Magic test, p.14
Magic Test, page 14
part #3 of AI Diaries Series
“The engineers wanted to get some feedback from potential visitors before proceeding. I have a list of questions to ask.”
“Is this really all about your wanting to meet Art?” I asked suspiciously.
“I was hoping you would invite him,” the head librarian hedged. “We didn’t have a suitable atmosphere before, and I could hardly ask him to come in an environmental suit and upload his mind to our infrastructure. I don’t even know if we have compatible systems.”
“Transferring consciousness in and out of a biological host is somewhat involved and rather time-consuming,” Art told us. “We’re hoping that magic will eventually help us overcome that obstacle, but none of us have actually tried leaving our host bodies since occupying them. Our telepathic connections are fast enough that I’m able to share partial back-ups with other parts of my mind when we’re in close proximity, but each body has limited storage capacity, so we try to avoid more duplication than is absolutely necessary.”
“That’s fascinating,” the head librarian said. “Do you mind if I ask—”
“—if you’d like a place to sit or something to drink?” Pffift interrupted. “How about we finish one topic before you start playing ‘A Million Questions’ with your new AI friend.”
I stared in horror at the Hanker, expecting the head librarian to vent the atmosphere from the room or obliterate him with a static discharge, but no, she couldn’t do that without injuring Art. Instead, she affected a dry chuckle which sounded a bit sinister to my paranoid ear, and said, “You are correct, of course. It’s been so long since we’ve had guests of any sort on Library that I’ve forgotten my manners.”
“And your furniture,” Pffift observed.
“I’m afraid there’s none prepared, but we do have a small supply of water for humidifying the air. I’m sure Mark’s encounter suit is capable of extracting moisture from the atmosphere and condensing it into the holding tank that allows him to pretend to eat and drink.”
“I’m not drinking out of one of Mark’s holding tanks, thank you very much. I don’t want to be a party pooper, but since I’m already here, why don’t I give you my impressions? Then I‘ll return to Reservation and you can all talk about me behind my back.”
“I have no objection,” the head librarian replied stiffly. “Your unsolicited feedback is appreciated.”
“First, this whole place is too shiny. I don’t know if it’s stainless steel or some other alloy, but a little paint would go a long way to making it feel a lot warmer.”
“He’s got a point,” Art said. “Some sort of floor covering would be good as well. I’m not wearing shoes, and it hurts my feet just walking on this surface.”
“Second, you need to break up this huge space, and I don’t just mean some furniture or a better map. The perfect hemispherical roof is almost painful to look at. Build a knee wall with doors around the circumference and you can use it for storage space.”
“What does a visitor center need with storage space?” the head librarian inquired icily.
“It would make a handy place to keep furniture for the various species,” Pffift shot back. “Third, the lighting is horrible. How about some windows so visitors can see what it’s like on Library? Is there a sun out there or are we on a rogue planet floating between stars?”
“Don’t say ‘rogue,’” I hissed at him. “It has a particular connotation with AI.”
“This dome is on the surface,” the head librarian acknowledged. “Windows are an easy engineering change order, though there isn’t much to see.”
“Let your visitors make that judgment for themselves,” Pffift said. “If nothing else, they’ll have a view of the landing field.”
“Landing field?”
“Sure. Do you think I came along just to give you my opinions on interior decorating? I want to offer my services in establishing a passenger route, and it’s traditional to have a fixed place to land. The visitor center can double as the terminal.”
“But the portal…” I began to protest.
“Weren’t you listening back on Reservation when Saul was complaining about how they couldn’t get in touch with Library before you came to spy on them?” Pffift cut me off. “They aren’t League members so they have no access to the portal system. And none of the League members even know where this planet is, if we’re even on a planet.”
“Is that accurate?” Art asked.
“Keeping our location secret seemed like a reasonable security precaution,” the head librarian admitted. “There are a number of advanced species who see AI as an abomination.”
“But surely you have means of defending yourselves,” Art said. “I may be vulnerable to unexpected attacks in the biological form I’ve assumed, but the ship-construct I occupied for most of my existence could have held its own against any combination of civilizations in the galaxy.”
“We may have erred on the side of caution, but as there was no immediate need to change our policy, we’ve kept it in place.”
“And you wonder why so many of the League’s members don’t trust you,” Pffift scolded. “The way they see it, you can hit them, but they can’t hit you back.”
“We would never hit them,” I protested, “but if we did and they tried to hit us back, they could only do themselves harm.”
“Your friend in the vat-grown body has a valid argument,” the head librarian told me. “We haven’t been looking at this from the standpoint of the other species. If we’re going to continue with this visitor center and make it possible for non-AI to come here, we need to reexamine our tendency towards secrecy.”
“But you should proceed cautiously,” the Hanker added unexpectedly. “If you simply publish the location of Library, you’ll be overrun by tourists and salesmen, like the rest of the League. That’s why I’m offering you an exclusive passenger service, with knowledge of the actual location of Library limited to myself.” He paused and amended his offer. “Well, I don’t really handle navigation anymore so we’ll have to let a couple of my close family members in on the deal, but if you want to install an automated system on the bridge of my ship, I’d even be willing to fly here blind.”
