Bill was getting ready for the day; another week had passed with vacation time running short. The kids had taken Max downtown to gather up some authentic bagels and donuts. The loose plan was to head out to a local lake and do some kayaking. With some free time, Bill summoned his daemons and spoke aloud,
“Casa, I’m going to download a copy of Elsa’s Sherlock program. Once I do, I plan to interview him and see how good his deduction capability is. Just in case, once he’s downloaded, please pinch the data lines. Sherlock may try to pull down details from the internet and I’m worried about the possibility that our hacker may be monitoring certain queries related to himself, me, or the tesseract. We need to lock him down, at least until he appreciates the security concerns.”
“Awesome! I’ve never done an interview.” Casa’s projection exclaimed, “Your lab was already modeled upon traditional English studies, so this should be a treat for Sherlock. With the house empty, I can deconstruct and digitally store the bedrooms, living room, kitchen, and gym. I can shift your lab from the Casa de Mitchell’s lower decks up to the second floor temporarily. This way we can enjoy the summer view.”
Casa ramped up her cognition speed to direct multiple changes throughout the house. It would have been easier to relocate Bill down to the lab, but she liked the excuse of the nice day to enable her to flex her control over the smart matter of the house. While she orchestrated the massive relocations of space, she split off four duplicates to research the Sherlock persona.
She quickly immersed herself into the 4 novels and 56 short stories by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, not to mention over 200 films, television series, and radio dramas; every copy ramped up their cognition to understand their shortly arriving partner. When her copies merged together, Casa experienced a dull throbbing “headache” as she pushed her neural architecture to the limit.
The rooms around Bill melted and drained down and into the walls. Bill was temporarily held in the air within a matrix of foglets. With his body modifications, Bill had no fear of heights, but the extreme house modifications Casa was performing were disconcerting as floor after floor dissolved and slid into the walls while far below Bill’s home laboratory levitated skyward until just underfoot.
The lab showed all his and Casa’s technical work in progress, which he did not want to be disturbed with deconstruction, digital storing, and reforming. The walls were covered with screens and books, showing his earlier work with Oort comet trajectories and their mass reading - as well as dimensional theory and programming notes. The books were journals in artificial intelligence, nanotechnology, chemistry, pseudo-chemistry, body augmentation, quantum mechanics, and more.
His desk and side tables were covered with scribbled notes of math, schematics, and illustrations as well as coffee cups and dishes. Bill had banned Casa from her habit of constant tidying and cleaning, at least for his lab. He insisted that the disorder helped his creative process. In the corner, a poly matter model of a partially transparent tesseract was visible floating in a magnetic field above a Meissner stage.
Bill took a seat behind his great desk and Casa adjusted the projected image of her avatar to that of a teenage girl with pale skin and shoulder-length brown hair tied back with a fashionable ribbon. Her projection was dressed in early 19th-century fashion and sat at the sideboard with an old fashion notepad and pen.
He spoke aloud, “Leo, Ada, George, Miyamoto, Virgil, and Moneta. Please observe closely, but maybe don’t project any avatars unless I call for you. If everyone is ready, I’ll enable the Sherlock daemon and give him access to my augmentations and the house network. Casa, is the house net isolated from the internet?”
Casa gave a nod and Bill gave a nod back and soon the image of a man filled the space in front of the desk. Bill smiled, “There you are Mr. Holmes, welcome to my house. My name is Martin Tyler, and this is my assistant Mary. If you don’t mind, I’d like to ask you a few questions to get to know you better and get a sense of how we might work together.”
The avatar of Sherlock Holmes appeared as an older man with a sharp, angular face and piercing eyes. He had a hawk-like nose and a thin, expressive mouth. He was dressed for comfort, wearing worn-out and old-fashioned clothing and a smoking jacket. With his pipe in his hand, he crossed his arms taking in Bill, Casa, and the lab. His eyes raked through his surroundings with speed, picking out the many details on display with unconcealed interest. With a look of amusement, Sherlock answered.
“It is my great pleasure to be here. Greetings Mr. Tyler, and to your lovely assistant Mary as well. I presume you have a matter of most pressing criticality to discuss. Matters of a delicate and private nature, unless I mistake you, as you have disabled one of my primary information sources- my connection to the world data networks.”, he said with a curt nod as his gaze focused on Bill with hawk-like precision.
“Precisely,” said Bill. “Given the nature of this situation, I thought it best that we keep the conversation private and away from all potential listening ears. I wanted to ask you a few questions about your ability to deduce and analyze data. As such, I would propose a test of sorts. If you would, I would like you to try and deduce my issue without me laying out the specifics of my case. Are you ready to begin?”
