Текст книги "The Turing Option"

Автор книги: Harry Harrison

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Текущая страница: 9 (всего у книги 28 страниц)

He handed the phone back, turned and walked from the room. The officer on the floor climbed painfully to his feet, shook his fist at Benicoff, who smiled back happily, before he went after the others.

Only when the door had closed behind them did Erin Snaresbrook permit herself to speak.

“You pulled some long strings, Mr. Benicoff.”

“The President’s Commission is making this investigation – not that military fossil. I think he had to be reminded who was his commander in chief. I liked that reference to MacArthur and the expression on General Schorcht’s face when he remembered that President Truman fired the General.”

“You have made an enemy for life.”

“That happened a long time ago. So now – can you tell me what is happening? How is Brian progressing?”

“I will in just a moment. If you will wait in my office, I’ll finish up with him. I won’t be long.”

Brian looked up when the door opened and the doctor came in.

“I heard voices. Something important?”

“Nothing, my boy, nothing important at all.”

12
October 27, 2023

“Feeling fine today, are we?” Dr. Snaresbrook asked as she opened the door, then stood aside as a nurse and an orderly rolled in the heavily laden trolleys.

“I was – until I saw that hardware and that double-ended broom with the bulging glass eyes. What is it?”

“It’s a commercially manufactured micromanipulator. Very few have been made.”

Snaresbrook kept smiling, gave Brian no hint that this was part of the machine that Brian had helped her develop. “At the heart of the machine is a parallel computer with octree architecture. This enables it to fit it on a single and rather large planar surface. Wafer-scale integration. This interfaces with a full computer in each joint of the tree-robot.”

“Each joint – you’re putting me on!”

“You’ll soon discover how much computers have changed – particularly the one that controls this actuating unit. The basic research was done at MIT and CMU to build those brooms, as you call them. It is a lot more complex than it looks at a distance. You will notice that it starts out with two arms – but they bifurcate very quickly. Each arm then becomes two—”

“And both of them smaller, by half it seems.”

“Just about. Then they split again – and again.” She tapped one of the branching arms. “Just about here the arms become too small to manufacture, tools get too gross – and assembly would have to have been done under a microscope. So…”

“Don’t tell me. Each part is standardized, exactly the same in every way – except size. Just smaller. So the manipulators on one side make the next stage on down for the other.”

“Exactly right. Although the construction materials have to change because of structural strength and the volume-to-size ratio. But there is still only a single model stored in the computer’s memory, along with manufacture and assembly programs. All that changes with each stage is the size. Piezoelectric stepping motors are built into each joint.”

“The manufacturing techniques at the lower end must really be something.”

“Indeed they are – but we can go into that some other time. What is important now is that sensors in the small tips are very fine and controlled by feedback from the computer. They can be used for microsurgery at a cellular level, but now they will be used for the very simple job of positioning this connection precisely.”

Brian looked at the projecting, almost invisible, length of optic fiber. “Like using a pile driver to push in a pin. So this gets plugged into a socket in my neck, as you told me – and the messages start zipping in and out?”

“That’s it. You won’t feel a thing. Now – if you will just roll over onto your side, that’s fine.”

Dr. Snaresbrook went to the controls and when she switched the unit on, the multibranching arms stirred to life. She guided them to a position close behind Brian, then turned over control to the computer. There was a silken rustle as the tiny fingers stirred and separated, dropped slowly down, touched his neck.

“Tickles,” Brian said. “Like a lot of little spider legs. What is it doing?”

“It is now positioning the fiberoptic to contact the receptor unit under your skin. It will go through your skin, though you won’t feel it. The point is sharper than my smallest hypodermic needle. Plus the fact that it is looking for a path that avoids all nerves and small blood vessels. The tickling will stop as soon as the contact is in place – there.”

The computer bleeped and the fingers held the metal pad that held the fiber optic firmly in place against his skin. They rustled again as a strip of adhesive tape was picked up from the bench and passed along swiftly to the site on his neck, where it was pressed down firmly to secure the pad in place. Only then did the arms contract and move away. Snaresbrook nodded to the nurse and orderly, who withdrew.

“Now it begins. I want you to tell me anything you see or hear. Or smell.”

“Or think about or imagine or remember, right?”

