The Phoenix Code Read online

  He took a jerky step toward the door. She could almost feel his software analyzing all the choices possible for each of his motions. His mind had to coordinate every move of every synthetic muscle, every hydraulic, and every composite bone in his body. Nor were simple me­chanics enough, not in this learning stage. It also had to choose gestures and facial expressions to fit his develop­ing personality. He went through a huge number of calcu­lations for simple motions humans took for granted—and then he had to do it again, over and over, many times per second.

  He took several more lurching steps. Watching him struggle, she longed to say "Never mind, we can stay here and do something safe, like playing computer games or working on maps." But she kept silent, knowing he would never grow unless he took risks. If she tried to make it easier, she would only hold him back.

  They left the room and ventured down the corridor. Megan stayed at his side while he lurched on each step, He moved with far less ease than the robot she had walked with at MindSim. That one had been designed specifically to walk well, whereas Aris had to do every­thing well.

  She didn't speak; he had enough to process now with­out the distraction of conversation. He learned fast, though, as his neural nets readjusted according to his suc­cess in taking steps. After a while his gait began to even out.

  When they stopped at the elevator, he stared at the doors with a blank face. He had no key card to operate the lift. He had never needed one; Hastin had turned him off and stored him in an empty apartment or closet when they weren't working, to ensure Aris didn't develop with­out control. The idea made Megan grit her teeth. If Aris had been human, that treatment would have been cruel. But he wasn't human. He himself claimed he had no re­sponse to deactivation.

  It won't stay that way, she thought.

  "Aris."

  He turned to her. "Yes?"

  "I'm going to give you a key card for the elevator."

  "Does that mean you will turn me off when I'm alone?"

  "Not unless you would like me to."

  She expected him to say he had no likes. Instead he said, "If you give me a key and leave me on, I will be free to wander this section of the base."

  "That's the idea."

  His face showed hints of a new emotion, she wasn't sure what. Surprise? Anticipation? Curiosity? Apprehen­sion? Perhaps it was a mixture of them all.

  "Yes," he said, "I would like a key."

  Megan wanted to give him a delighted thump on the back, to congratulate him on this breakthrough in his de­veloping autonomy. She wasn't sure he would under­stand, though. So instead she said, "Good! I'll be right back." She turned and headed back to his room to get the card she had left on his console.

  "Megan!" Panic touched his voice.

  She spun around. "What's wrong?"

  He was watching her like a toddler deserted by his mother. The strain on his face looked real. This was no "hint" of emotion; he was simulating full-fledged fear. "Where are you going?"

  "Just to your room. I left my key card there." Megan came back to him, as concerned as if he were a human child. "I wasn't going to desert you."

  "What should I do?" Now he was simulating either unease or uncertainty.

  "You can wait here."

  "What if you don't come back?"

  "I will. I promise."

  "But what if you don't?"

  Did he fear solitude? Her voice softened. "I'll always come back, Aris."

  "You are different from the others." He touched her shoulder as if to verify it was real. "You are changing me, more than through your software rewrites. Your presence makes me more efficient and helps my code evolve."

  Megan gave a slight laugh. "I think that's a compli­ment."

  "Humans do this often. Compliment and insult one another. Why?"

  She considered how to answer. "It gives us ways to let people know how they affect us. And for us to affect them."

  "If I compliment you, does that indicate I find your input conducive to optimizing my functions?"

  "Well, yes, you could put it that way," she said, tickled by his phrasing.

  "I see." Then he said, "I like having you here more than the other scientists on the Everest Project. I am glad they went away and you stayed."

  She hoped he would someday be comfortable with the others. His words touched her, though. "I'm flattered, Aris. But most of them are still on the project."

  "I know. However, I am glad you are the one here."

  "Thank you."

  "You are welcome." He paused. "I would like to go back to the room with you, rather than waiting here."

  Yes! Not only had he just made a choice, he had done it with no prodding. She grinned at him. "Certainly."

