Chapter 10
Though it wasn’t the same as what he got at the lab, Chan found that the automated food provision at the life support facility the next morning was still better than anything he could afford on his own.
It was some fun bringing it with him through the tiny portal hole he opened in his bookcase. He had pulled the box in front of it on his side. Once back in his apartment, it required only a few minutes to repack the portal device. He hadn’t thought much about whether and where he might make a more permanent installation. He never encountered any other Brotherhood members so while cycling through the gym machine his mind was occupied with how to conceptualize working with AI. He decided it was okay to think of it as a single entity for the sake of convenience. But he also felt it was utterly essential to avoid unnecessary anthropomorphism. AI seemed to have a character that was gradually becoming clearer to him, but not a personality. He struggled with the idea of attributing an active will to the thing until further investigation.
Eating as he walked toward the furniture shop, he wondered how long it would take for the gym sessions to produce visually noticeable results. Already he was much less sore and vaguely invigorated. He noticed that, despite the perspiration, the machine also cleaned him up better than any bathing. The only down side was that, while it did seem to delay a return of his own body odors, it also made him somewhat more sensitive to that of others.
Indeed, just about every physical capability seemed heightened. Only his own hypersensitivity to color seemed unaffected. He absently wondered if he would ever actually have a chance to contribute to improving the portal technology with it. That thought dissolved as soon as he walked into the shop.
“Chandler!” When the foreman used his real name, it meant something important was at hand. “It’s a good thing you’re early. That project has to be delivered today.”
The project that had consumed so much attention, and hopefully meant good profits for the shop, was a very fancy old wooden desk. The beast had taken a beating over the centuries and some bigshot bureaucrat had ordered it restored while keeping its antique appearance. It was no small task dismantling it so that even the drawers and interior framing could be restored, as well.
For Chan’s part, it was rather like piano tuning. An automated piano tuner made all the strings entirely too precisely the same, and it sounded brittle to human ears. It required a trained human to keep it warm sounding. So it was with matching stains on wood. Other furniture shops used automated color matching and the results were never quite right because they were too precise. Not only did Chan have the precision, but he could also tell when it was too close. The foreman would send him along for the final assembly in the customer’s office to ensure the final result worked in that light. The technology for making minute adjustments to the stains had become available some years before, and was now portable, if expensive. It was a primary cost of doing business as a furniture repair shop, easily more expensive than leasing the building that housed it.
This project was all the more expensive because it required natural wood and the fees for licensing for that were also eye watering. The shop foreman himself went along to ensure gentle handling of the desk parts. He had been wrapping and packing the last few pieces when Chan arrived.
So expensive was the wood that, while Chan had been operating the staining machines, he was never allowed to touch the wood itself. Only the two most experienced technicians did that. He doubted the foreman would even let him help wrap the pieces, so he waited to see just what he might do at this point that made any difference. His question was answered almost immediately.
“Right now, I want you to watch for the delivery vehicle. It’ll have government markings,” the foreman instructed. Chan stood just outside the front door where he knew he’d have the best vantage point. This fellow must be a really big shot, indeed, if the government sent one of its own cargo vehicles instead of a contract hauler.
The two master technicians showed up and there was some loud but indecipherable grouching from the foreman. Chan could hear an increase in the packing sounds. Within a few moments, he spotted the unique colors of a government vehicle approaching and yelled back into the shop door.
With much cursing the sounds of work behind him accelerated even more. Chan watched as the truck negotiated the relatively heavy morning traffic, pausing frequently as it worked its way closer.
“Chandler! Help get this stuff stacked up, and be careful!”
He ended up getting his hands as dirty as theirs by the time the truck was loaded. With the driver standing by watching, the foreman was cursing more under his breath trying to appear serious and respectable. Chan need not have wondered how their bodies would be transported, as they were all four needed to help insure there was no shifting in the load as the vehicle rolled slowly to its destination.
The foreman did his best to readjust his appearance and ordered Chan and the two technicians to do likewise. A thought occurred to him and Chan glanced down at his watch. Most likely they would be searched entering the building, since all government offices were very tightly secured. Visually checking the others, he decided his didn’t look out of place, but wondered if the field emission would set off any alarms. There was nothing he could do now except play along and hope for the best.
The freight entrance around back bore the plain label “Grellman Building.” It was indeed heavily guarded and bore at least two different scanning devices in separate frames. Chan didn’t know too much about praying, but whispered to himself. “Well, it’s your show, God.”
