, could find the metal stud under his skin, could insert the cable.

Not for an instant did Brian consider that there was any danger or difficulty in the process. He simply nodded agreement and pulled the chair over so it was out of sight of the window, sat in it with his back to the MI. Felt the familiar tracery of spider fingers on his skin.

Felt completely secure in the embrace of his own creation.

They spoke in silent communication, brain to brain.

That’s surprising. This is no faster than if we were speaking aloud.

Of course, Brian. Unlike thought, which is networked, speech is linear and must be transmitted one unit at a time.

Who are they? Do you have any idea?

They have not revealed themselves in any way, nor have I heard communication in any form from those who are organizing the surveillance. Despite this I am very sure that I know who they are.

Irish police?

Unlikely.

You are not suggesting, are you, that they’re General Schorcht’s troops?

That is the possibility that I would like you to strongly consider.

Why? I mean on what evidence do you base the supposition?

Sven did not answer at once. Brian turned slowly to look tracery of manipulators turning with him to keep the fiber cable in place. Brian did not realize it but it looked as though Sven was cradling the back of his head in his hand. He looked at the MI and could of course read nothing on its metal, unchangeable features. When Sven did speak it was with slow circumlocution.

I have learned a great deal about the basic, innate, instinctive functions of the human brain because of downloading from you. But I have a much less complete comprehension of higher-level adult emotional reactions. I can describe the human physical structure and how it functions. But I still have little understanding of the deeper functions, the emotions and reactions of human brains. This is most complex. Because although I have within my own brain a stripped-down template of your superego I do not have direct access to it. But I believe that its effects upon my own feelings perhaps enable me to understand you better than the others I have talked to…

Is this leading to anything?

Yes. I beg patience and consideration because I am attempting to discuss something of which I have no experience. Human emotions and personality. I made a human value judgment many hours ago which at the time I presumed to be correct. I am no longer completely sure that it was correct.

What decision?

I will come to that. I had knowledge of a fact that I did not tell you about. I have heard your human acquaintances speak of you and their concern for both your physical and mental health. All of them, with the single exception of General Schorcht, make every effort to smooth the course of your existence.

That is very nice to hear, Sven. What is the fact that you concealed?

The concealment I assure was in your best interest.

I have no doubt about that. What is the fact?

Silence. Finally reluctant communication. I overheard a telephone conversation.

Overheard? How?

How? Most easily. If a portable telephone had enough circuitry to broadcast its position and receive calls – don’t you think I can do an equal if not better job? The circuitry was very simple. I installed it a long time ago.

You mean that you have been listening in to other people’s phone calls? Whose?

Everyone’s of course. Any call in any cell where I am physically located.

Mine?

Everyone’s. It is a highly interesting learning experience.

You’ve veered from the topic. Answer me – what phone call did you conceal from me? Tell me now. Time for concealment is over.

If it were possible to heave a mental sigh Sven did then. A sensation of resignation and inevitability was transferred from brain to brain.

Your companion, Shelly, made a phone call.

I was there, I know about it and I don’t give a damn. It’s not important.

You misunderstand. This is not the call I was referring to. It was an earlier one…

The hell with it! I don’t want to talk about her or her damn calls…

You must care. This is vital to your survival. She made the call I refer to from the train in Mexico, when she was out of the compartment. Before you concealed her phone in the train.

Brian was almost afraid to ask the question, afraid that he already knew the answer.

Who did she speak to?

A man whose name I do not know. But it was obvious from the references and content that he was an aide to General Schorcht.

You’ve known this since yesterday – and didn’t tell me?

That is correct. I have already told you my reasons.

Brian felt the explosion of hatred burst within him. Everything she had said, done, had been a lie. And this liar, this traitor, had witnessed his humiliation, was laughing at him right now. She must have been lying to him ever since she had returned from Los Angeles. She had been there to see her father – but she had most certainly seen General Schorcht as well. How much of what she had told him was the truth – how much playacting? Anger wiped away all the other emotions.The bitch had betrayed him. Maybe Snaresbrook was in this as well. Even Sven had hidden the betrayal from him until this moment. Was he completely alone in the world? Anger became despair. He was at the edge of a black mental pit and about to fall in.

Brian. The words came from a great distance. His name repeated over and over within his own head. His vision swam and he could not see well until he rubbed at his eyes, brushed away the tears, saw Sven’s great glistening eyes just before him.

