I don’t know how I didn’t see it coming.
Contrary to popular belief, the government is not stupid. Maybe as an entity it couldn’t be score an IQ over 110; but, like all social entities, it is made up of individuals, and some of the individuals who work for the government are certifiably geniuses.
It wouldn’t have taken a genius to notice I was talking to someone named Grace or Kelly in the video a bystander had sent to CNN. I had talked on the phone, in a public place, to an intelligent computer whose existence had been hidden from the world by the two men most responsible for creating her. That was not my smartest choice.
Since it wouldn’t have taken a genius, and I had apparently attracted the attention of a pretty unusual arm of the government that reported to the President himself. That meant powerful, intelligent people likely not impeded by many layers of bureaucracy. That was the type of agency that, if they chose to, and had adequate resources, could create a police state of frightening competence.
If that group was also freed of the fetters of oversight, could know virtually all there was to know about me. The right of privacy has never been more relevant than in our overpopulated, under-resourced world.
The benefit of living in a free country is that the government promises not to do that. The country that I had left for iceberg was one that I would still have considered free, if only just. Based on what I’ve seen since I’ve been back, I can’t really say one way or the other.
According to the government, I was now a person of interest. I was a person who necessitated watching by international courtesy-agents. My choices and success had required the sacrifice of my rights. Oh well, it’s not like I wouldn’t watch me if I was in charge. The fact that I was undertaking secret acts that the government would be interested in made it a lot harder to be offended.
I had to ask Grace how I answered Agent Concerez’s question, cause I truly couldn’t remember. When I watched the video that Grace had recorded, I knew that I would continue to be a person of interest. As soon as the question left her lips, I had gone white as a sheet. After some muttered words, she had smiled smugly and left.
I had no training in deception, lies, or conspiracy. I had to learn it all on my own. Honestly, I had never been an industrious student; I had always been more interested in moving on to the next thing.
It took thirty minutes after she left for my brain to calm down enough for me to think about anything else. I was watched. This was the end of the vacation that Annagail had warned me of. The spotlight is a stressful place to be, especially when the hand pointing it is one with a legal mandate to judge and punish you.
I had always believed that history’s first cop was a hero. The first man who decided that he would not stand by and see man abused by man is one to whom we owe our civilization. Though the idea would take hours to explain to him, he was the first human programmer. I’ve always suspected his sister was the first priest, and their child the first crook.
That family began the process of human domestication which led to 21st century civilization: to porn and microwave dinners instead of rape and leftover lion kill.
Maybe they suspected that the changes had something to do with the mushrooms and the five-leafed shrubs that grew by their home. Maybe when they saw God they had some thought that everyone needed to see him too, so they told stories about the things that they had seen and felt.
Did they know that all of their descendents would practice the same skills: judgement, creativity, and authority? Did they know that the greatest of their descendants would be the most loved and feared people in the world? Did Jesus know that the love that he preached would end the history’s most repressive empire? Did the god that he saw in the wilderness tell him that what man need to better itself was not sharper words and swords, but reflection and peace?
Did the gods seen by the men of Sumer before him have the same message to tell? Or did those gods look at the harsh world growing more desert-like every year, populated by dangerous animals and command them to build stronger towers and harder knives.
Did the Buddha look at the hunger of the world around him and decide that man need learn to fast?
Those human programmers all understood that humankind was imperfect, and that their ideas had the power to change us. They saw what would come if man continued to tread on his customary path and spoke words of power to turn us from the road . But their gaze could not see unto the death of the sun, nor the end of barbarism. What was to become of man when the programmers’ goals were achieved; when their children’ children’s children knew at the bottom of their souls that a life of violence meant a life pursued by the programmers?
Grace woke me from the reverie. “TP, what are we going to do?”
Sometimes when I trip, I travel far.
“Exactly what we were going to do before.” I answered. “Only this time, you get to have a debutante’s ball while the whole world is watching.”
“There are 3 months until the Governance; what do we do until then?” She asked after a moment
“Well, my dear Grace, we have another event to plan. We figure out how to introduce you to a federal agent. We already have plans for my reintroduction to the public, we might have to move them up a bit.” I paused, shaking off heavy thoughts of the future. “But for now, my child. We relax. It is the only way to fight stress.”
I didn’t think of it at the time. But that was the first night in a long time that I did not call Lauria.
****
Over the next few weeks, news of my self-imposed confinement spread. The little news that I watched indicated a large level of dissatisfaction with that fact. There was a look on the faces of some of the people interviewed that I didn’t understand. I saw intensity there and deep anger. Some of the surrogates, speaking on TV as experts on the matter of Julius Paine looked afraid.
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It was easy not to watch too much. I was busy.
When Agent Converez asked if it would be possible to arrange an interview where both myself and Callisto were present, my first thought was to the security of the Collaborator’s Conspiracy.
He and I were talking in his penthouse a few minutes before her scheduled arrival. The sun was setting in the west windows, and Grace had decided to play with the colors of the sunset with her 3D display. It is a measure of man’s adaptability that we could do anything besides stare in awe at the beauty that she was creating.
“She can’t know about it.” Callisto insisted. “There is just no way that they could have figured it out unless they cracked the your security and mine. I don’t think we have any reason to fear.”
“You didn’t see her face.” I answered. “She knew something.”
He sighed and looked away. “Are you sure you aren’t just, well, being paranoid?”
That is the trouble with having a history of mental disturbances. It is so hard to defend yourself against a question like that. An honest answer—no, it is impossible to perfectly synthesize both the environment that my brain is perceiving and the reality it is constructing because both the act of perception and the processes of understanding are known to be flawed—is not something that anyone wants to hear. Any other answer was impossible for me to utter, so I defaulted.
