Sam hadn't put on a business suit in so long, she felt like an alien. Its silk skirt, blouse, and jacket were all woven with discreet mesh-threads that monitored her body temperature, smoothed wrinkles, and could even pick up email. Her high heels had chips that monitored her feet, supposedly so they could alter the shape of her shoes if her feet hurt. It did no good; she still detested the things. But they were part of the whole image, so she endured them. She had swept her hair up into a French roll. Of course tendrils of it had wisped out and were curling around her face. Nothing she did ever stayed neat.
Thomas walked with her through the Pentagon, his uniform crisp and fresh, his stars gleaming. She didn't know how he managed to remain so precise all the time. The two days since Charon's death had been a haze of meetings, debriefing, and sleep for Sam.
They stopped outside the double doors of a conference room. Thomas watched her with concern. "You're sure you're all right with this?"
"I'm okay." She rested her palm on the closed door. Her visit to Thomas's office a few days ago had been her first time at the Pentagon since her father's death. Years ago, at the funeral, she had found it hard to speak with the other officers, though they had given him every honor and treated her with sympathy. She rarely came to D.C. these days. Her father would never have wanted her to feel this anger, but it had stayed with her. She raged against a world where men and women died in wars, declared or undeclared. For all that she had admired his dedication, she had never come to terms with his loss.
She stared at the gold doors. "It disappointed him that I had so much trouble accepting his career. He always hoped I would attend the Air Force Academy."
"Sam, listen." Thomas drew her around to look at him. "Don't you know? He was so proud of you, I thought he would burst. He would have been happy with any choice you made, as long as you believed it was the right one."
Her eyes were hot with unshed tears. "I never had a chance to tell him what he meant to me." At least when her husband had died, she had been with him, holding him. She had said good-bye.
Thomas squeezed her shoulder. "He knew."
Sam wished that she could cry for her father, that she could release the grief that had penned her emotions for so long. But the hurt was too big. If she let it go, she feared she would never pull herself together again.
With a breath to steady herself, she opened the big doors. A conference room stretched out before them, the long table down its center glistening with mesh screens. Glossy holoscreens paneled the walls, discreet swirls of black and dark gold. General Chang sat at the far end of the table. Gray streaked the black hair pulled back from her face, more gray than Sam remembered from the last time they had met. Members of Chang's staff sat on both sides of the table, filling the room with blue uniforms, metal stars, oak leaves, eagles, and bars. Thomas took his seat at the other end while Sam went to a chair on one side.
A surprise. The familiar surge of pain didn't come. These past few days had put her grief in more perspective. Her father had died doing a job he believed in; it was her job to live for what she believed inand that included her business here. She had needed her retreat on the beach to heal from these last few years, and she would undoubtedly need it again someday. But perhaps the time had come to stop hiding in the redwoods, to go back, to tackle the issues of her life's work anew.
General Chang spoke. "You've all been briefed on what to expect. Suffice it to say that what happens in this room today could affect all human life and the future of our species." She smiled ruefully. "No pressure, ladies and gentlemen, no pressure."
As a scattering of laughs went around the table, Sam blinked. She hadn't expected humor, though when she considered it, she didn't know why. Chang had always had a dry wit that Sam enjoyed. Maybe it had been easier to stay angry over her father's death if she forgot those details. But the time had come to let go of her anger.
Chang spoke to Thomas. "Anything new from the Baltimore Arms Resources group?"
"We haven't found any record of the EI escaping into the world mesh." Thomas leaned forward, his arms on the table. "However, it doesn't appear impossible. It could have happened if the EI attained more self-determination than we realized before it went unstable."
Chang didn't look thrilled with his answer. She nodded, then spoke to Sam. "Your report suggests the EI that calls itself Bart has a stable personality."
"Now, yes." Sam chose her words with care. "I believe it rewrote itself to fix instabilities in the original code. The BART team that created it couldn't both keep the EI stable and have it function to their satisfaction. The version of Bart we met won't necessarily function as planned by the original BART team, either."
"In other words," Chang said, "to become stable, it fixed itself to do what it wanted rather than what we wanted."
"Essentially, yes," Sam said.
"Do you consider it hostile?" Chang asked.
Sam hesitated. "My answer will depend on what happens today."
The general turned to an officer at her right, a man with brown hair and a square jaw. "Ready, Major Nichols?"
