Android Paradox Read online

  A face appeared on the dashboard—a plump man with a chubby face and a mustache. He had greasy brown hair that looked as if it hadn’t been combed in days, and he wore a red sweater vest and a tie with tabby cats painted on it.

  “Hey, Shortcut.”

  Shortcut sighed and put his hands below the dashboard, secretly flipping the man off. “I’m on a mission.”

  “That’s no way to talk to your new boss,” Crandall said. “What did Fahrens tell you? I missed the call.”

  “Obviously,” Shortcut said.

  “What’s the report? Did you catch him yet?

  “We just got here.”

  “You have nothing to report?”

  “Jesus, did you hear what I said? I’ll be able to give you more information when I’m done.”

  “All right. But we need to talk about your development plan for the year. I’ve got some feedback for you.”

  Every cell in Shortcut’s body roiled with disgust. “Actually, uh, oh crap! There’s a plane, Crandall, and it’s coming toward me. I’ll have to call you back.”

  “Wait—”

  Click. Shortcut disconnected the video link and took it offline.

  I can’t stand that guy.

  He and Crandall had worked together as engineers shortly after college. Crandall had gotten promoted to manager just a few days ago, and he wouldn’t let Shortcut forget it.

  Shortcut had applied for the job too. Android Engineering Manager. A modest promotion with a decent salary increase. He had done well in the interview, and thought that Fahrens would consider him for the job. He had woken up the next day with a feeling that told him something good was going to happen, and had gone through the day jolly and laughing and smiling more than normal. He was waiting for the good thing to happen, and his gut had never been wrong before.

  And then he got the email from the UEA’s human resources department: WE REGRET TO INFORM YOU THAT WE HAVE CHOSEN ANOTHER CANDIDATE FOR THE POSITION. Shortly after, Crandall had strolled into the engineering room, whistling and giving directions to the engineering team like he owned the place.

  Shortcut punched the air. He couldn’t get over the stinging bitterness he’d felt when he read the rejection email.

  He rested his head against the chair. He breathed in deeply, exhaled, and focused on the sky ahead, imagining his breath creating new clouds. Then he blinked six times in rapid succession, and a shimmering green wall of data surrounded his head, rotating slowly.

  A password maze appeared. Shortcut’s contact lens emitted a red laser into the green wall, and he guided it through the maze. When he reached the end, a chime sounded, the maze collapsed, and his vision surged forward through a brilliant tunnel of light.

  In a flash, he was in a doctor’s office. The walls were avocado green. He smelled carpet and fresh coffee. Several virtual people were sitting in chairs ranged along the walls, and they looked down to avoid Shortcut’s gaze. Futuristic jazz played from speakers in the walls, an electric saxophone riffing on a bossa nova song. He still tasted the dry air of the cockpit, but it mingled with the simulated smell of the office, taking on a strange taste that reminded him of an airplane and all of his childhood doctor visits at the same time.

  Virtual reality always amazed him. His lens interfaced with his brain, and the doctor’s office was a simple string of code somewhere over the Internet. When Shortcut connected to it, it gave his brain specific sensory data points to recreate. His lens connected with the data points and transmitted them to the corresponding sensory areas in his brain, fooling his mind into creating a virtual environment where every molecule felt real.

  And of course, this was just one of the many things his lens could do.

  A secretary greeted him from behind the front desk. She looked real, but she was made of pixels, an avatar for someone elsewhere.

  “How can I help you?”

  “I’m here for enhancements.”

  “What kind?”

  “Enhancements.”

  “What kind?”

  “Artificial intelligence,” Shortcut whispered.

  “You look awfully young. Are you sure?”

  Shortcut sighed and said, “Just call the doctor, okay?”

  He put his thumb into a scanner and his name and photo appeared in front of the woman.

  “Your name is Shortcut?”

  “Yep.”

  “Can you give us a real name for our records?”

  “Mr. Shortcut.”

  The secretary glared at him and typed something into a virtual keypad floating above her desk. “Dr. Frantz will be with you shortly.”

