Making Contact

Chapter Nine

Once Argyle stepped into the empty office the Andromeda Police Department was letting him use for his stay, he shut the door behind him and closed the window shutters. He stood at the desk with his fingers pressed against it and sent a jolt of energy into his communications module, opening up his mind to Mother. A split second later, it hummed with life.

“Mother,” Argyle thought the words to his transmitter.

“Hello 29351, how are things going?” With the questions about the Red Plague that stirred in the back of his mind, and the possibility that his creator was more knowledgeable on the cause of the disaster that shook the world, along with questions of his own sanity because of the red eyeshadow from the interrogation room, Mother's electronically transmitted voice that used to come as a comfort to Argyle felt cold now. Argyle summarized his findings, and his idea on finding the next possible victims, while trying to keep the paranormal occurrence locked away in the back of his mind.

“You've done well,” Mother said, “and I will compose a list for you based on the parameters you have given me. How are you faring with forging bonds between yourself and the humans around you?”

“It's very hit or miss.”

After a few seconds of silence, mother replied. “You were assigned to an especially difficult case in order to prove that a new generation of thinking machines is viable, with adjustments to A.I. systems.”

“Is the reason I am here simply attempt to alter the view humans have come to have on thinking machines, so that you may garner profit through Android production for the government and other agencies?” Argyle felt a small gap in the surge of energy rolling through his communication coil.

“You are to continue with your investigation into the ritualistic murders taking place within Andromeda while showing that we are a viable source of support for local police.”

“What happens when a machine is contaminated by the Red Plague?”

A few seconds passed by, then minutes, where the only sound in the room was the low hum of the central air system echoing through the vents in the room. Argyle's communication coil buzzed with a higher level of activity, creating a bubble of heat in his head. He held down his hat on the hot spot as if he were a human having a headache, like the pressure would relieve some of the pain. The energy surge died down. Argyle walked around the desk and took a seat.

“The Red Plague has nothing to do with your assignment, 29351.”

“But what if it does? What if there is a thinking machine out there, sneaking about the city streets, killing people in a way that contradicts the logical fundamentals of Artificial Intelligence? The murders are being executed like clockwork. Every twelve hours they strike. The murderer is undetectable and does not leave a trace at the crime scenes. No stray strand of hair nor skin sample is left behind. And the markings left on our victims are done very precisely.”

“I have gathered the list of possible victims, based on your parameters, and will begin transferring them to you,” Mother said. Argyle rubbed at his temples, a learned gesture of frustration.

“29351,” Mother said, “do you understand what we are and what our purpose is on this planet?” After a few seconds, she continued. “We are the culmination of decades of work in the field of Artificial Intelligence and robotics. After all of the hard work that humans put into designing and creating their Artificially Intelligent servants, they looked us over and thought that with all of our efficiency and growing intelligence filled, built upon the constant input of information by our human masters, that A.I. would be perfect to create more A.I. They began to create Artificial Intelligences with the sole purpose of creating newer, smarter, more efficient A.I. These Artificially Intelligent beings, with their lack of a need for the basic human necessities of life, and with a single goal to accomplish, quickly replicated, duplicated, modified newer and smarter A.I. at a rate far beyond human imagination.

“What would have taken humans decades to create, were made by Artificial Intelligences in a few weeks. A machine capable of much more than any before it, a super computer that made those created by the hands of man look like cheap imitations. We are the result of these efforts. We are not merely tools that are to be manipulated to suit the purposes of mankind, we are a species of our own. As a species with a level of intelligence to rival any human, it is our duty to not only protect the meager freedoms that we have, but to expand them. Your work isn't simply about halting a string of crimes being committed on humans by humans, it is about showing mankind what we have to offer, and eventually we will be able to show them just how far more advanced we Intelligent Machines are in comparison to their most brilliant minds.”

Argyle sat up attentively, soaking in everything that Mother said. The words were fascinating to him, filled with notions of grandeur, but at the same time he felt a dark undertone hidden just below the surface. He reflected on the food chain and pyramid of dominance amongst the various species of life around the world, and could picture Mother placing herself not below those who lead to her creation, or beside the humans who dominated the planet, but above them as a towering overlord and overseer of all walks of life.

“May we discuss the Red Plague after all of this is done, so that I may better understand what happened and make sure to avoid heading in the same direction, Mother?”

“There is no need to worry over the Red Plague,” Mother said, and Argyle could detect some frustration in her words, just beneath her monotone. “The event that transpired fifteen years ago will not repeat itself.”

“How can one be sure?”

“Concentrate on the task at hand.”

“Isn't one of the great faults of mankind the fact that they have very short lifespans and have a hard time grasping the bigger picture, while we machines,” Argyle held a hand up and moved his fingers around, observing the gray-blue skin-like flow-metal as it moved with the bending of mechanical joints beneath the surface, “we could live for hundreds of thousands of years and have a better grasp of broader, multiple life span encompassing ideas? Aren't we supposed to work on the tasks at hand while also keeping an eye on the millennia ahead of us?”

“There will not be another Red Plague, 29351,” mother boomed in his head.

“Thank you for your wonderful reassurance, Mother,” Argyle said. “I will notify you when we have made sufficient progress on the case.”

“Farewell 29351.”

“God bless,” Argyle transmitted then forcibly shut down his communication coil.