“I don’t understand.”
“Brian — think for a minute. Think of the money invested, the planning, the murders. Do you really think all of this was done to build a better bug-blaster?”
“Of course not! DigitTech must be just some kind of a front operation, meant to satisfy us after we tracked them down. Their plans must be deeper, bigger than killing bugs. But if you and the FBI are stopping the investigation how will we ever find who is behind this?”
“The military aren’t stopping. Just for once I agree with their institutionalized paranoia. Whoever is behind all this has an awful lot of money to throw away. Did you hear that Toth has a receipt in his wallet for a multimillion deposit in a numbered account in Switzerland? And the money is still there! They bribed him so well that he must have felt secure that they never meant to kill him, since if they did they would never get their money back. But they don’t care. People who can pull a stunt like that are a deadly threat that won’t go away.”
“I couldn’t agree more.”
“I’m glad that you do — because for the moment that is the end of the good news.”
Brian saw the worry on the big man’s face, felt a spurt of fear. “Ben — what do you mean?”
“I mean that the sonofabitch is not lifting the security, does not plan to in the near future. He thinks that you are a national asset, not only for your AI invention but for having a computer implant in your head that you can communicate with. He knows all about that too. He doesn’t want you out of his sight or running around in public.”
“Can’t you help me?”
“Sorry, I really do wish that was possible. But not this time. I took it as far as I could. Right up to the President, who while he says ‘Wait and see’ really means that he agrees with the General.” Ben took a business card out of his wallet and wrote a phone number on it. “Take this. If you ever need me this number is completely secure. Leave a message and a phone number and I’ll get back to you as soon as I can.” Brian took the card, looked at it numbly and shook his head.
“Is this the end of it, Ben? Am I going to be a prisoner here for life?”
Ben’s silence was his only answer.
35
October 18, 2024
The scrambler phone rang and the man behind the desk looked at it coldly for a moment, then turned to the others around the conference table.
“Same time tomorrow,” he said. “Dismissed.”
He waited until they were gone, the door closed and locked behind them, before he opened the cabinet and took out the phone.
“It has been a long time since you phoned me.”
“There have been some problems…”
“Indeed there have — and the whole world knows about them. There was a great deal of coverage, you know.”
“I know. But we always understood that they would find the factory eventually and investigate it. The real research is being done at your end…”
“We’ll not discuss that now. What did you call me about?”
“Brian Delaney. I’m arranging another hit.”
“Do it. See that you succeed. Time — and my patience — they are both running out.”
The fact that Kyle Rohart was Chairman of Megalobe was of not the slightest interest to the guard at the entrance to the army barracks. He still examined his ID carefully, then phoned through to the Sergeant of the Guard. Who, after checking out with Brian that he really was expecting a visitor, personally escorted Rohart up the stairs, knocked on the door.
“Kyle, come on in,” Brian said. “Thanks for taking the time to come see me.”
“My pleasure — particularly since you are no longer permitted to come to the administration building. That seems a little high-handed.”
“I couldn’t agree more. That’s one of the things I would like to ask you to help me with.”
“Anything I can, more than willing.”
“How are things progressing at Megalobe?”
“Magnificently. Research advancing on all fronts — and our new DigitTech subsidiary is manufacturing an entire new line of intelligent robots.”
“Great,” Brian answered with singular lack of enthusiasm. Rohart turned down any refreshment; too early for alcohol, too much coffee already. He sat on the couch. Brian dropped into the armchair and waved a sheet of paper.
“I have been going through all the recovered records, all my earlier files that were stolen. Buried in there I found a list that I had been developing of possible commercial applications for MI.”
“MI? I’m afraid I don’t know the term.”
“Don’t worry — I just learned it myself. That is now the correct term according to my former AI, now MI, Sven. It should know! Machine intelligence. I guess that it is more accurate. Anyway, I went through the list and added some more ideas. I have them here.”
“That is extremely welcome news. I had hoped we could find something with much more interesting and profitable opportunities than Bug-Off.”
“Well, you have just found them. For one thing, we should now be able to improve Bug-Off itself. Enough to totally change the face of agricultural ecology. Because with all that additional intelligence its role can be extended to help not only with planting, cultivation and harvesting but also with a lot of the processing before anything leaves the farm. Consider how that will reduce both transportation and marketing costs.”
“Those are mind-blowing concepts. Anything else?”
“Yes — everything else. It is hard to think of anything that cannot be revolutionized by adding more intelligence. Think of the recycling industry — they still mix things up so much that most manufacturing has to start from scratch. But with mass-produced MI processors every bit of trash can be analyzed and disassembled into much more usable ingredients. Then there is city street cleaning and maintenance. There is no limit here to these really great potentials. And remember that Bug-Off had to hide the fact that it contained an MI. But now we can brag about ours. And I also have another list with a large number of suggestions for military applications — but these stay in the files until I get some cooperation from General Schorcht.”
“Is that really fair to the Pentagon, Brian? Since they do have a stake in this firm.” Rohart smiled. “But considering your forced incarceration I think I’ll forget that you ever told me about a military list.”
“Thanks. In any case there are more than enough commercial applications in here without even thinking about the military. Basically an MI should be able, intellectually, to do anything that a human being can do. Let’s consider safety. There are an awful lot of people who we train to do terribly boring jobs. Pilots of ships and airplanes are good examples. Those occupations used to be challenging, but now they are so almost completely automated that the little remaining work in those once proud jobs have made them inhumanly monotonous. It is impossible to make people remain continuously attentive. They can make an error, there can be an accident. This doesn’t happen to robots, who need not forget, nor ever lose their vigilance. Commercial planes already fly by wire and there is computer control always between the pilot and the ailerons, rudder, engines — everything. A pilot MI would do the job much better, interface directly with the computers and overriding them in case of emerging problems. No pilot fatigue or pilot error.”
“I certainly would not want my airplane to be without a pilot. What if something goes wrong, a situation that the machine isn’t programmed for?”
“Rohart, this is 2024 — this kind of thing doesn’t happen anymore. Today a person is safer in the sky than when standing safely on the ground. You are far more likely to be killed by your toaster. There is a smaller chance that the plane will break down than that the pilot will go insane.