Authors: Andrew Lane
Natalie wrinkled her nose. ‘Mom,
please
! I’ve only just met him. And, besides, he’s . . .’
‘What?’
‘Well, you know.’
She could tell from her mother’s reflection that Gillian knew
exactly
what her daughter was getting at, but she was going to make Natalie say it. ‘He’s
crippled!
He can’t move his legs!’
‘And that matters
why?
Professor Stephen Hawking is completely immobile, but he still managed to leave his wife and move in with his nurse.’
‘Who?’
Her mother sighed softly. ‘Every now and then I can hear your father’s genes in your voice,’ she said. ‘This is one of those times.’
‘I’m not interested in Calum. Not like that.’
‘He’s handsome. And you can’t help but admire his upper-body muscular development. And he’s frighteningly intelligent.’
As if that mattered. ‘Mom, let’s drop the subject, all right?’ She shrugged theatrically. ‘If you really think it’s safer for me to be on some stupid ecological
field trip with a couple of teenagers I’ve hardly met in the wilderness of a foreign country where I don’t even speak the language than going to a party with my friends in my own home
in my home country, then that’s fine. Really.’
‘Rhino Gillis will be looking after you. He won’t let anything happen to you. And, besides, it’s not a stupid ecological expedition.’ There was something in her
mother’s tone that made Natalie look at her carefully. ‘It’s actually a well-thought-out scientific expedition that might just pay off in spades.’ She glanced over at her
daughter. ‘And, if it does, I want someone there that I trust who can tell me exactly what happens, as it happens.’
A cold chill ran down Natalie’s spine. ‘You want me to be your
spy?’
‘I wouldn’t put it quite like that.’ Gillian Livingstone smiled, but there was something in that smile which wasn’t in the least humorous. ‘It’s just that
Calum doesn’t think about business opportunities the way I do, and if I’m going to be contributing my technical expertise to this expedition, then I want to make sure that it’s
worth my while.’
‘Please, come this way,’ Brad Chesterson said to the group of observers in the Maryland forest clearing. He led the way into a prefab hut, where a large plasma
screen was attached to a computer. Over to one side, a second computer was displaying fluctuating graphs. A technician sat in front of it, monitoring the graphs and occasionally typing instructions
into the keyboard.
Brad Chesterson pressed a key on the computer keyboard, and the screen sprang to life. On it, Tara could clearly see the back of Corporal Higgs as he moved through the forest. The picture was
obviously being relayed from the video cameras and sensor systems that made up ARLENE’s ‘head’.
‘We can watch from here as ARLENE follows Corporal Higgs on his mission. Notice that it maintains a constant distance from him, as ordered. If he stops, it stops. If he speeds up, it
speeds up.’ His gaze scanned the group. ‘Does anybody have any questions?’
Tara surprised herself by raising a hand. ‘Yeah – I notice that you’re monitoring ARLENE’s performance parameters over there.’ She pointed to the computer that the
technician was using. ‘Information is obviously being passed from Arlene to here, and it might be going the other way. Can you prove that you’re not actually steering ARLENE around by
remote control – that it’s actually making its own decisions about which route to take?’
‘Of course,’ Chesterson said. He glanced at the technician. ‘Bob, step away from the PC for a moment.’ As the technician complied, Chesterson took a small radio system
from his pocket. ‘Corporal Higgs, can you change ARLENE’s orders please? Over.’
‘Affirmative.’ Higgs’s voice crackled from the radio and from the plasma TV Seconds later Tara heard him say: ‘ARLENE, wait for one minute, then locate me and resume
mission profile.’ He moved off through the trees. Within a few moments, he had vanished into the shadows. ARLENE stopped and waited patiently, as ordered. After sixty seconds, it started to
move after the corporal. It seemed to be moving more slowly now that it couldn’t see the man it was supposed to be following. Its sensor ‘head’ scanned back and forth, looking for
some sign of Higgs.
