Page 15 of AI's Minion


  Chapter 14

  The use of field technology still depended on sufficient power to generate sensing fields to penetrate the ground and buildings.

  Chandler took an early morning ride that Saturday with a device roughly the size of his fake book computer hidden in his backpack. AI had suggested some routes through areas where the buildings were the oldest and most likely to have hidden chambers or basements. It was also keeping track and comparing constantly with maps of utility entrances and such.

  At the end of two hours of wandering through most likely districts, AI advised Chan all the findings would require substantial modification – they were all improbable. So Chan decided to take a more random track, but just for luck, he requested an algorithm for a much broader type of search that included any suitable space in any location that was more probable than what had already been identified. He didn’t expect much, but rode through areas he hadn’t seen before, or at least not seen in a very long time.

  Aside from hiking and riding bicycles, most people seldom saw much outside of a relatively small distance from their home ground. Ownership of powered vehicles was highly restricted and very expensive. Public transportation seats were restricted on somewhat more flexible terms, but still generally prohibiting frivolous exploration. So only the physically hardy with time on their hands could see much.

  Chan had always lacked the sense of need for working those government-sponsored unskilled labor projects so many people worked over weekends – almost nothing but digging, sweeping and dragging stuff around for less than the standard minimum pay. The atmosphere was brutally abusive under the government straw bosses who really didn’t want to be there. Chan passed a couple of such projects in operation and did his best to avoid eye contact with the workers.

  But then his watched beeped, informing him AI had found a probable facility. He stopped and looked around a bit, but Chan couldn’t immediately discern what it could be. This was out along some docks where the river was widened. Could it be one of the barges? He needed to pull away from the crowd so he could consult the scanning device directly.

  There was an alleyway that led to some derelict apartments standing behind the government port authority offices. The office was a small, one-story building, whereas the apartments rose up three stories behind it. The windows were long gone from the apartment building, as were most of the doors. It was decorated with a warning of condemnation and the typical lame graffiti. Would that be it? At any rate, it seemed a good place to stop and surreptitiously look at the scanner and chat with AI.

  Chan dismounted and walked the bicycle up the weed-infested alley. At ground level, the intrusive native foliage nearly hid him completely from view. He stood his bike against the crumbling stairs of the old apartment building and sat down on the bottom step, sliding his pack off as he bent his knees to sit. Unzipping the pack he fished out the scanner, pulling it up close to the mouth of the bag but holding it down inside. The screen displayed an arrow to his right. He glanced and saw a battered but secure steel door just a couple of steps up from the broken pavement of the alley.

  “Inside the government building?” Chan was incredulous.

  It was easily the longest response he had ever gotten through his earplug. The door was unused by port bureaucrats. Behind the door was a tiny office, previously used by the manager for the apartment building. Records indicated there had once been loading crews living there, but the cargo traffic had been moved to a newer facility. The port authority here was mostly a rental agency for folks living on barges tied up in the old port, plus storage for the inevitable dumping of obsolete government equipment from other portions of the bureaucracy. The tiny office in question wasn’t even accessible from inside the building; the outer door was the only entrance.

  AI advised Chan it was possible to requisition the space and get a key issued by someone in the front office, but it required giving Chan a different job. Chan’s official sponsor would be a little known and hated branch of the Inspector General’s Office whose work was never explained to anyone not subjected to such inspections. It was routine operations for them to grab unused office space during some project lasting anywhere from a day or so up to months. As with everything else in the government, sufficiently large bureaucracies could scarcely keep track of everything at once. Additionally, the IG’s Office was so notoriously paranoid even inspectors knew little of their coworkers’ business.

  Chan sighed. “AI, create an algorithm for optimal use of this space under the Inspector General’s Office. Include authorization for travel as needed and all the necessary covering documentation.” Then as a sort of joke, “Keep me out of trouble and I’ll try not to screw it up.”

  Done. Contingencies in place and threats reduced to lowest probability. Previous employment terminated. New employment identity created under IG.

  Chan had completely forgotten he would have to quit his job at the furniture shop. He mumbled to himself, “I thought AI didn’t take any initiative.”

  Concatenation of requests required it.

  Silently inside his head, Chan decided AI could be a smart-ass.

  Sunday he spent the whole day at life support taking advantage of the bigger display screen on the wall of the meeting room. He wanted information displayed graphically so he could be sure he understood the organization of the IG’s Office versus the IT Department. AI noted that it wasn’t outside of parameters for him to work for the IG and masquerade as an IT Inspector checking up on the work IT had done. This was how it showed up in government records, a special hush-hush operation because the IT Inspectors were notoriously opaque with the rest of the government bureaucracy. Having a chameleon suit was just an added touch.

  But AI had all the records of IT and most of IG. Chan noticed some apparent gaps in answers to his questions. “AI, is there any significant government archives still sequestered on older hardware?”

  Confirmed.

  “How do we link all that back up so AI can access it?”

