were fleetingly highlighted. Sometimes the highlighted text switched from white to green. Sometimes from white to red.
Liam pointed at a chunk that had just turned red. ‘So that’s not good, is it?’
‘That is corrupted data,’ said Bob.
The entire contents of Becks’s silicon mind had been downloaded on to the computer system over thirty-six hours ago, a mountain of data stored up by her during her brief life. And now computer-Bob was working through it, testing the data for corrupted packets. Liam looked at the progress log on another screen: a map of her hard drive, her mind, divided into a grid of blocks of data. White for the data yet to be tested, green for verified and red for lost data. The last few chunks of white were being cross-examined. The rest of the grid was a patchwork of green and red blocks. The red seemed to grow malevolently, like cancer tumours. Far too many of them.
‘We’ve lost her, haven’t we?’
Bob’s face twitched with the ghost of a response. Involuntary? Possibly. Perhaps a sign that he was once again much more than the basic code he was born with. Learning to turn incoming information into an understanding, into context… an emotion. To almost be human.
‘Significant portions of her stored data are damaged.’ He offered Liam a wan smile. ‘But I am hopeful.’
Computer-Bob was listening, despite being busy sifting through the data.
›We will not know whether we have a stable AI construct until I have compiled the data and run the emulator.
Liam looked at Bob. ‘What does that mean?’
‘The computer system will run the AI code on a software-simulated version of the chipset. It will then enter packets of the verified data block by block into the simulation to check the stability and reliability of Becks’s AI.’
‘To see whether she’s gone stupid?’
Bob’s thick brow rumpled. Liam reached out and grabbed the bulging knuckles of one of Bob’s hands. ‘Jay- zus, you really care about her, don’t you?’
His chest rumbled with a deep hur-umph. ‘She was an effective support unit. Her AI was able to develop more than mine.’
‘Ah, but that’s the ladies for you. Better at expressing their feelings than us fellas, huh?’
‘Gender is not a factor.’ Bob turned his grey eyes on him. ‘Did you care for her, Liam?’
He laughed uncomfortably. ‘Well… I…’
‘The discoloration of your cheeks and body language suggest you have a strong emotional attachment to her. Am I correct, Liam?’
He gazed at the screen.
Blocks of colour. She’s just blocks of colour on a computer screen now. That’s it. And yet in her flesh form, in human form, she’d almost seemed like another person. Perhaps a somewhat cool person, detached, aloof even. But she could make a joke, couldn’t she? And smile.
He realized her smile — even though it was nothing more than a data file played out across facial muscles — could make something inside him flutter and ache. A beautiful smile actually. Quite stunningly beautiful, truth be told.
‘I’d miss her,’ he said finally. ‘If she really is lost… yes, I’ll miss her.’
›Information.
Liam nodded at the webcam. ‘What is it, computer-Bob?’
›I am ready to start the simulation. Do you wish to proceed?
He wondered whether he should wait for Maddy to get back. Sal too. They were both just as concerned whether there was anything left of Becks to salvage as he was.
‘Will it… I don’t know… is it safe? It won’t damage her mind or anything, will it?’
›Negative. The data we have retrieved is now stored safely. This simulation is a read-only environment.
‘And what does that mean?’
‘It means that once the simulation stops running,’ said Bob, ‘any data that is generated is deleted.’
‘She won’t remember anything?’
›That is correct. It is merely a test environment.
Liam let himself down into the chair. ‘All right, then.’ He puffed out an anxious breath. ‘Let’s see if she’s in there.’
›Affirmative. Launching AI emulator.
On a screen to his right another black dialogue box popped up. An empty box with a gently blinking cursor. That’s all. Liam looked up at Bob nervously. The support unit nodded silently for him to go ahead and communicate with her.
‘Uh… you in there, Becks?’
The dialogue cursor continued to blink, a steady on-off-on-off like a heartbeat. A pulse. A sign of life and nothing more.
›………
‘It’s Liam here… can you hear me?’
The cursor continued to blink silently.
‘The cognitive and language code may not be functioning correctly,’ said Bob quietly.
‘Becks, this is Liam. If you can hear me, just do something. Say something.’
›………
He watched the cursor with a gradually sinking heart. We’ve lost her.
Of course they could activate and grow another female foetus and she would emerge from the growth tube looking every bit like Becks. Her identical twin. But he wondered how different she would be. She’d have a face with the very same features and muscles and skin, but the mind behind it would probably learn to use the face in a wholly different way. Smile differently, no longer cock a sceptical eyebrow in quite the same way. A thousand little tics and habits that made Becks who she was — all of them gone, forever.
‘Becks?’ he tried again. ‘You there?’
›………
‘It appears there is not enough retrieved data to form a viable AI construct,’ said Bob. Liam thought he heard something in his deep rumble, the slightest quaver in his voice, a thread of grief.
‘Becks?’ he tried one last time. He could hear emotion in his own voice now.
She’s gone. We lost her. He felt something warm roll down his cheek and quickly swiped it away, for some reason not wanting either Bob or computer-Bob to make a note of that and intrude on the moment with a query.
Goodbye, Becks.
›………
›…….
›……
›……
›….
›I love you, Liam O’Connor.
CHAPTER 7
2001, New York
They watched the foetus floating in the protein soup, flexing and twitching tiny fingers and toes in unconscious readiness. A feed pipe was connected to its belly button and rose up to the top of the tube where it met the filtration pump.
The perspex growth tube was lit from the bottom. It glowed softly, filling their back room with a warm, womb-like, muted crimson light.
‘Do you think they think about things when they’re growing in there?’ asked Liam.