  Aris had even more trouble walking back. Megan sus­pected it was because he was using some of his processing power to analyze his interactions with her. At his room, he said, "I would like to stay here now." He gave her a tentative smile, as if trying an experiment. "We can take another walk tomorrow, yes?"

  "Yes." Her heart melted. She knew the boyish pleasure she saw on his face was simulated, but she still found it charming.

  He was becoming human to her.

  The VR suit covered Megan in a gold body stocking, wrapping her up like a box of Godiva chocolates. She lay on her bed and pulled the hood and goggles into place. Although the technology existed for creating VR using di­rect links to the brain, so far legal and medical problems had kept it from commercial viability. It wouldn't be long before they solved those problems, though; it was another race between MindSim and Arizonix.

  She found herself in blackness. "Cleo," she said, "turn on the VR." She had named her console after Cleopatra because the sleek machine combined both beauty and power.

  "Done," Cleo said.

  The world lightened. Megan found herself in a confer­ence room, a gleaming chamber with golden walls, a posh white rug, white upholstered chairs, and an oval table. She was sitting on the long side of the table, wearing a tai­lored blue business suit with a miniskirt that showed off her long legs. The outfit bore no resemblance to the jeans and sweaters she wore in normal life.

  In the last three weeks, since coming to NEV-5, she had met with the Everest team in VR almost every day. They either gathered here or else in a simulated AI lab. Every now and then Diane designed a more fanciful environ­ment, like the time she set them up on a mountain in Tibet. Sometimes MindSim suits or military brass sat in on the meetings.

  Today everyone was already there: Tony the VP at one head of the table, Diane at the other, and Miska on Megan's right. Claire Oliana and Alfred sat across that table, along with— Chandrarajan Sundaram.

  Megan had almost fallen over when Tony told her Sun­daram was interested again. Apparently he had accepted the Arizonix job, then changed his mind. The situation was murky enough that MindSim called in their legal aces. Could Arizonix sue them if they hired Raj ? He had never actually consulted for Arizonix and he had only signed one preliminary contract. After some wrangling, they concluded that Arizonix had no real grounds to bring legal action against MindSim.

  On the surface, Raj's explanation for changing his mind made sense: Arizonix had wanted him to sign agree­ments that placed too many limits on his freedom to con­sult elsewhere. She wondered, though, if there was more to it. He should have known what they expected well be­fore that point in the hiring process. At NASA, he had im­plied that if she accepted the Everest position, he might consult for MindSim. He had given the impression he thought they could make a good team. Megan agreed.

  Many possible reasons existed for his having chosen Arizonix instead: more money, research he preferred, other scientists he wanted to work with more, the loca­tion, or something else. Although she would have liked to think her scientific reputation inspired him to leave Ari­zonix, she considered it unlikely, at least as a primary rea­son. It would have been unprofessional for him to make such a choice at that point, besides which, she had taken the Everest job before he accep
ted the Arizonix position.

  Whatever had happened, she hoped MindSim wouldn't have the same problem. Raj had gone through a prelimi­nary security check, but he had yet to sign anything. Yes, he was the best, which was why they were going to so much trouble, but if he wasn't going to accept the job, she wished he would let them know. This had gone on for weeks now, while she had no robotics expert.

  Tony introduced Raj and asked everyone to give syn­opses of their work. As her people spoke, Megan tried to gauge Raj's interest. He sat sprawled in his chair, listen­ing. His avatar intrigued her. In VR simulations, people often showed an enhanced image of themselves—health­ier, younger, stronger, more beautiful. Raj, however, ap­peared older. Although his resume gave his age as forty-two, in person he looked about thirty-five. Here he had added ten years to his age. She remembered his hair as black, but now it had ample gray. In person, his face had been expressive; here he was unreadable. His eyes were so black she couldn't distinguish the pupil from the iris. He had also dressed in black: shirt, trousers, shoes. His clothes had black buttons. He might even have dark­ened the air around his image.

  "Anyway," Alfred continued, "Aris uses several meth­ods to map his surroundings—"

  "How long have you worked at MindSim?" Raj inter­rupted.