To his immense relief the guards never even glanced at the scanning monitors, so far as he could see while helping wrestle the boxes onto carts. They seemed more amused by the foreman’s antics. By the time the four were guiding the carts toward the elevators, Chan was privately amused to observe they were all more mussed up than before.
The elevator controls were an older type with a touch screen, few options, and fairly large type displaying a few simple responses. The foremen cursed more loudly now because the display indicated a substantial wait. Chan couldn’t quite see, so edged closer and suddenly the message changed.
“Now that’s more like it,” the foreman said with some relief.
Chan could see it now said the next elevator car would come directly to them. In an office building this large, with as many bodies as they had already encountered, he decided it was about as close to a miracle as he would likely see for a long time.
But on the floor where they rolled the carts out, a very officious-looking woman with almost no hair stopped them. “We aren’t ready for you yet,” she barked very curtly.
Chan could see the foreman’s back slump while he tried his best to keep his front side straight and professional. “Yes ma’am. Where should we wait?”
“Just get off to one side of the hallway for now,” she growled and strode away, passing through a glass door that formed part of a glass and aluminum partition across one end of the hallway.
A few moments later a much kinder, gentler fellow came out and spoke to the foreman. “I’m really very sorry about all this. There are some workmen making last minute changes in the office itself and they ran into some unexpected complications. Until they’ve cleared things, we can’t allow anyone else in there. I’ve cleared some space in a storage room,” – he pointed behind them – “and I’ll be glad to open the door so you can secure these carts there.”
He matched actions to his words and held the door open for them. There was indeed just enough space for the carts and after they came back out, he closed and locked the door. “Gentlemen, if you’ll turn down that hallway you’ll find a sort of waiting area with some public terminals and drink vending machines. Feel free to pass the time as best you can and I’ll come back and get you when the room is ready. I really am very sorry for all this.”
The man went back through the glass doors. The foreman shrugged. “It’s their game, now.”
They
ambled down to the lounge the man had indicated. The two technicians chose some drinks and went to empty seats at a row of desks with dividing panels between them. This allowed each one some measure of privacy for people using the public computer terminals. Chan simply took a long drink from a water fountain, and then walked around behind the other side of where another row of terminals faced outward. The foreman contented himself with standing behind the two technicians, kibitzing in the games they chose to play against each other.
Chan sat down at the terminal more out of boredom than anything else. There was no one else in the place and the side where he sat was definitely low traffic. Finally he reached his hands up to touch the terminal, but something totally unexpected happened. The terminal slid away from him and underneath another device rose up. He recognized it as an AI device, though obviously older than any he had seen before. The screen came to life and displayed in clear letters: Welcome, Chandler.
The color drained from his face and his eyes widened. He glanced around nervously, then back at the device. It was waiting for him. Then he remembered his watch and glanced at it. Was that what triggered everything in this place? He tried to think through the spinning confusion.
How many people were likely to even have such a watch around here? Maybe the government officials carried other kinds of devices on their persons, but apparently very few had them. He guessed that no one in the building would have anticipated the need to restrict devices that weren’t government issued, since almost no one outside the government even knew about such things. Even those who carried them were unlikely to have a clue what they were or how they worked. Bureaucrats were notoriously ill informed about the technology they used.
Apparently the AI device was connected via subspace networking. More, it recognized Chan by name. Trying hard to recall how the gestures worked, after several false starts, he managed to enter a query: “Who am I?”
The response was complete with details scrolling down that even he had no idea were attached to his name. Chan reached up to wipe some perspiration from his lip. Again he struggled with the complex gestures: “Where am I?”
Under the heading “Grellman Building” was a long list of government offices, offering first the abbreviations, then the full title followed by a short description. He didn’t take time to read it all, just noted that it would tell him. It turned out to be an interesting practice session as he got better at the gestures. To his surprise, the AI itself tried to help him by offering lists of similar gestures he might be trying to use for clarification.
The next question was about the limits of authorized access. The answer was perfectly clear: Government employees were actually chipped. They had tiny subcutaneous transponders restricted to a handful of ranking officers. Did the other seats in this lounge offer access? All of them did, with the added note that visiting officials often used them to avoid interfering with those installed in the authorized offices.
Just for fun, he asked a longer question: Was he granted access to the building through the AI network? The answer made him almost pass out.
AI grants Chandler access to anything it controls.