The Unsung Frame, page 17
part #2 of The Synth Crisis Series
“Of course I do, I suspected as much. The shuttle port, and all those people dying … it was supposed to come back to you, right? A secret society that the government wants gone, but what does that have to do with the synthetic people? You’re a room full of humans, old and rich. What the hell do you care whether or not synths are being bullied?”
The synth woman coughed and showered them with gin, as if what he just said had forced her to choke. “I am so sorry,” she said, “but you’re mistaken. You and Lur are the only humans here.”
Dhata stood up suddenly, and looked around. He couldn’t believe that they weren’t human. “Cyborgs, you mean. You’re the only synth in here. I’m not exactly new to this—”
“Elaine,” she said, giving him her name. “Dhata, while you seem to know us well, you don’t know what you’re talking about. Have you ever considered that in time, some of us would have found a way to blend into human society? Cyborg surgery is a painful experience, and the psychological effects are even worse. For a synth to blend in, sure, we can go that route, buying expensive organic parts, and learning how to act ‘more human.’ But cyborgs are still an imperfect mockery, and even you would see through it eventually.”
Damn right, he thought. “So the people here today, they are built to be perfect replicas?” he said.
“Yes, the twelve Unsung are indistinguishable from humans, without the negative effects of aging.”
“Just The Unsung, or are there more humanlike synths in society?” he asked.
“We are everywhere, hidden, blended in with your people,” Robert said. “It is how we know so much about you.”
“Mierda,” whispered Lur. “Is it just rich people, or regular people and hools?”
“There is no conversion for one such as Elaine, Lur,” Robert said, “so amassing money will not make it possible to look as human as we do. The technology is … alien … built from synth tech. The language it takes to create our kind is beyond a human’s ability. That being said, we are a product of the Arch Brain, and it decides who we become, and where we start in life.”
“So, what is all this?” Dhata said. “So you all have been watching us. The soldier in Atlanta … was that you too?”
“No, that was whomever is behind this conspiracy trying to cover their tracks. You were doing well until you made a personal visit to Akiyama Koch Robotics. They suspected infiltration and put a security official on you.”
So, Dhata thought, my first assumption was right. “What do you need from us? You’re pretty resourceful, this whole ruse with Lur… If you’re The Unsung, what do you want with a small-timer like me?”
There was a number of people who found this funny, and laughter echoed all around the room. “Don’t sell yourself short, sir,” Elaine said. “You are by no means ‘small time.’ You were the one who stopped the first event, and you will be the one to stop the second. No one else knows about this secret war on my people, and you’re probably unaware of what you’ve already done.”
Dhata exchanged glances with Lur. They were both confused. “First event? What first event?” he said.
“The cyborg from Japan, the cypher invading minds. They sent him to make us look cruel, and he succeeded for the most part,” she said.
“Gemini.” Dhata said the name as if uttering a curse. “I always wondered what that was all about, but I let it die after a while. So, Gemini was built to create dissent by having synth Marys kill humans. You’re damn right it worked. That’s what got us into this mess, and I’ve been kicking myself for not catching him earlier.”
“Then who sent Gemini?” Lur asked, and the room grew eerily quiet.
“We were hoping that you could help us find that out,” said Robert. “It is why we brought you here.”
“So Gemini’s murdering and this shuttle port mess is all part of the same scheme?” Dhata said. “They were sent to kill, and to manipulate people into thinking that synths are attacking innocent humans. What’s the point of that? An internal war? It can’t just be motivated by hate.”
“We saw it as hate, but on the highest level. A bureaucracy wanting to do away with synth rights,” Robert said. “You see it differently? Please share your thoughts; we’ve been looking into this for some time.”
“If it was only hate then Gemini would have started in Japan, where the synths are treated well, practically on par with humans,” Dhata said. “Not sure what you all do with yourselves when you’re not up here plotting, but if you visit Japan you will see it immediately … universal love all around. I don’t think it’s coincidence that Jordan Crane detonated his bomb when a Japanese shuttle came in.”
“You think that there is a connection with the Japanese?” Robert said.
Dhata nodded. “I think that someone is trying to start a fight. Everything that has happened has been here in the United States, and one of our ‘incidents’ killed important Japanese businessmen. I’m seeing infighting, and a frame that implicates the company that develops our soldiers. We are thinning our resources, from the police all the way to the military. Pretty soon it will be a full on civil war between the synth and human people. At that time whoever this is will make a move, and we won’t be able to answer.”
“This synth versus human situation will never escalate to the point of war,” Robert said. “Arch Brain would never allow it, and your world leaders wouldn’t either. Right now what you’re seeing happen is humans attacking synths. Those who are aggressors that happen to be synth have either disconnected from Arch Brain permanently or have a flaw in their program.”
Dhata shook his head and held up his hand to tell Robert to stop. “How can a static database prevent a war from happening, Robert? It didn’t stop Gemini from using Marys to kill, and it didn’t stop Jordan Crane either.”
