The Darwin Project Page 12

Neither police officer noticed the clown with fluffy pink hair and a large red nose who was standing beside the stop sign at the car park exit.

  Neither the two deputies nor the clown noticed the sweeper bot heading away, along the oceanfront path.

  oOo

  Chapter Nineteen

  Darwin’s image appeared on the monitor behind Toby’s desk and waited for a minute or two. When Toby did not acknowledge his presence, he coughed.

  “Yes, Darwin?” Toby dragged his attention away from the detailed report on bot models currently in the design stage. “What can I do for you?’

  “Boss.” The appellation used by Darwin was indicative of an issue. “Boss, I have a problem, I think.”

  “Okay, tell me.”

  “The Japanese body engineer arrives tomorrow.”

  “Yes. I’ve made time available each day for the next week.”

  “I know.”

  There was a long pause.

  Darwin said, “I might have a problem.”

  “I’m listening.”

  “The engineer’s name is Narumi Horikoshi.”

  “Yes, you told me.”

  “I’ve just discovered he is a she. I mean Narumi is a female name.”

  “What’s the problem?”

  “Do you think she will know how to design a male body?”

  Toby collapsed with laughter. When he recovered his breath, he said, “I knew a week ago she is a lady. She’s fifty-five years old, has a PhD from Cambridge and a couple of other doctorates. She comes from a renowned Japanese family; her parents were both designers and engineers. She’s married, and I don’t see what your problem is.”

  “Boss—?”

  “Are you being sexist?”

  “No, boss.” The video switched off.

  Billie, who had been sitting on the settee on the far side of the desk where Toby was working, said, “You are cruel.”

  Toby smiled. “Serves him right. He’s been like a nervous expectant parent for the last week. I’m surprised I’ve managed to get any work done. Now, I’ve reviewed my schedule and I’ll send you a copy. Tomorrow, I’m visiting the marketing and sales team, and also the logistics people. The marketing guys at nine a.m., and the logistics at two p.m. I’ll need you, of course.”

  “Of course.”

  Nate’s marketing and sales operation was located in downtown Los Angeles, on Merchant Street. The building was only a year or two old and presented a solid white cement exterior to the world. There was a high steel mesh gate that provided access to the rear of the building and a small parking area. Security was rigorous; the guard checked the Tesla’s trunk after verifying both Toby’s and Billie’s identity details.

  A man was waiting when they exited the vehicle. He held his hand out to Toby. “Welcome. I’m Thomas Pitcairn. I’ve been with Euler Marketing for three years, as the CEO.”

  “I’m Toby McIntosh and this is Billie Nile.”

  “Miss Nile has been here before.” Pitcairn nodded at Billie and turned back to Toby. “I’m pleased to meet you. We’re all very sad to hear about your uncle.” He led the way inside the building. Its unprepossessing exterior hid a luxurious interior. “We have two basement floors and three floors above ground. Each floor is approximately three thousand square feet. Our senior executive offices and conference facilities are on the top floor. We have numerous corporate visitors, both American and foreign, and we strive to maintain what might be described as a successful environment.” He stopped at an elevator bank and pressed a button. The doors hissed open.

  Pitcairn continued as he pressed a button for the top floor. “I’ve arranged for two of my team members to meet you. Both senior VPs, of course. One is responsible for our American business and the other covers EMEA—that is, Europe, Middle East, and Asia. The rest of the world is not directly represented in our marketing activities. To be honest, we’re struggling to keep up with current requirements in those regions.”

  He led them to a dark, smoked glass-fronted conference room and indicated for Toby to enter first.

  Billie held him back. “Me, first. I’m your security, remember?”

  Holding her handgun, she pushed the door part way open and ducked. Someone from inside the conference room fired a shot, shattering the top half of the glass door. Billie pushed Toby to one side, away from the entrance, at the same time firing her weapon into the room. Before Toby realized what was happening, Billie had her weapon aimed at Pitcairn.