“Perfectly correct. I’ll start here…” She made a slight adjustment and Brian shouted hoarsely.

“I can’t move! Turn it off! I’m paralyzed – !”

“There, it’s all right now. Did it clear up instantly?”

“Yes, ma’am, but I sure hope you won’t have to do that again.”

“I won’t – or rather the computer won’t. We have been trying to locate, identify and establish controls over the major low-level agencies in the brain stem. The system apparently shut off the whole cerebellum. Now that the computer knows – it won’t happen again. Are you ready to go on?”

“I guess so.”

At times there was warmth, then darkness. A chill that filled his entire body in an instant, vanished as quickly as it had come. Other sensations were impossible to describe, the functions of the mind and body at the completely subconscious level.

Once he shouted aloud.

“Are you in pain?” she asked, worried.

“No, really – the direct opposite. Don’t stop, please, you mustn’t.” His eyes were wide, staring at nothing, his body rigid. She did not hesitate to interrupt. He relaxed with a profound sigh. “Almost… hard, impossible to describe. Like pleasure squared, cubed. Please note the site.”

“It’s in the computer’s memory. But do you think it wise to repeat—”

“Quite the opposite. Stay away from there. Something like that, like a rat pressing a button to stimulate its pleasure centers until it dies of thirst and hunger. Stay away.”

Erin Snaresbrook was keeping track of the time and when an hour was up she stopped the session.

“I think that is enough for the first day. Tired?”

“Now that you mention it – the answer is yes. Are we getting anyplace?”

“I believe so. There is certainly a lot of data recorded.”

“Any matchups?”

“Some…” Snaresbrook hesitated. “Brian, if you’re not too tired I would like to go on a few minutes longer.’’

“I bet you want to try some new way to locate higher-level nemes?”

“Precisely.”

“Well I do too. Fire it up.”

If anything was happening Brian was certainly not aware of it. The answer was obvious when he thought about it. If the machine really was connecting bundles of nerves, reestablishing memories, there was really no reason for him to be aware of the process. Only when he made an attempt to recover those memories would it be obvious that they were there. Yet he was aware of something happening at a very remote level of consciousness. It was a transient thought that slipped away like an eel when he tried to approach it. This was annoying. Something was happening that he couldn’t quite grasp. And he was tired. Plus the fact that now he had noticed, it was like an itch he couldn’t quite grasp.

That’s enough, he thought.

“I think that we’ll stop for the day,” the doctor suddenly said. “It’s been a long session.”

“Sure.” Brian hesitated, but then decided why not. “Dr. Snaresbrook – can I ask you a question?”

“Of course. But just a second until I finish here – now, what is it?”

“Why did you decide to end the session at that moment?”

“Just a little difficulty. The control is very fine and this is all still experimental. There was an abort signal on one of the connections being established. I must admit this was the first time something like this has happened. I want to rerun the program to that point and find out why.”

“You won’t have to – I can tell you.”

Erin Snaresbrook looked up, startled, then smiled. “I doubt if you can. This wasn’t in your brain but in the CPU, or rather in the interaction of the implanted central processor and the one in the computer.”

“I know. I told it to shut down.”

The surgeon fought to keep her voice calm. “That’s hardly possible.”

“Why not? The CPU is on the chip implanted in my brain – and is interrelating with my brain. Is there any reason why there can’t be feedback?”

“None whatsoever – except to my knowledge it has never been done before!”

“There’s a first time for everything, Doc.”

“You must be right. It appears that while the computer was learning some of the connections in your brain, parts of your brain were learning some of the computer’s control signals.”

Snaresbrook was beginning to feel dizzy. She walked to the window then back, rubbing her hands together – then laughed. “Brian, do you realize what you are saying? That you have interfaced your thought processes directly with a machine. Without pressing buttons or giving voice commands or any other kind of physical action. It was not planned, it just happened. Before this all communication has been at the level of a motor action, from a nerve to a muscle. This is the first time that communication has been effected directly from the brain to a machine. Nothing of this kind has ever happened before. It’s… breathtaking. Opens up all sorts of incredible possibilities!”

Brian’s answer was a low snore. He had fallen asleep.

