Read Online Protocol 7 by Armen Gharabegian - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Armen Gharabegian
Ads: Link
tightly on the holographic chessboard that floated between them.
Hayden knew that. He knew her next move, and his next move, and her response three moves ahead. He just didn’t know why he continued to automatically, unalterably, refer to the ever-shifting concentration of metal and digital technology that ‘sat’ across from him as a female.
Teah was many things, but female was not one of them. Hayden was constantly upgrading Teah, so he barely gave her the proper outward appearance that more conventional robots were fashioned with. No silicone outer layer nor a proper adjustment of the wiring modules. In Teah’s mind she was female, and that was all that mattered.
“Andrew is calling again,” Teah said. “Something about a dinner you’re invited to?”
“I had no recollection. Ignore it,” he instructed. “You can’t get hold of me.”
Teah gave him the robotic equivalent of a non-committal shrug. “As you wish.”
He swept up his chipped ceramic mug from its precarious perch on a stack of broken modules and drained the last of the scotch from it in one long, grateful pull. He often wondered why he bothered with the intermediate receptacle; when he got in moods like this, he should just grab the bottle of Glennfiddich and suck it down straightaway. But no, he told himself as he filled the mug to the rim again. That’s what drunks do. Not me. I’m just a certified genius with a bit of a drinking issue. That’s what everyone says, anyway.
He looked away from the chess game, up and out at the three enormous platforms that always made him think of three cocoons. They were vast curved cradles, each one wider than a house, two of them filled with the curved hulls of his enormous, half-finished vehicles, all gleaming metal plate and bursting tangles of fiber optic conduits. They were his greatest creations.
One held a construct that was quite nearly complete; the gaps in its superstructure were few and far between. A few more parts and a few more hours of cybernetic assembly, then diagnostics could begin on that one, he knew. The other scarcely half-done, awaiting new components and materials.
The third cradle was empty. Clean. Nicked and scuffed from recent activity, but otherwise…abandoned now.
And maybe forever, Hayden thought as he took another solid swallow from his mug.
He tapped at a glowing patch next to the chessboard.
“No word yet?” Teah enquired politely. He had asked her to keep him company while he ran a set of benchmark tests on a key cavitation module; he’d even powered up the unit so it displayed an impressive array of twinkling lights and holographic status charts. But it was all a sham. He was running tests, that much was true…
…But he was running them, very quietly, on Teah.
His attention was pulled back to the chess game as she made the countermove he had expected. He knew she could have made it an instant after his own move, but she had waited what she thought was an appropriate amount of time before reacting, just to seem more human. He countered swiftly this time, just as he had planned. She responded with her own counter, equally anticipated. And now it was Hayden’s turn to pretend to stop and think.
Where does reasonable caution end and paranoia begin, he asked himself. He had to stifle a smile. Probably right around the same place that social drinking ends and alcoholism picks up the slack. Nevertheless, simply cautious or paranoid, drunk or sober, it was true: he didn’t trust Teah anymore. He wasn’t quite sure why, but he simply did not trust her.
So far, however, her diagnostics were clean. No hidden programs, no spiders or worms. Not even an old-fashioned virus. She was clean and in optimal operational mode. Everything you would expect from a seventh-generation AI in 2039.
Then why does she keep asking so many questions? he wondered. Why was she always there, whenever he was working on some crucial element of the project, and especially whenever his
Hayden knew that. He knew her next move, and his next move, and her response three moves ahead. He just didn’t know why he continued to automatically, unalterably, refer to the ever-shifting concentration of metal and digital technology that ‘sat’ across from him as a female.
Teah was many things, but female was not one of them. Hayden was constantly upgrading Teah, so he barely gave her the proper outward appearance that more conventional robots were fashioned with. No silicone outer layer nor a proper adjustment of the wiring modules. In Teah’s mind she was female, and that was all that mattered.
“Andrew is calling again,” Teah said. “Something about a dinner you’re invited to?”
“I had no recollection. Ignore it,” he instructed. “You can’t get hold of me.”
Teah gave him the robotic equivalent of a non-committal shrug. “As you wish.”
He swept up his chipped ceramic mug from its precarious perch on a stack of broken modules and drained the last of the scotch from it in one long, grateful pull. He often wondered why he bothered with the intermediate receptacle; when he got in moods like this, he should just grab the bottle of Glennfiddich and suck it down straightaway. But no, he told himself as he filled the mug to the rim again. That’s what drunks do. Not me. I’m just a certified genius with a bit of a drinking issue. That’s what everyone says, anyway.
He looked away from the chess game, up and out at the three enormous platforms that always made him think of three cocoons. They were vast curved cradles, each one wider than a house, two of them filled with the curved hulls of his enormous, half-finished vehicles, all gleaming metal plate and bursting tangles of fiber optic conduits. They were his greatest creations.
One held a construct that was quite nearly complete; the gaps in its superstructure were few and far between. A few more parts and a few more hours of cybernetic assembly, then diagnostics could begin on that one, he knew. The other scarcely half-done, awaiting new components and materials.
The third cradle was empty. Clean. Nicked and scuffed from recent activity, but otherwise…abandoned now.
And maybe forever, Hayden thought as he took another solid swallow from his mug.
He tapped at a glowing patch next to the chessboard.
“No word yet?” Teah enquired politely. He had asked her to keep him company while he ran a set of benchmark tests on a key cavitation module; he’d even powered up the unit so it displayed an impressive array of twinkling lights and holographic status charts. But it was all a sham. He was running tests, that much was true…
…But he was running them, very quietly, on Teah.
His attention was pulled back to the chess game as she made the countermove he had expected. He knew she could have made it an instant after his own move, but she had waited what she thought was an appropriate amount of time before reacting, just to seem more human. He countered swiftly this time, just as he had planned. She responded with her own counter, equally anticipated. And now it was Hayden’s turn to pretend to stop and think.
Where does reasonable caution end and paranoia begin, he asked himself. He had to stifle a smile. Probably right around the same place that social drinking ends and alcoholism picks up the slack. Nevertheless, simply cautious or paranoid, drunk or sober, it was true: he didn’t trust Teah anymore. He wasn’t quite sure why, but he simply did not trust her.
So far, however, her diagnostics were clean. No hidden programs, no spiders or worms. Not even an old-fashioned virus. She was clean and in optimal operational mode. Everything you would expect from a seventh-generation AI in 2039.
Then why does she keep asking so many questions? he wondered. Why was she always there, whenever he was working on some crucial element of the project, and especially whenever his
Similar Books
