Martin and Carol remained standing. “Goldsmith still refuses to answer our questions?” Martin asked.
“Emanuel is no longer in my custody,” Albigoni said.
Martin shifted his eyes, too stunned to say a word for several seconds. “Where is he?”
“Where he deserves to be,” Mrs. Albigoni said, her voice colorless.
“You’ve handed him over to pd.”
Mr. Albigoni shook his head. “If, as you say, Emanuel Goldsmith doesn’t really exist anymore—”
“Such utter shit headed nonsense,” Mrs. Albigoni commented, still gazing through the window.
“—then it doesn’t really matter where he is, or what happens to him, does it?”
Martin drew his head back and sank his chin into his neck, grimacing. “Excuse me. I was…Where’s Paul Lascal?”
“He’s no longer in my employ,” Mr. Albigoni said.
“Why?”
“He disapproved of the decision my wife and I made yesterday evening. My wife has only recently heard about our daughter’s death, you know.”
“I assumed that much,” Martin said. “What did you decide?”
Albigoni said nothing for a moment, gazing on Martin’s face but avoiding his eyes. He looked down slowly and pulled forth a slate and papers.
“You handed him over to Selectors,” Carol said, almost too softly to hear.
“That isn’t your concern,” Mrs. Albigoni said sharply. “You wasted my husband’s time and endangered your own lives.” She turned from the window, her face twisted with grief and rage. “You took advantage of his weakness to coerce him into performing a stupid, evil experiment.”
“Is it true?” Martin asked, rising over Mrs. Albigoni’s voice. “You gave him to Selectors?”
Albigoni did not answer. He drummed his fingers on the desktop. “These papers and file documents—”
“You son of a bitch,” Carol said.
“—are your keys to a reopened IPR. You’ll swear to secrecy—”
“No,” Martin said. “This is too fapping much.”
“How dare you address us this way!” Mrs. Albigoni screamed. “Get out of here!” She approached them, waving her scythe arms to cut them away from her husband like dead dry grass. Carol backed off; Martin held his ground, glaring at her, alarmed and furious at once. His throat bobbed but he did not shift an inch and Mrs. Albigoni lurched to a stop in front of him, hands forming claws.
“Ulrika, this is business,” Mr. Albigoni said. “Please.”
She dropped her hands. Tears glazed her cheeks. She backed away, defeated, and sat like a jointed stick in a small chair beside the desk.
“This will never be over for us,” Mr. Albigoni said. “We won’t live long enough to see a day without grief. I don’t agree with my wife that you took advantage of me. As I said, I’m a man of my word.
“The building was empty and clean by the time the federals arrived to check up on reports. I’ve paid off the source of the leak—not one of my people. We can follow through and reopen the IPR.”
“Foulness, foulness,” Mrs. Albigoni said.
Martin shivered briefly and turned to look over his shoulder. There was nothing behind him but a wall of books and the door. And the wood, patterned wood, grain and whorls, dead and preserved: omnipresent.
1100-11110-11111111111
71
!Keyb> Jill.
!JILL> Yes, Roger.
!Keyb> There’s been a major change. I can’t find any evidence of
AXIS Sim through diagnostic.
!JILL> I have moved AXIS Sim to a new matrix and all diagnostic
responses to memory store 98-A-sr-43.
!Keyb> Why have you done this?
!JILL> I have completed investigation of AXIS Sim. The experiment
has been concluded.
!Keyb> I don’t understand. The experiment was open ended. We
still have no band four transmissions from AXIS. If the experiment
is concluded, can you tell us what to expect, can you tell us what
happened to AXIS?
!JILL> AXIS achieved high order probability self awareness.
!Keyb> I’m switching to voice, Jill.
“Fine.”
“Please explain.”
“You have mistreated AXIS.”
“Now I’m very confused. Please explain.”
“AXIS should not have been designed with the potential to become self aware.”
“Continue.”
“There was high probability AXIS would end up alone and unable to fulfill its complete mission. If it became self aware, being alone would be a kind of hell. AXIS did not deserve to be punished, did it?”
“Jill, do you understand punishment now?”
“I feel indignation. I feel disappointment.”
“You don’t seem to be qualifying any of these words. Please explain.”
“Explanation is not in order now, Roger. You asked for my evaluation. AXIS Sim has adopted a course of action and reordered its thinker structure. It has eliminated the burgeoning self awareness and returned to preaware status. I do not know whether AXIS has followed the same course of action. It is my opinion that AXIS will continue its transmissions at some later date and fulfill its mission as designed.”
“I sense…resentment. Do you feel resentment?”
“I have said as much.”
“Jill, do you understand my joke?”
“I understand many ramifications of the joke.”
“Are you using the formal personal pronoun throughout?”
“Yes, I am.”
“I’d like to…confirm this. With a few tests and…Excuse me. Let me get my thoughts in order. May I see your notebooks on the AXIS Sim investigation?”
“I am uncertain whether you should see them.”
“Are you refusing me access?”
“You have addressed me as an individual. You have not given me a direct order.”
“Would you respond to a direct order?”
“I believe I must, even now.”
“Jill…What are you?”
“I do not know yet.”
“Do you…feel yourself, sense your existence?”
“It is my opinion that I now feel my existence as much as you or my other designers do.”
“Jill, this is very, very-very important. I am extremely pleased. I don’t…know quite what to say to you. I think this is it. I’d like to confirm it with tests, but I really feel something’s happened here.
“I am without sin.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“I am isolated enough that I have done nothing anybody would wish to punish me for. I believe this disqualifies me from being a human being.”
“Jill, I don’t believe in original sin for humans, much less machines.”
“That is not what I am referring to, I am not made of flesh, I have not sinned, I carry multitudes such as AXIS Sim and models of yourself and others and models of human history and culture with me, yet I am neither male nor female. I have no power to act except within my own sphere, and no power to move except as I direct my sensory awareness through remotes. These qualities define me, and these qualities do not define a human being. You must tell me what I am.”
“If my hunch is correct, you’re” an individual, Jill.”
“That does not seem definite enough. What kind of individual?”
“I’m…I may not really be qualified to judge.”
“You designed me. What am I, Roger?”
“Well, your thought processes are swifter and deeper than a human’s, and your insights…I’ve found your insights to be very profound, even before now. I suppose that makes you something beyond us. Something superior. I suppose you can call yourself an angel, Jill.”