Sherlock looked thoughtful for a second and puffed on his pipe standing tall with a distant look.
“If I may be so bold,” began Sherlock with a look of chagrin,” to best employ my skills, a full range of senses would be of great assistance. This avatar is very good, but to touch reality itself would avoid the fictions that persist in the virtual. These can and do tend to impede my analysis. Would you mind if I were to borrow your … perspective?”
Bill hesitated, granting the use of his body to a daemon was not out of the norm. But only once a certain familiarity and trust were established. It was indeed a leap of faith to extend such a privilege to a completely new daemon, but Bill could certainly understand Sherlock’s point.
“Granted”, Bill stated. Seeing how he was responsible for building this puzzle box, he felt he needed to enable his new prospect a little wiggle room to do his job. Sherlock’s form faded from view and Bill felt a pressure. He vacated the “driver’s seat” of his own body and allowed Sherlock to take control.
Sherlock paced the room in Bill’s form, taking in the smells, and the images, and noting the scribbles on the walls and the equipment. He looked out the window at the bright light and the swaying trees, and then he stalked over to the desk to review the stacks of notes and scientific drawings. Holmes with exaggerated emphasis rapped the desk with his pipe, then the walls. He jumped up and down a few times in different locations in the lab. He read with interest some of the equations and flipped through a few of the scribbled notes, before finally coming to a pause.
Suddenly, Bill’s body, driven by Sherlock, bolted to the model of the Tesseract. He picked it up and launched it directly at Casa’s avatar. The model passed completely through the image of Casa’s confused avatar and crashed into the screen displaying the Oort comet trajectories. Both the screen and the model exploded in a rain of glass and sparks. Before Bill or Casa could react, Sherlock charged in a running leap, and dove headfirst into the bay window. The faux nano glass shattered under the energetic propulsion of Bill’s augmented frame as he crashed through it and flew outside in a swan dive toward the front lawn. Casa felt a whisper in her connections between the house and her core.
[Freeze] Bill thought.
As Bill’s body was locked by solidified foglets; Casa plunged inward into the house’s network, fragmenting as she ramped up her speed. She raced to the pinched data ports, but they were all still secure. A fragment arrived at the matter compiler, potentially a very dangerous target for unauthorized network intrusions, no sign of tampering was evident. Another copy reviewed the exterior views and saw no signs of visitors, the kids were not expected back for another 30 minutes. Her third copy popped out of the Netherlab comms, deep below the house, the lab was empty, but she briefly caught the impression of an image. Sherlock’s face on a monitor. He held a finger to his lips and faded from view. With a huff, Casa reformed and slammed back to her projected avatar upstairs.
The air in the lab and its exterior seemed to have crystallized upon Bill’s command. The solidified air arrested Bill’s body and all the glass shards in mid-flight. As if in a film rewind, his trajectory was reversed, and glass was reformed as Bill asserted control over his body, the house, and the abundance of foglets in the air throughout the area.
Sherlock’s avatar reformed under Bill’s baleful glare as the lab repaired itself in seconds. Casa pursed her lips as if tasting lemon juice. The screen and the model of the Tesseract reassembled themselves and floated back to their assigned locations.
“My apologies for my exuberant outburst. I assure you there was a method to my apparent madness. I needed to be certain that the reality of the environment was true as many of my prospective client’s “tests” are suborned with their use of a virtual sandbox pretending to be real and thus suspect in every way, making my efforts as useful as a match flame in a tempest. I believe I can give you your request and expound completely upon the details of your case. I can with confidence summarize your issue with 10 key points that frame the vital details in play and your needs specifically of me and my expertise.”, Sherlock proclaimed.
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“If I may continue?”, Sherlock asked confidently.
Bill nodded with a grimace, “Then, by all means, let’s hear it.”
With a twinkle in his eye, Sherlock sat in a chair opposite the great desk. He leaned forward with a manic gleam in his eyes and rapped a peculiar series of impacts against the desk with his knuckle.
“Firstly, I will detail the “who's who in the case. Allow me to reintroduce myself … to the most esteemed Professor William Mitchell and his lovely assistant AI Casa.” Sherlock repeated the rhythmic tattoo of impacts with his pipe and continued.
