Artificial(ish) Intelligence

Chapter 23

"How do I switch cameras?" said Adelaide, squinting at her personal screen. Caked-on dust clouded the view.

"Each dot on the, ah, adjacent map is, ah, a-so-see-a'ed with a cam-eh-raa," said the head of security, talking from her other screen. "It is a sim'le pro-ceee-ja to then press the, ah, appropriate--"

"I see," said Adelaide, trying a different angle.

This time the thief's face was only obscured by a thick cobweb and a few spindly legs.

Adelaide winced, switching weight to her healthy foot. She was still holed up in the corridor, nursing a sore hubris. Her ankle was hurting, too. "I do have to wonder," she continued, "how someone could break in, attack an employee, steal company property, and evade your security agents."

"Now, now, now, madam," said the head of security, its metallic head rotating on the spot, "I must awb-ject to such baseless, ah, ack-u-zay-shons."

"Baseless?" said Adelaide. "If your lot did their job I wouldn't have to be here looking for the right angle to-- There! How about that one?"

"Ve-ree nice madam, a ve-ree nice pic-cha. Tha, ah, ah-sail-unt's iden'i'y is being, ah, ah-stablished as we speak."

"And this is legal?" said Adelaide.

"It is madam, a searchable public dar'a'base ah-vail-e-ble to all and sundry."

The law didn't have to get involved. If she took the selfiebot back from this thief, it wouldn't be stealing. And since she was the one who gave her very-much-ex the strategy to invest in AI, it was practically her own technology she'd end up selling. The fact it went to Josef Hydan Junior, reviled by Mr Borken, was a pure accident. Mr Borken -- the name he liked her to use in bed. It was only appropriate she keep calling him that, since she was in the process of copulating him over, hard.

"I, ah, ah-shore you madam, we ahr lee-ais-in' with other Model B u-nitts across tha land, up-date-in' ahr se-cu-ra'ee pro-cee-ja-s to, ah, ass-err-tain any--"

"That really helps us now," said Adelaide. That was the problem with outsourcing entire departments: you lose accountability. And any knowledge gained from their make-love-ups would go straight to the outsourcing company, not your own. You were paying them to learn from their own mistakes.

"And a ah-re-por-ett comm-piled by the witnesses will be sent die-reck-ly to the di-reck-torr of your bizz-nizz or corr-'o-ray-shun."

"Witnesses? You mean the guards?"

"Yes madam. Based on the comm-poot-er-ised logs of each au-'onomous guard, con-flay'-ett int-oo a seamless story of the ee-vents in question."

If Mr Borken found out, he'd start asking questions. And when he really wanted something, he'd beg and beg until you gave in.

"You can send the report to me," said Adelaide.

"Ah. Ah-cord-in' to our contract, we must send it to the seen-e-er ex-eckative in charge, or to their rep-ree-sen'-ative."

"That's me," said Adelaide. "I'm the representative."

"Ah, my apologies madam. I will send it to you immediately."

That was easier than it should be.

The head of security continued: "I simply require the two word porse-code."

What would that hybrid set his passcode to? He wasn't capable of anything complicated, and would probably tie it to his sense of worth as a man, such as his--

"Big rooster," she tried.

"I am afraid not," said the head of security.

Now they cared about security, she thought. It would have been been smooth sailing if this thing was a defencebot. Those could be operated remotely by anyone at House of Paschar, primarily to accurately account for each per-wing fee, but also to avert the PR disaster of a buggy laser-toting flying machine let loose. Who would buy from them after that? Well OK, it was the kind of thing a big company could push through, but it might hurt sales for a quarter or two, and that was unacceptable to Mr Borken.

What else did he like about himself? What else did he think distinguished him from others?

"Little man," she said, with more than a little bitter sarcasm.

"I am afraid not."

Was it something work related? She looked around the corridor, a tiny part of what was now, thanks to her, a massive organisation. Imagine what she could have achieved if she'd had the right opportunities, if her adolescent destitution had instead been swapped with solid middle class parents, like his, or if she'd at least grown up after the implementation of the UBI, then--

That was it! She knew what he was most proud of. A single arguable statement that he believed more than anything else.

"Self-made," she said.

"Ah, quite correct madam. My apologies."

The dense waste-of-space couldn't even think up two separate words.

"I will send you the ree-port now that we 'ave discovered the iden'-u-ee of the, ah, assailant, a master Will Lurner."

"Get everything you can about him. What he does, where he lives, everything."

If only he hadn't male-bird-especially-domestic-fowl-ed it up. They could have made this company the biggest in the world. After working in this industry she knew that vanity products sell, and sell well. Would it have been better if she hadn't found out about his cheating? Would she have been happier living in ignorance, never accessing his selfiebot's location data and discovering that--

"Of course!"

"I am sorry, madam?" said the head of security.

"This Will Lurner connected with the selfiebot just before he took it. And now I can access his exact whereabouts." She smiled. "Like I did with that inferior-or-of-dubious-origin."

"To which inferior-or-of-dubious-origin are you re-ferra-ing, madam, if you excuse the lan-gu-arge?"

"Once I get Will, I'll have the selfiebot. Then I'll have Mr Borken."

She laughed. Imagine the sun disappearing, casting her in stark shadows, her face lit from below with the glow of her screen. Perhaps the laughter changes to cackles, with clear evil overtones and a definite maniacal aspect. Mwu-hahahaha, etc., etc.

Scary.