Erin Snaresbrook unplugged the neural link from the computer and coiled it under his pillow, not wanting to wake him by attempting to remove it now. Then she quietly shut down the machine, closed the curtain and left the room. Benicoff was waiting for her outside, radiating gloom. Erin raised her hand before the other man could speak.

“Before you deliver the bad news I prescribe a cup of coffee in my office. It has been a busy day for both of us.”

“It shows that much?”

“I’m a great diagnostician. Let’s go.”

The surgeon had a lot to think about as she led the way. Should she tell Benicoff about Brian’s newfound ability? Not yet, later perhaps. She must run some controls first to make sure that it had not been an accident, a coincidence. The possibilities it opened were so large as to be frightening. Tomorrow, she would think about it tomorrow. She sipped the coffee and smacked her lips, passed Benicoff his coffee – then dropped into a very welcome chair.

“Bad news time?” she asked.

“Not really bad news, Doctor, just pressure. General Schorcht is not going away that easily. He insists that every day Brian remains here in the hospital the security worsens. In a way he has a point. And it is sure wracking hell with normal day-to-day hospital management. I know – I get the complaints. The General has been on to the Pentagon, who has been on to the President – who has been on to me. Is it possible that Brian can be moved now that he is conscious and off all the life support equipment?”

“Yes, but—”

“It had better be a world-buster of a but.”

Erin Snaresbrook finished her coffee, then shook her head. “I’m afraid that it isn’t. As long as very prudent medical precautions are taken.”

“That’s why the long face. General Schorcht, a small army and a medevac copter are standing by right outside – at this very moment. If that’s your answer they are going to do it now. I’ll try a holding action, but only if you have some really strong medical reasons.”

“No. In fact, if he has to be moved eventually, it might be best to move him at the present time. Before I get too involved in the memory reconstruction. And I am sure that we will all be a bit more relaxed once security is tightened.”

Brian was quite excited when he heard what was going to happen.

“Wow – a copter ride! I’ve never been up in one before. Where are we going?”

“To the naval hospital on Coronado.”

“Why there?”

“I’ll tell you after we arrive.” Dr. Snaresbrook glanced at the nurses who were preparing Brian for the short trip. “In fact, I think I better answer a lot of your questions when we get there. I’m afraid we can’t keep this a private party much longer. Are we ready?”

“Yes, Doctor,” the nurse said.

“All right. Inform Mr. Benicoff. You will find him waiting outside.”

The orderlies were navy medical corpsmen – and were backed up by a squad of heavily armed marines. The entire hospital floor had been cleared and there were more marines in front of and behind the party that surrounded the gurney. The first squad double-timed up the stairs to the roof when Brian was rolled into the elevator, were waiting there outside the door when it arrived. Nor were they alone. Sharpshooters looked down from the parapets, while at every corner of the roof there were soldiers with bulky surface-to-air missiles at the ready.

“You are right, Doctor, you do have a lot of explaining to do!” Brian called out above the roar of the copter’s blades.

During the short hop across the city and bay they were boxed in by attack choppers, while a flight of jets circled higher above. After landing on the helipad of the naval hospital the same procedure was done in reverse. When the last marine had stamped out, there were still three people left in the room.

“Will you wait outside, General,” Benicoff asked, “while I explain to Brian what this is all about?”

“Negative.”

“Thanks. Dr. Snaresbrook, will you please introduce me?”

“Brian, this is Mr. Benicoff. The military officer next to him is General Schorcht, who has some questions to ask you. I wouldn’t have him here now but I have been informed that this interview was expressly asked for by the President. Of the United States.”

“For real, Doctor?” They may have been twenty-four years old but the eyes had the wide-eyed stare of a fourteen-year-old. Erin Snaresbrook nodded.

“Mr. Benicoff is a presidential appointee as well. He is in charge of an ongoing investigation – well, he’ll explain that himself.”

“Hi, Brian. Feeling okay?”

“Great. That was quite a ride.”

“You have been seriously ill. If you want to postpone this…”

“No thanks. I’m a little tired, but other than that I feel fine now. And I really would like to know what happened to me, what is going on around here.”

“Well, you do know that you succeeded in developing an operating artificial intelligence?”

“The doctor told me that – I have no memory of it at all.”