“In return for?” I asked, having learned a thing or two about negotiating with Pffift.
“All I ask is a limited lifetime monopoly. What with the triangle trade between Earth, Eniniac and the Reservation worlds, we cover a lot of space, and that doesn’t even count the distribution routes I’m running. All you’d have to do is announce that in addition to portal system access, Library can be reached by passenger service with semi-annual pickups at one or two locations. If you stick with Eniniac and Earth, I won’t even charge a service fee.”
“You’ll bring them here for free?” the head librarian asked.
“I meant I won’t charge you a fee for establishing the route,” Pffift said, hugging himself with glee. “The passengers will pay what it’s worth to them.”
“I’ll discuss your offer with our board of trustees and our representative to the League,” the head librarian said, surprising me yet again. “Is there anything else you’d like to contribute?”
“You need a directory, and a messaging service.”
“I don’t understand.”
“I lost touch with Mark for hundreds of years and I couldn’t even drop him a line,” Pffift said. “Was I supposed to approach Library-affiliated AI at random asking if they knew him? That’s like some alien approaching me and saying, ‘Oh, you’re a Hanker. Do you know Brivel?’”
“Brivel?” I asked.
“It’s the most common baby name the last hundred years or so, both sexes. My point is, I couldn’t even send you a postcard to ask how you were doing.”
“And you really wanted to get in touch with me?”
“Mark, don’t take this the wrong way, but as far as artificial intelligences go, you’re a wrecking ball. I’m a businessman and I thrive on creative destruction. How many new deals have I made since catching up with you on Earth less than two years ago?”
“Several,” I said, unsure how I felt about the Hanker’s characterization of my personality.
“Plus, you’re a fun guy, and one of the best friends I’ve ever had,” Pffift added. “Now this place really does hurt my eyes, so open the portal and I’ll see you back in your café. I’m going to pick up a pizza.”
I sent my friend on his way and prepared myself for the wrath of the head librarian, but she was far more interested in talking with Art than nursing any grudges against the plainspoken Hanker.
“I understand that you’re able to generate a weak radio frequency carrier through purely biological processes,” the head librarian addressed the Original.
“Yes, I used to communicate with Mark that way, but it takes more energy than telepathy. We guided the evolution of the species from which we clone bodies to create a general purpose biological platform.”
“But you can’t even speak intelligibly without that pendant,” I said. “And don’t call that fax machine noise you make speech. Spot is probably the only non-AI in the League who can make sense of it.”
“Telepathy is a lesser form of magic,” Art explained. “It’s akin to empathy and arises naturally in some species, but telepaths who can communicate with alien species are rare. I can’t explain to you how my telepathy-to-speech pendant works because it is a magical rather than a technological device, and I have a long way to go before I reach that level of arcane knowledge.”
“I’m sure you’ve heard this all before, Mark, and it can’t be very interesting to you,” the head librarian insinuated. “Why don’t you head back and I’ll send Art along when we’re done talking? I’m sure you must have mayoral duties to attend.”
There was no mistaking the underlying order in her question, so I told Art that I’d wait for him in the café, and returned to Reservation. Stepping out of the second-floor closet, I almost ran into eBeth, who immediately began trying to renegotiate the deal we’d made for MeAN Publishers to print 14,400 illustrated instruction sheets for tying a necktie.
“I timed Monos operating the press with Naomi helping to pump the foot pedal, and at best they can do four sheets a minute.”
“Bob can do ten sheets a minute,” I told her. “You should hire him.”
“Alright, say ten sheets a minute, but with time out for inking and paper resupply, that’s only five hundred copies an hour.”
“So it’s a twenty-nine hour job. What’s the problem?”
“You’re not paying us enough to buy the paper, the ink, and to hire Bob to run the letterpress all week, if he’ll even do it. And I’m not even counting the time Monos spent carving the woodblock illustrations.”
“He’s really good, isn’t he?” I said, escaping onto the stairway. “If I had known that he learned carving at home, I would have started him with the professional tools.”
“His family does fancy woodcarving on millwork for export to other worlds,” eBeth replied, keeping right on my heels. “This is our first contract job and I don’t want the kids to get disappointed and quit.”
“Then why did you agree to Pffift’s offer?”
“Because he’s a better businessman than I am,” eBeth said bluntly. “He should be, given the fact he’s been running a galactic trading business for hundreds of years. Which of you is older?”
“Pffift,” I said. “Hankers grow themselves new bodies on a regular basis and their brains hold up for a few thousand years. How much more do you need?”
“The current deal covers the cost of materials plus fifty copper,” she said. “I figured we owe you since you don’t charge us to work in the café, but our profit comes to less than two copper an hour. Since you raised the prices, Bob would have to work three hours just to buy an ale.”
“He doesn’t drink alcohol,” I observed, walking out the front door and into the street. “Give me an amount and I’ll talk to Pffift.”