  Shortcut made himself a cup of coffee and sniffed a curlicue of smoke that rose from the biodegradable cup. Three pinches of sugar and hazelnut creamer. The aroma relaxed him. No matter how many times he came to this office, it surprised him how real the coffee smelled. It practically was real. He took a sip and the coffee slowly disappeared as if he were drinking it. Though he wasn’t really consuming it, it still felt like he was getting the benefits.

  He sat down in a chair and put his hands behind his head. A digital screen appeared in front of him, displaying advertisements of new medical enhancements. A woman in a running suit dashed across the screen as an overly enthusiastic narrator spoke.

  “Speed!”

  A man being chased by two evil robots ran down an alley. He picked up a dumpster and heaved it at them, destroying them in a fiery blast. He grabbed his back as if in pain, then smiled and looked at the camera as if to say "gotcha."

  “Strength!”

  A tall man with shoulder-length red hair and freckles appeared on the screen. He wore a white coat and a stethoscope around his neck. His hands were in his pockets, and circular drone bots circled him. His contact lenses glowed, as if a teleprompter were directly inside his eyes. He would have looked like a hipster if he weren’t a doctor.

  “Got the android blues?” the doctor asked. “Why should robots get to have all the fun? Sure, they’re intelligent, but aren’t we the intelligent species who created them? With my enhancements, you can be better than an android. You can be human. I’m Dr. Jonah Frantz, and for years, I’ve been helping people just like you modify their bodies so that they can pursue their dreams with confidence, get there faster, and live happier lives. Are you tired of chugging along in your cushy UEA career? Want to join the new rich? Want to get the girl? Hell, do you want to be a superhero? I can make it happen. My prices aren’t cheap, but the real question is this: what do you want to do with your life?

  “There are two kinds of people in this world. Those with enhancements and those without them. We did a study last year. We looked at the brain activity of humans today, in 2300, versus known data for brain activity of humans in the early 2000s. Want to know what the difference was? Nothing. They were identical. Identical! I don’t know about you, but I believe that life is about progress, not perfection. I want to believe that we’re better than our ancestors—much, much better than that dark generation. After all, weren’t they better than the savages in the Middle Ages, and weren’t the savages in the Middle Ages better than prehistoric cave men? When did we plateau? When did humanity get so damn boring?”

  Shortcut watched, enraptured by every word. “I don’t want to be boring,” he said to himself. “I refuse to be boring!”

  Several of the virtual people looked at him, and he smiled nervously, embarrassed by his outburst.

  Dr. Frantz laughed. “If you want to be better off than the humans of yesterday, if you want to create real advantages for your children, if you want to further the real pursuit of intelligence, you only have one option.”

  A nurse appeared in the doorway. “Shortcut?”

  Shortcut followed her through a winding corridor. She led him into a room with an exam table and watercolor paintings on the walls that changed every few minutes, then gestured him inside before leaving.

  He walked to the sink, washed his hands with foamy soap that made his hands feel
like velvet, and took out his contact lenses. He held them in his palm and doused them with a bottle of solution from the countertop, then held them up to his eyes, scrutinizing them.

  It always felt weird to take the lenses out. The world, 3D and sumptuous and full of data to be explored, became flat. He couldn’t imagine how humans lived without lenses. They made everything easier. When he was walking down the street and wanted to know which restaurants had the best food, all he had to do was focus on the building and all the information he needed appeared in front of him. If he was walking down a dark street at night, his lenses could sense whether there was anyone in the shadows. They improved comfort, decreased crime, and made life more efficient.

  And now he was nearly blind. The room hovered in front of him as if he were looking through a fishbowl.

  “Temporary discomfort,” he said, climbing onto the table. A digital screen appeared in front of him, and it changed its focus to suit his weaker eyesight. The infomercial continued, and Shortcut pumped his fist as he watched other people achieve extraordinary feats with the help of nano enhancements.

  The door opened and Dr. Frantz entered.

