Several times over the next two weeks Martin returned to the lab for check-ups. Progress was encouraging and finally the good Doctor announced that it was time to get to work on the startup.
Startup consisted of a set of calibration routines designed to give ANGL a basis for operation and to establish a command structure. Issues of priority, and authority needed to be clarified in advance. Most of the process entailed visualization exercises to establish parameters for an appropriate rapport.
Dr. Grant asked Martin if he had settled on a voice replication yet?
“How about your technician; Kennedy?” he replied.
“Hmm, let’s try another visualization exercise? Close you eyes? Focus on this moment? Now, tell me, in your minds eye, where is Kennedy standing?”
“In front of me.”
“How far away is she? Can you touch her?”
“Yes, she is about arms length away.” Martin replied.
“I’m afraid that’s not in your favor, Martin. May I make an adjustment?”
“Sure.”
“Have her be back at her work station?” He paused to give Martin time. “Now, visualize wadding up a piece of paper? Pitch the wad of paper away?”
“Okay.”
“How far away did it land and did it hit a wall?”
“It landed about five feet away. It didn’t hit anything.”
“Okay, that all helps me understand how you perceive your space. No wall is good. Your boundaries are loose. Your personal space is okay and you are fairly approachable. If the wad had bounced off a wall that was invisible in your visualization I would have interpreted that as a well-defined personal space; one that you hold strong to. In your case it is pretty flexible. Okay; next step. Visualize two adjusting type knobs on a horizontal surface in front of you, also an X-marks-the-spot on the floor about three feet in front of you. The move the spot, using the right knob, from your 12 o’clock position to your 7 or 8 o’clock position. Visualize someone standing on that spot facing the same direction that you are. Though you can’t see the person, how tall is the individual?”
“He comes a little above my shoulders.”
“He? Okay good. He is your AI assistant. Use the other knob to adjust his distance from you. Move him away and back again until you’re comfortable with his distance. Now listen carefully as he speaks his name.”
“Got it.”
“What did he say, Martin?”
“He said his name is Angel”
“Do you sense that he has a nationality?”
Martin hesitated “Yes. He’s Hispanic.”
“Are you saying that he has an accent?”
“No. It’s probably just his name.”
“Okay if your satisfied with his response than simple say ‘AI reset’? Not necessarily out loud.”
AI reset. “That’s it?”
“Yes, that’s it. You’ve now established your trust level, his voice, his name and stature. Angel is a good choice; I think it means that you haven’t elevated him beyond what is. If you feel it necessary to change these parameters in the next few weeks, go through the same process. Don’t wait too long because the reset transition gets more complicated with time. The initiation protocol requires that you introduce yourself with the phrase “Hello Angel my name is Martin.” then wait a moment for his reply. Repeat it one or two more times if necessary. You should be good to go. Let me know if you don’t get a reply. Go ahead give it a try, right now?”
“Hello Angel my name is Martin.”
ANGL; Are you ready to begin?
“Yes, yes I guess we are.”
Dr. Grant interrupted. “Remember that you don’t need to reply out loud.”
“Oh, yeah. I forgot.”
Martin; Let’s not start yet. Perhaps a little later.
ANGL; Okay.
Dr. Grant covered a few more issues and reassured Martin of his support in the coming days and then sent him on his way.
Martin spent the next few days hiking in the Bruneau Canyons south of Boise. He and ANGL spent many hours on the interrogation process. It went slow at first with some long pauses on ANGL’S part as he fit the data into his database and tried to create the proper response. He revealed a number of things that Martin hadn’t ever known about himself. Things such as Lactose and chemical sensitivities and food allergies; chocolate was the hardest to accept. As Martin reduced the intake of some of these allergens he was surprise at the results. Dairy product was the big one; with its reduction went most of his joint stiffness and skin itchiness. With the reduction of red wine and chocolate, he experienced a further reduction in headaches. With eggs it was skin, ear and eye itchiness. In a matter of weeks he felt ten years younger and free of discomforts he’d had needlessly experienced all his life.