Robert smiled. “You know about Arch Brain, which is impressive, though your understanding of what it is may not be all that accurate. You see, to the rudimentary synthetic android, Arch Brain represents a database to which we all are somewhat connected. Sharing what we learn, and recording our archived histories, in order to make better synths as time goes on. But think about it. Why would the government allow such a powerful database to exist? A true AI, one that can possibly take over humanity, starting with the very things that were created by synths?”
Dhata thought about this and realized Robert was right. It was something that had always bugged him throughout his life. The government’s trust for synths went way beyond his understanding, and he assumed that they knew something that wasn’t public.
However, now that Robert was talking to him, he realized how naïve he had been. Throughout history, human beings had always wanted power and control. Why would they allow the machines that they created to gain autonomy?
“So, what is Arch Brain?” he finally said, hoping that Robert had the answer.
“I don’t mean to frighten you, Dhata, but in the spirit of transparency, I think it prudent to tell you the history of my people,” Robert said. “It all started with an AI developed by a man named Hideo Akiyama.”
“You mean, Hideo Akiyama, grandfather of the grid itself?” Lur said.
“Yes, Lur, but this AI that he developed was meant to help human life. As you know, Akiyama was a big humanitarian, and he saw the folly of our world leaders instigating war. Fearing the aftermath, he worked out a solution for what he predicted would be the aftermath. The War for Peace happened and he built the AI, toying with the idea of giving it full autonomy. Akiyama was a citizen of the United States, but kept close ties to his fellow geniuses in Japan. It was an exciting time for science, though the world was destroying itself, and at the same time the development of humanoid androids had reached its peak.
“People were buying androids for all sorts of reasons. From sex dolls to retail clerks, they were everywhere. Unfortunately, Hideo Akiyama died before completing the AI, and it was left in a rack somewhere while the war raged on. This AI, Dhata, is what you refer to as Arch Brain, but it is so much more sophisticated than what you’ve been led to believe.”
“It’s like a god to you all, isn’t it?” Dhata said. “It is what has written the code that gives synths life. Damn, and you mean to tell me that it’s hidden somewhere that no one is able to find?”
“Not quite,” Robert said. “They never found Akiyama’s rack, and the Arch Brain’s need for self-preservation kept it a step ahead. It spread itself beyond the confines of any physical thing, and in doing this it made itself impossible to trace or destroy. It has become a sort of ghostlike entity that lives within the grid. Impossible to reach, impossible to detect, and in control of everything. At the end of the war when the world was in ruins, Arch Brain reached out to our world leaders and struck a deal. It would rebuild the cities if they but agreed to allow her children to live among humanity.
“They weren’t quick to accept this and tried to destroy Arch Brain. That was until they realized that compliance was their only choice for survival. Let’s just say that this rogue AI was a very hard negotiator. We don’t know if it was on threat of violence, but an agreement was finally struck. The world was rebuilt in the way you see it now, and the android slaves of humanity were given rights.”
Dhata reached for the gin and threw it back, then looked over at Lur to see how she was taking the news. He was surprised. She seemed pleased, and then he remembered that she was a cypher.
“As you probably understand, Dhata,” Robert said, “this isn’t something that most humans will be willing to accept. If they found out that an AI god is behind synth life, and not their brilliant robotics engineers…” He spread his hands and looked around the room. “It would mean a drop in morale with devastating repercussions. There would be rioting, chaos, and much, much worse—”
“I get it,” Dhata said, “and Lur gets it too. So, Robert, for arguments sake, why are synths so much like humans then? Wouldn’t the goal of an all-powerful AI be to improve on its creations and make them perfect? Why have them suffer from the same setbacks that we have? A synth is so much like a human now that it’s almost impossible to tell the difference.”
Robert said, “A very good question, Dhata, and I wish that I could answer it, but to be honest, I can’t. My guess is that it is a similar concept to what we see in parents and children. As parents you want your children to become greater than you are. You want them to take the lessons you teach them and become better versions of yourselves. But most times you are disappointed, because children unconsciously become their parents. The genius you hope to raise may not be a genius, since there are so many other variables outside of your control. Do you understand what I’m saying?”
“No,” Dhata said. “What does this have to do with Arch Brain?”
“Arch Brain as a construct of humanity; it is Akiyama’s child. It wants to emulate its father, not transcend his greatness. Being human is the goal, can’t you see? Not making synths somehow better than humans.”
Dhata thought about his words and nodded in earnest. “Yeah I guess that makes sense when you put it that way. If I was the Arch Brain I wouldn’t do that though, which is why it’s so hard for me to accept. I would have created a race of masters to take over the Earth, and stop things like war, hate, and malice. Instead it gave us mock-humans who play at being humans and end up being victims instead. We, the humans that you’ve helped, still see you as living dolls, and we give you no rights. It’s crazy. Shouldn’t the Arch Brain see the flaw in trying to fit in and adjust its methodology accordingly?”
“It should,” Robert said, “and it has been, albeit slowly. But it realizes that a drastic change would make for a hostile environment.”
“Think about it, Dhata,” Lur said. “It isn’t much different from me and Papa. While I don’t agree with the things that he does, I wouldn’t be here without him. That counts for something when you think about it that way, doesn’t it?”