Brian, I have something good to tell you. Something you want to hear. It is still possible to make that telephone call to Dr. Bociort.

What are you saying? I told you last night it wasn’t a phone number at all.

I know. That is because I lied to you. You will remember that I gave you the number in the presence of Shelly. I was still unsure then if I should reveal her duplicity to you. But I was sure that I would give her no information to pass on to the General.

“Look who is talking about duplicity!” Brian spoke aloud, shocked – then almost smiled into the darkness. He was hooked up to an MI that was more Machiavellian than Machiavelli!

Sven – you are really something. And you are really on my side. Possibly the only intelligent creature in the world at this point. I’ve got to make that phone call again – and this time to the correct number. Any suggestions how we go about that?

Only the simple observation that we do not make it from this area where all the circuits are sure to be under surveillance.

Too right. Let’s make plans. We want to get out of this hotel, out of this area – and away from that personification of evil. Now I just want to get away from her, as far away as possible.

I agree. We should leave here at once. And might I observe that since she checked you both into this hotel you will also be sticking her with the bill.

To hell with Shelly. She should die and burn in hell forever. Now he had to escape. But how? He couldn’t leave Sven here when he left, could not consider that for an instant. Their closeness now was beyond friendship, a relationship that he could not put into words. But if he disassembled the MI again and stuffed him back into the box it would be an impossible burden.

At that moment Sven formed a very human hand and bent over to pull the plug on the charging cable from the wall. That was the answer. Night and rain – he had to take the chance. He scribbled a quick note and handed it to the MI.

Put on human disguise.

The phone rang. He hesitated. Two rings, three. He had better answer it.

“Yes.”

“Brian, could I talk to you—”

Anger surged up, burning like acid; he coughed and fought for composure, failed.

“Go to hell!”

“I’m so sorry you feel this way. In the morning we can talk…”

Her voice cut off as he slammed the receiver back into the cradle. While they had been talking Sven had pulled on the clothes, tied its shoes, was now slipping into the raincoat. With the store dummy’s head settled into position, the hat pulled low, there was suddenly another human being in the room. Brian struggled to contain his anger, faced it, let it drain away. Then looked at Sven again and shaped a circle of approval with his index finger and thumb and reached for the phone. While he waited for them to answer he wrote another note.

Open the door an inch. Silently!

“Hello, reception? Room 222 here. Listen, I’m retiring and I would like you to hold all calls until morning. Take any messages. Right. Thank you. Good night.”

He walked around the room humming to himself as he found his raincoat. Yawned loudly, ran water in the sink then flushed the toilet. Stamped his feet on the floor, then sat down on the bed, which squeaked providentially. Turned off the light and tiptoed to the door. Sven opened it a bit more and one eyestalk appeared from below the scarf, slipped out through the opening and scanned the hallway. There was obviously no one there, for the MI opened the door and led the way out, closing it silently behind them.

“The service lift,” Brian said. “And keep your coat collar turned up.”

It was late and luck was on their side. The kitchen was dark, the staff gone home. The outside door let them out into a rain-drenched alley.

“Might I assume that you have formulated a plan?” Sven said.

“Find a bar with a phone and we are on our way.”

They passed Paddy Murphy’s where he had been before, went on through the rain to the welcoming lights of Maddigan’s. Brian pointed to the dark entrance to the closed fishmonger next door. “You wait in there. I’ll be as quick as I can.”

The barman looked up from the Sporting Times when Brian pushed open the door. The courting couple in the rear booth were too occupied with each other to notice nun.

“Jayzus but it’s wet out there. A glass of Paddy if you please.”

“It’ll keep the dust down. Ice?”

“No – just a drop of the red. Can I telephone for a taxi?”

“Back by the jakes. Number on the wall above it. That’ll be two pound eighty.”

Brian downed the last of his drink when he heard the sound of a hooter outside. Waved to the barman and left. Sven appeared beside him, climbed into the cab after him.

“Going far?” the driver asked. “I need to fill the tank if you are.”

Brian slammed the door shut before he answered. “Limerick train station.”

“There’s an all-night petrol station on the way. Really suppose we ought to call it a gas station, same as the Yanks do. No petrol there at all. And hydrogen is a gas, that’s what I hear, so it’s off to the gas station we are.”

Brian wiped the condensation off the rear window and looked out. There were no other cars in sight that he could see. They just might get away with it. An image of Shelly appeared before him and he easily pushed it away. She was not even worth thinking about, not ever again.