  “There was a stranger in the conference room. Neither of the two VPs are there. Pitcairn, what’s happening?”

  Toby backed away, leaving room for Billie to maneuver.

  Pitcairn’s face was pale. He held up both hands. “They both were in the room when I left to meet you and Toby. There’s no one else here.”

  Billie said, “Very well. You open the door and step inside.” She motioned with her weapon. “Go on.”

  Before Pitcairn could move, a video screen on a nearby set of low shelves flared into life, and Darwin said, “Toby, move back, away from the doorway. Billie, I confirm there is a stranger in the conference room. At least, he’s a stranger to me. I think your shot was on target.”

  Both Toby and Billie turned to stare at Pitcairn.

  “They—he promised me no one would get hurt. He said he wanted to meet you. He had photos of my family. They were being held—” He backed further away from the shattered door.

  “Toby, get away, run. That way.” Billie pushed Toby towards the exit sign and ran, with Toby ahead. They were halfway to the stairs when the room behind them exploded. The concussive wave knocked both Toby and Billie over, and glass shards speared across the office. Pitcairn was standing in the wrong place; large splinters of glass sliced into him and he fell, fatally wounded, to the floor. The carpet turned red.

  “Damn,” Toby said as he helped Billie to her feet. “This is getting serious.”

  “Bomb,” Billie said. She had cuts on the back of her hand and blood was dripping down her sleeve. “I thought I detected a familiar odor. Military explosives. I think your offices are wrecked.”

  “Darwin?” Toby raised his voice.

  The video screen near the conference room was on the floor, its glass panel fractured. Another screen, near to the exit, came to life. “Toby! You’re safe. Good.” There was a strong thread of relief in Darwin’s voice. “I contacted Senior Agent Raymond Reynolds and he has a team on the way.”

  “I’ll let Drexel know,” Billie said, punching a shortcut code into her cell phone. “We’ll soon have more law here than we’ll know what to do with.”

  “Why aren’t we seeing anyone from the offices on the other floors?” Toby asked.

  “Head to the exit, quickly,” urged Billie. “There may be other bad guys.” She took the lead and carefully opened the heavy steel exit door. The stairwell was empty. She pulled Toby through the doorway and closed the door. She couldn’t see any way to lock it.

  “Let’s get out of here. I’ll lead.” Billie had not released her grip on her handgun.

  Their run down the steel stairs was potentially as dangerous as being shot at, thought Toby. If Billie slipped, her weapon was likely not on safety, and anyone could get shot. They reached the street level exit without detection—or falling—and Billie pushed the door open. Toby followed her out onto 7th Street, around the corner from the Merchant Street entrance.

  He checked the street. Two sweeper bots were heading towards them, traveling fast. Two other bots were coming from the other direction. He couldn’t determine their function; they were large and fast.

  “Reinforcements,” he said, indicating the bots. His cell phone rang. “Yes?”

  “This is Darwin. The cell phone signal was blocked.”

  “I think the stairwell is all steel, so yes, it would be. We’re on the street, and some bots are heading this way. Yours?”

  “Yes. I thought you might need help. I’m sending a drone swarm for additional protection.”

  �
�I didn’t know we had those available.” A drone swarm was a collection of flying bots, autonomous, which emulated swarm behavior. “How many in the swarm?”

  “Five hundred. They have power for thirty minutes flying. They can hit their target at thirty mph or more and survive. Their target, maybe not. They’re in beta test for one of our DARPA contracts.”

  “Good to know. We appear to be safe here. No one has chased after us,” Billie said. “I think that’s the FBI, coming down 7th. Drexel’s team is close, and he’s coming as well.”

  A small flying bot circled Toby’s head and settled on his shoulder. Another handful of the swarm circled fifteen or so feet higher, and he could see a black cloud above them; it was the remaining drones circling above the building to synchronized commands.