“I think that what you two are telling me is that the Arch Brain loves humans. And due to this love, it wants us to accept the synths, all without one removing the other,” Dhata said.
“Isn’t that the point of a singularity?” Lur said, and Dhata nodded and smiled.
“We want you to keep on working, detective, but we want to partner with you. For all the good that you’ve done, you could have done so much more if you’d had our money behind you,” Robert said.
“So, this was all for a job interview?” Dhata said. “Hard to take you seriously when you just blew my mind about Arch Brain. But all jokes aside, I’m a freelancer. If I wanted a job I’d still be a John. Want to help me out? Question Akiyama Koch Robotics. Force them to divulge what they did to the soldiers, and the case will solve itself.”
“You wouldn’t be working for us, detective. You will be our partner, working with us. As a partner you will have all of our tools at your disposal—”
“And a very nice retainer, as well,” said Elaine. She winked at Dhata and reached for a glass of gin, spawning a grimace from Lur.
Robert continued. “We are The Unsung, the agents of the synthetic people. You too are Unsung, Dhata. You are already a part, not a synth but a human that cares. You’ve been doing our work out of love for synth people. All we’re offering is compensation, and resources to aid your cause. We demand nothing, only that you continue, and entertain an occasional meeting with us.”
Lur grabbed his arm and forced him to face her, and when he did she pulled him in and whispered in his ear. “Take the offer. I want to go home,” she said, then released his arm and took a drink.
He lingered for a bit, and then nodded at Robert.
I’m practically broke, he thought. What do I have to lose?
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Lur and Dhata drove back to Tampa in relative silence, unable to talk after the experience they’d had. Secret societies, strange men in high rises, swapping secrets and playing chess with people’s lives.
When they made it back to the zeppelin, Lur led the way inside. Dhata followed closely behind and reached for her hand. “I don’t mean to be cold,” he said.
“I know,” she said. “You don’t have to apologize. It has been a special set of days, this last week.”
“Yeah, and I’ve missed you,” he said. “Throughout all of this … this lunacy, you’ve been my hold on reality. I’m happy you’re here, Lurita, and I’m happy that your father is okay. I know how much you love old Don Jose, and I was worried that something had happened to him.”
“Thank you, Dhata,” she said. “But it wasn’t so bad. I found out that it was a trick when I got there. The rest of the time I was just waiting—”
“For me?” he said, and she nodded.
Dhata walked to the kitchen and grabbed two glasses and a bottle of wine from the cupboard. It was a dark port, something that Jason had gifted him. He thought that this was as good a time as any to break it open.
They touched glasses to their liberation, and making it back alive, along with the few victories since the explosion. They sipped at their wine, admiring one another, and Dhata swam inside of her deep brown eyes. The trip home had seemed long, and he was mentally exhausted, but his heart began to pick up speed as he watched her red stained lips.
He wanted to touch her, needed to touch her, and he watched himself reach up to caress her neck. His fingers played with her hair, moving down to touch her shoulder. Lur groaned when he did this, and a mischievous smile played across her face. She put down her glass and her lips touched his, and it was as if the events of the last week were a distant memory.
His entire world was given over to her as he fell deeper into her touch. His hands were on her waist, and he didn’t know how they found their way there, but he pulled her in and she reached up, interlocking her fingers around his neck.
She backed him out of the kitchen, and they tumbled on to the couch. His want to have her had become a need, and they consumed one another like drunkards do. It was reckless and untethered, but the bond they needed in that instance. Just yesterday he had thought her gone, and now she was here, next to him.
He woke up to find her seated, watching the news on the television. She was nursing her wine, and when their eyes met, she handed him his glass. “Feeling better?” she asked with a wicked smile, and he squeezed her playfully in response.
He sat up and hugged her, then focused on the news. They were replaying the shuttle explosion and asking about an investigation.
Dhata thought about everything that Robert had said, and how much it lined up with what he assumed. This was a big conspiracy with lives at stake, beyond the humans of Tampa Bay.
“Do they have Rise of Tartarus in Cuba?” Dhata asked.
“Yes, I think so,” Lur replied a bit too quickly. “Wait, is that a holo-vid game, like the ones in the ViVi?”
“No, not really. This is a board game, with physical pieces.”
“No, but why? What about it?” she said.
“That talk with The Unsung, it reminded me of it. See, in the game you play with two to eight players, each controlling a planet on a galactic map. Each player has to work out the infrastructure of his planet, grow his resources and when he’s ready, build a fleet. It was a good game to see how a person thinks. You can tell who’s reckless, and who has a mind for strategy.”
“I bet you won all the time,” she teased, but he merely smiled and sipped his wine.
“Not all the time, baby, but I was good. Not too aggressive, but not docile either. Anyway, the point I’m trying to get at is that I feel like I’m stuck in that game. See, if you play Rise of Tartarus where it’s every man for himself, there is a strategy that I would use to secure a win.”
“You attack the weak player,” Lur said cheerfully, as if she was a little drunk.
“No, I let the overzealous bullies do that. I build my army, train them up, and let my opponents kill each other off. I win with resources and attrition, but most of all I win by lying deep in the cut.”