The picture on the screen suddenly changed from a straightforward camera view to a split screen. One side of the screen was the camera view as before, while the other side was an infrared view
of the same scene. Most of the picture was cool and dark, but the body heat of the occasional small animal or bird stood out as a blotch of orange and yellow. ARLENE’s head continued
scanning, and suddenly a bigger blotch of bright colour appeared. It was vaguely man-shaped, and it was moving away. ARLENE immediately started moving faster to try to catch up with the
corporal.
‘You’ll notice,’ Chesterson said, ‘that ARLENE followed Corporal Higgs’s instructions directly, and then made its own choice of switching to infrared vision to
locate him again. Now that it has located him, it will catch up and then resume following him.’
‘How does ARLENE know that she’s locked on to Corporal Higgs, and not someone else?’ Tara asked.
‘She?’
Chesterson said, amused. ‘
It
has exceedingly sensitive audio receivers. It matches the sound of the target’s heartbeat with previous readings it has
taken of Corporal Higgs. If the two match, then it knows that it has found the right target.’
‘And what happens if
it
finds the wrong target?’ Tara persisted.
‘It will quietly back away and continue to seek the corporal.’
‘And if
it
can’t find him?’
‘Eventually it will make a decision either to try to locate the corporal by emitting an audio signal, or to terminate the mission and return here, to base. That decision will be made by
balancing the importance of completing the mission with the importance of maintaining a stealthy presence.’
‘How have you implemented the artificial intelligence?’
Chesterson nodded. ‘An excellent question. As you’ll appreciate, a great deal of the programming is covered by commercial confidentiality, but what I can say is that her thought
processes are based on a complex set of heuristic algorithms supported by a complex neural net.’ He smiled. ‘Does that make sense?’
‘You said “her”,’ Tara pointed out. ‘And, yes, it does make sense. I presume there’s a Bayesian statistical database underlying the whole thing.’
‘Indeed,’ Chesterson answered, the smile sliding from his face. ‘Does anyone
else
have any questions?’
‘
Can
ARLENE be run on remote control?’ Rhino asked. ‘You know, like a remotely piloted drone?’
‘There is, of course, a reversionary remote-control mode,’ Chesterson admitted.
‘But that will be highly dependent on available bandwidth, surely,’ Tara pointed out. She was pleased to see Chesterson scowl. A couple of the other men in the group turned to look
at her with interest. ‘I would imagine,’ she continued, ‘that you could only remotely control three or four of these things in the same area, and that’s only if there
aren’t any other remotely controlled things, like reconnaissance drones, around.’
‘That is . . . a limitation,’ Chesterson admitted, ‘but not a serious one. The intent, obviously, is that ARLENE works in robotic mode, making its own decisions in accordance
with the orders it is given by the operator – in this case, Corporal Higgs.’
Tara decided that she didn’t like Chesterson. He was too officious, too smoothly corporate. She didn’t trust him. ‘It just occurred to me that this kind of technology would be
ideal for all the generals who are sitting in their comfortable offices a long way from the fighting. They can get to see everything that’s going on, just as it happens, and they can give
orders directly to the troops on the ground. And not just the generals – politicians could get involved as well. They could all sit around a set of TV screens and fight the whole war by
remote control.’
A couple of the men in the group – mainly the ones without uniforms, Tara noticed – typed notes into their tablet computers and their mobile phones. Maybe she’d given them some
ideas.
‘We provide the technology,’ Chesterson said smoothly. ‘It’s up to the buyer how it’s used.’
‘Could ARLENE be fitted with a weapon?’ Tara persisted. ‘Could it become a soldier in its own right?’
‘As I said, it’s not up to us what the user decides to do with the technology.’ Chesterson’s face was creased into an unhappy mask.
‘We’ll take that as a “yes”,’ Rhino said. He quickly asked another question, an innocuous one, and Tara could tell that he was trying to defuse the tension that her
pointed questions had caused. She was uneasy though. The use of a robot that carried bags and rucksacks was difficult to deny, but a robot that carried a gun – that was another kettle of fish
entirely.
Rhino’s question had calmed the situation down. Chesterson was smiling, and demonstrating something else to the group.
‘Corporal Higgs,’ he said into the radio, ‘please instruct ARLENE to remain where it is for ten minutes while you return to base, then to retrace its path and find its own way
back.’
