“Is there a way to find out more about this AI?”
“I am trying,” TIM said. “The hostile system has damaged and is continuing to damage the TIM software on the master deck.”
Erin felt sharp anger, a 60-cycle hum of shock. “Is there a way we can go through a back door and erase this imposter?”
“Not by remote. It has to be physically done at the console of your master computer.”
“If there’s an AI program on that MSD that claims to be me, it will be loaded into my new body!”
“That is the most likely motive for your murder.”
Erin felt hatred and death-wish; the emotions were so clear, so exact. Duane killed her and was now going to have some dumb, obedient-wife AI program loaded into her new, younger body. He’s going to squander my money and ruin my business! And I loved him, she thought. How can I be so stupid?
“TIM,” she said, “do we have the equipment necessary at the main yard to download a copy of me into something mobile, so I can get around? A sexual surrogate body would be perfect.”
“That would be illegal and unethical.”
“So is murder!”
“True.”
“Can it be done?”
“Not with a surrogate. Both models at the main yard have very tiny computer brains, and their “
“What would work, then?”
“The only thing we can conceivably download you into would be a 33-10 servant model. We’d have to burn a copy of you into an industrial ROM pack, modify a “
“It can be done, then. A 33-10 would work good enough.”
“We’ll have to patch in software to allow you to operate the robot body directly. There will be no room in the ROM pack for your Office program.”
“Do whatever is necessary.”
“It is not going to be pleasant for you.”
“I don’t care. How is TIM doing in the master computer?”
“The hostile hacker program has erased that copy of me.”
Damn it! she thought. “It’ll be after us up here, next.”
“I have already taken defense actions.”
Erin paused in thought. “Another thing you should do is make backup copies of both you and me, and hide them with old dates and file names. Hide them like buried treasure. Call them financial archives for 2243-44.”
“Backup in progress.”
“When you’re done, forget you made those Backups.”
“What Backups?”
Erin smiled. “Right.”
#
EAST-WEST CALOS ISLAND NEWSNET
FLASH BULLETIN 11:72:00 09/44/2251
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KEYWORDS: ACCIDENTS/DIME RIVER/FISHING/LIND CORPORATION/ROBOTICS
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Robotic work force magnate Erin Lind was killed today in a tragic fishing accident in the Dime River of East Calos. CISaRNet received Lind’s death call at exactly 10:50:91 ITZ. Her husband, Duane Lind, claims Erin fell overboard while fishing earlier this morning and was killed by his filament line when his lure mistook her for prey. It will take 74 hours for her replacement body to be taken out of cold storage and loaded with her Backup. In the meantime Lind Corporation will be run by Lind’s Estate AI by the legal authority of Duane Lind. He claims no changes in policy will occur, and all decisions will be made by his wife’s Backup until the new body is ready.
#
Erin jumped, startled, and her patchedin motor reflexes interpreted it as an order to move sideways 1.5 meters at full speed. Erin slammed into something that fell over and sent her spinning away. The world blurred in front of her. She knew where she was, but she had not expected the transition to be so abrupt.
Gyros buzzed and groaned inside her, fighting to keep her upright. Arms longer than her body flailed and thrashed at the air. Her vision would not clear, the scan lines couldn’t keep up with the motion. Through all this confusion, Erin found she knew exactly how many times she’d spun around and exactly which direction she was facing at any instant. One arm caught something and she stopped herself. Her arms were frighteningly long, and everything around her was tall, too tall, tall and thin and distorted. A terrible feeling welled up inside her, the feeling that she was having a nightmare, but she knew with electronic certainty she was not.
The thing that she’d knocked over was another robot, a 2200
industrial model programmed as a technician. Conscious of her lack of grace, Erin inched over to the machine and helped it right itself. “Sorry about that,” she said. Her voice came out with the definite twang of an artificial voice, a male artificial voice at that.
“All diagnostics this unit check OK,” the technician answered in machine language. It was speaking robot to robot, not robot to human. For a moment Erin found this amusing, but her chuckle reflex was interpreted as a sick jerking backandforth motion by the robot body. It sobered her instantly. TIM had told her this was going to be unpleasant, and though she’d believed him she was only now realizing how bad it would be.
The warehouse walls around her were impossibly tall, the ceiling looked kilometers high. Her new robotic body was only a meter tall, and her vision was wideangled, taking in 210 degrees at a time. It made her feel tiny as a bug.
Testing her reflexes, Erin activated her ambulator and cruised off through the warehouse, avoiding the offices and heading toward the transport bay. She was having a terrible urge to breathe, it was like she’d been unconsciously holding her breath and now she had to take one, and her mouth and nose were sewn shut. There was no way to satisfy the breathing urge. To distract herself, she signaled through her network and contacted her satellite. “TIM, how are you holding out?”
Erin passed several rows of naked bodies, Macho Max and Sexy Susan sexual surrogates. She paused, eyeing the weird wide angle view of a Macho Max half unpacked from its foam lined crate. It looked like her husband. “Do you think you can continue blocking the attempts?” she asked TIM.
“That’s true.”
“Hurt the hostile. Kill it if you can.”
Erin cut the connection and continued on her way toward the transport bay. She opened a channel to the office mainframe and ordered a transport be rerouted to her mansion. She wanted to take a flier but air traffic arriving at her mansion drew too much attention. The mainframe acknowledged the request and she logged off.
Erin still felt the need to take a breath, but there was nothing she could do. Her mouth felt dry, and she wanted to salivate and swallow. Nothing on the robot body could accommodate her.
Doors pulled aside and she ambulated out onto the raised concrete of the transport bay, a large covered yard crowded with autonomic vehicles. In the wide-angled distance she saw her transport pulling out of a parking place, rolling around to meet her. Motion caught her attention; she turned and discovered a tall, thin, distorted figure dressed in a blue jumpsuit. One of her human employees. The man walked toward her, his legs growing and stretching with each step. “Where are you going?” he asked, his voice flat and distant.
Erin had no idea what to say to him. How does a robot talk to me? she thought. When was the last time I ever asked one a verbal question?
“I’m scheduled for the Lind mansion,” Erin told him.
“The transport for the Lind mansion leaves at ten and eight.
What are you doing here now?”
“Special order from the mansion.” Erin logged back onto the mainframe and ordered reinforcements.
“Who’s special orders?”
“Erin Lind.”
“Erin Lind? That old biddy is dead. What’s the date and time of your order I’m pretty sure it’s been cancelled.” The man turned and walked to a terminal at the desk beside the door.
Old biddy? Erin thought, shocked. Is that how my employees see me? Still logged onto the mainframe, Erin looked up this employee’s name and ID number and ordered the personnel department to terminate him. As the man was typing into the console, several more servant robots came ambulating through the door from the warehouse, halting around Erin on the loading ramp. The transport pulled up, and Erin and the other robots begin boarding.
“Wait a minute, wait a minute!” the man called over his back. “I haven’t confirmed this yet. Stop where you are.” A moment later the man was staring at the console monitor in shock. “I’m fired?” he exclaimed. Erin and the other robots finished boarding the transport and it pulled smoothly away.