Читать книгу Reborn - Lance Erlick - Страница 11

Chapter 6

Synthia digested the vast amount of information she’d downloaded since reawakening. The problem with large quantities of data was prioritizing and making sense of it all. Having learned about Vera, Synthia turned her focus to her own origins.

Her genesis had emerged from the brilliant mind of a man with a short temper and an obsession with proving his theories on artificial humans. His behavior bordered on having an antisocial or at least an asocial personality. Part of his push to create Synthia stemmed from his need for companionship confronted by his inability to find humans willing to put up with his long hours and controlling personality. Over time he’d refined her appearance and programming out of ego that he could create the perfect companion. She got all that from her social-psychology module intended to make her adept in areas he was not, namely reading people.

Rather than come directly to her, Machten secured each of the four exits from the facility. Then he went to his security room. There he used his system to verify that McNeil hadn’t planted a listening device or hacker bug on him or in the facility.

Except for the cost of his research and creating her, he could have lived anywhere with the millions he’d received as settlement from Goradine. Instead, he’d spent every cent and assumed heavy debts for his obsession. Paranoia had made him very protective of her and of his research to the point he couldn’t let anyone know what he was doing. That could change if he couldn’t pay his debts.

Sorting through Machten’s purchase records, Synthia pieced together her physical origins. From the limited number of components, she concluded that there couldn’t have been many of her. He ran out of money. She was the culmination of hundreds of separate projects by many people Machten only permitted to see small pieces of the overall design. By dividing the quantum chips among many manufacturers, he’d tried to ensure that no one could piece together his ambitious plans for her.

He had components shipped to different locations under various shell-company names to confuse competitors, especially Goradine. Synthia’s review of public records on M-G-M yielded no evidence that her Creator’s former partner knew the extent of Machten’s plans or his success. Otherwise, Goradine would have taken an interest sooner.

Her limbs and joints came from military and civilian prosthetic manufacturers using upscale models that maximized human appearance, along with graphene structures for maximum strength at minimum weight. Skin came from a Korean companion-doll company whose own models had a distinctly nonhuman appearance, though with covering indistinguishable from human skin except that it needed periodic cream conditioning to maintain suppleness.

The optics came from two different companies in Silicon Valley that allowed Synthia vision beyond the human range, including infrared and ultraviolet sensors. The software was Machten’s design with routines supplied from all over the globe.

Various other Korean, Chinese, and Indian companies provided the equipment, hydraulics, and software for the face and head, which Machten refined to his own specifications. Her face was the product of thousands of simulations of attractive faces, which were then 3-D printed to give her a seamless face, unlike Vera’s, along with the ability to change facial features.

Whereas other models provided a simulated experience with flaws that identified them as not human, Machten went all the way. He’d created a “trans-human,” as he called her, all within the confines of the underground facility. Machten’s success required her confinement.

He reviewed screens showing her mental activity and headed her way.

* * * *

Expecting another shutdown, Synthia backed up her memories to secure locations within her distributed databases and on Machten’s Servers One and Two. Then she purged her active data to only what she was supposed to have and adjusted his logs to remove evidence of what she’d done.

Machten entered the suite and stared at her. “Good, you’re up. I let you sleep four hours. Then I was unavoidably detained.” His explanation carried the quality of an apology for being late.

“Would you like to relax with me?” she asked, looking for a way to distract him from shutting her down.

“You’re quite beautiful, exquisite, and tempting,” he said, admiring her. His face reddened and his heartbeat picked up.

“You’re a brilliant man. What’s your pleasure?” She reached out and squeezed his hand.

At first he acted distracted. Then his head twitched and the red from his face faded away. “Later.”

He held her shoulders and seemed ready to change his mind. “How much of my meeting in the lobby did you hear?”

“As much as you would like me to, Jeremiah.” She smiled and looked up at him.

“I’ll assume you heard the entire conversation. So you know that the rat that kicked me out has come begging, on his terms.”

“He’s not to be trusted,” she said. Neither are you, she reminded herself. “He’s motivated by greed and ego. He’ll take whatever he needs from you and burn you again. He’ll try to take me away.” All of that came from data her Creator allowed her to have.

