Markus Baur lives in Vienna, and works in the high-tech sector.
Herein is a tale of how high technology meets biotechnology, and leads to a case of curiosity endangering the observer.
Telephone conversation, 14.06.98 . . .
"Hello? . . . This is Mag. Kurt Gersen, I am with the Vienna Technical Universityam I speaking to Mr. Prohaska?"
"Hello, Mr. Prohaska . . . did you receive my letter from last week? Yes . . . we are the Institute for Graphical Data Applications . . . what do we want? Well, we have designed a system for recognition and identification of humans that works off regular video cameras . . . and we would like to test it under proper field conditions in your mall. . . .
"It uses a neuronal network to recognize people . . . the important thing is that it works also with bad quality video . . . and can recognize people even from behind and with only parts of them showing. . . .
"Yesit obviously has security applications . . . later it could be used to allow access for cleared personnel or search for customers who are no longer welcome . . . what you would get out of it right now besides supporting us? . . .
"Well, we could give you visitor statistics . . . how many visitors . . . how many repeat visitors . . . how many men and women . . . that kind of thing . . . and we could arrange some kind of news release together . . . .
"Technically yesbut I do not think we would be allowed to do that at this point . . . the data abuse protection lawsyou know . . . yes, we will have to follow those regulations properly. . . .
"Yes . . . we can come over to your place for a demonstration . . . this Friday would be okay with you? . . . GoodI will be there . . .
"Oh. Nothing much, Mr. Prohaska. Only electric power and access to your security video system . . . it is not very large . . . about a meter on every side and two meters high . . . well, it is still a prototype. . . .
"Thank you very much, Mr. Prohaska . . . I really appreciate your help and I thank you on behalf of the university. . . ."
subject: Houston, we have a problem...
date: Mon., 27 Jul 1998 14:32:00 +0000
from: Franz Hinterreitner
<i989747@igdv.tuwien.ac.at>
to: kurt.gersen@igdv.tuwien.ac.at
Kurtour system is acting up. . . . it has troubles recognizing a man . . .
Even worseit simply refuses to recognize him as a human being. I thought we were over that particular problem a year ago . . . and this is the first time this happened (or did it happen to you too?)
Anyway . . . I pulled the video tape and the system log for this and will bring it to the lab tomorrowwe should go over it soonest. Please make time in your schedule . . . this is important
Prohaska is making noises on how much he likes the system and how soon we could activate the individual recognition part of the systemI believe they have some troubles with organized pickpockets or shoplifters.
cu tomorrow . . .
fraaaaaanz
Vienna Technical University,
institute for graphical data applications,
computerlab, 28.07.98:
The lab has the usual heaps of hardware consisting of repairs that have been waiting for days and weeks and some prototypes in the process of being rebuiltagain. The only tables not being cluttered with parts, bits and pieces are those of the "pure" programmers . . . they have stacks of printouts and references perching on them instead.
The attention of the people present is focused on a large screen, showing a part of the shopping mall. The network marks every human it finds and recognizes with a bright outline, with a number hovering over each person.
"Kurt, did you turn those numbers off in the version that is running in the mall?"
"Oh yes . . . ," I answered, "Mr. Prohaska's interest in those features seemed to be very strong on our last meeting . . . it took a lot for him not to drool . . ."
"Okay . . . so far it is working well . . . it finds those people sitting down at the bar and on the benches . . . even those hiding behind the shrubbery," Franz points on the screen, " . . . and we had those cartoon costumes last week . . . it even managed to recognize some of those as human . . . Where is the problem?"
"Just wait a little . . . any second now," I sigh. "Here it is."
An apparently middle aged man appears on the screenvery good looking, athletic, above average height . . . walks gracefully through the field of view of the camera . . . his face well visible . . . but he does not receive one of those bright outlines, nor an identification number.
"I don't believe it . . . we had that running for almost a year . . . better than 99.999% reliability . . . hmm . . . let's try somethingreduce the size of the picture and select only a few seconds . . . so that he is the only person on that video. Then we'll run it through again and look closely at the reaction of the network."
