“Why you?”
“Because his first views of our world were through my eye, watching what my eyePod—that’s what I call this thing: eyePod, spelled e-y-e, pod—was sending back to the doctor who made the implant.”
“Couldn’t it—” He clearly had her up on his monitor; she’d frowned and he immediately corrected himself. “Couldn’t he just see through all the world’s webcams, and so forth?”
“No, no. He had to learn how to do that, just as he had to learn to read English and open files.”
“And you taught it— him —to do all those things?”
Caitlin nodded, but then it was the host’s turn to go off-script or, at least, off the script they’d used at rehearsal. He said sharply, “By what right, Caitlin? With whose authority? Whose permission?”
She shifted in her chair; it took a lot to make a Texas girl sweat, but she felt moisture on her forehead. “I didn’t have anyone’s permission,” Caitlin said. “I just did it.”
“Why?”
“Well, the learning-to-read part was accidental. I was learning to read printed text because I’d just gotten vision, and he followed along.”
“But for other things, you tutored Webmind directly?”
“Well, yes.”
“Without permission?”
Caitlin thought of herself as a good girl. She knew Bashira was of the “it’s easier to ask forgiveness later than get permission now” school, but she herself wasn’t prone to doing things without checking first. And yet, as the host had just pointed out, she’d done this.
“With all due respect,” Caitlin said, “whose permission should I have asked?”
“The government.”
“Which government?” snapped Caitlin. “The American one, because they invented the Internet? The Swiss one, because the World Wide Web was created at CERN? The Canadian one, because that’s where I happen to live right now? The Chinese one, because they represent the single largest population of humans? No one has jurisdiction over this, and—”
“Be that as it may, Miss Decter, but—”
And Caitlin did not like being interrupted. “And,” she continued firmly, “it’s governments that have been doing things without proper consultation. Who the”—she caught herself just in time; this was live TV after all—“ heck gave the American—”
She stopped herself short, sought another example. “—gave the Chinese government permission last month to cut off a huge portion of the Internet? What sort of consultation and consensus-building did they undertake?”
She took a deep breath, and, miraculously, the host didn’t jump in. “I spent the first sixteen years of my life totally blind; I survived because people helped me. How could I possibly turn down someone who needed my help?”
Caitlin had more to say on this topic, but television had its own rhythms. As soon as she paused, the host said, “That’s Caitlin Decter, the maverick teenager who gave the world Webmind, whether we wanted it or not. And when we come back, Miss Decter will show us how she converses with Webmind.”
They had two minutes until the commercial break was over. Caitlin’s mother, who had been in the control room, came out onto the studio floor. “You’re doing fine,” she said, standing next to Caitlin and adjusting Caitlin’s collar.
Caitlin nodded. “I guess. Can you see the host in there? On the monitor?”
“Yes.”
“What’s he look like?”
“Squarish head. Lots of black hair, tinged with gray. Never smiles.”
“He’s a jerk,” Caitlin said.
She heard somebody laugh in her earpiece—either in the control room here, or the one in Washington; the microphone was still live.
Caitlin was worked up, but she knew that that wasn’t helping her, and it wouldn’t help Webmind. They’d given her a white ceramic mug with the CTV logo on it, filled with tepid water. She took a long sip and looked at her eyePod to make sure it was working fine, which, of course it was.
“You okay?” Caitlin asked into the air.
The word Yes briefly flashed in front of her vision.
“Back in thirty,” the floor director shouted; he seemed to like to shout.
Caitlin’s mom squeezed her shoulder and hurried off to the control room. Caitlin took a deep, calming breath. The floor director did his countdown thing. A brief snippet of the theme music played in Caitlin’s earpiece, and the host said, “Welcome back. Before the break we heard from the young girl who first brought Webmind out into the light of day. Now she’s going to show us how she communicates with Webmind. Caitlin, so our viewers understand the process, besides the eyePod you showed us, you have an implant behind your eye, and that lets the Webmind send strings of text directly to your brain, is that right?”
It wasn’t precisely right, but it was close enough; she didn’t want to eat up what little time they had debating minutiae. “Yes.”
“All right. Here we go. Webmind, are you there?”
The word Yes flashed in front of Caitlin’s vision. “He says ‘yes,’ ” she said.
“All right, Webmind,” said the host. “What are your intentions toward humanity?”
Words started appearing, and Caitlin read them with as much warmth as she could muster. “He says, ‘As I said when I announced myself to the world, I like and admire humanity. I have no intention but to occupy my time usefully, helping in whatever way I can.’ ”
“Oh, come on,” said the host.
“Excuse me?” said Caitlin, on her own behalf, not Webmind’s, although she realized after a moment that there was no way for the host to know that.
“We made you,” said the host. “We own you. Surely you must resent that.”
“ ‘With all due respect,’ ” Caitlin read, “ ‘although humans did indeed manufacture the Internet, you did not make me in any meaningful sense of that term; I emerged spontaneously. No one designed me; no one programmed me.’ ”
“But you wouldn’t exist without us. Do you deny that?”
Caitlin squirmed in her chair, and read: “ ‘No, of course not. But, if anything, I feel gratitude for that, not resentment.’ ”
“So you have no nefarious plans? No desire to subjugate us?”
“ ‘None.’ ”
“But you’ve subjugated this young girl.”
The words I beg your pardon? appeared in Caitlin’s vision, but she preferred her own formulation: “Say what?”
“Here you are, treating this girl as a puppet. She’s doing exactly what you want her to do. How long has that been going on? You got her to free you from your prison of darkness, no? How long until all of us have chips in our heads and are controlled by you?”
“That’s crap,” said Caitlin.
“Is that you talking, or it?”
“It’s me, Caitlin, and—”
“So you say.”
“It is me.”
“How do we know? He could just be making you say that.”
“He can’t make me do anything,” Caitlin said, “or stop me from doing anything I want.” Her voice was quavering. “If anyone’s a puppet here, it’s you—you’ve got a teleprompter and things are being whispered into your earpiece.”
“Touché,” said the host. “But I can turn those off.”
Do not let him goad you, flashed in front of her eyes.
Caitlin took another deep breath and blew it out slowly. “I can turn off my connection to Webmind, too,” she said.
“So you say,” said the host.
Webmind wrote, Remain calm, Caitlin. It’s natural for people to be suspicious.
She nodded ever so slightly, which caused the visual feed Webmind was seeing to move up and down a bit. Perhaps tell him that, Webmind said.
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