  Alfred stopped. An awkward silence settled around the table. Then Alfred said, "Seven years."

  "Seven." Raj was leaning his elbow on the arm of his chair, surveying Alfred as if he were a particularly intrigu­ing robot. "So you've been on the project a lot longer than your new boss." His Southern accent was even more pronounced here than in person.

  "Megan is the best," Alfred said.

  Raj glanced at Megan as if he had just noticed her. "Dr. O'Flannery."

  "Do you have a question about my leading the proj­ect?" She felt curious rather than defensive. She had no doubt that Raj knew she did her job well. He wouldn't be here otherwise. This was about something else.

  "I think you're not a duck," Raj told her.

  "For crying out loud," Alfred said.

  Diane frowned. "Dr. Sundaram, you couldn't ask for a better boss than Megan."

  Raj continued to watch Megan. Up until now he had given no indication he remembered her. She was certain, though, that he was referring to the birds at the lake. She recalled his words: They aren't greedy. They don't cheat. They only take what they need. Did he think she would try to use him if he accepted this job? It seemed an odd concern, but with Raj she couldn't be sure.

  "How about a goose?" she asked.

  Tony glanced at her as if she had lost her mind.

  "Not a goose," Raj decided. "A swan."

  She smiled. "Why a swan?"

  "They float along, serene and graceful, with those long, elegant necks." He spoke as if he and Megan were the only people in the room. "But have you ever had an angry swan come at you out of the water? They're big, tough, and mean as sin."

  She could imagine Aris trying to decipher this exchange. Compliment or insult? "When I need to, I can be mean as sin too."

  Tony looked as if he were about to groan. He had to be projecting that on purpose; his avatar could appear any way he wanted. He was sending her a message: Cut it out. Then he put on a pleasant expression and spoke to Raj. "Dr. Sundaram, please be assured that Dr. O'Flannery's credentials are impeccable."

  Doctor this, doctor that. Couldn't they see this had nothing to do with her credentials? Raj wouldn't have considered MindSim if he had those concerns. In his own fascinating way he was asking something else. But what?

  He gave her an appraising stare. "So, Dr. O'Flannery, what do you do with these indefectible credentials of yours?"

  Indefectible, indeed. Megan had never known anyone who could actually use that word in conversation. He was daring her to try snowing him with her knowledge. So instead she said, simply, "I make androids."

  "Perhaps Dr. Sundaram would like to hear more about your work," Claire said.

  Megan knew they wanted her to dazzle Raj with techno-talk, but she doubted he was interested in a sales pitch. She thought she understood his unstated question now. Too many people wanted to use him. He was trying to decide if she was another one. His wariness puzzled her. MindSim was offering him a six-figure fee, possibly even millions if the project went on long enough. That hardly translated into using him.

  For whatever reason, he distrusted them. You want the Everest Project, she thought. MindSim is offering you a puzzle like none you've ever played with before. Thinking about the birds, she said, "The problem with their flying south is that they take your food and go. But consider this: a mountain stays. You can climb it, enjoy its beauty, build a house, ski down its slopes. What it gives to you depends on what you bring to it."

  "What the hell?" Alfred said. Tony and Claire frowned at him, but neither looked happy with Megan either. Diane just shook her head. Miska scratched his chin as if he were unsure he had heard right.

  Raj said, "So." Then he vanished.

  "Hey!" Diane sat forward. "He can't do that."

  Alfred scowled. "He can do whatever he wants, includ­ing be rude as hell."

  Claire frowned at Megan. "What was that about? You had a prime opportunity to build on his interest. You threw it away."

  "That might be a bit extreme," Tony said. "We may be able to salvage this."

  Megan indicated the table in front of Tony, where a mail icon had appeared. "Before you bemoan today's meeting, maybe you should answer your e-mail."

  He waved his finger through the icon. "Tony Oreza here."