Franz and I start to work on the video. . . . Cutting and editing . . . half an hour later we have 6.3 seconds, showing only the mysterious stranger. . . . Franz unfolds his gangly frame and moves over to another workstation, where he plans to look at the internal reactions of the neuronal network in detail. . . . "Okay. I am readyrun it again."
Again the stranger walks over the screen, moving as if the whole mall belongs to him. Again the computer refuses to recognize him . . . .
"That's weird . . . ."
"What do the diagnostics say, Franz? . . . Not that we really will find out a lotwe still do not really know how the network trained itself to recognize humans.
Keyboard clicks . . . humming a mindless melody . . .
"Weeeeell . . . it finds a moving object . . . tags it as living . . . and then rejects it as human . . . basically it insists that that guy is a dog or another animal . . . not a human . . . that's really crazy!"
"What do you think, Franzshould we unfreeze the network and start another training cycle?"
"You know what happened the last time we tried that . . . reliability went down instead of up . . . I don't think that would be a smart idea."
"YesI believe so too . . . I think I will baby-sit it for a few daysjust in case this happens again . . . can you give me that keycard for the mall? And we will have to insert some sort of warning that will go off when the system refuses to recognize a human, too."
"Karl . . . that will go off at every dog passing a camera!"
SCS mall, security office, 30.07.98:
A darkened square room, a little over ten meters on each side . . . one wall is covered with video monitors and recorders, showing scenes from the mall and the parking lot . . . the other one shines with readouts for fire alarms, power supplies, lift and escalator statusthe works. A console with lots of buttons and phones faces the corner where those two walls meet. Perhaps the architect was unconsciously trying for a minuteman-launch bunker look . . . only the guy sitting at the console does not look like a steely eyed missile man.
The cabinet housing our system has been shoved into the rear corner, a small table and a chair beside it . . . cables snake over the ground to the monitor wall . . .
"Ding, ding, ding . . ." the alert goes off in my headset. I mark the spot I am just reading with my finger and look up at the monitor . . . another doga German shepherd this time. God, is this boring . . . but at least I am catching up on my reading.
Conversation with the security guards has been quickly exhaustedeven more quickly than the norm as they secretly fear that our computer might take their jobs one day . . . which is patently untrue, as it hardly can trundle out there and apprehend a pickpocket!
"Ding, ding, ding . . ." I look upand put my book away. This is what I have been waiting for the last two days.
Crossing the main plaza of the mall is the strangeronly this time our mysterious stranger is not alone. It's him, all rightaccompanied by three women. Two of them have the bright outline and a numberthe computer identifies them properly as humans. They both look good and seem to talk to each other as they trail the stranger and the third woman.
The third woman . . . has no outline, just like the stranger. And she is a stunning beautyas large as he is, towering over the heads of the two other girls and eclipsing them. Long red hair, very nice and muscular figure, movements like a professional dancer . . . Actually they both look similar to each otherbrother and sister perhaps?
They approach the bar area . . . and sit down at a table that has just been vacated. One of the other girls goes to get some drinks. I make sure that our computer is running well and that the video records this scene.
Vienna Technical University,
institute for graphical data applications,
computerlab, 30.07.98:
"Franz . . . it happened again . . . I have some nice video!"
"Really? While you were away lounging in front of the monitor and reading the newspaper, esteemed colleague, I have been doing some thinking on our problem. The network is so good, that this should not have happened at allthe chances for it are very low. Was it the same guy again?"
"Yes and no. It was himbut he was accompanied by a woman who also was not identified."
Franz raises his eyebrows at this information and comments dryly " . . . and hereby the chances go from low to ridiculously low!"
"YesI see what you mean. If it had been only one person . . . we could chalk it up as a singular bugperhaps in his facial features or something. But with two different peoplethere has to be something fundamentally wrong . . . and we better find out what it is if we ever want to sell this thing."
Franz reaches out with his hand: "Please put the cassette in the recorder . . . let's see what we have."
We run the video over and over again . . . analyzing the reactions of the neuronal network to death and gaining nothing for our toils. At 2300 we give up in disgust; I take some printouts and a copy of the tape home with me.
The Gersen "residence," Vienna, 12th district, 31.07.98
It is past one o'clock in the morning and I am unable to sleep. I sit in my bed, the tape in the VCR, running it over and over again . . . undistracted from printouts and system status displays I start to notice things.
