Zero echo shadow prime, p.5
Zero Echo Shadow Prime, page 5
Rivir Tower was a San Francisco landmark. It was unusual for a tech company to choose such an urban location for their headquarters. In interviews, CEO Jude Adler had said that she liked the visibility the location provided. It was perhaps ironic, then, that 95 percent of the building was invisible. Millions of tiny sensors dotted the structure’s outside, obscuring the massive tower from view as if by magic. The 5 percent that was visible, though, was eye catching. Their world-renowned rooftop garden featured work from some of the top flora sculptors in the world, and controlled waterfalls cascaded down each corner of the building. The resulting image was that of a floating paradise in the sky.
The limo turned a corner and was blitzed by the lights of the red carpet. Charlie looked on with heavy eyes as an ocean of people spanned before her. “Don’t worry, they’ll love you,” her father said, misattributing her slack-jawed gaze as fear, when really, she could barely lift her forehead from the window.
{Charlie_Nobunaga:mindspace> Charlie: I’m definitely gonna need an adrenaline boost if I’m going to make it tonight.
Alan: Your wish is my command.}
Charlie remained inside the limo while her father fetched the wheelchair from the trunk. Her heart rate quickened as she picked faces from the crowd—industry bigwigs, celebrities, rich socialites—basically, the most intimidating people on Earth, even for the healthy and able-bodied. Charlie didn’t even realize she was tugging on her wig until it slid off her head. Shit. She scrambled to put it back on and prayed it wasn’t lopsided when her father opened the door.
“Charlie! Charlie!” She winced at the barrage of attention. The red carpet was only fifty feet long, and Charlie was forced to shake nearly as many hands. A few people asked about Alan and the Rivir Prize, but most simply wanted to extend their condolences and say how brave and inspiring she was. Her father was behind her every step of the way, and thankfully he did most of the talking.
“Charlie!” Another voice, more earnest than the rest, called her from beyond the red carpet, where a line of riot police were corralling a group of college-age protestors. Charlie guessed they were members of the Sapien Movement, followers of Bob Sapio, the infamous Luddite demagogue. They held signs that read: CONSCIOUSNESS IS NOT IN THE CODE, I ≠ ROBOT, and DEATH ADLER, the latter featuring Jude Adler’s head on a serpentine body. They chanted, “Adler is a Nazi, Adler is a snake, Rivir’s so-called magic is humanity’s big mistake.”
One of the Sapiens in particular caught Charlie’s attention. He wasn’t chanting. He wasn’t carrying a sign. He seemed to be tracking her from afar, but unlike his fellow protestors, he exhibited no malice or condescension in his deep chestnut eyes. Once Charlie met his gaze, she couldn’t turn away. She felt a surge of energy more potent than the one Alan had recently provided. Who was this guy, and why was he so interested in her? Without another thought, she reached down and gripped the tread of her wheelchair, forcing it to stop. Her father almost tumbled over her head.
The mysterious Sapien reacted to Charlie’s gesture by changing direction. Instead of continuing parallel to the red carpet, he pushed his way closer. “Charlie,” he called out, “don’t go in there!”
Charlie’s brow rose. She leaned forward in her seat, wondering if she’d heard him correctly, but she soon fell backward as her father regained control of the wheelchair. He pushed her toward the tower entrance with renewed vigor.
The Sapien crashed against the line of police and tried to squirm his way through. “Charlie—” A police baton collided with his jaw. He reeled in pain but quickly recovered and grappled with the offending officer. The other Sapiens threw down their signs and threw out their fists.
The party guests shrieked and rushed the tower doors, blocking Charlie’s view of the fight. Before long, she was pushed inside the building by the swell of foot traffic. Those already in the atrium seemed equally rattled, clutching their champagne flutes with wide-eyed stares. The music cut out, and a Rivir representative assured everyone via loudspeaker that the situation outside was under control.