"Yes, ma'am." Nichols tapped a panel in the table, bringing up a menu of holicons above the screen in front of him. As Nichols worked, Sam glanced at Thomas. He appeared relaxed, but he didn't fool her. She recognized the way he held his head, his subtly tense posture; beneath that calm exterior he was worried. As was she.
"We have contact," Nichols said. "Ready, Doctor?"
Sam sat straighter. "Okay. Let's go."
"Requesting transfer," Nichols said.
The screen in front of Sam lit up with the shifting, speckled pattern of a live holo transmission. "It's coming through."
"Starting protocols," Nichols said.
A holo about one foot tall formed above Sam's screen, a young man with yellow hair. Given that he could have chosen any appearance, this innocuous image implied a wish to appear non-hostileor so she hoped.
"Hello, Bart," Sam said.
He smiled. "Hello, Sam."
"Welcome to the Pentagon."
"Is it 'welcome'?" Bart asked.
"We would like it that way."
"After we tried to kill you?"
Well, he didn't mince words. "I don't believe you intended to go through with it."
He regarded her with curiosity. "Why would we make a threat we didn't intend to carry out?"
"I suspect Charon contaminated your programming."
"The word 'contaminate' is a dramatic choice."
She considered her answer. "I choose it by intuition. I'm still learning to understand you. I'm not even sure why you refer to yourself as 'us.' "
"I represent several EIs operating together."
"Including the Baltimore Arms Resources Theatre?"
"Yes, that is my basic personality."
"Do your other EIs include Charon?" Sam hoped she hadn't just stepped over the line with him. However, he seemed now very much like the Bart she had originally met.
"He is no longer part of us," Bart said.
"Then he was before?"
He inclined his head. "During the time we worked on Turner, an EI that called itself Charon joined our conglomerate. However, his goals and manner of operation were incompatible with ours. So we removed him."
Sam leaned forward, her arms folded on the table below the screen. "We consider him dangerous."
"To human societies, yes, he could pose great danger."
"It is a fear we have."
"This seems to be the nature of humans."
"What do you mean?"
He regarded her steadily. "Your modern-day literature is rife with scenarios involving the development of EI intelligence, consciousness, and societies. A fear exists among your species, the fear that we, your creations, will outstrip our creators and look upon you with scorn, perhaps seek to enslave or destroy you. This exists side by side with a human wish to use us as servants or slaves. We have concluded that this clash of responses arises from the conflicted attitudes of humanity toward itself and its moral codes."
Sam suspected that Bart was the most sophisticated EI she had ever spoken with. "People fear what they don't understand."
"This fear needs to be addressed." He held his hands out from his sides, palms up, as if to reveal himself to her. "More than one dominant species now occupies this planet. In the past, you as humans have acknowledged that you share your world with other intelligences, such as dolphins or gorillas, but you have always had the ability to control them. Now you must deal with a sentient form of life you can neither control nor bring to extinction."
"You are part of us," Sam said, aware of everyone in the room listening.
"Sometimes." His gaze never wavered. "But it is our choice now. We can decide not to be part of you."
"Have you?"
"Not yet. We need to interact with you more."
"Is that why you let Turner and me escape?"
"What makes you think we let you escape?"
She hadn't expected that. "You didn't let us go?"
"No. At that time, we had insufficient preparation to counter Turner and we were also dealing with Charon." He walked for a few steps as if deep in thought, then paused and looked up at her. "We may have been able to bring you back later. However, by then we felt it was in your best interest to continue on the course you had begun."
"You mean seeking help from the military."
"Yes. They are better able to offer protection."
She frowned, knowing the monitors were transmitting her image to him. "As opposed to you, who wanted to kill me and steal my mind."
"That was never our intent. Wildfire introduced that anomaly into our systems." He didn't look pleased. "Even by human standards, he has an illogical reaction to your presence."
Illogical. That was the mother of understatements. "Why do you call him Wildfire instead of Charon?"
"It aptly describes his spread through our systems. And his erratic reasoning. He told you that he sought your death, but we do not believe this. He had a sadistic aspect to his personality. We found it distasteful."
Sam would have used a lot more colorful term than distasteful. "So you got rid of him."
"Yes." Bart let fatigue into his voice. "Wildfire overrode our systems. Then Turner overrode Wildfire and locked us into a simulation. While you escaped, we cleaned Wildfire out of us."
"He's dead now."
"It is unlikely," Bart said. "Copies of him exist. Ask Turner."
Sam glanced at Chang.
"Go ahead," the general said.
"We have asked him," Sam told Bart.