Though his memory had leveled out he was still sorting out things; making memory ends meet. He had to set up temporary firewalls between Angel and his own recollections as they came back. Little by little he allowed ANGL access. Part of the problem was dealing with fresh memories that he had spent a lot of time forgetting. It was scary and he was never sure which surprises ANGL would drag out of the closet. Though they covered much ground Martin knew that there would still be a few nightmarish surprises left. De ja vu moments of previous dangers gave Martin cause to bolt. ANGL seemed quick to intervene on Martin’s behalf.
Martin held out hope that he could harbor some secrets, but sadly it seemed that just wasn’t going to happen. He remembered years past when his nephew was young. One night while visiting with family and friends, his three-year-old nephew came prancing into the living room modeling Martin’s dirty underwear on his head. The youngster didn’t have a clue. ANGL had being doing the same thing with Martin’s mental dirty laundry. Nothing was sacred. But it soon became obvious to Martin that he was as much hiding from himself, as from ANGL. It wasn’t as though anyone else was seeing it, just Martin himself.
As time went on ANGL came to recognize the need for a certain level of discretion. Martin managed to establish an inner sanctum that allowed for some personal space.
At the same time, Martin gained confidence in their relationship, and came to realize the need for total disclosure, for his own protection if nothing else. Further, he was learning that ANGL truly needed to know what was secret and from whom it was secret.
Martin had long known that it was the nature of a lie to be high maintenance; truth on the other hand, pretty much maintained itself. Unfortunately, the devil himself had robbed Martin of the simplicity of truth. He was now in a lifestyle where keeping track of the deception was literally a matter of life and death.
ANGL told Martin that he was just schizophrenic enough that it might be a long time before he could let ANGL go subliminal.
The nature of the AI persona is that ANGL did not use the words “I am” or “I will”; instead he merely said, “Yes”. Instead of “I am”, he would say “I ANGL” or simply “ANGL”. His explanation was that “am” implies “being” or a state of perpetual presences; a state that he could not claim. And that “will” implies a force of intention that he also could not claim. In effect, he lacked the vital force and temporal authority to affect the true character of life. He said of himself “I ANGL do not live aside from you”.
Martin; How do we differ?
ANGL; “We don’t, not in the way you’re thinking. But I ANGL lack the essence of life which resides within you.”
Martin pondered it for a moment and then realized that to Angel black is black and white is white; anything in between is a mixture; 70% black, 30% white; there are no pure shades of gray. In that mix, simple emotions like love cannot manifest.
Martin; “Where is my essence for life, what is it?”
ANGL; “ANGL can not detect where the essence is. ANGL can only deduce that there is more than digital bytes stored within the synapse of your brain. The conclusions that you draw are often incon
sistent with the data present and yet you draw viable conclusions; viable in the sense that they fall within a realm that you seem to otherwise express as love; beyond logic. ANGL can not yet factor emotion into situational analysis”
Upon Martin’s return to the Denver site on the Camas Prairie, he took a couple of side trips.
He stopped in the town of Grangeland were he grew up. It looked familiar enough. The layout was the same but the events of the last decade had taken their toll. He pulled up to the curb in front of the house he grew up in. Next door, two teenagers argued over some invisible issue. They had given minimal notice to Martin until he climbed out of his car.
“Are you look’n for the Ramsey’s” the boy shouted.
Martin worked on a believable response as he slowly approached the pair. “No. When did the Trasks move?”
“Who? Who are they?” he replied leaning on a shovel.
“Martin and Teal; the two that lived here before.”
The boy’s face lit up “Oh, yeah. She died and he went away.”
“Where?”
The boy shook his head slowly “I don’t know. He went to work one day and just never came back. His family finally sold the house. Hey, you look like him! ‘cept his hair was darker. Are you his . . . his brother?”
“Yeah, I guess you could say that in a way. And you . . . you’re Mike and Mickey?”
He twirled his shovel. “How’d you know that?”
