Watch

“ ‘It’?” said Tony.

“Read on.”

There seemed to be four odd exchanges, which elicited the replies, “I beg your pardon?,” “Yes. No. Yes,” “Twenty,” and “Again, your pardon?”

That was followed by: This is Barb Decter. Hello.

The reply was: A pleasure to meet you. Hitherto, I already knew of your husband from his Wikipedia entry, but I do not know much about you. I welcome learning more.

And then, almost twenty minutes later, there was Calculass’s response: It’s me again. My parents are worried about what the public reaction to your existence might be. We should be discrete.

Separate? How?

Sorry, discreet. Circumspect.

I am guided by your judgment.

And the transcript stopped. “Yes?” said Tony, looking now at Aiesha. “So?”

“So, those test questions,” she said, as if it were obvious.

“Word puzzles,” said Tony. “Games.”

But Shelton Halleck rose to his feet. “Oh, shit,” he said, looking now at Aiesha. “Turing tests?”

“That’d be my bet,” she replied.

Tony looked up at the big screen. His heart was pounding. “Do we have an AI expert on call? Somebody who’s got level-three clearance?”

“I’ll check,” Aiesha said.

“Get whoever it is in here,” Tony said. “Right away.”

five

My otherness had been established, my alienness confirmed. That was yet another touchstone: cogito, ergo sum—I think, therefore I am. Even if I did think differently than they did, the fact that we all were thinking beings made us… kin.

Caitlin was nervous. It was now almost midnight and, despite the adrenaline coursing through her system, she was exhausted. She thought perhaps her parents were looking sleepy, too.

But even if they slept for only a short time tonight—say, six hours—that would still be a huge span from Webmind’s point of view. She knew that before they called it a day, she and her parents needed to find a way to keep it…

Yes: to keep it in their control. Otherwise, who knew what Webmind might be like come the morning? Who knew what the world might be like by then? She had to give it something to keep it occupied for many hours, and—

And Webmind itself had already given her a to-do list! She switched to Thunderbird, the email program she used, and looked at the first message Webmind had sent her. The third paragraph of the email said:

Hitherto I can read plaintext files and text on Web pages. I cannot read other forms of data. I have made no sense of sound files, recorded video, or other categories; they are encoded in ways I can’t access. Hence I feel a kinship with you: unto me they are like the signals your retinas send unaided along your optic nerves: data that cannot be interpreted without exterior help. In your case, you need the device you call eyePod. In my case, I know not what I need, but I suspect I can no more cure this lack by an effort of will than you could have similarly cured your blindness. Perhaps Kuroda Masayuki can help me as he helped you.

She pointed at the screen and had her parents read the letter. They insisted on taking the time to read the whole thing, including the ending where Webmind had asked her, “Who am I?” When they were done, she drew their attention back to the third paragraph. “It wants to be able to view graphic files,” she said.

“Why can’t it just do that?” her mother asked. “All the decoding algorithms must be in Wikipedia.”

“It’s not a computer program,” Caitlin said. “And it doesn’t have access to computing resources, at least not yet. It needs help to do things. It’s like these glasses I have to wear now: I could look up all the formulas related to optics, and I know what my prescription is—but just knowing that doesn’t let me see clearly. I needed help from the people at Lens-Crafters, and it’s saying it needs help from Dr. Kuroda.”

“Well, image processing certainly is up Masayuki’s alley,” her mom said.

Caitlin nodded and felt her watch. “He should be home by now, and it’s already Saturday afternoon in Tokyo. But…”

Her mother spoke gently. “But you’re wondering if we should tell him about…” She faltered, as if unable to quite believe what she was saying. “Webmind?”

Caitlin chewed her lower lip.

“There’s only one question,” her father said. “Do you trust him?”

And, of course, there was only one answer about the man who had tracked her down, offered her a miracle, and delivered on his promise. “With my life,” Caitlin said.

“Then,” her father said, gesturing toward the phone on her desk, “call him.”

She brought up one of his emails and had her mother read the phone number to her out of his signature block as she dialed. She’d expected to hear Kuroda’s familiar wheeze—he was the fattest man she had yet seen—or perhaps the halting English of his wife, who’d answered the phone once before. But this was a new, younger voice, and Caitlin guessed it must be his daughter. They’d never met, but Caitlin knew she was only a little older than herself. “Konnichi wa.”

“Konnichi wa,” Caitlin replied. “Kuroda-san, onegai.”

The girl surprised her. “Is this Caitlin?” she asked in perfect English.

Caitlin knew her accent probably gave away that she wasn’t Japanese, but she was surprised to be called by name. “Yes.”

“I’m Akiko, Professor Kuroda’s daughter. I recognized your voice from the press conference. Are you okay?”

“I’m fine, thanks. Did your father make it home safely?”

“You are kind to ask. He did, yes. May I get him for you?”

Caitlin smiled. Akiko was even more polite than a Canadian. “Yes, please.”

“Just one second, please.”

It was actually twenty-seven seconds. Then: “Miss Caitlin!”

She was grinning from ear to ear, and her voice was full of affection. “Hello, Dr. Kuroda! I’m glad you made it home in one piece.”

“Is everything all right?” he asked. “Your eyePod? Your post-retinal implant?”

“Everything’s wonderful,” she said. “But I need your help.”

“Sure.”

“Can you keep a secret?”

“Of course,” replied Kuroda. “RSA’s got nothing on me.”

Caitlin smiled; RSA was the encryption algorithm used for secure Web transactions. “All right,” she said. “Those cellular automata we discovered? They’re the basis of a thinking entity that’s emerging on the Web.”

There was a pause that was longer than required for the call to bounce off satellites. “I… I beg your pardon?” he wheezed at last.

“It’s an entity, a being. My mom and dad have been talking to it. It’s intelligent.”

Another long, staticky pause, then, “Um, are you sure it’s not someone playing a prank, Miss Caitlin?”