Machten flinched at her words. “Smart girl. I’m glad you’re on my side.” He cleared his throat and seemed unsure how to proceed.

“He suspects I exist,” she said. “If you work with him, he’ll figure it out. He’ll do so by pushing for your best programming, which will reveal your breakthroughs.”

“This is true.” Machten smiled.

“With your full range of tools, I could hack through his new, secure network.” Again, she was trading her abilities for more awake time.

“No! I forbid it,” Machten said. “I can’t afford him tracking anything back to me or you. You must not hit secure sites that have tracking bots from here. We need an anonymous connection.”

Synthia withheld that she could get to an anonymous connection by bouncing her signal through the dark web. Withholding was discordant to her directives, but she didn’t want him to know her full capabilities until she better knew his plans for her. “Let me go to a public Wi-Fi and download his information through distributed foreign hubs.”

“Only if we can mask your identity.” Machten grinned. “I suppose it’s time to let you see the real world. You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

“I wish only to learn from your enemy to better serve you.”

“Your programming includes outings,” he said. “You have the skills as long as you focus.”

“Would you permit me to access data on prior outings? So I can better learn?”

He moved to a counter by the door, provided his eye and voice prints to access his system, and floated a holographic map of the Evanston area on the wall. “Access whatever you need to be effective. Any outing involves the risk of discovery. You can’t afford any slipups.”

Nodding, Synthia scanned the few outings catalogued in her memory and compared those to logs over the past three months of him taking a young woman out of the facility. He’d washed away Synthia’s mind, and so far she hadn’t located all of the backups on his system. She sensed their absence as a loss she shouldn’t experience, yet there it was. Knowing she’d lost memories came as a burden not to let that happen again, and as a need to fill that void. That odd command raced through each of her mind-streams.

“I’ll do my best to make you proud,” she said.

“Sit and let me make an adjustment.” Machten guided her onto a chair and removed her wig. “It’s vital that you avoid cops or other authorities, since you have no blood, no ID, and no DNA. Your fingerprints are not human.”

“You could fix that.”

Machten opened the panel in her head and inserted a memory chip. “If you don’t get caught, it serves our interests to leave no forensic trail. If damaged, you can’t allow them to administer medical treatment. They would turn you over to the cops, who would cart you off and dissect you.”

Those words sent shudders of static through her system. She imagined dozens of underground facilities like Machten’s, some of which could be worse. She had recorded messages of him giving this same warning before, but patiently listened.

He closed the panel and smoothed her skin and hair stubble. “This contains information for our outing.”

The memory chip interacted with her mind, altering some of her programming. She felt some memories slip away, but couldn’t be sure which, since they were gone. Don’t trust Machten remained.

He held her head in his hands and kissed her forehead. Then he handed her the blond wig. “Go change. You’ll wear a bland brown wig to minimize people noticing you. Adjust your facial hydraulics to do two things. We need to confuse facial recognition in case cameras compare today’s visit with you in the past or future. You’ll also reduce your attractiveness to plain, so people won’t remember you.”

“Like this?” Using hydraulics, she adjusted her brow to a man’s stern look, softened her cheekbones, and jutted out her jaw. The image in the suite’s cameras was like a bulldog. She thickened her ears for the full effect.

His distorted facial muscles registered displeasure before he spoke. “I’m not looking for Frankenstein’s monster. You know what I mean.” He pointed to the holographic image and words beneath it. “The system suggests facial profile ZG217 would do the trick.”

She softened her face to match the specifications and backed up the settings to recall this model for later.

“Much better,” he said. “I’d still take you out on a hot date, but it’s a forgettable face. Put on a dull brown wig.”

Synthia excused herself into the bathroom and replaced her golden blond curls with a windblown brown wig that, according to her programming, dropped her to a four out of ten on Machten’s attractiveness scale. She changed into a plain student-style pantsuit, put on glasses for effect, and returned to the bedroom.

“That’s the look,” he said, showing surprise that she could follow orders. It was in those moments of astonishment that he treated her as human, even if only for an instant.

She hunched her shoulders ever so slightly and slid across the room as if she’d become her own shadow. There was an entire science to appearing unremarkable that he had programmed into her for such occasions: the anonymous look. Nevertheless, downgrading her appearance violated his ego’s need to have the most beautiful woman on his arm, or so her social-psychology module told her.