“Yes, of course. Well then, without being too detailed, you were demonstrating the AI when the lab you were in was attacked. We have reason to believe that everyone there with you was killed, while you were badly wounded in the head. By a bullet. We assume that you were left for dead. All of your notes, records, equipment, everything to do with the AI was removed. You were taken to the hospital and operated on by Dr. Snaresbrook. You recovered consciousness in the hospital and of course everything that has happened since then you know about. But I must add that the thieves were never caught, the records never recovered.”

“Who did it?”

“I am afraid to say that we have absolutely no idea.”

“Then – why the military maneuvers?”

“There has already been one other attempt on your life, when you were in the hospital that you just left.”

Brian gaped around at their blank faces. “So what you are telling me is that the AI has been pinched. And whoever has it wants to keep it their secret. So much so that they are ready to bump me off to keep it a secret. Even though I don’t remember a thing about it.”

“That’s right.”

“This takes some getting used to.”

“For all of us.”

Brian looked over at the General. “How does the Army fit into this?”

“I will tell you.” General Schorcht stamped forward. Benicoff started to interfere, then hesitated. Best to get it over with. Snaresbrook was of the same mind and nodded agreement when she saw Benicoff draw back. The General raised his single hand and held out a recorder.

“You will identify yourself. Name, date of birth, place of birth.”

“Why, your honor?” Brian asked in a wondering voice, his Irish brogue suddenly thick.

“Because you have been ordered to. Statements have been made about your health and sanity that need corroboration. You will answer the question.”

“Must I do that? I know why. I’ll bet it’s because these people here been telling lies about me. Have they told you wild stories about me being only fourteen years old when with your own fine blue eyes you can see that is not true?”

“Perhaps something of that nature.” The General’s eyes sparkled as he leaned forward. “You are speaking for the record.”

Benicoff moved away so the General could not see his face. He had spent time in Ireland. He knew what “putting the mickey to someone” meant – even if the General did not.

Brian hesitated and looked about him, licking his lips.

“Am I safe now, General?”

“I can guarantee that one hundred percent. As of this moment the United States Army is in charge.”

“That’s nice to know. I feel a great relief as I tell you that I woke up in me hospital bed, sore in the head. And with not a memory I could find after my fourteenth year. I may not look it, General, but as far as I know I am fourteen years old. And very tired. Feeling suddenly ill. I have something of medical importance to discuss with my attending physician.”

“Mr. Benicoff,” Dr. Snaresbrook said, right on cue, “would you and General Schorcht please leave. You may wait outside.”

Whatever the General had to say never came out. His face was bright red, his jaw working. In the end he spun about so sharply on his heel that the pinned-up arm of his uniform jacket flew up. Benicoff was holding the door open for the General and closed it behind them as they left. Worried, Dr. Snaresbrook hurried to Brian’s side.

“What’s the trouble, Brian?”

“Don’t worry, Doc, nothing terminal. I just had enough of that one. But, yes, there is one thing.”

“Pain?”

“Not quite. If you will excuse the expression – I just have to pee.”

13
November 9, 2023

Almost two weeks passed before Benicoff saw Brian again. But he did get daily progress reports from Dr. Snaresbrook, which he passed on instantly to the President’s office. He did not hurry the second report that he had to file every day. Out of sheer malice at three in the morning, his E-fax was programmed to send a copy of the progress report to General Schorcht’s unlisted security number. In the hope that some excitable staff officer might find an item in the report that was interesting enough to wake up the General. This thought sent Benicoff to sleep with a smile every night.

He also E-faxed a daily case report of the Megalobe investigation at the same time. These were getting shorter and emptier of any progress with every passing day. There had been a flurry of activity when a series of caves had been discovered not too far from Megalobe; a result of one of the more way-out theories that had been developed. This theory expanded on the supposition that maybe the truck that had been at the laboratory that night had left the valley after all. But had left empty. The stolen items might then have been buried at a prepared site, to be dug up later when things had cooled down. Therefore all the excitement about the cave discovery. But the caves contained only fossilized bat guano which, Benicoff thought to himself, described just about everything else about the case that they had uncovered so far.

