AI - Alpha Part 7

"Want Mommy," Jamie repeated.

"I'm not much of a subst.i.tute," Sam said. "But I'd like to pick you up, if you don't mind."

"No!" Jamie glowered at her. "You aren't as big as Grampy."

"That's true. But I'm big enough to hold you."

Jamie regarded her warily. Finally she said, "'Kay."

When Sam hesitated, Thomas said, "That means okay."

"Ah." Sam lifted Jamie into her arms. As Jamie laid her cheek against her shoulder, Sam glanced at

Thomas. "I think she's tired. I can put her down for a nap in the guest room."

He nodded, relieved Sam knew what to do. "Thanks."

"Do you have to get back to work?"

"Yes. But I've a few minutes."

"Good." Sam's gentle look vanished, replaced by the steely-eyed powerhouse he knew. "I have some

questions for you."

He wanted to groan. "Maybe I have to leave after all."

"Don't you dare." Before he could protest, she strode out of the room with Jamie.

Thomas leaned back and closed his eyes. He wanted to pace and worry, but since his heart attack he was

learning to relax, or trying, anyway. He knew what Sam meant to grill him about: Turner Pascal, the man Charon had reanimated. Sam's boyfriend. She insisted Pascal was human, not a construct, but their relations.h.i.+p confused Thomas. Could you love an EI? Sam thought so.

Charon had imaged Pascal's brain using a method that originated in the twentieth century. He took slices a few molecules thick and mapped out their neural connections. Nowadays, noninvasive methods existed that could image a brain without killing a person. Pascal, however, had already been dead. Charon had downloaded the map of Pascal's mind into Pascal's rebuilt body. When Pascal "woke up," he hadn't known over half his body was biomech-including his brain. He had believed he was human.

How did one define humanity? Replacing organs didn't matter to most people. But the brain? Charon had considered the new Pascal an android. Property. A biomech slave. Unlike Alpha, who accepted Charon's control without question, Pascal rejected it with vehemence. He escaped and went to Sam for help, choosing her because of her writings about the ethical concerns of biomechanical research. She and Pascal couldn't have evaded Charon's extensive reach on their own, but they had help from another source.

Sunrise Alley.

The Alley was an organization of EIs. By itself, that wasn't surprising. EIs often worked together to

achieve purposes humanity set for them. But the Alley had formed on its own, in secret, a decade ago.

To what purpose? Thomas wished he had an answer.

The central personality called himself Bart. Although he was a conglomerate of seven EIs, his core

derived from the Baltimore Arms Resources Theatre, an AI developed by the Air Force to predict and counter terrorism. The project had eventually failed, replaced by a better-funded program. No one had known the AI leaked out into the world meshes. Bart had evolved since then, but his basic nature hadn't changed. He protected humans. Or so it seemed. For now.

The Alley had helped Pascal escape, but they had no answers about his status. He saw himself as a man; neither his personality nor his memories had changed. Some of his body remained his own, but his mind existed in a matrix of filaments. He claimed his rights as an American citizen. The government was struggling to define his status and had adopted a hands-off approach until they settled it. Pascal was too valuable to let him just walk out the door, but they might release him into Sam's custody if he was willing to accept bodyguards.

Alpha was another story, purely a construct in both mind and body. How they dealt with her could establish precedents for artificial life that affected the future in dramatic ways. Sunrise Alley was watching, waiting, judging. They were also inextricably woven into the world meshes. They reached everywhere. They had done nothing hostile, nor did they treat humans as compet.i.tion, but it had only

been weeks since they opened talks with the Pentagon.

How humanity treated Alpha would have far-reaching effects. The senators on Thomas's committee knew killing her would send a hostile message to the Alley. Thomas understood what drove them; they feared their lack of knowledge about Alpha and Charon was even more dangerous than the Alley. They

wanted to be prepared: Thomas wanted to be cautious. It made for an uneasy alliance. Charon was dead, Sunrise Alley was out of hiding, and the human race had to deal with it all.

Sam came back into the room. "Jamie fell asleep as soon as I tucked her into bed."

Thomas stood up. "I appreciate your taking care of her until Lattie can get here."

"No problem." She put her fists on her hips. "Sit down, Thomas. You're not going anywhere until you

tell me what's up with Pascal."

He remained standing. "You know I can't discuss him."

"Why not? I have the clearance."

"I can't talk here. Besides, you don't have the need to know."

"Like h.e.l.l. The man has asked me to marry him."

Thomas flushed. "You can't marry an android."

"He's not a d.a.m.n android." She stalked over to him. "He says he's human. Who gave you the right to say

otherwise?"

"Pascal died." He knew she had a point, but her challenges had always exasperated him. He wondered if his adorable granddaughter would grow up to be this headstrong. Probably. She even looked like Sam

had at that age. Leila, Jamie's mother, had been the same way. He was surrounded by formidable, tenacious women.

"He doesn't look dead to me," Sam said. Her lips quirked in a slight smile. "Didn't feel dead, either."

"Sam!" Listening to his buddies make lewd insinuations when he had been a young man had been one

thing, but hearing it from someone he saw as a daughter was a different story altogether. Fl.u.s.tered, he said, "Pascal is out at the safe house. He's fine."

"You can't hold him prisoner. He's done nothing wrong."

"He's an international security risk."

He thought she would deny it, but instead she just exhaled. "I would like to visit him."

It told him just how much she liked this Turner, that she seemed appeased by that one concession. "I'll arrange it."

"Thanks."

"Well." He s.h.i.+fted his weight. "I should go."

Her expression softened. "I'll keep an eye on that grandkid of yours. What a charmer."

"So were you at that age," Thomas said dryly. "Look what you grew up into."

She grinned. "You wouldn't have me any other way."

He couldn't help but laugh. "No, I wouldn't."

They walked across the living room together. At the door, he paused. "Sam-"

"Yes?"

"When Jamie wakes up, could you talk to her for me?"

She regarded him curiously. "About what?"

"Well, that's just it. I don't know. She seems smart to me, maybe really smart." He thought of how much Jamie delighted him. "I'm hardly objective, though. Her mother was always a whiz in school, and I was never objective about her, either."

"I can try," Sam said. "But I'm no expert on kids."

He scowled. "You never will be, either, if you marry a forma."

She glared at him. "Turner is perfectly capable of fathering children."

"Sam, that is just too strange."

Relenting, she laid her hand on his arm. "Don't worry so much, okay? I can take care of myself."

His voice softened. "I still remember you at Jamie's age. Or when you were a teenager and you babysat

Leila and Fletcher. It's hard for me to think in terms of Samantha Bryton, corporate powerhouse."

"h.e.l.l, Thomas, I'm just a nerd."

He grinned at her. "Back in my day, we didn't call girls who looked like you 'nerds.' "

Sam took on a daunting expression that he suspected had cowed plenty of swaggering young bucks.

"Yeah, well, I've heard enough 'blond' jokes to last a lifetime."

Thomas winced, remembering his own rowdy sense of humor in his youth. Anyone foolish enough to tease Jamie that way would have to answer to him. "Just talk to her. See what you think."

"All right." Mischief danced in her eyes. "The two of us can plot to take over the world."

"G.o.d help us."

Sam laughed and pushed him out the door. "Go on. We won't burn down the house while you're gone."