Artificial(ish) Intelligence

Chapter 67

Mathison compiled the code and tested it on the simplified emulator. If this new version enabled the process to be non-destructive, and had no obvious side affects, the next step was to test it on the device itself.

The program successfully gobbled up the data without affecting the original neural pathways. Until it did.

Mathison frowned.

Even through the emulator's basic dashboard, it was clear that the process destroyed the synapses and with no possibility of spreading information throughout the nervous system, the brain wasn't able to keep the body alive. It was as if each neuron became a singular hermit, cut off from those around it. Without this connection, every neuron in the body ultimately died.

Copying alone wasn't going to work.

He took his glasses off and squeezed the bridge of his nose. It had been another long night and he needed a break.

The delivery chute bulged.

"Finally," said Mathison, his stomach rumbling like a house under the flight path of a major airport. Sorry, I've just moved and the noise is annoying. Let me try that one again. It rumbled like two rival gangs...? Like the rear part of a carriage containing space for baggage...? Ugh, that was a straight-up dictionary definition. I'm really struggling here with that noise!

Where were we? Ah, the bulging delivery chute which bulged a little more until it popped open. Instead of a deliverybot pottering through, encumbered by <famous caffeinated beverage>, a laser-toting defencebot burst free, dancing up into all four corners of the room before zeroing in on Mathison.

It didn't attack, instead hovering menacingly at eye level. Worse, it floated behind him, as if literally looking over his shoulder, studying his work, which he instinctively covered up. Which was the bigger threat, a spying bot or an aggressive one?

Mathison didn't wait to contemplate. He closed his screen and fled the lab, walking calmly down the corridor, calmly opening the door to a cleaning closet, before calmly closing it behind him. There was nothing wrong with hanging out in a small unventilated room filled with toxic chemicals. Especially not if done calmly.

In fact, fresh air draped his body from a source up above, so it wasn't as unsafe as he'd thought. That is, until he saw the size and shape of the vent, perfect for a defencebot to fit through.

He not-so-calmly fumbled the door handle, eventually getting it to work in the conventional way, before not-so-calmly making his way to another room.

Diya was seemingly enthralled with the contents of her screen, a blurry panda, perhaps an animated children's show, when he opened the door. Death Note was the last fiction stream he'd watched. Despite its name -- and plot -- it did a good job of taking his fiancée's mind off her condition. Or, more accurately, his own mind.

"Oh!" said Diya, turning it off at the sight of a red carnation. "I was not watching a thing."

"They're inside, now!" said Mathison, ignoring her. "The ones with lasers. It just popped out the chute." He shivered.

"Yes, I did speak with the contractor the day before today. Josef has asked for more security."

"But inside?" said Mathison, frazzled.

"That is what he wanted," said Diya. She shrugged, but added a smile.

Mathison's stomach grumbled. "I think it stole my food."

"The delivery did not make it inside?" said Diya, sitting up eagerly.

"I ordered it over an hour ag-- Hang on, what's the..." He checked the time. Except he didn't, since it emanated only a blurred light. Then he realised his glasses were still in his hand. He hadn't put them on with the shock of the deliverybot. "Two hours ago," he said.

Diya checked the time herself, then peered off at nothing, a strangely worried look on her face.

But Mathison was irritated. Lack of sleep and now a lack of food. It wasn't a good combination. You needed snacks to keep you going. "Did the contractor say how long each delivery will be delayed?"

"It may not make it through at all," said Diya, mainly to herself.

But Mathison wasn't really listening. His thoughts had returned to the capturing device, turning over similar problems he'd overcome in the past. It felt like cheating, but why reinvent the wheel? He had to find a solution that wouldn't leave dead bodies behind. But how could you do that without snacks, and without caffeine from <famous caffeinated beverage>?

He unstuck his dry lips.