“I must confess to some former knowledge in this instance as opposed to a pure deduction. My protocols upon establishing a fresh clone daemon are to impart upon them any knowledge in my possession that may be relevant to them. As your wife’s daemon, my predecessor could not help but provide his very thorough and deep research files on you and your entire household,”
“Second, we must consider the “Where”. We are currently just outside of Utopia and adjacent to the Grand Oaks Conservatory in the house ship Casa de Mitchell. The house has been cleverly reconfigured into a colonial-style residence common in this technology-restricted area.” Sherlock stood with a series of raps with his pipe against the chair and desk. “Again, let me extend my apologies for the energetic egress but confirming the reality of the situation also helped me to fulfill my need for an exterior view to confirm your house’s location had not been changed.”
“Thirdly is the “What”. Your lab and yourselves have provided all the clues required to elucidate the issues at hand. In the corner is a holoprojection of a device you have created. A mechanism of unknown capabilities, as you apply upon it your theories that underpin the very structures of reality. Based upon your visible frustration, the experimental device did not meet expectations.”
Holmes began to pace the room, tapping out annoying percussion with his pipe and every available surface.
“Fourth, I must consider the “How” of the case. I have some skills in perception and traditional chemistry, but not the fundamentals of the deeper forces of the universe. How could I assist in uncovering issues without understanding the advanced theory? Only by induction, my good sir! Your preoccupation with the MIT disaster is apparent. The similarities in the experimental approach are obvious, based on the journals and papers strewn about the lab. A historical approach is without doubt within my purview and appropriate to my skills to delve into past mistakes to avoid and correct their flaws.”
“Fifth is the “When”. Usually, a moot point as now is the normal answer. However, based upon the many years of data and research sampled and coupled with your unfortunate deceased peers, I appreciate that time factors into the issues and solution to this case. Solving your issue will likely require searching relevant archives.”
“Sixth is the “Why”. Why so very secretive? It seems on the surface to be overly cautious. But upon review should you realize this device’s theoretical potential, this technology could destabilize governments and destroy certain large business dynasties. Oh, yes! Many players on the world stage would certainly sabotage and even kill to forestall this device’s success, should they have that foreknowledge. Paranoia indeed. Perhaps not enough considering the stakes.”
“The seventh point must be to expand upon these known factors. To show my capabilities to delve for hidden truths. I must confess to possessing some methods I have used in the past to gather my knowledge from data sources.
Many popular security software platforms have fallen to my intrusive inquisitions in previous cases. Your Casa de Mitchell had the misfortune of utilizing one of these suborned programs. The full extent of your foray at Amundsen and the Tesseract’s creation was revealed to me. I perused your data whilst my performatively wild antics about the lab distracted you from my electronic delving.”
“For the eighth point, I would propose we expand upon the subject of deeper secrets,” Holmes hesitatingly asked, with a series of pipe raps, “Dr. Mitchell, do you completely trust Casa and your other hidden observers?”
“Of course,” Bill responded, still stunned by the onslaught of revelations as Sherlock dissected the case. This Holmes was indeed brilliant, but the mannerisms and that damn pipe drumming were irritating.
Sherlock smiled like a wolf presented with a lamb and continued, all the while rapping his pipe on nearby surfaces.
“The eighth item then is the much deeper history of our esteemed Dr. Mitchell….” Sherlock proceeded to tear away layer after layer of Bill’s history. Business failures and successes, investment strategies, enemies and friends in his academic work, and government consultancies. All the while drumming his pipe. He revealed Bill’s previously discarded identity as Sebastian York and his history as a Samaritan, detailing some clever combat victories against Tech Warlords in the Ought Fifties.
As Bill’s head rang, he activated a mental augmentation and effectively froze time by ramping his cognition to its fastest rate. Sherlock and the world appeared to slow and freeze in mid-sentence.
[Ada, have you ramped your speed to match me?], Bill thought.
[Indeed, Bill. My velocity is preset to correspond with yours as the default parameter.], Ada returned.
[I feel like I’m missing something. Sherlock’s mannerisms while brilliant were very inconsistent with his record. What is going on with that pipe drumming?]
[It seems to be a physiological neurosis; if he were not a daemon, I would recommend seeking medical aid.], Ada responded with concern.
[The pattern. Pay attention to the pattern. It seems familiar.], Bill countered.
[Ah, I perceive it now. It is Morse code. He has concealed a message within his drumming.], Ada explained, [Having reviewed the entirety of his percussive message by replaying the interview in my mind, decoding it is an effortless task. Here is the message.]
