'None,' Griffith replied. 'I think it's time we reset its connections and start reconditioning. If we don't have any more problems, we can have it back in service by dinnertime.' He leaned forward and looked at his colleagues before continuing. 'That trainee was probably inside the work envelope. My bet is he just made up the story as a cover. The guy has been here less than a week. I asked Hoblenz to check him out. He might've been snooping around or something.'
'We didn't turn up anything in his apartment,' Hoblenz reported.
'You searched his apartment?' Gray shot back with surprising venom.
Hoblenz held his head erect, subtly straightening his shoulders and back in what appeared to be a soldier's instinctive reaction to censure.
'I didn't authorize you to go into anyone's residence,' Gray said sternly, staring Hoblenz down.
Hoblenz held Gray's gaze, but not for long. He hung his head and scooped a forkful of eggs. 'Sorry,' he muttered. Like the other forces of nature, Laura thought, Hoblenz too bowed to Gray's will — reluctantly.
'How badly was he hurt?' Gray asked, turning back to Griffith.
His head of robotics frowned in disgust and shook his head. 'Tore his sleeve. A little bruise and scrape, that's all.'
'That shouldn't have happened,' Gray said. 'Even if he was over the line, he shouldn't have been hurt.' Griffith had no reply. 'Did the computer report seeing anyone inside the main work envelope?' Griffith shook his head dejectedly. Gray hesitated. 'Did the computer see the accident?' he then asked. Slowly, Griffith shook his head again.
'All right,' Gray said, 'I'm declaring a special security zone.'
'But the computer has already set one up!' Griffith replied, half turning toward the screen. 'That pick-and- place has a maximum work envelope of a few dozen square meters. It can't physically reach past that cordon.'
Laura scrutinized the police tape surrounding the robot. It extended across the broad yellow line marking the border between 'their' world and 'ours' to carve one small nick in the humans' domain.
One tiny encroachment upon territory allotted to man. It hardly seemed significant to Laura or, it appeared, to Griffith. But Gray was greeting news of the offense with a certain solemnity that commanded the attention of the group. The tape curled as it stretched between the cones, but Laura pieced together the words printed repeatedly in black letters down its length: DANGER — SPECIAL SECURITY ZONE.
'I want the zone expanded to the entire facility,' Gray said. 'I want all personnel withdrawn from the assembly building.' Everyone looked up at him now. 'We'll continue operations on full automation.'
'Because of that one pick-and-place?' Griffith burst out. 'You call that a runaway?' Gray opened his mouth to speak, which seemed to cause Griffith to crumble. 'Fine!' He threw his hands up in surrender. 'Whatever you say!'
'Thank you, Phil,' Gray said politely before turning to the table and moving on. 'What else?'
'The doors,' Dorothy said, the pinging sound emanating now from her computer. 'They're really freaking people out. There've been' — she tapped several more times—'forty-seven reports — eight from this one guy alone.'
'When was the surge in errors?' Gray asked. 'Exactly.'
After several pokes at the small screen Dorothy pressed the pen's tip against her lower lip. 'It really spiked up beginning an hour and seven minutes ago.'
Several people around the table checked their watches, and Filatov and Bickham exchanged a long look. 'And when did the surge in system activity occur — exactly?' Gray asked Filatov.
He heaved a deep sigh. 'About the same time. Just after that really.'
'Wait a minute,' Griffith said. 'Do you mean the system actually spiked after the error rate surged, not before?' Filatov shrugged and nodded. 'That's odd,' Griffith said, rubbing his chin 'If it had been a viral outbreak it would've been the other way around. There's a major cause-and-effect problem with the order of events.'
Gray tossed his folded napkin onto the table. 'All right, we've got work to do.'
His dream team began to push back from their places. Laura halted their exodus with a question. 'Is the guy who reported eight door malfunctions the same man who had a fight with his wife in the gym?'
After hesitating, Dorothy looked at Laura, then at Gray, then back at Laura. 'Yeah, as a matter of fact,' she said with a puzzled look on her face. 'How'd you know?'
Gray studied Laura now. 'Just a wild guess,' Laura replied, making it sound as if it wasn't a guess, which it was.
After a moment, everyone again began to rise. 'Dr. Aldridge,' Gray said in a voice meant for everyone, 'did your analysis turn up anything interesting last night?' The 'team' slowly sank back into their seats.
'Well, I just had some preliminary questions. I explored the computer's beliefs about the boundaries of its 'self.' Interestingly, it doesn't view the robots as part of that self, but as distinct entities from whom it receives reports.'
Heads turned. Smiles lit her colleagues' faces.
'Anything else?' Gray asked.
Laura ignored the others. 'It uses a sentry system and only updates its world model if it sees a change it cares about. And it experiences spatial referral. When the computer 'sees' and 'hears' things, it perceives them to be outside its circuitry, not inside. It has a three-dimensional model of the world, and a distinct sense of its place in it.'
'Oh, uh, Dr. Aldridge,' Margaret Bickham said, glancing around the table, 'we programmed the computer to develop that model. We programmed it, in fact, to emulate the human brain in every way you just described. It has a very extensive grasp of your specialty — cognitive sciences — and I think you'll find it also has a peculiar quirk. It exhibits a desire to feed back to people things they find interesting or stimulating. I've long theorized that particular behavior evolved because it aided the computer's goal of maximizing interaction with humans. When it can coax an operator onto the shell, it'll go to great lengths to keep them there. Flattery is one tactic it uses. Feigning pique at attempts to log off is another.'
'So you're saying it's bullshitting me?' Laura asked, and Hoblenz snorted in amusement. 'That it's telling me things I want to hear to keep me interested?'
'In so many words.'
'Then why did it tell me it didn't feel like talking anymore last night?'
'It did what?' Filatov asked, grinning.
'The computer told me it didn't want to talk anymore.'
Filatov and several of the others laughed. 'I've never heard of such a thing,' Filatov said. 'You must've really pissed it off.'
'What did you say just before you got that message?' Gray asked — not amused.
Laura tried to think back. She couldn't recall typing anything just before. But she had, she remembered, caught herself thinking 'he' instead of 'it' about the computer. Laura had muttered something right after… out loud.
She focused again on Gray, who now seemed to be reading her face, her expressions. He cocked an eyebrow — a look meant only for her.
Gray turned to the group. 'That concludes the meeting, let's all get to work.'
Laura rose with the rest. 'Dr. Aldridge,' Gray called to her. 'I'd like to speak to you if you've got a moment.'
Laura sank back into the chair. She braced herself, although she had no real reason she could think of to worry.
The others departed in silence, many casting last glances over their shoulders at Gray and Laura seated alone together at the table.
'I apologize if I was a bit gruff,' Gray said, looking uncomfortable. 'I'm sorry you ran into those guards.' He drew an extended breath, idling his lungs before slowly exhaling. 'It's… regrettable what you're forced to do in this world.' His mind seemed to be far away, and Laura let him continue at an unhurried pace.
'There are pressures that constantly seek to undermine my efforts.'
Gray fell quiet, and Laura waited. When he said nothing further she asked, 'Do you mean the pressure of