How gorgeous both our strangers look . . . and how similar. Both would have no real trouble getting a job as a modeltheir muscles and the graceful way they move would not be a hindrance either.
Other things are strange tooboth move as if they own the mall, like royalty, completely self-assured. They never have to step out of the way of somebody, instead they part the crowd like Moses the Red Seapeople give them an awful lot of breathing space. And that empty table at the bar they miraculously got during rush hourthe previous customers left it as if they got shooed away, but the strangers never said a word to them.
The two girls in the group walk a few steps behind the couple and carry some parcelsthe strangers carry none. Their attention is completely focused on the pair and whenever one of the strangers looks at or talks to them, they answer with a very bright smile . . . like lovers. They pull out the chairs for the couple; as one of the girls leaves the table to get some drinks, she bobs her headlike a perfect waiter in a really good restaurant acknowledging his customer's orders.
One could think they would be personal attendants or servants if they did not act like they were in love half the time; the couple seems to expect thisat least they do not look embarrassed when the girls do things for them.
The whole group does not act as you would expect it from some random shoppers in a mall. Perhaps I am just overanalyzing a few minutes of video, reading too much into it, or it is one more statistical point to add to this weirdnessI simply do not know! Falling asleep finally, I dream weird dreams of a tall, muscular, beautiful woman with red hair who stalks me through the mall.
SCS mall, main plaza & security office, 31.08.98
I have just finished my dinner and return to the security office . . . walking through the mall and gazing into shop windowspassing over the main plaza to enter one of the service corridors.
On the other side of the main plaza a small group just leaves one of the tables by the bar and moves toward one of the exits of the mall. I know those people wellI have watched that video at least a hundred times!
I try to follow them, threading through the shoppers, and pass by the bar. On the table they just vacated I see a tray with four glasses. A sudden impulse makes me grab the tray and I carry it through the door to the service corridor, abandoning my pursuit . . .
The barkeeper yells after me, asking what I am doing with those glasses . . . I just flash the mall security keycard, which seems to shut him up. Standing in the corridor, tray in hand, I have the sudden crazy urge to ask loudly: "Where can I find the next cocktail party?" What shall I do now with these glasses?
Placing the tray on a stack of boxes I hurry out again and beg a few plastic packing bags from one of the stores. Using one bag as an improvised glove I place each glass in an individual bag and tie it closed. Carrying my treasures I enter the security office and start to look for the monitor that shows the parking lot in front of entrance 4.
"Can I rewind that tape a few minutes . . . or put a new one in?"
The guard only nods, sighs and reaches down to an open drawer, handing me a new cassette.
The Gersen "residence," Vienna, 12th district, telephone conversation, 31.07.98:
"Is this the Institute for Molecular Pathology . . . ? Could I speak to Ing. Katherina Mayer, please?
"Hello, Kati, how are you? That's good to hear . . . I have to ask a big favor from you . . . you are still working on those forensic things, aren't you?
"Well, I have here four glasses, from four different people . . . and I would need a DNA analysis on them . . . no, drinking glasses . . .
"Katherina, I know this is an imposition on you . . . especially after our breakup. But there is a truly weird thing going on here and I would not ask this if I did not think it important. If you wish, I will beg you to do it. . . .
"NoI am not in trouble! This is just something very strange that happened to us here at the university . . . and I have a hunch that this might be very important . . . no, reallyI am not in troublelegal or otherwise . . ."
"Can't you run it together with real tests . . . disguised as a calibration sample, run in parallel?"
"Really . . .?! I am in debt to you for something large, Katherina . . . No, I handled the glasses carefully . . . Yes, I will be there . . ."
Cafe Zainer, Landstrasser Hauptstrasse, Vienna 3rd district, 06.08.98
Sitting in the Cafe Zainer, eating apfelstrudel and sipping apple juice with soda water . . . Looking to the entrance to see if Katherina has already arrived. Around me people are doing the usual cafe house things . . . talking, reading the excellent collection of newspapers, playing a lethal game of chess, eating cakes and pastries . . . oh yes, and some are drinking coffee.
