Harry Harrison - The Turing Option

It took almost five hours.

“Bigger job than I thought,” Torres admitted. “Some cute stuff there. The inspection panel looked too obvious so we went in through the bottom. Found four different switches, one on the hatch opening, another under a bolt that had to be removed to gain access. Still, it was nothing we couldn’t handle.”

“Would there have been an explosion?” Benicoff asked.

“No, it wasn’t wired to do that. You would have had a flash and some smoke maybe. All the switches were hooked up to short the battery through the central processor. It would have melted nicely. It’s all yours now — and it’s a neat bit of work. Picks off bugs, I understand?”

“That’s just what it does.”

“The world’s full of surprises these days.”

The Bug-Off was now packed into a larger crate, tape-wrapped and sealed. Benicoff had considered special shipping arrangements but in the end decided that less attention would be drawn to a normal delivery.

The Federal Express track trundled off into the rain with its cargo.

Promised for delivery in California in the morning.

Benicoff came around the turn on the Montezuma Grade and saw the express truck trundling down the hill before him. He phoned Brian.

“I’m just coming into Borrego Springs — and the truck with your you-know-what is just in front of me.”

“Tell him to speed it up!”

“Patience — this is best done at a leisurely pace. We’ll be there in a few minutes.”

He pulled out and passed the truck where the road flattened out, got to the gate of Megalobe before it. Major Wood looked on suspiciously as the crate was pushed onto the loading dock.

“You sure you know the contents?”

“I watched them clamp on the seals myself — and the numbers match.”

“Easy enough to seal a ringer. I want this thing through the SQUID imager and the explosive sniffer before anyone tries to open it.”

“You’re not thinking that someone got to it in transit, opened it and planted a bomb — then resealed it?”

“Stranger things have happened. I like to be suspicious. Gives me something to do and keeps the troops on their toes. There might be anything in this box — including what you put in it. I still want a check.”

The sniffer machine sniffed and found nothing suspicious, as did the proton counter. Benicoff used a crowbar to verify the contents, resealed it so Bug-Off could not be seen, then drove it to the lab himself.

“Let me at it,” Brian said when he opened the door. “I’ve read that brochure you faxed me at least a hundred times. I think it’s mighty suspicious that it was wired to burn its brains out.”

“Would have been more suspicious if it wasn’t. Without a patent anyone could copy it. There’s nothing suspicious about a normal industrial espionage ploy. ARE — that is anti-reverse engineering. You can just unbolt it now. It should come apart with no trouble. The bomb squad have disabled all the booby-trap switches.”

“Let’s see it work first,” Brian said. “Does it have to be programmed?”

“No, just turn it on.”

The metal arms hummed up and out, the many-fingered hands extended. The machine rotated slowly in a circle, beeped unhappily and shut itself off.

“That didn’t take long,” Shelly said.

Brian looked closely at one of the fingertips. “I’ll bet it was looking for a specific wavelength — probably that of chlorophyll. Anyone got a potted plant?”

“No,” Shelly said, “but I have a vase of flowers in my office.”

“Perfect. I want to see Bug-Off off a few bugs before we strip it down.”

This time the machine was more cooperative. It rolled toward the vase, started at the base and quickly worked its way up the stems to the flowers. Once it was finished it bleeped with satisfaction and shut down.

“How do we get to see the bugs?” Brian asked.

“I’ll show you.” Ben twisted the lower segment of each arm and removed the containers built into them. “I’ll shake these onto a sheet of paper and we’ll take a look at the catch.”

He clicked open the lids and carefully tilted the contents out onto the paper.

“All those were on my flowers!” Shelly was horrified. “Spiders, flies — even some ants.”

“All dead too,” Brian said with admiration. “This spider has had her head neatly cut off! That takes great precision and discrimination. Let me get a magnifying glass and look at the rest of the debris.” He bent close and poked the dead bugs around with a pencil point. “There are very small aphids here, and some kind of insect that is even smaller, like powder, parasites or mites of some kind.” He straightened up and smiled. “I don’t think you could do all this with anything less than my AI techniques — though I could be wrong. Let’s look inside the thing and see what we have.”

The metal canister came off easily, obviously designed only for protection of the working parts. Brian used a screwdriver as a pointer to trace the circuitry.

“Here’s the power line, coded red, a five-volt power pair. Standard. And a single two-way fiber-optic signal pipe. Everything looks right off the shelf — so far. Standard voltage-to-voltage converters along with interface chips. They’ve been disconnected.”

“The FBI must have done that,” Ben said. “I bet you’ll find the matching plug on whatever passes for a central processor.”

“There it is,” Shelly said, pointing to a square metal box mounted on the side of the frame.

Ben examined the canister from all sides, using a minor and light to see behind and under it. “Since I’ve been involved with industrial security I’ve seen this kind of thing pretty often. Sealed shut and meant to be kept that way. Whatever is inside generates heat — see the heatsink there. But the fan blows over these ribs on the heatsink so there is no need for an opening into the thing. See this seam? Welded shut with one of the super-adhesives that end up stronger than the metal. We’re not going to get into it easily — so let’s not try. There is a lot we can find out without taking a hacksaw to it. But you’ll have to go in eventually,” Ben said.

“Maybe — but I’ll try not to. There has to be a backup battery inside to hold whatever is programmed in DRAM whenever the main battery is disconnected. Considering all the other booby-trap switches in this thing, there is bound to be another one to detect any attempt to open it.”

“Which will short the battery through the circuitry inside?” Shelly said.

“Exactly. But you don’t determine intelligence by dissecting the brain! Let’s map all the circuitry and find out exactly how it works first. Then we can run some controlled tests…”

Brian felt a light tap on his shoulder and turned to see that the AI was standing behind him.

“Is this machine the Bug-Off machine?”

“It is, Sven. You want to take a look at it?”

“Yes.”

It reached up to the tabletop with one of its treelike manipulators and pulled itself up onto the surface in a single flowing movement. The eyestalks extended and moved down the motion-less machine. It was a quick examination, over in a few moments.

“Hypothesis of AI circuitry and processor now beyond any reasonable doubt.”

“That’s what we want to hear,” Brian said. “Stay there, Sven — you are going to run this examination.”

“I’ll get out of your way,” Ben said. “Let me know as soon as you find anything out. I’ll be in my office. I have a lot of calls to make.”

“Will do. Let me lock you out.”

The investigation of DigitTech was well under way. Benicoff phoned Agent Dave Manias, who had been in charge of the FBI end of the investigation from the first. A different agent answered the phone.