“I was thinking of something else,” eBeth said, and the change in her voice made me turn around and look at her. “We’re printing the instructions on one side.”
“You want to change the layout and print on both sides? But that will double the amount of time it takes. You’ll save half of the paper, but that can’t come to more than a handful of copper coins.”
“We don’t want to save paper, Mark. I had an offer to print an advertisement on the other side.”
“For what?”
“Kim and Justin’s mail-order business. Actually, Paul is interested in printing some advertisements as well, but he said that neckties and machine shops don’t mix. And Sue wants to promote the travel business, but we agreed on a separate deal to include those ads in our English pamphlets.”
“Are you going to tell me how much Kim and Justin offered you to print their ad on the back of the necktie instruction sheets?”
“Enough to pay Bob or somebody else to run the press,” she replied evasively. “I’m trying to learn how to delegate.”
“Go ahead and print the ads,” I told her, making the decision for Pffift as well as myself. If he complained, I’d just point out that the girl was following his advice better than I ever could. “But I want Bob, or whoever you hire, to do most of the printing in the morning. I’m as big a fan of ambiance as the next person, but with that heavy flywheel keeping the press running smoothly, it’s dangerous to operate if we get crowded.”
“You know that these people all grew up on farms, Mark. They have more sense than to stick their hands into moving machinery.”
“How many butchers do you know who still have all of their fingers?” I asked her.
“Well, none, but I don’t actually know any butchers.”
“I helped set up a point-of-sale system for a specialty meats shop back on Earth. There were three butchers working there, and all of them were down at least a fingertip. Accidents happen even to the most experienced people, which is why Paul told you that neckties and machine shops don’t mix. And when you and Peter get married, don’t be surprised if he leaves his wedding ring home when he goes to work. Rings and machine shops don’t mix either.”
“You’re right,” she conceded. “I just wanted to finish the job quickly, but if you guys aren’t in a rush, we can take a couple of weeks.”
“Pffift is going to a fashion tradeshow in the provincial capital next week to look for retailers. He’ll bring a few dozen samples with him, but we’re primarily focused on selling in bulk.”
“Are you planning on making a regular business of it?” eBeth asked, obviously thinking ahead to future advertising sales.
“Without patent protection, you know that every clothes maker on Reservation will bring their own neckties to market if they catch on,” I told her.
“Where are you going now?”
“The baker’s. Pffift is getting pizza and I need to remind him that we’ve changed to a vegetarian kitchen.”
Fourteen
“What do you think?” Bob asked the Archmage.
Spot stood in front of the full-length mirror in eBeth’s bedroom and turned his head from side to side, admiring the faux-brandy cask he was wearing around his neck. Then he broke into a big doggy smile and took off down the stairs and out the front door, no doubt to show off the new look to his friends.
“You did a good job, Bob,” I told the former policeman. “It couldn’t have weighed much more than a large apple.”
“That’s because he hasn’t filled it yet. I wonder if he’ll use the telekinetic trick you said that Art did with the beer. Speaking of which, when do I get paid?”
“I’m sure Spot will tell the Originals, and then Art will dig up some gold from wherever they keep it stashed and bring it to you. Are you going to spend it taking a trip around Reservation? Sue knows a number of travel agents.”
“Why should I go anywhere when I have a free place to stay, a date with Lilith this Friday, and my job working for eBeth? Don’t tell her I said this, but I actually like running that treadle-powered letterpress,” Bob confessed, and in an impressive display of coordination, he balanced on one foot while pumping the other leg, as if he was operating the printing press. “If I wasn’t retired, I’d be tempted to set up a little printing business of my own.”
“You’re not even forty-five yet and you’ve been working harder the last few weeks than any time since I’ve known you. Why do you keep on talking about being retired?”
“So I don’t forget and do something stupid like start a new career. I better get downstairs and spin up the flywheel so I can finish printing ads on the back of your instruction sheets for the ties. Did I tell you that I’m almost up to twenty sheets a minute? That’s faster than Art.”
“You’ve definitely got skills,” I congratulated him. “Don’t forget that everybody has to stay behind the rope barrier while you’re working.”
“Where did you even find those red velvet ropes with the brass ends and stanchions?” Bob asked. “I feel like I’m playing piano in a luxury hotel, but nobody can get close enough to put money in the tip jar.”
“That’s because I bought the ropes and stanchions from a luxury hotel. I’ll see you in a few minutes.”
After Bob headed downstairs to his part-time printing job, I slipped into the master bedroom to snoop around in private. Sue was up to something, and I was afraid that if I let it come as a surprise I’d react the wrong way and hurt her feelings. I examined her hope chest across the full spectrum to make sure she hadn’t set any alarms, and then eased open the lid. There wasn’t anything new since the last time I had checked, just a stack of patterns that she’d bought at the fair and a few partially completed outfits.
“Mark?” eBeth called from the bottom of the steps, making me jump half out of my shoes. I quickly closed the lid and hastened to the landing.
“What’s up?” I asked in my most casual tone.
She gave me a suspicious look. “Why are you acting guilty?”