He had jogged through Balboa Park for an hour just after dawn then, showered and dressed, he had scowled through a low-cal breakfast and black coffee. At nine he had phoned the electronic company to check the delivery time of the items he had arranged for. Then, after returning the calls from the East Coast that had been recorded while he was out, he sealed his computer and took the rear elevator that connected with MegaHertz car rental in the subbasement of the hotel. The yellow electric runabout he had reserved was waiting for him. He checked that it had a spare tire, that there were no obvious dents in the body and that it had a full charge in the battery. Traffic was light until he reached the Coronado Bridge where the tail-back from security reached back halfway along it. He switched to the VIP lane and stopped only at the far end when the marine guard flagged him down.

“I’m afraid you can’t use this lane, sir.”

“I’m afraid I can.”

His pass and documents earned him a salute and another inspection at the VIP entrance. There were more salutes here – along with a complete search of the car. And all this just to get into the public part of Coronado. The searches became even more enthusiastic when he reached the gates of the military base.

Brian was standing at the window when Benicoff came in, turned around with a smile.

“Mr. Benicoff, it’s good to see you. We’re kind of short of visitors here.”

“Even better to see you – and you look great.”

“And that’s just about how I feel. They took the bandages off my back and arm yesterday. I’ve got a couple of nice scars. And I’m going to get a cap instead of these bandages tomorrow. Everyone keeps peeking at my skull but won’t let me see it yet.”

“Which is probably not such a bad idea. And I can give you some more good news. Dr. Snaresbrook and I, after a frontal assault on the naval authorities, have obtained reluctant agreement to have a computer terminal plugged into the room here for you.”

“That’s great!”

“But you’ll notice that I said terminal and not computer. A dumb terminal to the hospital’s mainframe. So you can be sure that every keystroke you enter will simultaneously appear on General Schorcht’s screen.”

“That’s even better! I’ll see to it that the good man has plenty to read to keep his blood pressure up.”

“Love at first sight. I appreciate the way you put the mickey to him.”

“I had to. He looks and sounds just like one of the nuns at school back in Tara, the one who used to break her ruler over my knuckles. And speaking of breaks – any chance of breaking out of here? Getting some fresh air?”

Benicoff dropped into the armchair, which squeaked under his weight. “I have been fighting with the authorities on this one as well. When the doc says that your health is up to it you can use the balcony to the tenth floor.”

“With ropes attached so I don’t jump off?”

“Not that bad – I took a look at it on the way up. Some Admiral’s personal little perk, I imagine. It’s pretty big, with lounges, trees – even a fishpond. And well guarded.”

“That’s another thing I wanted to ask you about, Mr. Benicoff—”

“Just Ben, if you please, which is what my friends call me.”

“Sure. It’s about these guards, really, and what’s going to happen to me when I get better. Doc said to ask you.”

Benicoff climbed to his feet and began to pace. “I’ve thought about that a lot – without finding a good answer. When you leave this hospital I’m afraid that you’ll have to go to someplace equally secure.”

“You mean until you find out who it was that stole the AI and shot me – the same people who then came back later on and tried to finish the job.”

“I’m afraid that’s it.”

“Then – can I see a printout of everything that has happened since the attack and theft in the lab, and everything you have discovered since?”

“It’s classified Top Secret. But since it is all about you, and you’re not going to do much traveling for a while – I don’t see why not. I’ll bring you a copy tomorrow.”

A nurse poked her head in the door. “Some equipment here to be installed. Dr. Snaresbrook has approved it.”

“Bring it in.”

Two white-coated attendants pushed in the trolley, followed by a Yeoman with electronic patches on his uniform.

“Delivered a little while ago, sirs. Taken apart and searched, put back together again and operating A-OK. Who’s going to sign for it?”

“Here,” Benicoff said.

“That’s not a terminal,” Brian said, tapping the square metal machine.

“No, sir. That’s a new-model printer for eternitree paper. Terminal is on its way up now. And initial here, please. Paper is in the box here.”

“Eternitree? That’s a new one to me.”

“It shouldn’t be,” Benicoff said when the printer and terminal had been plugged in and connected and they were alone again. He took out a sheet of paper and passed it to Brian. “It was developed at the University of Free Enterprise for the daily newspaper published there. In fact your father’s name – as well as yours – is on the original patent applications. I understand you both helped in developing the process.”

“Looks and feels like ordinary white paper.”

