Page 17 of The Phoenix Code

  After losing the hand, Ander turned to her with a scowl. "All right. You win. I'll quit. Happy?"

  She let her relief show on her face. The dealer wore a similar expression. The other players bade them good­bye, and Little Black Dress blew them a kiss. "Have fun, kids."

  Ander gave her a confused smile. "Thanks."

  After they walked away from the table, he said, "I don't get it. Baby goats?"

  "What happened to your language base?" Megan asked. "You should know 'kids' means 'children.' "

  "Children?" He glared. "That's what they were call­ing us?"

  "Not literally. You need to input those language files."

  "Maybe." Taking her hand, he drew her to the cashier's booth. He turned in his chips for $4825, an amount small enough by casino standards that no one even blinked. Megan realized it must be routine for peo­ple to win or lose that much. How could they bear to see their money vanish that way? She supposed she wasn't the ideal companion for an android's foray into Las Vegas. Her idea of a fun gamble was writing software with non-standard protocols.

  Ander seemed happy, though. Genuinely happy. He es­corted her up a curving staircase with gold rails. At the top, they walked along a balcony that overlooked the endless fields of slot machines.

  He linked his arm through hers. "Why didn't you ever take me here before?"

  "It never occurred to me."

  "Didn't you ever think I might want to play?" He mo­tioned at the casino. "All this energy and excitement—it's wonderful."

  "You really like it that much?"

  "My mods are certainly simulating that response."

  She smiled. "That's a ringing endorsement."

  "Why don't you like it?"

  "It's a black hole for money. Once it's gone, you never see it again. How is that fun?"

  "You're so serious. You should be like me."

  She regarded him with bemused wonder. "Like an an­droid?"

  Ander's gaze darted around. "Don't make fun of my name."

  "Your name?"

  "Don't call me an android."

  "But—"

  "Dear, I said that's enough."

  She wondered at the change. When he had talked about fun, his joy had seemed as real an emotion as she had seen in any human. Now he was acting again, for the benefit of nonexistent observers, pretending he wasn't an android.

  "All right," she said, intrigued. "What do you want to talk about?"

  "Winning money." His face relaxed again. "I love it."

  "Why didn't you win more?"

  He went into his annoyed-husband act. "I did my best."

  She didn't know what to make of this development. They were alone now. He had no reason to pretend they were a quarreling couple. "You could have done a lot bet­ter."

  "Megan." He lowered his voice. "People are watch­ing us."

  The only other people within view on the balcony were too far away to hear. "Who?"

  He put his hand up as if to scratch his chin, hiding his mouth. "Everywhere," he muttered. "Didn't you see them at the twenty-one table?"

  "Well, uh ... no."

  "The cameras!" He started walking again, talking in a too bright voice. "So you want a new holovid camera? Maybe I can buy you one. I'm feeling generous tonight."

  "Good for you," Megan said dryly. "What cameras?"

  "Like in the columns by the twenty-one tables." He lowered his voice. "They filmed everything on the table."

  "Oh. Those." She shrugged. "They're for security. All the casinos have them."

  "How do you know that?"

  "A cousin of mine used to work in Las Vegas."

  "They're spying on us," he whispered.

  "Who?"

  "The cameras." Alarm flashed across his face. "Do you think they have computers in them? What if they recog­nize me?"

  She almost laughed. "Like knows like, huh?"

  "It's not funny. Act natural."

  "I am." She couldn't figure out why he thought anyone would spy on them. Although he had made a profit at the table, his winnings were far too small to concern the man­agement. "Do you think someone figured out you're not just a tourist here?"

  "No. Yes. I don't know."

  "Did you detect a signal?"

  "I don't need to. They are watching us. I know."

  "How?"

  "Deduction."

  "Based on what?"

  "People are giving me strange looks."

  This is surreal, she thought. "There's no one up here."

  "I meant in the casino."

  "Who?"

  "Everyone!"

  She sighed. "Oh, Ander."