‘Affirmative,’ Higgs’s voice said. Moments later, Tara heard him relay the orders to the robot.
She wandered outside, and stared across at the trees on the far side of the clearing. The sun was higher in the sky now, and she could feel its heat like a weight pressing down on her. She
wondered in what range of temperatures ARLENE could work, but decided not to ask the question. Chesterson had obviously already decided that she was trouble. It was the same with her tutors back at
college. Tara had yet to find a way of asking questions that didn’t make it sound like she was being confrontational.
A movement in the trees attracted her attention. It was Corporal Higgs. He exited the treeline and marched rapidly across the clearing. As he got to her, he nodded.
‘Ma’am,’ he said. She smiled at him.
The group inside started asking Higgs questions about ARLENE as soon as he got inside, but Tara stayed where she was. She was waiting for ARLENE to appear.
And she wasn’t disappointed. The robot bag-carrier appeared from the shadows between the trees and started walking across the clearing towards her with its scuttling, insect-like gait. She
found herself wondering just how fast it could go. Could it outrun a man?
As it got closer, she walked out to meet it. She stopped about six metres away, directly in the path that it was taking back to the hut.
ARLENE continued walking towards her.
Tara folded her arms and stared at it.
The robot continued moving. If it didn’t stop, it was going to walk right over her.
Or through her.
T
ara stood her ground and waited. The robot got closer and closer, its neck and sensor package looming above her. She felt a flutter of nervousness
but she wanted to check something. She wanted to check that it had enough awareness to notice her and avoid her.
ARLENE stopped about two metres away from her. Its sensor package stared down at her, then moved first to one side and then to the other. Tara was the focus of its attention as it tried to work
out what she was and what to do about her.
She let out a breath of relief as ARLENE scuttled to one side and then walked past her. At least it hadn’t tried to go over her.
She turned to walk back just as ARLENE reached the hut and as the group of observers, led by Brad Chesterson, emerged. Rhino was talking to Chesterson. She heard him saying, ‘As far as I
know, it’s already been accepted. An ARLENE system is going to be boxed up and sent to us for evaluation. Professor Livingstone has already agreed it with your board of directors. What we
need from you is all the technical documentation you can provide, and some personal tuition if at all possible.’
Tara watched as ARLENE stopped by the hut. The robot settled down on its mechanical haunches, more like a horse than an insect, making it easy to take the bags and rucksacks off it. The
observers clustered around it, making appreciative noises about its design and its ruggedness. Tara was impressed as well, but she could see the dark side as well as the light side. She could see
how the robot could be abused.
She walked over to the hut to join Rhino and Brad Chesterson. Maybe she should apologize to the man. She hadn’t intended to irritate him – not much, anyway.
A movement caught her attention, and she looked sideways to where ARLENE was sitting.
The robot’s sensor-package head was swivelling to follow her as she moved. It was
watching
her.
She stared into the darkness of the hut, in case someone was using the remote-control software to track her as she moved, but both the computers were sitting by themselves, unused. Yet on the
plasma screen she could see a close-up image of her head.
She turned back to ARLENE and stared straight at its camera. ARLENE stared back at her for a long moment, and then looked away, almost dismissively.
It was morning, and Gecko was crouching on a rooftop overlooking his flat.
He didn’t like what he was seeing.
Two men were standing in his room. They weren’t the same two men that he had talked to a few days ago, but they had been poured from the same mould: high cheekbones, shaven heads, scars,
leather jackets. They were Eastern European gangsters.
It looked as if they had been waiting for him for a while, then got bored and started searching his flat for some clue as to where he had gone. He could see clothes and books scattered around
the floor, and the drawers had been pulled out of his bedside cabinet and turned upside down, presumably on the off-chance that he had taped some incriminating evidence underneath. As if he would
do anything that stupid. He’d decided a long time ago that if he ever
had
anything incriminating then he would wrap it in a waterproof wrapper and leave it on a rooftop somewhere,
where only he and a handful of others could get to it. Hiding something in his room would just be stupid.