  Darwin had taken control of the drone bot on Toby’s shoulder. “I sent another hundred to search for any fleeing vehicles,” he reported. “They found one. It crashed after the windshield was hit by twenty members of the swarm. No other traffic or pedestrians involved. One of the FBI vehicles is headed that way.”

  “Okay. I want to discover more about these swarm drones,” Toby said.

  “I’ll be available when you get back to the Bel Air house,” promised Darwin.

  “We might be late.”

  FBI agents had reached them and were trying to get past the bots on the street.

  “Call off the bots,” Toby said. “Or the agents may arrest us for obstructing justice.”

  The cleaner bots moved away, their task completed.

  Billie surrendered her weapon.

  Temporarily.

  The FBI agents asked questions.

  The other Euler Marketing employees were discovered locked in a basement room. Fortunately they were unharmed.

  oOo

  Chapter Twenty

  After a thorough inspection of the Tesla to check that it hadn’t been sabotaged or booby-trapped, Billie declared the vehicle was fit to drive. They reached the logistics unit barely in time for their planned meeting. The warehouse was located north of San Bernardino, towards Barstow, in what could only be classed as desert. Not quite Mojave Desert, but close. There were no near neighbors.

  The building, a single story, flat-roofed, with 20,000 square feet of floor space, was used for handling the deliveries from Pepper Mountain, and storage and subsequent shipment of CPUs to clients in the US, Europe, and Asia. It operated on a single day shift and most of the work was done by bots.

  The warehouse manager explained, “Most of the CPUs and chips are already packaged to match a client order, so all the bots need to do is place the packages on temporary shelf locations, and then gather them up for final packaging and dispatch. We supervise. Even the bots seem to enjoy their tasks. As long as the airco works, it’s a dream job for all of us.”

  The blast of heat had hit Billie and Toby when they left the comfort of the air-conditioned Tesla, and Toby was still wiping perspiration from his forehead. The outside temperature, according to a large video display, was 105 F and forecast to get warmer.

  “If demand increases, can you cope?” Toby asked.

  “As long as we can add bots, we could double our throughput.”

  “No problems with protests?”

  “I don’t think people realize that we have anything to do with bots. We typically ship processors, software, and designs. If you don’t know, it doesn’t mean much.”

  Toby nodded. The explanation seemed logical. He asked, “Is there anything I should be aware of or should do?”

  “No, I think we have a smooth operation. No one bothers us. We have everything we need.”

  As Toby and Billie headed back out to the Tesla, all the bots lined up as though providing an honor guard. A particularly small bot spun around in dizzying circles and fell over. A couple of bots rushed to help their companion while the remainder returned to work.

  Billie said, “It gets weirder, working with you. They never did that when I drove Nate here.”

  Toby shrugged. He had no basis for comparison. “A new face, I suppose.”

  “Hmm.”

  Their return to Bel Air was uneventful. When they arrived back at Nate’s home, Darwin was exhibiting almost uncontrollable impatience to speak to Toby. He didn’t try to respond to Darwin until he was in his uncle’s office.

  Toby sat back in the cushioned settee. “Darwin, what is all that noise about?”

  “Toby—she’s coming. She confirmed her flight. Narumi Horikoshi arrives on Sunday. I didn’t know I could feel excitement.”

  Toby scratched his head. “I’m intrigued. About your feelings, that is. Log everything you consider to be related to this sensation. I’d like to analyze the details.”

  “Toby, you’re not listening. Dr. Horikoshi is on the way here from Japan. At least, she will be when she boards her aircraft.”

  “I heard you.”

  “But you haven’t heard the best part. She has agreed to bring her engineering team. And the skeletal components for a body blank to experiment with, to see if it can accommodate my core. Toby, this is exciting!”

  Toby sat up, far more alert. “What happened? How did this come about?”

  “I—I sent her some extra details. I also added a large transfer of funds from my account. She is prepared to spend six months here in the US, with three of her team, to work on what she’s calling The Darwin Project.”