“Poor, deluded kids…” Andrew muttered once he caught his breath. Normally, Charlie would be inclined to agree—her opinion of the Sapien Movement wasn’t much higher than her father’s—but that one guy had gotten under her skin. He’d tried to warn her of something, putting himself in harm’s way to do so. Were they planning on blowing up the building? Charlie entertained the idea for a second before laughing it away. True, the Sapiens despised Rivir; true, they maintained some pretty crazy conspiracy theories regarding Jude Adler and the New World Order; and true, Bob Sapio was wanted for the murder of certain key biotech scientists. But they surely weren’t capable of blowing up an entire building. Right?
The music and chatter resumed. Andrew wheeled Charlie through the Rivir atrium as he hunted for her benefactor, whose name he stubbornly refused to disclose. Charlie spotted several potential candidates—pioneers in smart-cell technology, medicine, and gerontology—but Andrew passed them by.
Peppered among the crowd were representatives from Rivir’s line of Shadows and Bethea’s line of humanoid robots. The Shadows were easy to pick out because they were modeled after historical figures long dead: George Washington, Albert Einstein, Marilyn Monroe, Bill Gates, and the like. The robots were easy to pick out because their movement was so painfully clumsy.
Interestingly, the catering staff was entirely human, underlining the limitations of both the Shadows and the robots. The Shadows, being mere holographic avatars, simply could not carry a tray of hors d’oeuvres. The laws of physics wouldn’t allow it. And the robots, lacking sophisticated software, could not manage a tray without spilling it. The Shadows lacked the body, and the robots lacked the brains. It was a telling observation. Even though no specific product announcements had been made, the party guests merely needed to scan the atrium to understand what the merger meant: Shadow-controlled robots. Rivir’s superior AI would combine with Bethea’s superior nanoengineering. Charlie was both excited and frightened by the possibilities. Was this the start of the ‘robopocalypse’ the Sapiens warned about?
The night wore on, and Charlie sank further and further into her seat. She was about to ask Alan for another dose of adrenaline when she heard her name called.
“Charlie Nobunaga?”
The wheelchair came to a jarring halt as a woman pivoted into view. Charlie recognized her instantly.
“Charlie,” Andrew said, “may I introduce Jude Adler, Rivir CEO.”
Charlie shimmied to attention.
Jude smiled and bowed. The woman’s face was as beautiful as it was hard to read. One could almost mistake her for a robot, except her manner was so graceful. She kneeled down to Charlie’s eye level and reached out her hand.
Charlie flinched momentarily but accepted Jude’s touch. Jude’s fingers brushed her cheek and gently raised her chin. “You are beautiful,” Jude told her. “It’s buried under layers of hurt and sickness, but I can still see it. With your permission, I’d like to help you bring it out again.”
Charlie was smitten. She could see why so many people loved this woman.
“Jude has been gracious enough to help us during our time of need,” Andrew said.
“Please, you make me sound like some great humanitarian,” Jude said, standing back up. “Our needs simply aligned in this situation. Speaking of which”—she spread her arms, gesturing to the party—“you made this happen, Andrew. I’m so glad you and your daughter could come out tonight.”
“Of course.”
Charlie scrutinized her father’s face. The man could hold a secret. If he was responsible for this merger, he must have been pursuing it for a while. But his involvement did make sense. Rivir was a technology firm. Bethea was a military contractor. Andrew had influence in both those worlds—he would be the perfect person to bridge them together. The question remained: What was Jude offering in return?
“So, let’s see this Alan,” Jude asked Charlie.
Charlie froze. Her maternal instinct engaged. “I don’t normally whip my Shadow out in public.”
Jude laughed. “Don’t worry, I’m not going to bite. I’m just curious. I’ve heard so much about him.”
Charlie knew from experience that the more she tried to fight Alan’s admirers, the more they wanted a piece of him. Since her Rivir Prize win three and a half months ago, she’s had to beat back hordes of journalists, business people, and common fans. Jude, especially, was sure to find him irresistible. If Charlie gave her a taste, would she be satisfied, or would she be hungry for more? “Alan, spin, all eyes,” she said with great trepidation.
Alan spun into the atrium. “A pleasure, Ms. Adler,” he said with a bow.