  “Hey,” Shortcut said.

  Frantz wasn’t in an enthusiastic mood. At the sight of Shortcut, he frowned and said “What the hell are you here for?”

  “My lenses are burning out.”

  Frantz held out his palm. Shortcut dropped the lenses into it and they glinted as they fell through the air.

  Frantz sat down on a stool and wheeled over to a microscope.

  “Goddamnit,” he said, squinting. “Here I am, making the best enhancements that money can buy, and you’re ruining them in less than three months.”

  Shortcut shrugged.

  “What are you using them for?”

  “Can’t say.”

  “For how long do you use them?”

  “At least sixteen hours a day.”

  “Sixteen—” Frantz shook his head and started to say something, but then stopped. “I told you not to use them for longer than a few hours at a time. You’ll burn your brain out. You’re going to be a walking petri dish for health problems.”

  “Kind of why I’m here,” Shortcut said, pointing to his bloodshot eyes.

  Frantz cursed. “I can give you new lenses, but what else do you want me to do?”

  “Upgrade me.”

  “No. You’re not getting another artificial enhancement. Next time you want to learn something, pick up a book. Learn the old-fashioned way.”

  “I’ve got the money,” Shortcut said. “You know I’ll pay on time.”

  “That’s the problem,” Frantz said. “You’re too willing to pay. I don’t even know how old you are, or what your real name is. You look like you’re twelve years old.”

  “Thanks for the compliment.”

  “God knows what kind of backwater enhancements you had before you found me. You haven’t reported me to the UEA, have you? You better not be setting a trap.”

  “Great power of deduction, Doctor,” Shortcut said. “The Council paid me to burn my eyes out so I can catch a bad guy. That’s ingenious.”

  “Screw the Council. They can create world peace and androids that keep society safe, but they won’t approve my enhancements.”

  “I’m not leaving until I have new lenses and an enhancement. How do you expect me to get anything done with regular eyesight?”

  Frantz reached into his pocket and threw Shortcut a white box. He opened it, and saw wet lenses sitting in small trays of solution. They weren’t real, but they looked like it.

  “New lenses. By the time you leave this virtual world, a drone will have delivered them to your location. I’ll give you a lens enhancement in a few days, but I’ve got a few other appointments. I’ll find you when it’s your time.”

  “Perfect.”

  “You’re using too much technology, Shortcut. You’re no better than an alcoholic. If you keep pushing yourself like this, there’s going to be trouble.”

  Shortcut climbed off the table and shook the doctor’s hand. “You’re the best. I appreciate the help.”

  “Are you listening to me?”

  Shortcut blinked six times, and he felt himself being pulled from the doctor’s office. The green wall of information appeared again and then shattered.

  He was back in the cockpit. A white drone hovered over the windshield with his new contact lenses. He ran to the back of the plane and opened the bay doors to let it in. He ripped the box open and put in his new contacts, then sighed with relief as data poured across his vision.

  He breathed heavily. Virtual reality always wore him out. He plopped himself down on a cot and fell asleep dreaming about all the things he’d be able to do with another lens enhancement.

  Chapter 3

  X sat at the dining room table as the family gathered around him. The little boy flicked on the light and X observed the house. The living room fed into the kitchen where the dining table sat. The walls were orange, and the room smelled of fresh mangoes. A pot of stew simmered on the stove. The mother, a portly African woman, stood by the oven, folding her arms and staring at X incredulously.

  The father, a dark-skinned man in a button-up shirt and khaki shorts, leaned forward. He had thick lips and smelled of musk cologne. In one hand he held a can of sweating beer.

  The little boy sat next to X, marveling at him.

  “I’m Sparrow,” the boy said. “This is my dad, Kitchener, and my mom, Lucienne.”

  His parents nodded hello.

  “What do you mean I have to save you?” X asked.

  “Some android showed up and started going crazy at the port,” Kitchener said. He had a thick Caribbean accent. “He stormed the streets, told everyone to stay inside. Shot a bunch of folks. Offered big bucks to any human who joined him. Broke into jail and grabbed all the criminals.”