“Try folding or tearing it – see what I mean? It is tough plastic that has been textured to feel like paper, with a bonded thin-film surface. Which means it is almost indestructible and completely reusable. The perfect thing for the daily newspaper – also developed by one of the brightest boys at your university.”

“If I can sit down, with a glass of water – will you tell me about it?”

“I’ll get the water. Here. You know about selective TV news programming?”

“Sure. You punch in your own program, things that you are interested in. Baseball, stock market reports, beauty contests, whatever. Labeled news reports go out twenty-four hours a day. Your TV records those that interest you the most so when you come home and turn on the news, whammo, it’s only the stuff you care about.”

Benicoff nodded. “Well, your university newspaper is a high-powered version of the same thing. The editor there has signed up scientists right around the world as reporters… They send in reports all the time about every kind of scientific and technical news. These are tagged and stored in a data bank, along with all the news items from standard services. The subscription system has a learning scheme. When you touch the advance button to reject something, the computer notes this and avoids future related items. More important is the fact that it follows your eye movements with a tracking device. Then it does a content analysis and records descriptions of the subjects that interest you. It is a true learning process and the system gets better and better at profiling your interests. It is so good that unless there is a cutoff you would find yourself doing nothing else but watching news and views that you agree with and approve of.”

“Sort of turn you into an info junky. But what about browsing?”

“Built into the system. The retrieval operation is so efficient that there are always plenty of sidetracks even in the documents that are relevant to your subject.”

“Great! So it works out that every subscriber gets his own special newspaper. The hydraulics prof has nothing but pipes, pumps and splashes from around the world, along with Topeka, Kansas, obituaries, where he comes from, and chess news if he is into that as well. What a great idea.”

“Thousands think so. The subscriber pays a fixed fee, while the computer keeps track of how many times any single item is used and automatically pays the contributor.”

Brian rolled up the sheet of eternitree paper, real tight, but it instantly flattened out when he let go.

“A personalized newspaper waiting in the bin every morning. But still a tree’s worth of paper to be dumped every week.”

Benicoff nodded. “That’s what you and your father thought. The thin-film lab at the school was working on flat computer screens. Your father helped with the math and this was the end result. The layered film is changed internally and electronically from white to black. Any font or size of type is apparently printed on it – even large size for those with weak eyes. After reading it the sheets are dropped back into the printer. As the new newspaper is printed it clears away the old one. And even this technology is going to be redundant soon. There is a hyperbook coming onto the market that is about three-eighths of an inch thick and contains only ten pages. The edge binder contains a really powerful computer that controls a detailed display on each page, one that is even more detailed than the pages of printed books. When you finish reading page ten you turn back to the first page, which already contains new copy. With a hundred megabytes of memory this ten-page book will really contain a quite substantial library.”

“I’ll settle for this one for now – it’s really neat. I’ll set up a newspaper for myself.”

“You can – but that’s not why I brought the printer. You’ve been trying to order some books, the request got passed on to me. With the printer you can only store them in memory, but with eternitree you can print the book you want, slip the sheet into a spring binder and sit in the sun while you read.”

“And reuse the sheets again when I’m through! A lot has happened that I forgot about. Say, can’t you print out that report I asked for on this? I could have it right now.”

Benicoff turned to the terminal. “I don’t know. If this hospital has a cleared high-security network it might be possible. Only one way to find out.”

He punched in his own code, accessed base security and found the right menu. But before he had gone very much further the screen cleared and the lines of print were replaced by General Schorcht’s scowling image.

“What is the meaning of this breach of security?” His rasping voice rasping even worse through the terminal’s tiny speaker.

“Good morning, General. Just trying to get a copy of the classified Megalobe report for Brian.”

“Are you crazy?”

“No more than usual. Think, General. Brian was there. He is our only witness. We need his help. If I can’t get a copy now I will bring him one tomorrow. Does any of this make sense to you?”

General Schorcht stared in cold silence while he thought it through. “The hospital circuits are not secure. I’ll have the Pentagon transfer a one-off copy to CNBSC, the Security Central there. A messenger will deliver the copy.” The screen went blank as soon as he finished.

“Well good-bye then, sir, nice to chat with you. You heard.”

Brian nodded. “I don’t know if I can help – but at least I can find out what happened to me out there. Early on, Dr. Snaresbrook said that others had been killed. Very many?”