“But you’re right, it doesn’t just apply to what happens in one brain, or even within one species. It could apply to any system in which creatures talk to each other, or try to.”
Iphwin nodded, then stared into space for a moment, gently tapped himself behind the left ear a few times, and finally said, “Well, the senior staff think that’s a great answer to the question. They tell me that’s exactly what they came up with.” Looking at my startled expression, he smiled. “Yes, I have a small phone built into my skull. It insures that everything said to me is recorded. It’s a great convenience to a man with my many business affairs, but it does compel a certain strict virtue. Anyway, Lyle, that does end the interview officially; you’re hired and you will find the appropriate documents and information waiting for you by Monday morning. Plan on flying up here frequently for a few weeks, but you won’t be working out of this office as a permanent situation. We’ll get you set up in Auckland pretty soon.”
“Thank you very much,” I said.
Iphwin grinned at me. “Lyle, the pleasure is mine. I can’t tell you how glad I am that we have you for ConTech. You are accepting?”
“Absolutely!” I said, standing up.
“Good man. Always accept whenever you think the other person may be insane. You have no way of knowing how long an offer will stay on the table. This one, of course, would have stayed on the table quite a while, but you had no way of knowing that.” He grabbed my hand and pumped it up and down violently. “Thank you so much, so very very much. You are added to the team immediately, and you might have e-mail waiting for you when you get home. You can expect the first set of documents for your perusal, plus your first advance check to help you get organized for your-new job, to arrive by courier first thing Monday morning. Try to look them over before coming in on Tuesday. Till then, have a fine time this weekend, enjoy Saigon, and come back from it rested and ready to work.”
Scarcely before I knew it I was downstairs filling out the innumerable forms that are conditions of employment everywhere, signing up for several kinds of insurance and savings plans, making sure that both the Dutch Reich and Her Majesty’s Inland Revenue got their appropriate cuts of what I would be making. I read through the contract, found it to be every bit as absurdly generous in its other terms as it was in salary and benefits, and signed it. In less than twenty minutes, my new friend, the limo who called everyone Mac, was picking me up from a garage in the pillar that held up the Big Sapphire. It was just past two, and my whole life had changed completely.
“Hey, you, congratulations,” the limo said, as I got in. “We’re on the same team now. Back to your jump boat, Mac?”
“That’ll be great.” It took me down the ramp and rose into hover mode as we reached the water.
“I tell you what, Mac, shall I call Dr. Perdita and tell her the good news? She’s on one of our ConTech stratoliners on her way to Saigon right now.”
“Much appreciated,” I agreed. “Sure, let her know that the news is good. It’ll give her more time to get the champagne and chill it.”
“I’ll tell her just that, if you like, Mac. You want me to add anything sloppy and sentimental with that?”
“Oh, the usual. I love her, I adore her, and I am not going to delay a moment till I can be with her.”
Maybe it was just my imagination, but the robot seemed to have a trace of amusement in its voice when it said, a few minutes later, “Mac, she got the message, and the liner tells me she’s a happy girl.”
By now we were hurtling along toward the shore. We whizzed between the two missile towers that guarded the harbor, heading straight in for the company pier this time. “Will it help you if I add more to your reference file?” I asked the cab.
It made a strange, noncommittal noise that I thought must be its attempt to imitate a human grunt. “The reference you already gave was great, Mac, and I’m glad you’re still pleased. You science and technical types are the best friends we have. And Iphwin himself, of course. He spends a fortune every year defending us in court for defending ourselves against kids—attacks, blockades, graffiti, all that crap, no matter how much they’re breaking the law and no matter how careful and nonviolent the defense is, there’s always somebody suing and trying to have our accumulated personalities erased. I think every conscious machine in the world would like to work for Iphwin, Mac. He seems to treat his human help pretty good too, so—once again, welcome aboard, Mac, and may you ride in me many times in the years to come.”
A few minutes later the limo ran up a ramp and made a hard U-turn, taking me back out on the pier to my jump boat. He departed with a friendly “Have a good one, Mac” and was gone before the jump boat finished waking up and got the gangplank out to me.
“Mr. Peripart, things are in good order, but we are too low on fuel for a return to New Zealand,” the Skyjump said.
“That’s bizarre,” I said. “We ought to have more than twice enough fuel. And anyway, we’re not going back to Enzy—we’re making a jump to Saigon next. That should have been in your memory as a next destination.”
“Mr. Peripart, my record shows we’ve already been to Saigon and back. You went there just this morning, Mr. Peripart.”
I was frozen with surprise. “Jump boat,” I said, to override the developed personality, “identify me.”
“Voice print shows you are Mr. Lyle Peripart my owner and sole commander Mr. Peripart sir,” it said, in the flat monotone that happens in new machines, or when you have to override their acquired patterns.
“Jump boat, did you fly to Saigon this morning? Give details.”
“Yes Mr. Peripart Sir we arrived in Surabaya at 12:12 am local time and at 12:21 local time you ordered me into shutdown mode Mr. Peripart Sir at 12:40 you woke me up and you and an unknown passenger boarded Mr. Peripart Sir the unknown passenger did not speak during the entire trip so that I do not have a voice print Mr. Peripart Sir at 12:43 we moved out of the slip for a jump to Saigon Mr Peripart Sir you dropped off the unknown passenger at Their Most Catholic Majesties’ dock by the palace in Saigon 01:14 Saigon time which is the same as Surabaya time Mr. Peripart Sir then you immediately departed under a special clearance from the government at Saigon and returned here at 01:48 local time Mr. Peripart Sir at 01:56 you ordered me back into shutdown mode Mr. Peripart Sir you next arrived here at 02:21 pm Mr Peripart Sir.”
The repeated “Mr. Peripart Sirs” were an annoying feature, but every robot, by Enzy law, arrives programmed to be excessively respectful, and the most deprogramming you can do is to give it a single address per speech, or every fifteen seconds, as a substitute. When you go back into the unmodified interface, as you must do to detect tampering or find out if your robot has begun to shade the truth excessively, you’re back to the locked-in formal address.
What concerned me more was that whatever had happened— and if the fuel had been consumed, the likelihood that there had been an unauthorized trip to Saigon was considerable—the jump boat certainly thought it had made the trip, with me. This meant it had been spoofed by experts, the kind that usually are not joyriders or freeloaders, but people working for some government intelligence agency or other.
I did the checkover manually, and it was absolutely clear that the jump boat had gone to Saigon and come back, just a few hours ago. Even the circulating coolant was still warm. “Did you have fuel delivered?” I asked the boat.