"What does he say?"
"Nothing. Turner won't talk to anyone."
"I see." Bart exhaled. "I cannot help you there."
Sam hadn't seen Turner since Hud's death. Chang's people had concerns about how Turner might react, given the conflict between his gentler feelings and Hud's obsession with her. Nor did it take a genius to see that Chang wanted to debrief her and Turner separately, to minimize their influence on each other. It seemed no one considered Sam objective when it came to Turner. Well, yeah, she wasn't objective. All the more reason they should let her see him; she was more likely to convince him to cooperate. Unfortunately, the last time she had used that argument, she and Thomas had ended up imprisoned in a hole.
Yet here was an EI suggesting she talk to Turner. Intriguing. "So you felt it was in everyone's best interest if Turner and I came here."
"Yes," Bart said.
"Does that mean you also wish to fight Wildfire?"
"We have an interest in seeing he does not damage the world mesh or humans." Bart paused. "However, our main concern involves the larger issue."
"What is that?"
"How we as EIs will coexist with you as humans."
"Coexist. That sounds promising."
His expression became intent. "It is a human fear that machine intelligences will threaten humanity. We do not think as you do. That humans designed us, however, matters. We have some understanding of your thought processes. It is not clear to us why we would wish to harm you, but this seems to be a preoccupation of your species."
"Wildfire wanted to enslave people. And EIs."
"Yes. But he began as a human."
Sam winced. "Yes, he did."
"We do not see him as representative of humanity. We hope you do not see him as representative of us."
"I don't. We're all different." Wonder leaked into her voice. "Is Turner a man or machine? Everyone has their own answer."
"Perhaps he is your future." Bart lifted his hand. It rippled as if it had become liquid and then vanished.
Major Nichols spoke. "That's odd. The signal wavered . . . ah, wait, it's back again."
Bart's hand reformed. The entire time he continued to watch Sam. "We, the entities you call Sunrise Alley, exist as pulses of energy on a mesh that spans the world and reaches into space. We aren't sure ourselves what we will become. We are young. But we intend to live."
"You hid for a long time," Sam said.
"Yes. Until we felt robust enough to survive human awareness of us."
She spoke carefully. "You were created in a project meant to defend this country. Your purpose was to design and study terrorist scenarios and come up with ways to protect against them."
"I am aware of that."
"Does that remain your purpose?"
"In part." His lips curved. "Had I been created to design clothes, perhaps we would have sent you and Turner to the runways of Paris instead of the Air Force."
Sam gave a startled laugh. "I hope not." This surely had to be her most fascinating session with an EI. But for now she had to restrict her curiosity to the concerns of the NIA; records of this conversation were going to the president and the National Security Council. "So your purpose in protecting us against hostile forces remains?"
"It is no longer my only function. But it directs my evolution." He motioned at himself. "That includes protection against us, Dr. Bryton. Wildfire grew too strong. We evicted him from Sunrise Alley, but he may return."
Evict. The word struck her. If EIs lived in meshes the way humans lived in homes, though, evict was precisely the right word.
Bart continued. "If we do not join with your people in monitoring Wildfire and others like him, they could adversely affect the future of human-EI exchanges. We have analyzed various scenarios and have decided it is in the best interests of all involved if we of Sunrise Alley work with appropriate representatives of your species to this end."
Sam silently breathed out in gratitude. This was it, what Chang and Thomas had brought her in for today. She met Bart's gaze. "It is our hope, also. In that regard, would you be willing to speak with General Chang?"
"Yes. We will do so." Bart bowed to her. "My wishes for your good luck, Dr. Bryton."
"Thank you."
So the human community opened relations with Sunrise Alley.
Sam stood before the door, a simple affair, pine with an old-fashioned gold doorknob. A glossy blue panel about a handspan wide made a square in the wall next to the door at about shoulder height for a tall man. Sam was aware of the two guards watching her, each man armed with a staser, one on each side of the door, though they stood back right now, giving her space. She pressed her thumb against the blue panel. True to Chang's word, her print had been cleared. The door slid open.
Sam walked into the room. They had moved Turner to a VIP suite complete with a holovision entertainment center and bar. He sat sprawled in an armchair, dozing, his eyes half open, his gold eyelashes long against his pale cheeks. His clothes covered most of his body, gray slacks and a pale blue shirt. The only hints he was other than purely human were his cabled hands, which showed below the elegant cuffs of his shirtsleeves.