  "It's true!" Then, remembering himself, he put on his husband smile and spoke loudly. "You're always giving me mixed signals, love."

  "I don't think anyone is watching us."

  He frowned, then turned away and stared down at the casino. Megan could guess what had happened; he figured out that the management might watch him if he won too much, and then his mind became caught in a constrained loop that included that code. When the code reproduced itself, he ended up seeing spies in every corner.

  Welcome to AI paranoia.

  *14*

  Jungle

  The mirrored elevator reflected Megan's face as if she were a phantasm caught in an alternate universe. Then the doors opened, revealing a gold car with a glass wall opposite the doors.

  Ander pushed Megan inside, then did a fast scan up and down the hall, as if RAP spies might jump out at any moment. He stepped in after her, doing a good simulation of skulking, at least until he stumbled. Then he lost his balance and grabbed the edge of the door while his other arm jerked out from his body.

  An elderly couple strolling by the elevator stopped. "Are you all right?" the man asked.

  Ander spun around, slapping his hand against his back pocket where he had put Raj's wallet. "Fine," he declared. "Just fine. I don't have any money. No winnings at all."

  The gray-haired woman gave Ander an uncertain smile, as if she wasn't sure whether he was joking or about to do something dangerous. "Perhaps you'll have more luck later."

  "Yes, later." Ander still had his hand on his back pocket, his elbow sticking out like a chicken wing. The door of the elevator tried to close, then bumped his arm and retracted again.

  "Yes, ma'am," Ander added. "Maybe later I'll win."

  "That's, uh, good." The woman glanced at Megan.

  "I don't know him," Megan said innocently.

  Ander turned to glare at her, then lost his balance and fell against the elevator door.

  The man and the woman were stepping back now. "Yes, well, I hope you have a good time," the man said. They made a fast exit.

  "Oh, Ander." Megan hauled him into the elevator, let­ting the doors close. "You're trying so hard to be incon­spicuous, you're making a spectacle of yourself."

  He shook his head, then lost his balance again and fell against the wall of the car.

  "Is this a bad one?" Megan had seen these attacks be­fore, when his hydraulics acted up. Although she could make temporary fixes to help him, Raj was the one he needed. "Ander, please. Let's go back to the bungalow."

  "No. I'm fine." His voice had a flat quality, as he con­centrated on his physical condition, taking resources away from his emotive functions. For all Megan knew, he was running paranoia predictions, spiraling into an ever deeper hole.

  Ander scowled at a panel by the door. In response, "floor 35" lit up in gold and the car started up.

  "That was subtle," Megan said.

  "I ran a wireless check for bugs. It looks like we're safe in here." He turned in a circle, scrutinizing the car. "You never know, though."

  "Why, pray tell, would anyone in this casino care that you and I are in this elevator?"

  "Their spies are everywhere. Even in the bathroom."

  "The bathroom?" She struggled not to laugh at him. "Poor spies. That must be the worst shift."

  "I'm serious."

  "Oh, Ander. W
hy would they bug the bathroom?"

  "To catch Johns?" Ander laughed. When she only stared at him, he added, "That was a joke."

  "I've heard better."

  "It's important to keep your sense of humor during a PHS."

  "A PHS? What is that? Android PMS?"

  Ander's face blanked for a moment. Then he said, "Ah. I see. You made a joke. Or more accurately, a joke at­tempt. A JA."

  Don't ask. Megan told herself. But she did anyway. "A JA for the PHS?"

  "Yes. That is correct."

  "This is nuts. What does PHS mean?"

  " 'Potentially hazardous situation,' " he explained. "I don't think, however, that your JA to alleviate the stress of the PHS was successful."

  Megan sighed. "You know, I really think you need to get out of whatever mental hole you fell into."