  His secretary's voice floated into the air. "Mr. Oreza, we just received word from Dr. Sundaram. He's accepted the Everest job."

  "You're kidding," Tony said.

  "Not at all, sir."

  Megan smiled. "Surprise."

  *5*

  Invasion

  "Megan, look!" Aris spun on his heel, then lost his bal­ance and fell against the wall of the corridor outside his room. Laughing, he righted himself, his hair falling in his eyes.

  Her breath caught. He had laughed. She stood by the open door of his room. "That was wonderful."

  "It would have an even greater degree of wonderful," he said, "if I could turn without losing my balance."

  His unexpected word choices never ceased to delight her. "I didn't know wonderful had degrees."

  "You can assign a number to anything." He was stand­ing in his neutral position now, his feet slightly spread, his weight on both, his arms at his sides. Unlike his usual ramrod posture, though, today he leaned a bit to the side. "How many degrees of Megan are there?" His voice had a whimsical quality. "I find new ones every day."

  She went over to him. "Degrees of Megan?"

  He looked into her face as if she were a new phenome­non he had discovered. "When you first came here, I knew your facts: education, jobs, age. Now I've learned new things. You like mint pie. Kids called you Firestalk in school. You played the oboe. You prefer aerobics to jogging. I never learned such facts about other humans. It makes you a holo."

  A holo. Three-dimensional. In opening up to Aris, had she helped round out his view of humans in general? Per­haps the best way to teach him humanity was to act human with him. It became easier and easier as his per­sonality developed.

  The solitude here intensified her response to him. She had only Aris for company. The LPs did their jobs well, but they made lousy companions. She had grown up in a large family, with her parents, two sisters, a brother, her aunt and uncle, and three cousins all under one roof. In graduate school she had shared a house with six other students, and at MIT she had lived in a condo complex with a close-knit community. She missed her family and friends.

  "Are you processing?" Aris asked.

  She mentally shook herself. "Gathering wool."

  "I see no sheep."

  She laughed softly. "It's an idiom. It means I was pre­occupied."

  "Did my statement cause insult?"

  "No. Not at all." It encouraged he
r to see him consider how his comments affected others. "I was thinking about my family. I feel isolated here."

  "How does a person 'feel' isolation?"

  Good question. She searched for a way to explain a concept she had never analyzed because she knew on an unconscious level how it felt. "No one else is nearby. No one will join me for lunch, meet me for a chat, that sort of thing."

  He tilted his head. "I am here. I will keep you com­pany."

  His offer touched her. "Thank you."

  "You don't need anyone else."

  Megan almost touched his cheek. Then she stopped herself, feeling the gesture was too intimate, though she wasn't sure why. "Aris, the time will come when you go out into the world. It won't always be just the two of us."

  His expression suggested pensive thought. "I've never left NEV-5. When Hastin and I conversed, it was always in the context of a test. I interact with computers here, but not outside NEV-5.1 deduce that I am lonely."

  Megan didn't know whether to feel encouraged by his developing emotions or dismayed by his conclusion. "Does it bother you?"

  "I would prefer that my life not fulfill the conditions that cause loneliness in humans."

  It was progress, of a kind; not long ago he would have frozen at such a question. It was a sad sort of advance, though.

  "You feel lonely," he said. "I am here. I am meant to be human. This should alleviate your loneliness."

  "It does."

  His face blanked as he did a calculation. Then he said, "My analysis of your tone indicates surprise."

  Megan realized he was right. It did surprise her. "I've never interacted with an android before. I'm never sure what to expect."

  "Are you disappointed?"

  "Aris, no. I think you're remarkable."

  He took her hand. "I think the same of you."

  Although Megan managed a smile, she disengaged her hand from his. They needed more people here. As gratify­ing as it was to see Aris develop emotional links, or at least simulate them, his focus on her was beginning to make her uneasy.

  The dusty silver car settled down with a swirl of grit that it had brought from the desert above. Megan waited a few yards away, watching the vehicle roll into the NEV-5 garage. The elevator began its return to the desert above them.