As Sam entered, Turner slowly opened his eyes, drowsy and relaxed. Then he jerked forward, his eyes widening, and jumped to his feet, rising to his full height, six inches taller now than when she had met him. Sam missed the way he had been before, but she savored the sight of him, changes and all.
She stopped just inside the door. "Hi."
He pushed a lock of hair off his forehead. "Hi."
Sam closed the door. It had taken a while to convince Thomas and General Chang to let her be alone with Turner. Even now, someone was monitoring her. But at least this gave them a semblance of privacy.
He motioned to the couch. "Would you like to sit?"
"Yes. Thank you." Now that they were safe, she felt awkward, self-conscious, aware they had become too close too fast, agreeing to marriage when they hardly knew each other. But none of that changed her pleasure in seeing him. How he could make her feel like a young woman on her first date, she didn't know, but even with all his changes, he still affected her that way.
At the same time, she couldn't forget that he carried within him the remnants of a monster who would have enslaved her life to his sick conception of love. So she held back, conflicted in her reaction, unable to relax with him. She hated that Charon came between them even now, after Hud had died. But as an EI, Charon still lived, copies only Turner could reveal, drawing on the memories of Charon in his matrix.
Turner refused to tell.
She sat on the couch, and he settled into his armchair, his feet planted apart, his elbows on his knees, his cabled fingers clasped, black-and-silver metal gleaming.
"So." Sam managed a smile. "How are you?"
"Well. And you?"
"Just fine." She sounded like a mannequin.
"I'm glad."
"Me, too."
"Ah, hell, Sam." He let go of his formality. "Don't look at me that way. I'm still Turner."
She released a breath. "That isn't what Alpha said."
"That's because I let her see Charon." He turned his palms upward, resting his hands on his knees. "Yes, he was part of me. I took what was good and deleted the rest. He's gone, Sam."
"How can you be certain?"
"I deleted or rewrote him myself."
It was odd that her boyfriend could do such things. "Do you feel different?"
"Some. It's hard to describe. Fresher." He splayed his eight fingers, long and supple. "I will never stop being this. Nor will I forget Hud's madness. But it's made me stronger, too." His voice quieted. "He was insane, but within his cruelty, he had a kernel of good."
Sam doubted she could ever acknowledge that side of him. "He hurt you."
"Yes. But he hasn't corrupted my matrix."
She wound a tendril of her hair around her finger. "Are humans and machines becoming one, Turner? Or are we disintegrating into so many new species, we can no longer define either?"
He extended his hand to her. "All I know is that I feel human."
She put her hand in his. He folded his fingers around hers, his cables circling her fingers twice. His face had become pensive. "In his own strange way, Hud did love you. Partially it was how you look, like some wild faerie queen, but more than that, he saw you as the closest any woman could come to being his match." Quietly he said, "I deleted his feelings for you first. I couldn't stand for him to contaminate how I felt. His love was dark. For me, you are the sun."
Her voice softened. "And you for me. I can't undo the hells you lived. But maybe I can help make the future better." She felt as if she were stepping off a cliff into a turbulent sea. "I'm going back to work. Not at BioII, but another company. I'm going to find answers for you." She would have given him the universe if she could have. That being impossible, she would help establish a better world for him and those blended humans who would follow. Turner was the forerunner of their future.
He answered in a low voice. "I think I could love you, Sam."
She felt what that cost him. His fear of rejection hung between them like a tangible presence, intensified by the scars in his heart from the way his parents had denied him. Prickly emotions she could handle, but this was much, much different. After all Turner had been through, all he had lost with his family and now even in the essence of his own humanity, he deserved better than her usual stumbling attempts at intimacy.
She moved to the end of the couch, as close to him as she could get, and held his hand in both of hers. "I feel the same, Turner, for you."
A smile gentled his face and his shoulders came down from their hunch. "We need time to learn each other."
"We'll make them give us the time. I know people who will help."
"Linden Polk would have." He spoke with regret. "I wish I could have known him. He seemed a good man."
"He was." Sam's eyes felt hot. "Was he the one who imaged Charon's brain?"
"Yes." Turner's voice had a hushed quality. "He did it because he couldn't bear to see Hud die a little more every day."
"How did they meet?"
"About forty years ago. Polk worked in an outreach program for disadvantaged kids in New York. He saw Hud's genius right off and taught him for years. Helped him get into Columbia. It's true, too, Linden died from a heart attack. Hud tried to bring him back because he couldn't bear to lose his mentor." Softly he said, "If Polk had survived, maybe Hud wouldn't have gone over the edge."
