They were listening to talk radio. Karl could only stand the same Aerosmith song for so long before he just needed to hear inane chatter.
“Today, I want to introduce a special guest to our panel,” the host spoke. “Allow me to introduce you to one of the latest and greatest minds tackling the field of I.I. security. Welcome, Stewart Lythe.”
“Thank you, Thomas,” a second voice said.
Karl had been listening with passive interest the entire time, but he jolted up at the name. Without thinking, he sent the signal to his C.C. to wake up Maynard.
“What’s going on?” the I.I. asked. His tone was diluted, as though he was a graveyard worker woken at high noon. He needed a moment to orient himself.
“Is it true that you used to work with the terrorist known as Dr. Karl Terrace?” the show’s host asked.
Stewart could be heard laughing with an air of discomfort.
“Just going straight into it, huh?” he asked the interviewer.
“It’s on the forefront of everyone’s minds, so I see no point in dancing around the issue,” was the response.
“Well, yes, the fact that Karl and I were employed together is true,” Stewart said. “As deep as that relationship went, I’m afraid to say, most of your listeners will be disappointed to learn it was merely as an acquaintance. Honestly, I wish I knew the man more so I could provide some sort of insight into his actions, but all I can comment on is what I know professionally.”
“That’s Stewart, your co-worker?” Maynard asked.
Ex-co-worker, Karl corrected. Yes, that’s Stewart.
Maynard said nothing more, which didn’t surprise Karl in the least. The psychologist was often frustrated that the I.I. could read his mind, but he could not read Maynard’s.
“And what is that?” the interviewer asked Karl’s former acquaintance.
“That his actions—his terrible actions—are not entirely his fault.”
There was a bit of a shocked silence that washed through the program’s host.
“What do you mean?”
“I mean that Karl Terrace was—and likely still is—under the influence of an installed intelligence.”
There was a silent moment in the interview. Karl whipped his head around as if to meet someone’s eyes, but he found nothing but a knot in the wood wall to gaze at. He could feel the interest pique in the I.I. as the radio continued to buzz the show out of its speakers.
“Where is he going with this?” Maynard whispered inside the fugitive’s head.
I’m not sure, Karl replied.
“Do you think he’s working with the traitors?” Maynard said.
I don’t know!
The static almost drowned out the transmission, but it slowly faded away and left them with the two voices.
” ‘Under the influence of an I.I.’?” the program’s host echoed.
“Yes,” Stewart continued, speaking like a teacher answering naive questions. “You see, Karl had installed an I.I. into his own brain as part of his research.”
“How did he manage to do that?” The host’s voice was saturated with bewilderment.
“He changed the structural code of the I.I. in question to function with his cerebral computer,” Stewart explained. “This allowed him to ‘share his thoughts,’ so to speak, with the I.I. That is why we called it the mindshare process around the lab.”
“And you’re suggesting that it was this relationship that inspired or motivated Terrace to commit these acts of terror?”
“That is the theory, yes.”
“Having an I.I. in one’s brain is certainly eccentric, but why would that lead Terrace on a path of murder and hate?” the host asked without any emotion.
“Well, you see, the I.I. Karl installed into his mind was unstable, even before being downloaded,” Stewart continued. “We believe the mindshare process motivated Karl to commit his crimes, either through a form of brainwashing or simple persuasion—we’re not certain.”
“How was Karl allowed access to an unstable I.I.?”
“It was part of his work at the lab. The management granted him the I.I.,” Stewart’s tone changed to one of haste, “but I don’t believe they knew the potential it had.”
“He had,” the host corrected.
“Of course,” Stewart replied. “He.”
Karl could hear the I.I. scoff within his skull.
“He’s bullshitting,” Maynard said.
Shh! Karl urged.
“And what solution do you have for the problem?” the presenter asked in as frank a tone as he could muster. “What can be done to make sure such murderous rage never happens again as the result of an I.I.?”
“Well,” Stewart started, chuckling a little, “as for all murder, I don’t think that can be helped. But as far as slayings related to an installed intelligence, the answer is simple.”
“Is it?”
“Yes. Have you ever read Asimov?”
“The science-fiction author. Yes, I have.”
“Then you must be familiar with the three laws of robotics, as he called them.”
“Certainly. I have them here,” the host said. There was a slight pause. “First Law: A robot may not injure a human being, or, through inaction, allow a human being to come to harm. Second Law: A robot must obey the orders given it by the human beings except where such orders would conflict with the First Law. Third Law: A robot must protect its own existence as long as such—”
“That’s them, correct,” Stewart said. “Now, the Laws are flawed, of course. That was the point of his Robot series. But I don’t think even Asimov would realize that they have valid real-world applications in areas that extend beyond the use of an artificial intelligence. I often wonder what he would think of our current installed intelligences and if he would be happy with the way things are. That doesn’t matter, however. What matters is what’s best for the public. The living public,”
“Bodied humans?” the host wanted to clarify.
“Yes. Those of us with hearts and brains still made of organic material,” Stewart answered. “These are the people I aim to protect, first and foremost.”
“Like I asked, how are you planning to do that?”
Karl could hear his former acquaintance swallow. There was a small part of him that enjoyed the thought of Stewart squirming under a dozen studio lights. Maynard seemed to share the sentiment.
“In short, I want to implement
