“Your electronic wizard seems to be working pretty fast.”
“Once the list was complete and all the long shots eliminated Sven sorted through for the most likely items. It has come up with three possibilities now. One is a certain software system that is suspicious. A microcode compiler that writes impossibly efficient code. Then there is a certain shoe repair machine that might plausibly be an AI since it can resole any kind of shoe. Then there is an agricultural machine which is rated as almost surely an AI.”
“Plausibly? Almost surely? Can’t this thing give a straight answer, a yes or no — or a fifty-fifty chance?”
“It cannot. Sven uses an agency based on knowledge about qualitative plausibility. It doesn’t use any numbers at all. In fact, I asked it to and it refused.’’
“Who runs that place — you or the machine? In any case — what did it come up with?”
“A machine called Bug-Off, would you believe?”
“I believe — and I’ll contact the FBI here and get some action on your Bug-Off today. A meeting that I planned to be brief just got a lot briefer. I’ve canceled it. I’ll get back to you.”
The head of the Seattle FBI office, Agent Antonio Perdomo, was a tall man, as solidly built as Benicoff, still in his forties but going rapidly bald. He glanced at Benicoff’s ID and got right down to business.
“Washington ran a corporate check on this manufacturing company, DigitTech Products of Austin, Texas. I have the file here. They manufacture and sell wholesale electronic components for the most part, with an occasional individual product. But they usually make items for own-brand retailers. This machine you asked about, Bug-Off, has been on the market for only a few weeks. They are marketing it themselves.”
“How do we get hold of one?”
“I’ve arranged that as well. It is not for sale but is leased to greenhouses to be used — or so their prospectus says — in the place of chemicals. I know you wanted to keep this investigation completely under cover so I made all my inquiries through an associate in the Bureau of Commerce. He contacted all the greenhouses in this area and has come up with a winner. A greenhouse owner named Nisiumi — a retired traffic policeman.”
“That’s the best news ever. You’ve contacted him?”
“He’s in his office, waiting for us. He only knows that this is a high-level investigation and that he is to mention it to no one.”
“This is very good work.”
Perdomo smiled. “Just doing my job.”
The sun had disappeared and Seattle was running true to winter form. The windshield wipers were on high speed to clear a patch in the torrential rain. They parked as close to the entrance as they could, were still drenched by the time they got to the greenhouse door.
Nisiumi, a stocky Japanese-American, led them to his office in silence, didn’t speak until he had closed the door. He wiped the soil from his fingers onto his white coat before he shook hands. He looked very closely at Agent Perdomo’s identification.
“These Bug-Off people are making a big sales pitch, probably contacted every greenhouse in the country. I even had this brochure for their machine, right here on my desk.”
“This is Mr. Benicoff, who originated this investigation,” Perdomo said. “He’s the one in charge.”
“Thanks for your cooperation,” Ben said. “This is a high-priority case right out of Washington — and there are deaths involved. That’s all I can tell you now. When we wind the thing up I promise that I’ll let you know what it is all about.”
“Suits me. It’s a big change from cucumbers. I was interested by this Bug-Off when I read about it in the trade magazine. That’s why I asked for this information. But it’s too expensive for me.”
“You have just obtained an interest-free loan for as much as you need for as long as you need.”
“It’s good to be back in harness! While you were on your way here I called DigitTech Products’ 800 number. They have a salesman in this area — and he is going to give a demonstration here at nine tomorrow morning.”
“Perfect. Your accountant, that is me, will join you at that time. Call me Benck, though, not Benicoff.”
The rain was lashing loudly against the hotel room window. Benicoff closed the curtains and turned on the radio in the hopes that the music might drown it out. He was well into the company report before the rare steak, no potatoes and a green salad, pot of coffee arrived. He ate slowly, reading, digesting meal and report at the same time.
The salesman was late next morning; it was almost ten before the van stopped in the greenhouse drive.
“Sorry about that, traffic and fog. The name is Joseph Ashley but everyone calls me Joe. You’re the owner, Mr. Nisiumi?”
While the introductions were being made the van driver was loading a large carton onto the hand truck; he wheeled it into the greenhouse. Joe himself pulled off the cover to proudly reveal — “Bug-Off. And that’s what this little baby is. The mechanical answer to all your biological problems.”
The machine looked very much like a fat fire extinguisher. It was a squat red canister slung between six spiderlike legs. From its top sprouted two jointed metal arms, each ending in a cluster of metal fingers. Benicoff hid his sudden great interest behind an accountant’s suspicious scowl. The redivided fingers, although larger, bore a distant resemblance to the branching manipulators of the AI.
“I’ll just take the travel locks off these arms and we will be ready to go.” Joe pulled free the restraining foam blocks, then took a red canister the size of a cigar box out of the carton and held it up. “Power supply. This plugs into any socket and is secured at ground level. Bug-Off is completely self-powered and self-contained. Right now his battery is charged and he’s raring to go. Night and day if needs be. And when his power gets low — why, he just trundles him-self over to this charger and gets a fix.”
“Sounds expensive,” Benicoff grunted.
“Looks expensive, Mr. Benck, and it is expensive. But not to you. You will find that our lease rates are more than reasonable. And I’ll bet my bippy that this bug-blasting Bug-Off will pay for himself from the word go.”
“Do you program it, or do I follow it around or what?” Nisiumi asked.
“It is so easy to use that you will just not believe it until you see this bug-plucking little guy in action. All that you do is just turn it on — and step back!” Joe did just that, throwing the power switch and stepping back. Motors whirred and the two arms extended to both sides, long metal fingers waving gracefully in the air. “This is the search program. Detectors in the tips of the fingers are looking for plant life. Day or night, as I said, see how they glow with their own light source?”
Drive motors hummed, the legs lifted and lowered gracefully as the machine picked its way in a very dainty manner toward the walkway between the plants. It stopped at the first vine and both arms slapped out, picked their way over the soil to the stems beyond. They moved quickly now, flicking over the leaves and stems, apparently caressing the green lengths of the cucumbers, running lightly over the yellow flowers on their tips. There was a quick click as the lid on the arm flicked open then shut again.
“No chemicals, no poisons, no pollution — wholly organic. Even though you are watching this happen before your very own eyes I’ll wager that you can’t believe it. I don’t blame you — for this is something entirely new in the universe. Before your very eyes there are almost invisible eyes at work, the optic cells on those fingertips which are now seeking out aphids, spiders, mites — bugs of any kind. When one is found it is plucked off the plant — just like that. Picked off and whisked away. Bug-Off’s arms are hollow and they will soon be filled with bugs. A treat for your pet bird or lizard — or use it as fertilizer. There it is, gentlemen — the mechanical miracle of our age!”