Artificial(ish) Intelligence

Chapter 79

The handrails were Adelaide's new best friend. She held on tight, bent over, still catching her breath. "Level," she said, adding a deep intake of air, "sixty-nine."

If walking up the stairs wasn't bad enough, she'd just had the re-misfortune of speaking to the Little Old Lady(tm). What were the chances she'd be living along the same column of apartments? Adelaide pretended she was there to thank her for the altruism and incredible hospitality. The Little Old Lady(tm) apparently didn't understand sarcasm so the effect wasn't quite what Adelaide had hoped. Still, it felt like a kind of revenge.

Having caught her breath, she made her way into the corridor. The good news was that she'd successfully explored every room up to this point, whether the occupant was present or not. The bad news was that, as a result, her ankle injury was flaring up, and no one likes that. How annoying! But she was getting closer, she could feel it.

She knocked on the door just as the selfiebot locator beeped. The signal had dropped completely. This was getting ridiculous. She smacked it, in the time honoured way of solving mechanical faults, but her device was electronic and so the only effect was the same you'd get offering meat to a vegetarian, minus the self-righteous outrage.

The door opened. Except it belonged to a different apartment. An overbearing mother pushed some little sprog out the door. This wasn't important. Until she caught a glimpse of the selfiebot held by the little girl.

Very sneaky, Will Lurner, she thought. Paint it silver and hide it in plain sight. No one would do anything to a little girl.

But this wasn't any little girl: it was Mawanda -- sorry, Miranda -- the greatest pawn known to man.

"They better offer up an even bigger apology this time," said Miranda's mother. "I hope they don't think giving us a free one is enough for arresting my daughter!"

Adelaide stamped closer, but Miranda's mother was faster than she'd expected, grabbing the girl and retreating back into her apartment.

Without hesitating, Adelaide took a step back, raised her leg and, Karate Kid style, jumped onto her other, kicking out at the door with the tip of her liquorice heels -- practical fashion at its finest. It pierced a hole near the lock. The door swung open. The mother had fallen from the blast, but her daughter remained on the spot, holding the selfiebot.

Except now it was clear this wasn't Libbi. The automated Satisfaction Manager had given them a GabrielWare, the cheapest and most infuriating model, the kind that constantly nagged the owner to update to a better version. And it had already run out of battery. This wasn't a top-of-the-line BarrattielWare, at all.

"Wrong room," said Adelaide, closing what remained of the door.

She hobbled back to the first room, the one that actually matched up with the initial column of apartments, and knocked again. This time hushed voices, muffled, escaped from behind the door, along with what appeared to be the flutter of a selfiebot's wings. She recognised the pitch and sound of the faster wing-speed.

"BarrattielWare!"

She raised a leg, almost imagining hand-held drums beating to a swelling crescendo, before a thunderous voice boomed from behind.

"Allo allo allo, what 'ave we 'ere, then?"

She swivelled to face Bobb, the security guard of the apartment complex.

"Yes?" she said, firmly, her leg still in the air.

"May I enquire as to your, ah, purpose at this juncture?"

"No," said Adelaide.

"I see," said Bobb. "I am simply trying to, ah, ascertain a reason -- or rationale, if you will -- for your, ah, intent at present."

"I'm looking for someone."

"And this, ah, someone lives in this ah-apartment building?"

"Yes."

"But you, ah, you do not?"

"Look, I'm busy," said Adelaide, swivelling back to the door.

"I see," said Bobb. "Be that as it may, there have been complaints of a, ah, con-fee-dent-shall nature re-garr-din suspicious bee-'a-vee-orr by an unnamed ah-assailant."

Adelaide stared back at the robotic security guard.

"Which," continued Bobb, "I have surmised to be the person of, ah, you."

"I'm not suspicious," she said.

"I will need you to come with me, madam," said Bobb.

"No-- Get off me. Get your hands off me!"

Bobb's grip was unbreakable. Before she was escorted away, the door opened and an artistic-looking man ran off. No, he didn't appear artistic at all, but something about him gave her that impression. Through the remaining gap, Adelaide met eyes with Will Lurner. The door closed just as a selfiebot fluttered past.

She struggled to free herself but, as I've already said, the grip was really, really tight. It would be quite a feat to break free.

Which is why she wasn't able to. Sorry if you thought that was going in a different direction. Don't give up just yet, Adelaide's a strong, resourceful foe, and being carried to the elevator did give her a chance to rest her sore ankle.