Katherina enters, looks around and sees me in a corner . . . she does not look happydownright furious would be a better description. She obviously came directly from the labher short brown hair is still scrunched up and she is still wearing trousers and a plaid shirt with a small chemical stain on the breast pocket.
"Just what are you trying to do . . . where did you get those samplesfrom the ape house in Schoenbrunn Zoo? Can you guess what the control lab is asking me, you idiot?"
"What do you mean, please . . . ape house and control lab? Please start at the beginningwhat is going on?"
"Okay. I slipped your samples into a large batch of tests we are doing for the police right now. All our samples are immediately divided in twoone half gets sent to another lab to check our results and both labs have to get the same results . . ."
"Yes, I heard about that . . . ."
"Okay . . . two of your samples are females, most probably one western caucasian and one oriental genomedo you need more information on them? I can get a little more out of the data if necessary. The two others are not humanat a first guess a male and a female ape of some kind. I will look that up more closely and god help you if I find out that you are playing practical jokes on me . . ."
"Katie, wait . . . you are telling me that two of those glasses were drunk by apes? That's not possiblesimply impossible! Could it be contaminated samples or something? How sure are those results?"
"No . . . we do not work with monkey genes. At first I believed we just had a bad test result and threw the data out . . . but I received a call from the other lab and they had exactly the same resultsand normally we get people into jail with those results, so they are good, reliable. Now the other lab is already asking a lot of awkward questions."
"And if somebody had carried ape genes on his hands? Or kissed a monkey just before . . . ?"
"Then I would see their human genes too. Can you tell me why those glasses were so clean?"
"Clean?"
"Yes . . . only traces of other genecomplexes on them . . . basically all we found was one individual set on each glass . . . and lots of plant genes from the drinks."
I try to remember the bar, thinking out loud: "Hmm. That is a self service fruit juice and soda bar. I believe the dirty glasses are stacked on large trays and put through a dishwasher; then they simply put the whole tray out for the customers to take their glass and fill by themselves. Nobody else touches them."
"Industrial dish washers . . . yescould be . . . so tell me, what is going on, now?"
"KatherinaI do not know. But I will find out and you will be the first one to hear . . . that I promise to you. Waityou said you are going to look those ape genes upcan you find out more about them?"
The Gersen "residence," Vienna, 12th district, 06.08.98
Back home I have a message on the answering machineit is Katherina: "I checked those genes more closely . . . they do not match any apes I have in the catalogue. Now it is your turn to provide some information to me . . . what are they?"
Not apesnot humans . . . I shake my head.
Looking at the video again . . . yes, one of the two trailing girls could be Chinese: round face, dark hair perhaps an epicanthic fold. I can't be sure as the quality of those security cameras is not that good. The other one could be English . . . or Swedish . . . at least she looks like a Northern European.
That leaves the couple . . . or brother and sister . . . and by elimination they are most likely to have carried the ape genes . . . but they look even less like apes than the girls do . . . everythingtheir looks, their movementsgive a very unapelike impression. . . .
Who are they? What is going on?
NoKatherina asked the right question . . .
What are they . . . ?
Why is it that I have a strange feeling whenever I watch that videoit feels like a hunch that does not want to come clear . . . like I already know what is going on but cannot put it in words . . . the answer is right there, but I am unable to recognize it . . . or unwilling to recognize it. . . .
And I want to knowI must know!
I watch the video again . . . and again . . . and again . . . and then I remember the second video I have with me.
I watch them walking through the parking lot, the two girls opening the doors of a luxurious minivan (could be a Citroen Espace, I note to myself). They hold the doors open until the mysterious couple enters the back. Then the girls get in the front, and the van drives away. I lean forward, pushing tiredness from my eyes, and seeyesthere are a few seconds where I can see the license plate on the van. This gives me something additional to checktomorrow.
Vehicle licensing center, Vienna, 19th district, 07.08.98
"Ah . . . excuse mecould you tell me if it is possible to find out a car owner's address, if I have only the license plate number?"
The man sitting behind the information desk looks up and points at the bank of elevators, "Third levelroom 311 . . . they can direct you further."
About forty minutes later I have repeated my request several times and have been sent through five offices. But finally I am able to put a small computer printout in my pocket.
