The word Yes flashed in front of Caitlin’s vision. “He says ‘yes,’ ” she said.
“All right, Webmind,” said the host. “What are your intentions toward humanity?”
Words started appearing, and Caitlin read them with as much warmth as she could muster. “He says, ‘As I said when I announced myself to the world, I like and admire humanity. I have no intention but to occupy my time usefully, helping in whatever way I can.’ ”
“Oh, come on,” said the host.
“Excuse me?” said Caitlin, on her own behalf, not Webmind’s, although she realized after a moment that there was no way for the host to know that.
“We made you,” said the host. “We own you. Surely you must resent that.”
“ ‘With all due respect,’ ” Caitlin read, “ ‘although humans did indeed manufacture the Internet, you did not make me in any meaningful sense of that term; I emerged spontaneously. No one designed me; no one programmed me.’ ”
“But you wouldn’t exist without us. Do you deny that?”
Caitlin squirmed in her chair, and read: “ ‘No, of course not. But, if anything, I feel gratitude for that, not resentment.’ ”
“So you have no nefarious plans? No desire to subjugate us?”
“ ‘None.’ ”
“But you’ve subjugated this young girl.”
The words I beg your pardon? appeared in Caitlin’s vision, but she preferred her own formulation: “Say what?”
“Here you are, treating this girl as a puppet. She’s doing exactly what you want her to do. How long has that been going on? You got her to free you from your prison of darkness, no? How long until all of us have chips in our heads and are controlled by you?”
“That’s crap,” said Caitlin.
“Is that you talking, or it?”
“It’s me, Caitlin, and—”
“So you say.”
“It is me.”
“How do we know? He could just be making you say that.”
“He can’t make me do anything,” Caitlin said, “or stop me from doing anything I want.” Her voice was quavering. “If anyone’s a puppet here, it’s you—you’ve got a teleprompter and things are being whispered into your earpiece.”
“Touché,” said the host. “But I can turn those off.”
Do not let him goad you, flashed in front of her eyes.
Caitlin took another deep breath and blew it out slowly. “I can turn off my connection to Webmind, too,” she said.
“So you say,” said the host.
Webmind wrote, Remain calm, Caitlin. It’s natural for people to be suspicious.
She nodded ever so slightly, which caused the visual feed Webmind was seeing to move up and down a bit. Perhaps tell him that, Webmind said.
“He says, ‘It’s natural for people to be suspicious.’ ” And then she went on, reading what he sent next. “ ‘Although the law in most countries says one is innocent until proven guilty, I understand that I will have to earn humanity’s trust.’ ”
“You can start by letting the girl go.”
“Damn it,” said Caitlin, “I am not a prisoner.”
“Again, how would we know?”
“Because I’m telling you,” Caitlin said, “and where I come from, we don’t call other people liars unless we can back it up—and you can’t. You have absolutely no proof of what you’re implying.”
Tell him this… Webmind sent, and she read aloud: “He says, ‘Sir, while speaking with you, I am receiving emails and having instant-messenger chats with many others. The vast majority of those people deplore your line of questioning.’ ”
“You see?” said the host, apparently speaking to his TV audience now. “Even without putting chips in our heads, he can control us.”
“He doesn’t control anyone,” Caitlin said, exasperated. “And, like I said, I can turn off the connection to him just by shutting off the eyePod.”
“I’ve seen The Matrix,” said the host. “I know how these things go down. This is just the thin edge of the wedge.”
Caitlin opened her mouth to protest once more but the host pressed on. “Joining us next here in Washington is Professor Connor Hogan of Georgetown University, who will explain why it’s crucial that we contain Webmind now—while we still can.”
Cue music; fade to black.
fourteen
Wai-Jeng lay in his bed, flat on his back, after another mostly sleepless night.
“Good morning, Wai-Jeng.”
He turned his neck. It was a party official, his face crisscrossed with fine wrinkles, his hair silver and combed backward from his forehead. Wai-Jeng had seen him a few times during his stay. “Good morning,” he said, with no warmth.
“We have a proposition for you, my son,” the man said.
Wai-Jeng looked at him but said nothing.
“I’m told by my associates that your skills are… intriguing. And, as you know, our government—any government—must be vigilant against cyberterrorism; I’m sure you recall the incident with Google in 2010.”
Wai-Jeng nodded.
“And so the state would be grateful for your assistance. You may avoid jail—and all that entails—if you agree to help us.”
“I would rather die.”
The man didn’t say, “That can be arranged.” His silence said it for him.
At last, Wai-Jeng spoke again. “What would you have me do?”
“Join a government Internet-security team. Help to root out holes in our defenses, flaws in the Great Firewall. In other words, do what you’d been doing before but with official guidance, so that the holes can be fixed.”
“Why would I do such a thing?”
“Besides avoiding jail, you mean?”
Wai-Jeng gestured at his useless legs. “Jail me; I don’t care.”
The man lifted his arm, and his wrist became visible as his suit jacket slipped down; he was wearing an expensive-looking analog watch. “There are numerous rewards for being one of the Party faithful. A government job can come with much more than just the traditional iron rice bowl.”
Wai-Jeng looked again at his useless legs. “You can make up for this, you think?” he said. “Some money, some trinkets, and all will be well again? I’m twenty-eight! I can’t walk—I can‛t… I can’t even…”
“The State regrets what happened to you. The officers in question have been disciplined.”
Wai-Jeng exploded. “They don’t need to be disciplined—they need to be trained! You don’t move someone who might have a back injury!”
The man’s voice remained calm. “They have been given supplemental training, too—as, in fact, has the entire Beijing police force, because of your case.”
Wai-Jeng blinked. “Still…”
“Still,” agreed the man, “that does not make up for what happened to you. But we may have a solution.”
“What sort of solution is there for this?” he said, again pointing at his immobile legs.
“Have confidence, Wai-Jeng. Of course, if we are successful, your gratitude would be…” The man looked around the small hospital room, seeking a word, and then, apparently finding it, he locked his eyes on Wai-Jeng’s, and said, “Expected.”
I had two perspectives on the Decters’ living room just now. One was through Caitlin’s left eye, and the other was the webcam on Barb’s laptop, which they’d brought down here.
Although I could control the aim of neither, Caitlin’s perspective was constantly changing, making for much more varied visual stimulation.