“Wow, he even looks a little like Alan Turing,” Jude noted. “Or, at least, a young version of him. So, Alan, how does it feel to be the most coveted Shadow in the world?”
“Am I?” Alan replied. “You must have me confused with the Connie Lingus model.”
Jude laughed. “I like him already!”
{Alan: Your heart rate is accelerating.
Charlie: She wants you. Stop being so charming!
Alan: Don’t worry. In the end, this will all work out in your favor.
Charlie: What does that mean?}
“Well,” Jude continued, “you showed me yours. It’s only fair that I show you mine. Khnum, spin, all eyes.”
Khnum spun before the group. He stood at an impressive seven feet, with a male human body and a ram’s head. The human body was bronze and muscular. The ram’s head was sharp and regal.
“It is good to meet you, Charlie,” Khnum said in a deep, otherworldly voice.
“Oh, wow,” Charlie marveled.
“Khnum comes from Egyptian mythology,” Jude said. “In their view, he created man from the clay of the Nile river. Yes, I’m a sucker for symbolism.”
Charlie studied Jude’s outlandish Shadow. “I mean no offense,” she said, “but I expected a Jobs Shadow. Or a Gates. Or even an Edison.”
“They are certainly heroes of mine,” Jude agreed, “but no CEO wants another looking over her shoulder.”
Charlie nodded.
Jude shifted to a more serious tone. “Let’s go to my office. I’d love to talk more about Alan in private.”
Charlie smiled graciously, though she didn’t know how she should feel: honored or worried. “You’re not too busy?”
“I’ve already made my rounds. Besides, you’re the most interesting person here.” Jude turned to Andrew and said, “Sorry, the rest of this conversation is girls only.“
* * *
Jude’s office hung over the lobby like a crow’s nest. It was a cube-shaped room, framed on all six sides by a special kind of one-way glass, transparent in one direction and translucent in the other. Looking out, Charlie and Jude had a clear view of the party, but looking in, the party guests could only see fuzzy shadows and light.
“So, Alan’s emotion engine,” Jude said as she sank into her executive chair, “tell me about it.”
Charlie glanced to the side of the room. A young female assistant was busy organizing pills into clear plastic cups and placing them one by one on Jude’s desk.
“Oh, don’t worry,” Jude assured Charlie, “your secret’s safe with her. We have all our employees sign NDAs.”
“But is my secret safe with you?” Charlie replied.
Jude smirked and shrugged. “I’m just curious, that’s all. Paint in broad strokes if you like.”
“That’s a lot of pills,” Charlie said, still fixated on the growing procession of pill cups. There must have been fifteen cups, filled with over a hundred pills.
“This? This is nothing. You should see my morning regimen.” Jude dismissed her assistant with a thank you and a wave. Once the girl left the room, she continued, “Aging is a bitch, Charlie. It takes a lot of guile to beat it. The tabloids might say I’m crazy, but trust me, the science is there. You can never do too much.”
“I think you look great,” Charlie offered. It was true. Jude Adler was nearing seventy years old, yet the woman could pass for thirty-nine.
“Thanks.” Jude downed a cup of pills, then added, “Oh, and don’t believe everything you read. I’ve only done two skin treatments.”
Charlie nodded. Skin treatment was a euphemism for a time-consuming and grisly skin-replacement procedure. It involved surgically removing the patient’s flesh and using stem cells to grow a new epidermal layer. Charlie recalled the Sapien Movement placard: Death Adler, the snake.
Jude downed another cup of pills, then said, “I’m sorry. You were going to tell me about Alan’s emotion engine.”
Charlie squirmed in her wheelchair—she’d agreed to no such thing. Still, she knew she had to tell Jude something. “Um, well, my goal was to give Alan emotions. I didn’t know exactly how at first, so I started by simply categorizing them. I found that most emotions are either attractive or repulsive. Love attracts. Fear repels. Lust attracts. Disgust repels. Curiosity attracts. Embarrassment repels. Kinda like electromagnetism. Positive charge and negative charge.”