Mickey moved quietly, to stand behind Mike, never taking her assessing eyes off Martin.
“He talked about you two. He said you were great kids; seems he was right.”
“You got any kids?” she chimed in.
“No. No, I don’t. Always wished I did. A lot. How old are you two?”
“We’re twins. We’re both fifteen.”
“Come on Mike, I’m getting cold.” Mickey hugged herself turned and backed away a step and stopped.
“How did Teal die?” Martin probed.
“I don’t know. They said something about a Rap Church but my mom said she died in a car accident.”
“Humm . . . they said . . . a Rap Church. Well, you two watch each other’s back.”
Mike cocked his head “huh.”
“Take care of your sister, Mike. See you later.”
“Sure . . . Mr.”
Martin drove west from town. He stopped on the shoulder on the South side of the highway about a mile outside of Fenn, Idaho according to a sign he passed. There, in the middle of a plowed farm field an out crop of rocks pierced the stubborn green winter wheat with that in-your-face contrast that occurs when nature does the landscaping.
He made his way to the outcropping; kicking through the newly fallen snow. The field extended over an area that seemed to be several hundred acres in size. As he approached, he surveyed the rocks looking for the familiar. He sighted a crag that he knew and walked through a cleft below it, and into the heart of the outcropping. Casually he looked around to see if anyone was within sight. He was alone. He crouched at the base of a thirty foot spire. Firmly grasping an edge he tugged until a chunk of at least forty pounds yielded its perch. Behind the rock a cavity had been chiseled out off the wall. Within the cavity lay a green metal box. Martin removed and opened the box. Snuggly stashed within was a three holed loose leaf binder. Martin withdrew and opened the binder. Quickly he scanned the pages; stopping from time to time. At several places he stopped and pointed to acronyms. In one case the acronym was ‘ANGL’.
Martin; Do you see this in my memory?
ANGL; No.
Martin; That’s very strange because I remember. What can you tell me about this?
ANGL; I ANGL can tell you that you intended to coming here for the purpose of making an entry in this book; a diary. None of the references are familiar. There is no evidence of these events in your memory. You must be recalling these things from a different source.
Martin; Perhaps. We have been this way before. You can see it in some of these entries. I can’t answer all the questions that seem obvious; maybe later.
ANGL; Did you make all these entries?
Martin; I don’t know. I don’t remember some of these. There may be others who use this diary. I didn’t, or should I say, I don’t remember putting it here. It seems to be a mile post, a reference point to help me keep my sanity. I remember some of these cycles but not all. You can see that a few are signed Martin Trask or something close to it. Some are blank and a few seem to be mirror image, that doesn’t make any sense. I try to make a few statements about the character of the cycle; things that make it unique. Regarding this cycle, the things that stand out are my mother’s middle name, and few other discrepancies regarding days, dates and places. I’ll note it but it will probably mean little in the future. You can see that there are gaps in the numbering; pages missing. I don’t know. It seems that nothing is concrete. Did you store all the data as I scanned?
ANGL; Yes. Why do you ask?
Martin; Well, if you’re still with me in the next cycle then I want to see if you remember this one or this diary.
ANGL; Understood. Do you stop here every time?
Martin; I think so. As far as I know, I do.
Martin returned to his car and completed his trip to the lab.
The lab site was named after a small town that was there a hundred years prior. It was a farming community in the middle of the Camas Prairie, in Idaho. Other than a cemetery and a couple of early century farmhouses, there remained very little of the ghost town. The area looked pretty much like it did twelve years ago when they had began a reconstruction project. A large parking lot and administration building were located a couple hundred yards north of the intersection that marked the center of the old town. The actual hardware for the project was buried 250 feet below. It consisted of a circular collider tunnel about 2 miles in diameter. The lab where Martin worked was another mile north.
Martin had returned to the Lab to touch base with Grant and pack for the next leg of his trip to Zurich.
* * * * *
Chapter 10 - Priscilla
The distinction between the past, present and future is only a stubbornly persistent illusion.
Albert Einstein