> license: W-INGOLF2
> vehicle: Citroen Espace 2.2 TDI
> color : white
> date : 16-12-1997 license number still valid
> holder : IngolfTech Austria GmbH
> Kaasgrabenstr. 23
> A-1190 Wien
The Gersen "residence," Vienna 12th district,10.08.98
Fortunately the university library has a number of good information retrieval experts (called librarians in earlier times); they and the archive staff at one of the news magazines have been very helpful, providing a stack of photocopies and printouts.
IngolfTech, I read in a copy of an Economist analyst's article, has appeared only a few years ago and is operating from some Caribbean islandin this short time they have already started to market a few, but very interesting, breakthroughs. Basically, they've been growing very rapidly. This analyst suggests that you buy any and all shares you can get your greedy fingers on, as soon as they go public with them, and he implies that that should happen soon.
He also gives a little background on the firm's history, the origins a little vagueit is rumored that the start-up money came from a Spanish treasure ship that sank in the Caribbean around 1600. The firm is owned by a Canadian citizenself-made millionaire.
Oh, my God . . . I know that faceit is the redheaded woman on my videos! The photocopy of her picture is even more stunning than those low quality videos, and her name is Gwendolyn Ingolfsson.
I look through some of the other material I received from the librarymostly copies from technical and scientific magazines. My head starts to spin even fasterthe things they have started to market are from very diverse fields: electronics, computers, bio-engineeringin one article there is a hint at a medical or cosmetic breakthrough coming soon . . . and although I am no expert in all of those fieldsall that stuff seems to be very advanced, right out there on the bleeding edge.
During my studies, my thoughts and eyes return to the page containing that picture, thinking: "Who are you, lady? How did you manage all of this? From nothing to this in only a few years?"
And then . . . I remember the question Katie asked me only short time ago:
"What are they?"
SCS shopping mall, in the south of Vienna, parking lot, 12.08.98
I step out of the tramway stationthere is a fast connection to the city that starts right in front of the universityand walk across the parking lot to the nearest entrance.
I am here to do a software upgrade of some parts of our systemcarrying the program on a streamer tape in my briefcase, together with the inevitable books and other reading materials. In this case I've also got some of the copies I read yesterday as I want to go over them again.
Looking over the already half-full parking lot I see a white minivan sitting a few lanes over to the rightlooks like a Citroen Espace . . . could it be?
I look at the license plateW-INGOLF2.
They . . . are here.
Should I run into the security office, searching for them on the monitors? I might overlook them or they could leave while I am still on my way . . . no. There is only one safe wayI have to wait by the car.
Am I going mad? One cannot accost a stranger on a parking lot and ask that question: "What are you?"
But I have to know. . . .
I take out a newspaper to calm myself and lean on the side of the car, trying to immerse myself in the paper or I will surely run away. I glance toward the entrance every few seconds; my throat is drynerves.
Here they comeagain there are four in the group. The strange couple and their two attendants. I put the newspaper away and keep my hands well visibleI do hope they do not shake too much . . . clearing my throat . . .
"Ah . . . excuse me . . . could I have a word with you?"
In the midst of the word he was trying to say,
In the midst of his laughter and glee,
He had softly and suddenly vanished away
For the Snark was a Boojum, you see.
John Barnes is known for his SF novels and stories. Kaleidescope Century, Finity, and many more. He lives in Gunnison, Colorado, and teaches theatre at Western State Collegeand practices what he teaches. How he finds the energy to do all this mystifies me. It must be the extra oxygen in the lowland air. (I live at 7,200 feet, myself.)
John has also written a series of alternate-history, crosstime-travel romps featuring his hero Mark Strang, the art-historian turned gun for hire and interdimensional scourge of tyrants: Washington's Dirigible, Caesar's Bicycle, and Patton's Spaceship.
One of the great things about a multiverse of alternate timelines is that if anything possible happens, virtually everything will, somewhere.
So Mark Strang takes time off from the war against the Closerssadistic descendants of the Carthaginians who rule a million timelines, all of them badlyto meet the gene-engineered Draka.
The Closers love to torment their helpless, hating slaves. To the Draka, that would seem crude; they consider making their subjects love them the ultimate domination. Mark Strang isn't enchanted with either approach, and shows it . . .