Mark Tiedemann - Chimera

"True. The key defining factor is in self-perception. A positronic brain is aware of itself. It is also aware of others as both distinct and collective entities that possess similar attributes. "

"But-"

"I'm using the word 'aware' in exactly the way you would use it to describe yourself. An AI, no matter how sophisticated, is not aware. The best of them have fully-mapped models of their own make-up and function: a reference, if you will, that tells them what they are. But the relationship is always and only one of data referencing data in a strict modular process. A positronic brain possesses a sense of Self that is independent of models-it will continue to perceive itself as a Self even with extensive reprogramming that might in any other respect change the nature of what it does and what it knows-and a basic understanding of Self in others. That opens a huge gulf between an AI and a positronic brain. For instance, you could never infiltrate a positronic brain the way your desk was infiltrated. An AI, unless specifically commanded, will regard that infiltration as a problem in programming. It's just data. The more sophisticated the infiltration, the less likely it is to be aware of anything wrong. A positronic brain would immediately detect the attempt not as data but as damage. It would respond to it by treating it more or less as an infection. It would feel wrong. And if the infiltration were inimical to its loyalties, then the Three Laws would come into play. If it could not purge the infiltration, it would collapse. It would not tolerate a violation of its Self."

"Humans don't even do that, " Coren said.

"Not as effectively, no," Ariel agreed. "But we have far fewer hardwired parameters and far more self-reprogramming parameters. We have both a sub- and an un-conscious. We can dream, we can imagine, we can lie, we can hallucinate. Reality is a conditional set of perceptions. The plasticity of our minds enables us to function even through gross distortions in our initial parameters. We imagine more richly and much faster than we process information. We're inextricably linked to our environment, but our perceptions of our environment are fluid. We can be fooled, deceived, manipulated. But it's a two-way exchange-the manipulator will be manipulated in turn through the interaction-but we can still function in the midst of deception and illusion. We can set aside our moral restrictions if need be-and we define our own need-and resume them later. If we choose. Humans, in short, can remake who they are at will. A positronic brain cannot."

Coren's face showed the effort to understand. Ariel stopped, unsure how much he followed.

"It borders on metaphysics," he said.

" 'Borders?' Hell, it is metaphysics. All the philosophical speculation of ten thousand years became concrete when the first positronic robot sat up and said hello to its makers."

Coren nodded slowly. "And a cyborg?"

Ariel sighed. "Positronic intelligence gave us another self aware entity we could compare our own to and ask questions about the differences. It gave us the measuring stick to determine what is human and what is not. Cyborgs…break the measuring sticks and dump all those questions back in our laps."

She leaned forward again. "Imagine a positronic brain with all its capacity to analyze data and perceive the world as a material whole all at once, joined to something that can set its own parameters. There is no buffer, no unconscious to help process excess data or unpalatable information, and no preset responses to conditions. It has no basis for behavior other than what it chooses to have at any given moment. "

"You've described a sociopath."

"A very, very fast, smart sociopath. A sociopath we can't begin to understand because we don't have a model for its mental processes."

"Why did you stop working with them?"

"We discovered that we couldn't program in the Three Laws. Something in the mix, probably-undoubtedly-from the organic side kept overwriting them. The one consistent attribute that emerged was self-preservation. Beyond that, we had no idea how to cope with them. After a while it seemed immoral to continue the experiments."

"Immoral. You actually shut down a line of research on moral grounds?"

"Why not? Spacers don't get to be moral?"

Coren shook his head. "No, it's not that. I-never mind. So you're saying that we were attacked by a cyborg. "

"That's my first guess. A robot would never have done that. I doubt a human-even one of your military modifications-could have survived those shots. I'd like to hope I'm wrong, but…" Ariel blinked at him, suddenly understanding something. "I see. You Earthers wouldn't have shut down the experiments. You didn't. The only thing that kept you from building cyborgs was the fact that you'd outlawed positronics. "

Coren's expression showed his ill-ease. He did not like what she had said but he could not deny it. Ariel had always been puzzled by Terran perversity, the apparent willingness to do what clearly should not be done. But perhaps the real puzzle was why Spacers chose not to do those things. Maybe their long lives gave them a better understanding of consequences. Maybe their smaller populations made them less willing to take risks on questionable projects. Terrans seemed only to care in hindsight, when things went wrong.

One of their spasms of late conscience banished positronics…

"How," Coren said finally, "does this relate to Nyom Looms?"

"That robot you saw."

Coren nodded. "Cyborg."

"More than likely. "

"And the blood Avery found on Nyom's robot…"

"A cyborg composed partly of a relative?"

Coren's face contorted in harsh distaste. "Where? How? We can't build them here, you won't build them there…" His eyes widened. "Pirates. Black market. "

"A reasonable guess." Which would explain Aurora's sudden interest in helping the Terran authorities with the baley problem. Where are all those baleys going?

"Could someone somewhere be converting baleys-?"

"No. A cyborg doesn't work that way. You couldn't take a full-grown human and make the conversion." Ariel thought about that. "At least, I don't think you could. From what I recall, a cyborg has to be grown. The mix has to mature in symbiosis, so ideally you'd start with a fetus."

"A newborn?"

"Possibly. The organic system is still in transition through puberty, so I suppose children could be used, but the older the material the more difficult the process."

"But where would they get all the raw material?" Coren asked.

"I said at the beginning of this evening that we need to talk to this retired policeman. "

"Wenithal." He blinked. "Orphanages."

Coren slept for an hour, then showered, swallowed more painblock, and found a change of clothes for Ariel. Dressed now in plain pants, work boots, and a dull blue jacket, she looked like any other T-rated office worker just off third shift, going home or shopping. He took her to the mall where RW Enterprises was and they waited in an open kitchen across from the entrance. Twenty minutes later, Wenithal emerged and trudged wearily down the concourse.

Ariel drifted away, quickly and unobtrusively falling several meters behind Wenithal on the way out of the mall. Coren was mildly surprised and impressed at how quickly and easily she blended with Terrans. The more time he spent with her the less Spacer she seemed.

He sat at a table at the edge of the pantry, nibbling on a meat pastry and sipping a cup of acrid coffee. After about ten minutes, he crumpled up the wrapper and dropped it and the half-full cup into the waste.

At the door to RW Enterprises, he took out his palm monitor and a small device that he pressed to the wall just below the lock. While it worked to decode the access sequence, Coren pulled out a few of his little devices and activated them. He glanced around. The mall was pretty deserted, but a few people milled around. The trick was to gain entry as fast as possible, making it look as if he had been admitted. The longer it took the more conspicuous he became.