  The door suddenly opened, at floor twenty-six. Ander spun around, one arm coming up to protect his face while he crouched in a martial arts pose. Two preadolescent girls in blue jeans and shiny blouses stood outside, both holding Astronaut Trolls in paisley spacesuits with hair sticking out of their helmets. They blinked at Ander, then burst into giggles. As he stared at them, the doors closed.

  "Oh, my," Megan said as the elevator started up again. "That was definitely a PHS."

  Ander lowered his arm. "Okay, so maybe I overreacted a bit." He quirked a smile at her. "You're doing an IA."

  "I'm afraid to ask."

  "Irony attempt."

  "It was for your VAS."

  He gave her a look of mock solemnity. " 'Very accom­plished sagacity.' "

  She waved her hand at him. " 'Vexatious acronym syn­drome.' "

  Ander's throaty laugh resembled a scratchy recording, yet it had nuances he had never displayed in the smoother sound he produced before. She had heard him laugh more tonight than in the entire time she had been at NEV-5.

  He indicated the glass wall. "Look."

  Turning, she saw that they had risen past the roof of the treasure box casino and were going up the outside of the hotel. Las Vegas spread out in a panorama below them. She rested her hands on the gold rail at the window and gazed at the city, a shimmering landscape of light and color, like a galaxy on Earth.

  Ander came to stand behind her. He put his hands on the rail, on either side of her body, and leaned in close. His breath stirred her hair. "I never knew this existed. I have images, but I had no idea it was so alive. So many beautiful lights. Lady photons in red, gold, orange, and yellow; gentleman in green, blue, and purple."

  It was the first time she had heard him use a metaphor. "I wish we could take you to all the wonders in the world." Seeing him come alive this way was a gift, but it tore at her that his awakening brought with it the chance of his destruction.

  He rubbed his palms up her arms. "Come with me."

  "Where?"

  "Away from him."

  "Raj?" She wished she knew how to defuse Ander's an­tagonism toward him.

  "Yes."

  "I can't do that."

  "Why? Because he's human and I'm not?" His hands closed around her upper arms. "It was just you and me before. Then Raj interfered. All those suits and alpha geeks and military types—they always went away." He slid his arms around her waist. "But not Raj. He stayed."

  Megan pushed down his arms. "He can help you."

  Ander didn't answer. Instead he said, "How do I get out of this mind hole that you think has trapped me?"

  She turned to face him, her back against the rail. "You told me a few days ago that you knew Raj had your best interests in mind. Do you remember what section of your code that came from?"

  He scowled. "I don't access those sections anymore. They interfered."

  "With what?"

  "Everything."

  "With your resenting Raj?"

  "Raj, Raj, Raj. The hell with him."

  She spoke quietly. "When you cut out those sections, a lot more went than your positive impressions of Raj. Hu­mans do the same thing when we don't want to face facts. We refuse to acknowledge them. It doesn't work—not for us and not for you."

  He put his hands back on the rail, trapping her against it. "I can delete my code. You can't."

  Megan refused to be flustered. "Your code is too com­plex for you to alter one thing without it affecting a lot more. And this is far more than one thing. It's no wonder you're having problems."

  "Those are just words." He caught her upper arms and held her in a tight grip. "You betrayed me."

  "I didn't betray you."

  "You turned to him."

  "Raj isn't your enemy."

  The elevator chimed and the doors opened at the thirty-fifth floor. Megan peered around Ander. Out in the hall, gold arrows pointed the way to various rooms. Chandeliers glittered, ivory walls gleamed, mirrors re­flected, and red carpet covered the floor. Ander let go of her and turned around, then glared at the ornate scene as if all its pieces had conspired to annoy him. He turned his glower onto the panel that controlled the elevator's com­puter. The doors closed and a new destination appeared on the panel: "floor 3."

  As the car started back down, Ander let her go, then stepped to the window and stared out at the city. Megan wondered how she could convince him that neither she nor Raj wished him ill. He wasn't only caught in a limited region of his mental landscape; he had also compartmen­talized his mind, isolating large sections of code. She could help by spurring him to write new software, but that wasn't enough. If he didn't reintegrate his mind, she doubted he could achieve a stable state. He might end up suffering the computer equivalent of psychosis.