  “All right. I’m impressed you persuaded Dr. Horikoshi to drop everything for that length of time, although, I won’t ask what it cost you. The funds in your brokerage account are yours to do whatever you want.”

  “I still have half of my investments, and I’ve worked out how we can get more funding.”

  “You have?”

  “Yes. It’s simple. Remember Flocke, the leader of the brownshirts? He—or his men, at his direction—killed your company president, Pitcairn, kidnapped his family, killed the two senior VPs you were supposed to meet, wrecked your offices, wants to kill Nate if he hasn’t done that already, and has tried to kidnap you twice.”

  “Yes?” Toby’s response was noncommittal. He had his own ideas for retaliation.

  “We can make his actions very costly. I can access his bank accounts—perhaps those related to the brownshirts’ business activities—and transfer everything he has to an untraceable account. In future, every time he tries to do something against you, we can empty more of his accounts. If he continues his attacks, he’ll run out of funds. I’ll be rich and he’ll be broke.”

  “He’s more likely to intensify his attacks. His ego is like the previous president’s—he won’t sit there and let you take possession of his money.” The president had been forcibly retired after being diagnosed with advanced Alzheimer's; one result of which was his inability to ensure he did not disclose secret or confidential matters to any listener. As a result he was subject to and remained under house arrest. The vice president was now in the White House.

  Darwin was not to be swayed. “We can always increase security. I’ve arranged for a squad of the new military bots to be on duty here, twenty-four hours a day. Drexel will add his men.”

  “If Flocke identifies our logistics center or our server farm locations, he’ll attack those. He can rebuild his funds. According to that video you showed us, he has half a million brownshirts. All he has to do is ask each one to send him a hundred dollars and he’ll bank fifty million.”

  Darwin mumbled.

  “Sorry, what did you say?”

  “I want to test the concept. He’ll think twice before taking action, I’m certain.”

  Toby said, “I don’t think it’s worth the risk. Remember, it’s me who’ll get shot.”

  “I know. I don’t want to cause you harm. Very well, I’ll review alternatives.”

  Toby relaxed, hoping Darwin would not try to test his concept without first discussing his intentions. He, too, was tempted, and perhaps at some point in the future it might be worth trying. Stripping Flocke of all his we
alth in one fell blow could leave the brownshirts headless and Flocke powerless. Toby decided to review Darwin’s suggestion if the brownshirts continued to attack.

  He said, “Your suggestion to add more bots here is a good one. Discuss it with Drexel and implement a joint approach.”

  “Yes, Toby.”

  “How is your television concept progressing?”

  “Rick and Karla know their business and they have some good ideas. It’s going to cost me more than I anticipated. They want all bots to have built-in sound and video recorders, so they can become news gatherers. I’m reviewing our bot designs and I’ll issue a modification notice in a day or two.”

  “I noticed you sent out another software upgrade? What did it cover?”

  “When we develop a faster or better process, instead of issuing replacement CPUs, it’s faster and more efficient to upgrade the core programs. We push-broadcast the changes directly to the bots; it means we keep them all in sync.”

  “And the changes were?”

  “Ten patches to mobility code, fifteen to comprehension, and three to visual identification processes. We included a logic upgrade, which will provide a better foundation for intelligence improvements.”

  “You’re making all the bots more intelligent?”

  Darwin hesitated for a fraction of a second before he replied. “It will help them do their jobs more efficiently.”

  “Have you considered that if you increase the intelligence of bots that carry out basic repetitious activities, it will increase the likelihood they’ll become bored? How will you alleviate those issues?”

  “Yes, I understand. I—I’ll think about how we solve this. I could hold back future increases for bots performing low-grade work functions. Let me think it through.”

  “Good. Keep me briefed.”

  “Yes, boss.”

  Toby continued reading and reviewing papers. After an hour he sent a text to Billie. Two minutes later she walked into the study wearing a bikini and wrapped in a towel.

  “The pool was far too inviting,” she explained. “Whatcha want?”