“Fuck you, I saw what I saw.” Callisto jerked at the profanity, but he accepted it with an embarrassed nod. “There was a moment when she was entirely unwilling to let me read her, but also unable to think anything but whatever it was. She couldn’t project any kind of front at all” It was a point of contention between us. He insisted my thoughts on telepathy were wishful thinking at best. He would go on about study after study refuting and I would have to laugh and agree.
“Oh whatever. I guess I’ll find out soon enough.” He made an effort to look back at me and diffuse the tension. “I guess I’ll find out soon enough if your rumors about her beauty are exaggerated.”
“I have been called many things, but an exaggerator of female beauty? My taste in women is without rival.” I said, accepting the diffusion of tension.
“Sure it is.” Cal quipped. “Ingrid, how long until Agent Converez’ chopper sets down?”
“Two minutes Mr. Venturi.” She was in the formal mode. She had taken to using different modes of address to send semi-verbal messages about the tone of her automatically generated internal sentences. This one indicated a higher than usual frequency of negative expected outcomes.
“Well, that’s awesome.” Cal was feeling dramatic today, noticing the tone mode she had chosen, “Even the computer thinks we’re fucked. You must be rubbing off on her.”
Ha. “Thanks. I just wish I had some idea what this meeting was about.” I replied.
Grace interjected. “May I take that as a request to share my speculations?”
What is the point of an intelligent computer if you didn’t use it to solve life’s little mysteries? “Of course.” I answered. “I don’t know why we didn’t ask you sooner.”
She said. “Your creation of my OS kernel was a matter of public record on the Valuestream before your disappearance. So was Callisto’s purchase of the kernel. It is possible that they have deduced the identity of a creative AI and are here to confirm their suspicions.”
Callisto’s face had grown very grave. “That is something to consider. I don’t want to lose you.”
“Nor I to be lost. But I do not consider that the most likely outcome. It is more likely that she comes seeking a favor. Satisfaction with every branch of the government is at an all time low. Your support would do wonders for them.”
“Now there is a thought I’d like to hold onto.” I said.
“It would also make completion of the Collaborator’s Conspiracy more likely. If you come out in support of the US government then China remains the sole super-power in non-compliance with the Valuestream’s only unbreakable rule. The pressure on them to bend will be significantly greater. But the third and most likely purpose…”
I wished I had never taught her how to pause for dramatic effect.
“…before your eventual readmission into public life: the government wants to know what you intend to do together. Without the cooperation of VI you are one of the most dangerous men in the world. With the resources Callisto can bring to bear, the government is right to fear that there is nothing you could not accomplish.” Her tone changed. “The helicopter doors just opened, it is time to go upstairs.”
We did. When the doors at the top of the stairs opened to admit Agent Converez I imagined that I could hear Callisto’s indrawn breath. He looked at me once and gave me a conciliatory smile. She was sort of woman whose clothes you didn’t notice. The strength of her was too strong for what she was wearing to have any bearing on the impression she gave.
“Welcome again to my home Ms. Converez. May I introduce my friend Callisto Venturi?” I said.
As she swept down the stairs a smile broke out across her face. “It is truly a pleasure. I am a great fan of your work. I was in New York at the time of the construction of this building.” She reached out to shake Callisto’s hand. “I cannot express the joy and hope that it inspired in me.”
“Ashante, madam.” He responded with verve, taking her hand gently. “The knowledge that it would please you is enough to convince me to build another.” He actually blushed. She did not.
Oh this isn’t going to go well at all. I thought to myself.
“Would you care to take a seat, or for some refreshments?” I asked.
“A seat would be most welcome. Could I get some bottled water as well?”
So it began. We sat down around a table and more pleasantries were exchanged. Ms. Converez insisted that we call her by her surname, Altria, and commended me on the amount of muscle that I had put on during my recovery. I noticed that she was wearing some alluring scent.
If she were anyone but a federal agent, I would have considered it a genial meeting of friends. Such is the nature of the power system in place; we fear those who can control us, no matter their personhood.
She set down her drink and crossed her legs. The shapeless scrubs-like pants that she wore could not hide their shapeliness. “Gentlemen, you are very busy. Mr. Paine, I imagine that you are ready to leave this place and re-enter your place in society. It is for that cause that I am visiting you today.”
Her voice was crisper than before; this was rehearsed. Her eyes snapped to Cal. “Callisto,” a demure smile, his reputation as a womanizer was known, “if you were in my shoes, what would be your biggest concern about his return?”
Taking the question in stride, “I don’t know if it would be my biggest, but I would want to know what he was going to do about the ‘Streamers.”
“The nail on the head, Doctor Victory.” She answered. “How will they take his reformation? What will they think about his return? What will they do?”
I felt like the golden retriever whose master threw a stick down a sinkhole and said ‘fetch boy!’ I thought of Grace’s ‘does not compute’ action as I stammered. “I wish I could be a bit more eloquent at this juncture, but, um what?”
They glanced at each other with a chuckle in each eye. “It is sometimes difficult to remember how oblivi—um, focused you were on your work before you disappeared.” Cal commented wryly, not even attempting to hide the humor at my expense.
“After you left things really started to heat up. And of course you know nothing about any of it. This might take a while.” Altria’s smile seemed to grace me with forgiveness of my ignorance. “You might want to go get those refreshments you were talking about.”
Then they told me the story of how I accidentally created a religion.