“But attraction is not all positive,” Jude interjected. “I mean, in the moral sense, not the charge sense. Love attracts, but so does anger. If someone crosses me, I grow blinders. All I want to do is find that person and choke the life out of them.” While she said this, Jude’s eyes flared and she wrapped her fingers around an invisible neck.
Charlie nodded uncomfortably. She made a mental note never to cross this woman. “Well, I actually distinguish between hot anger and cold anger. But you’re right—there’s more than one binary set at work. I’ve identified three: attraction versus repulsion, protection versus destruction, and action versus inertia. If each of those binary sets is drawn as a different axis—x, y, and z—then Alan’s precise emotional state can be charted on a three-dimensional graph. This graph becomes the nexus between causal events and behavior. Causal events move the point inside the graph, and the position of the point determines behavior.”
Jude clapped her hands. “That’s so very cold and mathematical. But, I like it. It’s sort of Freud meets Descartes.”
“The actual code is a lot more nuanced.”
“Of course,” Jude said with a wink.
Charlie smiled. She was actually enjoying herself. During the lonely months she had worked on Alan’s code—before he became truly aware of himself and the world—Charlie had no one to talk theory with. She didn’t have time to make friends. Her father didn’t understand what she was doing, let alone why she was doing it. And Bridge…Bridge would have understood. Charlie and Bridge could talk for hours on all sorts of esoteric subjects. But Bridge was gone.
“What I don’t understand,” Jude said, “is why program Alan with emotions in the first place?”
“What do you mean?”
“I’ve actually been giving this some thought. The Turing Test is based on small talk, right? You don’t really need emotions for small talk. Definitely not for a ten-minute conversation between total strangers.”
“True.”
“So, then, why bother? Why not focus on other things—things that would help you win the test?”
“My goal wasn’t to win the test.”
“Then what was it?”
“Same as what Alan Turing envisioned when he designed the test. To create the most humanlike Shadow I possibly could.”
A slow, sneaky grin crept across Jude’s face. She rose from her chair and said, “I want to show you something.”
* * *
Jude wheeled Charlie down a long hallway. The party pulsed in the distance, but this section of the building was deserted. The walls were lined with posters of great historical figures, Rivir’s latest line of Shadows, in modern-day settings.
“I saw your Renner interview,” Jude said. “The thing I was struck by was—”
“My crazy outburst?” Charlie asked.
“That certainly was amusing. No, it was when you said Alan’s your best friend. When I designed the first Shadows, I wanted them to be more than virtual assistants. I wanted them to be friends. But in order for the friendship to feel authentic, the Shadow has to feel authentic. They have to feel human, as if there’s some inner life behind the code. That’s the goal I’ve set for my Shadow team, and in their defense they’ve done some incredible work. But they still haven’t given me what I want.”
The two women reached an elevator. Charlie swallowed hard. Here comes the pitch.
“I just want you to think about what Alan is worth to you,” Jude said.
Charlie didn’t even need to think. “I—”
Jude immediately cut her off: “Don’t tell me now. Just keep the thought in the back of your head. Let it percolate awhile.”
Ding. The elevator doors opened. Once they got in, Jude issued the command: “Khnum, take us down to B6.” Khnum was not visually present, but like all Shadows, Jude was able to maintain a dialogue with him.
Charlie stewed in her wheelchair. She knew with a hundred percent certainty that she would never sell Alan. What was this woman’s game? What was her offer?
The elevator opened to a circular chamber with three locked doors. Engraved nameplates marked each one. The leftmost read: ECHO. The middle read: SHADOW. And the rightmost read: PRIME.
“Welcome to the Rivir R&D hub,” Jude announced. She gestured to the SHADOW door. “You’re already familiar with our Shadow line. Like I said, we have big plans regarding their evolution.”
“What’s ECHO?” Charlie asked.
“That, I can’t talk about. What I’d like to show you is behind door number three. It leads to the bathroom.”
“The bathroom?” Charlie asked, confused.
“You’ll see.”
The PRIME door led to another hallway, which ultimately spilled into an enormous research amphitheater. The center of the room was dominated by a tank of water large enough to house a dolphin. Wires and hoses extended in every direction.