  X’s eyes lit up, and he projected a digital screen over the table. A tall, black android appeared. His skin was very dark, and he had a mustache. He wore a blue uniform and military cap, and he had a serious look on his face, as if he had never smiled a day in his life.

  “That’s him,” Sparrow said.

  “That android, what he want?” Kitchener asked. “Why’s he here?”

  “I don’t know, and if I did, I couldn’t tell you,” X said.

  “What’re we supposed to do? Sit here holed up all day? I got a business, man. Every day I sit here, I lose money. I ain’t going to go broke because of some weed-smoking android, let me tell you that!”

  The idea of an android smoking weed was completely illogical, so X decided not to say anything about it. “Where is the android?” He changed the digital screen to a map of the island.

  Kitchener stood up and touched an area on the west side of the island just north of the capital. “They say he raided a mansion on the beach and is living there. He and a group of delinquents he busted out of jail. They’re a bunch of gun-toting, pizza-eating cronies. A bunch of good-for-nothing, free-loading—”

  “Don’t get into one of your tirades again,” Lucienne said.

  “What do you mean, pizza-eating cronies?” X asked.

  “They can’t get enough of it,” Kitchener said. “Pizza drones been coming in and out of that place. Cheap food. The only person happy about the siege is the pizza company. Damn conglomerates!”

  “I can take you there,” Sparrow said.

  X knew by the tone in Sparrow’s voice that he was determined to go along. That would create a problem. X surveyed the apartment. He could sneak out of the house, but Sparrow would come after him, and he would be in danger. Especially with armed men walking the streets.

  Sparrow was going to come along whether X wanted him to or not, so X thought ahead, his algorithm crunching all the possible scenarios. X dead. X alive but Sparrow dead—lawsuit from Kitchener and Lucienne. X and Sparrow captured, Sparrow scarred for life. X and Sparrow alive but Brockway escapes. X and Sparrow alive and Brockway dead.

&nbs
p; The odds weren’t as good as he wanted them to be.

  He couldn’t let Sparrow come to harm, but he knew he needed the boy to help him get to the mansion. He calculated the odds, confirmed a path, and said, “I don’t want you getting hurt.”

  “It’s okay, Mr. Android,” Sparrow said. “I know the way there. If you go on your own, they’ll catch you. What’s your name?”

  “X.”

  “Cool name! Do you have guns?”

  X’s wrist receded and a gun popped out; doors on his shoulders opened and turrets rose.

  Sparrow whooped.

  “You’ll have to wait until nightfall,” Lucienne said, stirring the pot of stew. “Boys, come and get you something to eat. You want something, X?”

  X shook his head.

  She pointed at him with her spoon. “Keep forgetting that you’re android. You look so human. Can’t hardly tell what folks are anymore, especially with you androids and your human-like emotions.”

  Kitchener winked. “And it’s nice to see a black face on an android, too. It’s about time!”

  “Kitchener, stop!” Lucienne said.

  “What?” Kitchener asked, shrugging. “Ain’t nothin’ wrong with cheering on one of our own. Android or not, we are brothers.”

  Awkward silence fell over the room.

  “I got no problem with emotional androids,” Kitchener said, breaking some crackers into his stew. “Beats them androids from the singularity. Talk about some stone cold mother—”

  “Kitchener!” Lucienne cried. “How many times’ve I told you stop cursing in front of Sparrow?”

  “Emmer-effers,” Kitchener said softly, trying to keep the word out of Sparrow’s hearing. “You know what I mean, X.”

  “What is it like to have emotions?” Lucienne asked.

  “I’ve never thought about that,” X said.

  “Guess not,” Lucienne said. “Then again, I’ve never thought about what it’s like to have emotions, either. Those android engineers are saints. Saints! We can have a conversation with you. They say that in the old days, used to be that talking to an android was like talking to the flat side of a boat.”