Reborn. Lance Erlick
Machten’s commands and were subject to him wiping her clean.
* * * *
Donald Zeller, CEO of Metro-Cyber-Tech, and Jim Black, CEO of Purple Dynamics, drove from different suburbs toward the same location, a forest preserve several miles from Evanston. There were no traffic cameras or other surveillance of the wooded area to provide evidence of a secret meeting between the two rival executives.
Their companies, Machten’s former company, and one other formed what NSA Director Zephirelli referred to as the four sisters. The companies all began in the Chicago area about the same time. Their goal was to create artificial intelligence androids that could operate in public to perform various jobs or act as personal companions. Properly designed, some of their androids could have superior capabilities to Synthia, making her obsolete.
Zeller and Black left their cars, glanced around warily, and shook hands. Zeller was the taller of the two. They both looked like lab geeks dressed up in uncomfortable office attire.
Jim Black turned his back to his counterpart’s car. “You said it was urgent.”
Donald Zeller plunged his hands deep into his pants pockets, tugging his belt against his paunchy hips. “For the past year, Jeremiah Machten has kept a low profile. He rarely appears in public. We haven’t found a single instance of traffic-camera footage on him for weeks.”
“So you have been hacking the citywide system.” Black’s intonation sounded surprised, though he didn’t look it.
“Let’s not quibble. You’ll thank me later.”
“What’s the jerk up to? Don’t tell me the company’s taking him back.”
“I only have sketchy data,” Donald Zeller said. “M-G-M has been sliding sideways since they ousted him. We’ve interviewed several of their engineers and tech people, even hired one. From what I’ve pieced together, they have great people, but they lack the inspiration to bring their robotics to life. They would do well to rehire Machten, but Goradine is a piece of work, brilliant with the numbers but no concept of how to build robotics, let alone artificial intelligence.”
“I was surprised Machten partnered with him in the first place. He’s too much of a loner.”
“We’re convinced he was on track to create a humaniform robot.”
“One that could pass for human?” Jim Black asked.
Zeller nodded. “It could even fool airport security scans.”
“That would be a coup. You say he’s done this even though the government forbids it and got each of us to sign the agreement?”
“Goradine canned him for spending the company into the ground on that fantasy.”
“So it’s not a fantasy,” Black said.
Zeller gave an enigmatic smile.
“You think he continued his work in private?” Black asked, sneaking a glance over his shoulder. “I didn’t think he had any money.”
“I don’t know what he’s up to. My people wrote him off as a hopeless dreamer. I’m not so sure. A few months ago I spotted him with some unsavory financial types. Right now my people tell me he’s meeting with Technicorp Banking.”
“Really?”
“I couldn’t hear what was said,” Zeller said, “but if he gets funding, it can only mean one thing.”
“He believes he has a workable idea.”
Zeller nodded. “After we signed that government agreement, we haven’t devoted any time or resources to humaniform. We approached Machten about meeting to figure out what he’s up to. He won’t return calls or messages. He’s become a hermit.” Zeller moved closer and lowered his voice. “I’ll be honest. We’ve done well with our part of the military robotics program, though our engineers are still overcoming difficulties with getting the brain to meet certain DOD requirements.”
“Same with us.” Black rubbed the back of his neck. “Do you ever worry about the singularity?”
“It was why I got into this work. Whoever creates a fully-functioning humaniform will not only get bragging rights and notoriety, they’ll land huge contracts. You and I have had our differences, but together, I think we can crack this android prize the government put out there.”
“I take it you got the same invitation we did?” Black asked.
Donald Zeller grinned. “Yeah, and I’d rather work with you than in competition with you. Together, we might win this. Apart, I’m afraid of what Machten is capable of if he can avoid bankruptcy.”
“You think Machten has perfected a humaniform robot?”
“It can’t be a coincidence he was meeting with bankers today with that prize in play.”
“If I agree to work with you,” Black said, “we have to do this aboveboard, no illegal surveillance.”
“I wouldn’t dream of dragging your pristine butt down that path. I’ll have my attorneys draft something for your perusal. Fifty-fifty split, of course.”
Black nodded. “I’d like nothing better than beating Machten at his own game and acquiring whatever he’s discovered.”
“I not only want to beat Machten,” Zeller said, “I want to own him.”
Chapter 5
Synthia’s citywide tracking located Machten driving his SUV toward the facility’s underground garage. She backtracked through traffic cameras to an office in an abandoned warehouse recently refurbished into small offices upstairs and an open makers-prototyping facility below. Since Machten had his own 3-D printing and prototyping, she couldn’t pinpoint the purpose of his visit. She discovered no Wi-Fi cameras to access inside for a closer look.
The street camera showed a man in causal business attire leaving the building a few minutes before Machten did. She ran his image against facial recognition software and identified him as an investment banker with Technicorp Banking. Evidently, her Creator was raising money, likely to make more of her. That didn’t bode well.
Synthia accessed the facility security cameras covering the underground garage. Machten parked his SUV in his usual spot in the lower level and glanced around. When he climbed out, a tall man with stooped posture stepped from behind a pillar and greeted him. From facial expressions and an awkward greeting, it appeared that Machten knew the man, yet wasn’t happy to see him. Synthia hunted for a way to listen in. There was only video with the garage cameras and Machten had his phone off. He wasn’t accepting calls and clearly didn’t want anyone tracking him.
Synthia resorted to reading lips.
“I need to speak with you,” the other man said.
He straightened up and glanced behind him. Synthia didn’t see anyone else in the garage in natural light or on a separate infrared camera aimed at the garage.
Machten motioned for the other man to enter the back lobby entrance of the underground facility.
Synthia scanned Machten’s system and internet databases for information on the visitor. The man was not one of the partners in the company that fired Machten. Warren Rutherford was, however, a colleague from those days, a technical engineer Machten had hired. Warren still worked for the company.
“What’s this all about?” Machten asked after they entered the back lobby. There was no receptionist, though there was an empty desk where one might have sat. It faced a back door into the underground garage where a single vehicle parked. Next to the desk was a door governed by triple security: eye, voice, and thumbprint.
Synthia turned up the volume to the lobby microphone and recorded.
Rutherford nervously looked around and tucked his shirt collar up until it concealed his neck. “I’m sorry we have to meet like this. You know how it