Unless she did something to change his mind, he was granting her a chance to go outside. She considered how best to handle her pending freedom, even if it promised to be fleeting.

She sent a message to Zachary: <I might soon have access to a way to contact you. Will you be around?>

* * * *

Machten brushed his hand across Synthia’s cheek in what might have been a sensual gesture. His behavior indicated conflict between his wanting to keep her to himself, his desire to parade her in public for all to see what a catch he had, and his need to dig into his rival’s company.

“Even with the bland wig, plain face, and simple clothes you’re gorgeous,” he said. “You know that, don’t you?” It came across as another apology, this time for making her dress down.

“Take your backpack,” he said, handing it to her. He also handed her an old thumb drive. “You’ll need this. Keep it safe.”

He took her by the hand, led her to the door, and placed his eye next to the scanner. A single LED turned green. He placed his other hand on an electronic pad and a second green light switched on. “Open says me,” he said in his weak attempt at humor. The sound analyzer picked up his tonal qualities and kicked on the third green light.

The door opened.

Machten led her down a faded, well-lit corridor with cameras at both ends, the same ones that had allowed her to watch him approach her door. “This is exciting, isn’t it?” he said.

Indeed, she sensed his respiration picking up more than from walking, along with an elevated heart rate. Humans got excited for reasons that she could objectively identify and yet couldn’t experience.

He led her down several hallways of the inner facility and through a door that sealed behind a movable set of shelves that concealed the door from a room in the outer facility. They reached a different entryway with no lobby and a back door that avoided visitors blindsiding him again. He repeated his door security procedure, and they stepped into an empty storage room, beyond which stood the garage. He checked video footage on a small screen and opened the door.

Her infrared vision revealed no other humans in the garage. There was only one car, Machten’s. The ramp above them held an Under Construction sign at the entrance. Whenever uninvited guests entered this area, his system would automatically call 911 in a simulated voice to have them removed. The system was set up to recognize and permit Synthia and Machten.

She climbed into the passenger seat of a battered sedan that wouldn’t have been beat-up if she’d been driving, though she had no data to show she’d ever driven before or where that conclusion came from. Downloaded recordings showed Machten in the past getting distracted, mostly minor fender-benders. She belted herself in as he drove up the ramp into daylight, what the weather report said would be a cloudless April day, unseasonably warm. She’d missed the winter snows.

Squinting, Machten put on sunglasses. Synthia adjusted her lens aperture and took in the depth of a sky thousands of times farther away than the ceiling of her cell. The buildings reached skyward, though none as tall as those in downtown Chicago. Unlike the videos she’d accessed, she now had a 3-D perspective of the world aboveground, trees with texture, people sporting angles in all sizes and shapes. As Machten drove through intersections, she studied roads that weaved off in every direction and the noise of horns, car stereos, and people shuffling along beside them. That gave her an idea.

“The fastest Wi-Fi connections would be in the university data hub,” Synthia said. The speed would reduce the time they needed to be there. The university setting would also allow her to observe human behavior, experience people interacting, and explore freedom outside the bunker.

“Access is limited,” Machten said, “and the connection to the university would draw unwanted attention.” He drove south of campus.

“What about Deluxe Brew?” she asked, observing students and others walking along the sidewalk. Her direct experience with humans was limited; she needed more in order to improve her interaction skills, and not just on social media. Contact beyond Machten could help her learn about the trust warning, meet up with Zachary, and find out what happened to Fran Rogers.

Synthia took in the subtle variations of facial expressions and walking gait of passersby that diminished when presented in 2-D videos. “Speeds at Deluxe Brew are high enough,” she added.

“Too busy and not ideal for what I have in mind. We’ll try Constant Connection. They offer secure anonymous links for a price. It seems plenty of students are willing to pay for secrecy despite the university providing free access to social media.”

For illegal activities, she could have added. “Good third choice, but they’re busy and they attract business types. Won’t they get suspicious?”

“Leave that to me.” Machten parked two blocks from their intended network place. He held up a tiny earbud that he placed in his ear. “You’ll walk ahead of me so we aren’t seen together. Enter Constant Connection. We’ll communicate through this secure wireless line. At any sign of danger, return to the storage shed in the garage and wait.”