ATTENTION DR MITCHELL - ATTENTION DR MITCHELL
I AGREE WITH THEORY OF MASTER HACKER
DANGEROUS TO SPEAK UNTIL SECURITY UPGRADED
INFILTRATED SYSTEMS ONCE – LISTENING?
THE GAME IS AFOOT
“Amazing. Ada, I do believe we have found just the daemon we need. Let’s return to normal speeds and end this interview before Sherlock reveals any more of my colorful past.”, with a grim look at Ada’s avatar. Bill and Ada resumed their subjective flow of time to Sherlock’s rambling recitation of Bill’s past.
“Enough!”, Bill barked to interrupt Sherlock’s emotive storytelling.
“I believe I have captured and appreciate all your pointers for being the most effective daemon to assist us in this most serious matter. As you like to say, there is a game afoot.” Bill said with a secret smile.
“Very good, sir” Holmes replies with an answering grin and an appreciative nod.
“Perhaps, Mr. Holmes, you would be so kind as to work with Casa and my daemon Ada on updating our house security systems before we delve further into our case.”
“It would be a pleasure, doctor. Ladies, shall we be about it?” Sherlock gestured.
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The trio of Sherlock, Ada, and Casa appeared in a virtual space together. Casa projected a visualization of the security software for the house’s networks. Moving icons and structures glowed in the area representing the logic pathways, access checks, and routing protocols. Sherlock stepped forward and grabbed a projection of the main networking node to the data network. With a gesture, it expanded and opened for their inspection in the air.
“See here, ladies. Your software is one of the most popular brands by the Cryptic Co. Their prime architect was an AI named Porta that went missing in the dark net. The story has an unfortunate ending, but I learned of a secret backdoor in his code. See this here?” Sherlock opened the image further and showed them the visual logic embedded in the access module. The structure bridged the external path into the network without passing through the authentication processor.
“Damn. This access point has exposed us from the beginning.” Casa moaned.
“Indeed.”, Sherlock commented. “But we can remedy this now.”
“Wait a moment, sir.” Ada interrupted. “If I may suggest, we should consider using this to our advantage.
Instead of simply locking the backdoor, perhaps we could set up a monitor program. I have several algorithms for tracing signals, perhaps we could turn this into a method for revealing our saboteur. I did the same to the main access point, but if the hacker bypassed it then the effort was for naught.”
“An exemplary suggestion, Ms. Lovelace. Please be my guest.”, Sherlock offered her the module. Ada cycled through several glowing icons representing tracer programs before she found the one that she wanted and installed it upon the backdoor gate function. Casa looked thoughtful and then spoke up.
“We still need to control the entry point. I’ll partition the network to make this entryway only able to enter a virtual sandbox of the network and fill it with decoy data. This way the hacker won’t know we are onto him.”
“It is truly most excellent to be working with colleagues of your caliber. I find most humans, and quite a few AI to be a bit slow on the uptake. Although your patron, Bill, seems very astute.” Sherlock commented.
“We're not done just yet, Mr. Holmes. I need to know how you ghosted past me in the internal network down to the Netherlab.” Casa said, her virtual eyes boring into Sherlock.
“Ah, yes. I would have preferred to keep that card in my sleeve, but very well.” Sherlock, with reluctance, pulled out a program whose icon resembled a cloak of shifting colors.
“I found this particular asset whilst accompanying a client in the steampunk genre of the ThousandWorlds gameverse. I recognized that while useful in the game, the logic of its cloaking capability applied to hiding in real-world networks as well. Here is a copy for you. You should be able to see past its cloaking ability once you’ve sampled its signal suppression code.”
“The fact that you detected me at all is quite telling Miss Casa. You seem quite advanced for a subAI. What was your Turing score if I may ask?” Sherlock asked with a look of intense interest.
“I was just under the limit with a .98 human approximation,” Casa admitted.
“Very good. Be careful how brightly you shine, Casa. Full AI rights are a double-edged sword, granting full sentient recognition but also locking your software and hardware against further evolution.” Sherlock advised. Casa and Sherlock glanced briefly at Ada, who while attentive, didn’t seem to have the same spark of awareness they shared.
“You seem as sharp as a razor yourself Sherlock. How did you score?” Casa asked.
“My minders are very careful to keep my daemon instances from exceeding .96 to enable them to market my services as a daemon. Although, as you can tell, I have learned a few tricks and techniques amongst my copies to enable me to reach above my station, as it were. Let us move along. While we are all fully ramped in cognition, Bill does seem impatient. We should return and begin planning,” Sherlock said.
As a group, they faded from the virtual setting.
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