  The answer was not simple. That is, the actual solution was simple: Plant an AI sticker on one of the controlling network servers. It would give AI total access globally, if indirectly. Despite all the government orders, the bureaucratic process had in effect relegated to a low priority the task of moving all the archives into subspace. On top of that was the paranoid resistance of the IT folks.

  “I’d be doing the government a favor, but not exactly what they had in mind.” Chan grinned at the prospect. Chan asked with sarcasm, “How do I grant this boon to my government?”

  Impersonate multiple functionaries.

  There were three different security barriers. For each one, Chan had to masquerade as someone least likely to draw notice for each area through which he passed. The chameleon suit would be thoroughly tested. Oddly enough the government was providing that suit itself. Chan was supposed to pick it up from the Grellman Building, of all places. However, the chameleon ID badge would come from The Brotherhood. AI could control both from Chan’s watch, and with greater precision, thanks to scraping data from Chan’s job.

  What could possibly go wrong?

  Chan set himself the task of memorizing as much as possible so that his reactions would be much quicker and smoother than trying to rely on his earplug. In his dreams that night, Chan saw himself clumsily blowing the entire operation every step of the way, but no one seemed to notice. Somehow, it didn’t boost his confidence.

  The next morning he rode his bike early to the office canyon district – tall buildings facing each other for several blocks with narrow streets running between. Grellman was just one of many buildings. Chan parked his ratty ride among several much nicer ones, and then strolled off down the walk. A couple of blocks down he turned left for some distance and then turned into the alleyway. Some of the buildings had cutouts where vehicles could park without blocking the drive and he spotted some of the government trucks, which marked the back of the Grellman.

  Some years ago he had kep
t a very shiny drawer handle that didn’t fit anything. It looked very fancy and Chan had used it on his cabinet for the portal. AI had confirmed this was about the quickest way into the building through the freight entrance. He didn’t own clothing that would match any other probable assumed identity for passing through the front entrance, but it was just possible one of the guards might remember him and ease his entrance under the pretext of more furniture repair work. There was no way to create a fake work order with high priority from a single drawer handle.

  So Chan approached wearing the exact same outfit he wore that day nearly a month ago. Trying hard to remember his mannerisms of that day, he put on his best theatrical production of a bit part. As he gained line of sight into the freight entrance, AI prompted him with the nickname of one of the guards.

  Chan waved like a goofy nerd. “Hey guys, remember me? I came with that bunch delivering an expensive desk. I know your partner called you Raffle or something, right?”

  The guard in question grinned. “Yeah, they acted like you were the stepchild of the operation. Whatcha doing this time?”

  Chan held up the single drawer handle wrapped in clear plastic. “You wouldn’t expect them to trust me with anything important, would you? There’s actually a work order for this because they don’t make them any more. Took us awhile to find it from our suppliers.”

  The other guard inspected the computer screen. “Yep. There’s a work order but no name of the delivery. You know this kid, Raffle?”

  “Yeah, he works for that furniture shop that delivered Trasper’s fancy antique wood desk.” Turning back to Chan. “Hey, didn’t that IT guy give you our old keyboard?”

  Chan grinned with a hint of blush. “Yeah, it was trash after all.”

  Raffle held up the back of his hand beside his mouth. “The replacement ain’t that much better.” He winked at Chan and motioned him into the building.

  Chan handed over the handle because it was metal and walked through the sensor gates. On the other side they handed it back to him. His heart rate slowed only a little as he approached the elevator, and then passed beyond to the stairwell. Once inside, he stopped and leaned against the wall at the foot of the stairs. He wiped sweat away and waited for his breath to slow a bit. His hand was shaking as he fumbled the handle back into his cargo pocket. He mumbled to AI through his dental implant, “I hope I get more comfortable with this stuff. I’ll be more at risk from my heart exploding than from getting caught.”

  AI didn’t respond, and Chan nearly ran two steps at a time up three floors. Then he exited surreptitiously and walked quickly down a long hallway past doors with too many of them open for his comfort. But it seemed no one noticed him and he arrived safely at the other stairwell near the front of the building. This time he went a little more slowly back down to the same floor as the freight entrance. The bogus work order was for an office upstairs and Chan needed for the guards to see him going straight there without wandering. Now he was out of their line of sight and went to stand in line at an open half-door over which hung the sign, “Supply.”

  He glanced at his watch to recall the precise order number. Supposedly the workers in the supply room had no idea what was in the package. Just in time AI reminded Chan he was now a bicycle courier. While the clerk gave him a long look, she handed over the large box and Chan strode away as quickly as his feet would go. When he stopped at the stairway door, she yelled down the hall at him. “That’s not the way out!”

  Chan looked back struggling with a fake smile. “I’ve got another package on fifth floor to go with this one.” Without waiting a second he ducked into the stairwell.

  “God help me!” It was just a whisper, but he meant it whether AI heard it or not.