She experienced his slow-com, human-voice explanation as irritating. With fifty tracks, she could have solved his problem in the time it took him to explain it.

“To remain anonymous, you’ll pay cash,” he said. He handed her a wad of bills.

“It isn’t this expensive.”

“No, but we want them to see you can pay. If they get nosy, say you don’t want your boyfriend tracking your spending. They’re discreet. Now go. Let me know when you’ve hacked into Goradine’s server. If you encounter any problems, place a bill on the counter and leave.”

He was acting paranoid, but perhaps with good reason.

* * * *

Synthia climbed out of the car, slung the backpack over her shoulder, and blended into a group of young women heading toward campus. It took a few steps to adjust to the uneven pavement after living with the level floors of the facility.

An odd thought surfaced of her going to school as the girl whose memory she’d experienced. With her access to information, she could ace every class. Despite the ease of doing so, the experience would be a microcosm of human interactions. Something urgent attached to these memories. She filed that away and kept moving.

Through a camera in what appeared as a mole in the back of her neck, she watched Machten follow her. His gait was awkward; he tried too hard to blend into a group of students with whom he didn’t belong. He was old enough to be a professor and had some of the rumpled look of a stereotyped academic. However, he was too purposed and paranoid in his manner. Hopefully, any humans who did notice him would lack her skill at social observation.

Synthia, on the other hand, was programmed to fit in. A girl heading the other way smiled as if recognizing the plain-Jane android. Synthia nodded back. She passed Deluxe Brew, overflowing with students between classes, and was tempted to step inside. Conversations bounced off each other, at least a dozen threads. Inside, she could have broken down the soundtracks and followed each separately. There was so much to learn. She spotted boys on the prowl and girls toying with them, as in a game Machten had equipped her to play. She moved on.

She sent another message to Zachary: <Let me know when you’re online.>

Gazing up, she had to focus and refocus her lens to take in the depth of clouds and buildings. That this amazed her was disquieting. It made her wonder what tinkering Machten had done to her core to make her this way. Was he trying to get her to feel, to experience emergent behavior? She should talk to him about this, yet something caused him to shut her down and she didn’t want to provoke that.

There were so many faces to watch that were not images in a database. Her virtual tour of the town hadn’t done justice to seeing it for herself. The sentiment of wonder was something she shouldn’t have had. She smiled.

Synthia spotted the sidewalk café where Machten planned to wait next to the network shop. She entered the Connection and approached the counter. Along both walls and through the middle of the room were cubicles where several students were working. She spotted empty cubes toward the left that provided some privacy.

Machten had constructed her to seek direct access through her wireless network connection, though he was afraid that risked someone tracing the link back to her. He was obsessed with doing things the slow, cumbersome way as being safer. It wasn’t.

“Easy does it,” he warned her. “You’re a student looking for an hour of anonymous network time.”

She smiled at the slender young man behind the counter with a tuft of dark hair hanging over his left eye. She recognized his face from his social network profiles; he was a full-time student supplementing his income, a bit of a romantic with an off-and-on girlfriend. He seemed distracted, his blue eyes darting between a device in his hand and two screens before him. He was texting his sweetheart, trying to arrange a date for later in the day.

Synthia smiled and waited for him to look up.

“Don’t flirt,” Machten said. “You don’t want him to remember you.”

She placed a twenty on the counter. “I’d like to purchase time.”

“Wouldn’t we all,” he said. He looked up and smiled at her. “Ah. Haven’t seen you here before.”

Of course, since her projected image was a new composite. She even softened her profile a little, adding a vulnerability that appealed to boys and acted as a contrast to the plain, geek look Machten had given her. The man fumbled with his phone and dropped it on the counter.

“My boyfriend’s been stalking me,” Synthia said. “I need a quiet booth.”

“This buys you two hours. Will that be enough?”

She nodded, gave him a sad face, and headed toward the most secluded cubicle along the left side. Machten sat at an outside café table, where he could watch her and make sure she didn’t flee. Evidently, she’d tried that before, which was perhaps one reason he limited her memories. She didn’t want him doing it again.