  At one time she had believed robots would achieve sen­tience sooner than immobile computers. An android could interact with the physical world like a person. However, robots were at their worst doing what people took for granted, like seeing, hearing, moving, using com­mon sense, and socializing. Sure, a robot could explore its environment better than a fixed machine, but before it could do so, its makers had to create sensors for it, con­nect them to its brain, and incorporate it all in a mobile chassis. Deep Blue had beat Gary Kasparov at chess but was incapable of moving its pieces or even seeing the board.

  Megan no longer believed that having a human body would make a robot human. Endless differences existed. Like sex. Ander could perform the act, but it meant noth­ing to him. It wasn't enough to give him data about how it affected humans. If he could never experience the physical or emotional aspects, how could he understand its complex impact on humanity?

  Not for the first time, Megan wondered if they were making a mistake in creating androids like themselves. They might be forcing a mold on Ander that he could never fit. He was his own form of life, unique and unde­fined. She had tried to give him an appreciation for human life and values, but she questioned whether it was possible. Did stable solutions for his mind even include the social and cultural mores humanity valued? She had no answers. They were all locked within Ander.

  The doors slid open again—and revealed a jungle. "Here we are," Ander said.

  "Where?" Megan asked.

  "I've absolutely no idea." He drew her out into a small area surrounded by real trees growing in real dirt. Living parrots in red, blue, and gold hues flew among the foliage.

  "All this in a hotel?" Ander asked.

  "It is amazing." Megan actually enjoyed watching his reactions more than she liked looking at the manufac­tured wonders.

  "I thought humans constructed buildings to shelter themselves," Ander said. "To keep out the beasts and the jungle."

  "This is entertainment."

  "Entertainment as a form of shelter?"

  Megan had never thought of it that way. "You may be right."

  They walked through the jungle until they reached a small lake. Several boats floated at a dock, and a guide dressed in a khaki shirt and shorts stood nearby at a rough wooden podium.

  Ander drew her over to the guide. "Can you take us in a boat?"

  The man gave them an amiable smile.
"You take your­self. I just take tickets."

  "Do you mean to tell me," Ander said, "that we have to pay to ride through a jungle inside a building, after hu­manity created buildings to keep the jungle out?"

  "Yep," the guide said, unfazed.

  "That's dumb," Ander said.

  Megan tried to pull him toward a ticket booth behind the trees, but Ander looked back to the guide. "I think you should pay us to ride through the jungle."

  The guard gave a friendly laugh. "Then you can pay my taxes."

  Ander turned to Megan and spoke in a low voice. "Was that human humor?"

  "I'd say so."

  "I don't get it." He stopped and took out Raj's wallet, then peered around to locate whatever spies, thieves, or other nefarious types were hanging about. When he was satisfied that they weren't about to be accosted by scoundrels, he took two hundred-dollar bills out of the wallet. "Is this enough for the tickets?"

  "Way too much. You should know that."

  "My knowledge about tickets is gone."

  "Erased?"

  "Hidden."

  "So unhide it."

  He looked like an intransigent teenager. "No."

  "Why?"

  "Because."

  "That's no reason."

  "It's my reason."

  She put her hands on her hips. "It's illogical."

  "Nothing I do is illogical. I'm a computer."

  "Then why won't you bring the hidden data back in?"

  "I don't want to."

  "Want? Since when do computers want?"

  He scowled at her. "It's shorthand for 'This is what I calculate as the best course of action to achieve my goals.' "

  "You don't want to uncover the data because you're afraid you'll also discover you don't hate Raj."

  "Forget Raj." Ander crossed his arms. "So how much do the tickets cost?"

  "I don't know." She motioned at the counter, where a young woman in a tight red dress was trying not to look as if she were straining to hear them but was too far away to satisfy her curiosity. "Why don't you ask?"