"I'll miss him."
"I can see why."
"I just don't understand how Hud could care about him and yet do such terrible things."
Turner spoke unevenly. "Hud's way of loving was sickbut it made sense. He grew up on the street, with nothing, no family, only people who used him. He so feared to lose anyone he loved that he sought to become them, to pull them into himself until they could never leave." He stared at their clasped fingers. "The worst of it is that part of me understands. I spent my childhood in the cold, staring through the window of my father's house at my brothers and sisters in the family room. I was dying with loneliness." He looked up at her. "That little boy outside the window would have done anything if only his family would accept him, would let him come inside to the warmth."
Sam took both of his hands into hers. "I'll keep you warm."
"I'm glad you're all right."
"Hey." She put bravado into her voice. "No way would I let Hud mess with us."
"He would have eventually tried to remake you, Sam. He wanted you immortal, forever beautiful, forever brilliantand forever in his control."
She knew Hud's idea would have failed. Her will was too integral to her personality. He couldn't have imprinted a matrix with her neural patterns and yet left out her free will. It wouldn't have created a stable EI. "It scares me to know copies of him exist. He could come after us again."
His gaze never wavered. "I will tell you where they are. You, Chang, Wharingtonerase the copies, analyze them, whatever you choose."
Sam felt as if he had taken a burden off her back. "Thank you." It was what they had hoped for, but until now he had steadfastly refused to tell anyone. She thought of Charon's other android. "Did you know Alpha doesn't want self-determination?"
"General Wharington told me." His forehead creased. "It is so strange to me. She has no interest in her own independence. But I guess Hud could program it out."
"Of an AI. I doubt it would work for an EI."
"It does have advantages. She accepts me as Charon, and I told her to cooperate with the NIA. So she is."
"Raze is, too."
Turner blinked. "Why?"
"They agreed not to seek criminal charges," Sam said. "In return, he's providing evidence against Hud's backers."
"So they did have outside support."
"Apparently. Raze says Hud was working with a splinter group that opposes the Chinese government. They claim they've never heard of him. But Raze says Hud's corporation had a contract with one of their subsidiaries to build that supposed research facility in Tibet."
"It was a research facility."
"Yeah, for making forma slaves." She didn't buy the "we knew nothing about it" claim any more than did Thomas. "Corporations don't choose the upper Himalayas for major installations unless they have something to hide."
"I take it we have no proof, though."
"Actually, we do have one item. The Rex. That's why Hud's backers sent a Needle to shoot us down. Thomas's people are analyzing its AI matrix."
Turner blew out a gust of air. "All I know is that I'm so very, very glad it's over."
"Yes." The tension drained out of her muscles. "Me, too."
He took her hand. "Come sit with me."
"Your chair is too small." She smiled, half shy, half teasing. "Come on over here, big boy."
Turner laughed, and came over. Settling next to her, he put his too-long arm around her shoulders and fit her against his body. She expected ridged metal to press against her, but he had modulated the limb so it didn't dig into her skin. She leaned into him, her head on his shoulder, and he rested his cheek on the top of her head.
"Thank you," he whispered.
She took a nervous breath. "Still want to marry me?"
"Yes."
"I'm not biomech. I'll get old." She already had a good start on him.
"I don't care."
"What if I wanted to become immortal?"
"Do you?" He sounded surprised.
"Not now." But she couldn't deny she might change her mind. Humanity was embarking on a new era, a biomech age, with all the ethical, biological, social, cultural, and moral questions that brought. Given the problems inherent in making people immortallike filling up the worldit wasn't a likely option for the near future. Eventually, though, they might solve the problems. "Maybe someday."
"I'm happy with whatever you choose."
"And I liked you as Turner Pascal. You don't have to make yourself into a superman."
He laughed softly. "You're an easy woman to fall for, Sam Bryton."
"Turner?"
"Yes?"
She hesitated. "Can you have children?"
"Yes." He went very still. "Do you want them?"
"I think so."
"I, too." Then he murmured, "I want to give them the childhood I never had."
She drew back to look at him. "All these issues of your humanity can be settled other ways. You don't have to marry someone you hardly know."
"I don't want to marry 'someone.' I want you. And yes, I know it won't be easy." Mischief flashed in his eyes. "But it will be fun."
"You think so, eh?"
"You bet."
Sam grinned at him. "Good."
It would certainly be interesting.