perfectly labeled with an accurate and extensive nomenclature system and intralinked to contextual data. Mouse downloaded as much as he could just for the setup. He’d use that himself for managing all his ill-gotten information.
Eventually, he found the data relating to her dissertation, and the reason why a company snapped her up so quickly: Practicalities and Moral Concerns Regarding the Development and Management of Self-Aware Artificial Intelligences.
As he skimmed through it, he got that sixth-sense warning feeling. Self-aware AIs? That was bad news. There were plenty of AIs already out there in the Net controlling the Web servers, but they worked within tight parameters and weren’t sentient. Hell, he didn’t even realize it was possible, but as he read through those notes, he discovered that a group of students, including Ariadne, had created such a being—for that’s what it was now, a being, not just code in supervised lab conditions.
It appeared to Mouse that there was an arms race between the various universities. Ariadne’s didn’t win. No guessing who was funding the winning university. The rest of her report confirmed it. Metion were bankrolling a project headed by Cretian National University.
Mouse always knew the CNU were shady. The DarkNet was full of viruses developed by the professors and postgrad students. They thought nothing of hacking hackers—often causing permanent brain damage when those poor bastards were caught hooked up to the max via the PREs. But this…this Daedalus Project was off the chart.
He called up Phaedra. The line buzzed for a few seconds before her face appeared on his PR screen. She looked like she’d had more than just one glass of wine, and after discovering the info about the AI, he wished he had some fine wine at hand.
“What’s up? Found anything?”
“I found the girl’s research information. It’s worse than I thought. They developed fully functioning, sentient AIs, and Metion were funding the CNU, who developed the Daedalus Project.”
“Shit.”
***
Mouse waited for further response from Phaedra, but she just lay there, thinking.
“Look, why don’t I carry on digging and report back later.”
“Okay,” she said, “but you need to find a way into Metion, find out what happened to Ariadne. She might still be alive—the others might be still alive. Perhaps they’re working for them? How do we know these kids going off the grid isn’t part of the plan? Make everyone think they’re dead when they’re working on their damned Daedalus Project.”
Mouse shrugged. “It’s possible, I suppose, but although they wiped her PR records, why leave her workstation open like this? Sure, it was encrypted, but it wasn’t difficult to crack.”
“Maybe you’re just being modest?”
He cracked a smile. “Do I look modest to you? Would I want your FT if I were modest?”
“Fair point. Keep me posted.”
“Sure thing.”
Mouse signed off, completed the download of information from Ariadne’s datastore and was thinking about getting down into the sublevels to find a way into Metion when something in one of the files caught his attention—a name.
It showed up on a number of the test-data documents—and there were mentions of it within the files Cynthia had given to him: Dr. Kalani.
Mouse ran the name through his search program, pulled up his record.
Dr. Kalani, thirty-nine years old. A professor overseeing Ariadne’s research. No convictions, stellar record in research and development of advanced information systems.
Decent guy , Mouse thought. Even his interaction matrix and PR records were clean as a whistle: not a sign of a deviant sexbot or artificial highs anywhere. And the most useful thing was that he was actively online, alive and publicly available.
While Mouse exited the university and seated himself inside the FT, he called up Kalani via the PR.
A bearded Asian man stared at Mouse with a mixture of confusion and fear. “This
Eventually, he found the data relating to her dissertation, and the reason why a company snapped her up so quickly: Practicalities and Moral Concerns Regarding the Development and Management of Self-Aware Artificial Intelligences.
As he skimmed through it, he got that sixth-sense warning feeling. Self-aware AIs? That was bad news. There were plenty of AIs already out there in the Net controlling the Web servers, but they worked within tight parameters and weren’t sentient. Hell, he didn’t even realize it was possible, but as he read through those notes, he discovered that a group of students, including Ariadne, had created such a being—for that’s what it was now, a being, not just code in supervised lab conditions.
It appeared to Mouse that there was an arms race between the various universities. Ariadne’s didn’t win. No guessing who was funding the winning university. The rest of her report confirmed it. Metion were bankrolling a project headed by Cretian National University.
Mouse always knew the CNU were shady. The DarkNet was full of viruses developed by the professors and postgrad students. They thought nothing of hacking hackers—often causing permanent brain damage when those poor bastards were caught hooked up to the max via the PREs. But this…this Daedalus Project was off the chart.
He called up Phaedra. The line buzzed for a few seconds before her face appeared on his PR screen. She looked like she’d had more than just one glass of wine, and after discovering the info about the AI, he wished he had some fine wine at hand.
“What’s up? Found anything?”
“I found the girl’s research information. It’s worse than I thought. They developed fully functioning, sentient AIs, and Metion were funding the CNU, who developed the Daedalus Project.”
“Shit.”
***
Mouse waited for further response from Phaedra, but she just lay there, thinking.
“Look, why don’t I carry on digging and report back later.”
“Okay,” she said, “but you need to find a way into Metion, find out what happened to Ariadne. She might still be alive—the others might be still alive. Perhaps they’re working for them? How do we know these kids going off the grid isn’t part of the plan? Make everyone think they’re dead when they’re working on their damned Daedalus Project.”
Mouse shrugged. “It’s possible, I suppose, but although they wiped her PR records, why leave her workstation open like this? Sure, it was encrypted, but it wasn’t difficult to crack.”
“Maybe you’re just being modest?”
He cracked a smile. “Do I look modest to you? Would I want your FT if I were modest?”
“Fair point. Keep me posted.”
“Sure thing.”
Mouse signed off, completed the download of information from Ariadne’s datastore and was thinking about getting down into the sublevels to find a way into Metion when something in one of the files caught his attention—a name.
It showed up on a number of the test-data documents—and there were mentions of it within the files Cynthia had given to him: Dr. Kalani.
Mouse ran the name through his search program, pulled up his record.
Dr. Kalani, thirty-nine years old. A professor overseeing Ariadne’s research. No convictions, stellar record in research and development of advanced information systems.
Decent guy , Mouse thought. Even his interaction matrix and PR records were clean as a whistle: not a sign of a deviant sexbot or artificial highs anywhere. And the most useful thing was that he was actively online, alive and publicly available.
While Mouse exited the university and seated himself inside the FT, he called up Kalani via the PR.
A bearded Asian man stared at Mouse with a mixture of confusion and fear. “This
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