Chapter Five
The Real News
Meagan Fletcher’s seventh floor office faced east. During the day, she had a clear view of the spectacular cliffs comprising the western edge of the legendary Superstition Mountains. At about the time Cameron was searching for his scissors, the reporter was standing at her office window, looking down at the large array of satellite dishes sprouting like lopsided mushrooms from the ground below her window. These were the uplinks and downlinks that moved WBN digital video broadcasts and comNet data around the world at the speed of light. Up until a few days ago, she thought she was surrounded by the most advanced technology that existed, but not any more.
After GundTech’s stunning introduction of the IHT, there was a mad scramble by the media to get the story behind the technology. How did it work? Who created it? The answers to those questions would be news.
Meagan contacted all of her sources within the tech sector. No one knew any more about the new technology than she did. Everyone with whom she talked told her the same thing: even the largest super computers simply could not achieve the computing power required to do what the IHT did.
Something bothered her. Something was wrong. She didn’t trust GundTech and their mysterious boy-genius. You are a he, aren’t you? That slipped out at the news conference, didn’t it? About my age now — about thirty-or-so?
And what was with that absurd application form people around the world reported receiving today? It would take days for the WBN legal department to review the copy they had obtained and summarize it for the news department. How were mere kids supposed to fill it out?
Meagan mentally reviewed what she knew about GundTech. GundTech had grown from a minor computer game publisher to one of the largest computing companies in the world, practically over night. Its meteoric rise to the top ranks was due entirely to the work of a child prodigy, who had conceived a new approach to AI — to artificial intelligence. Simply put, AI technology allowed computers to think for themselves and to have personalities. The first primitive use of the GundTech AI technology came in a few new game disks programmed for existing game machines. Soon, GundTech was producing its own game machine — one that could take full advantage of their AI features. Within three years, GundTech introduced the multiCom, a fully functional, artificially intelligent computer. There were only two multiCom models: the corporate and the home versions.
Now, GundTech produced both hardware and software, and it dominated the artificial intelligence technology market. It could have easily kept the technology for itself, yet it licensed its technology to any competitor that wanted it — for a healthy royalty, of course. It even provided schools around the world with multiCom equipment for less than cost. On the surface, GundTech appeared to be a gentle giant of a company content to “do good.” However, Meagan Fletcher knew large companies rarely did good deeds just for the sake of doing good deeds. Her mind was a jumble of questions.
What is GundTech up to?
How can it afford to practically give away its products to schools?
And why? Was it out of a true concern about children, or something more sinster?
Was GundTech trying to control what kids learned? Trying to turn them into loyal consumers. To control their minds?
Meagan turned away from the window, sat down at her desk, and tapped the digital screen embedded in her desktop. There was a slight hum as a heavy curtain was drawn across the window, casting the office in deep shadows. She tapped the screen again and a panel on the wall opposite her desk slid open, revealing a large screen multiCom. This was a high-powered corporate model, not a home model like Sam and Vee. “Power,” she said.
“Good afternoon, Ms. Fletcher,” said the not-quite-male, not-quite-female multiCom voice.
“Manual mode. No vidCap, please.” she said to the nameless AI.
“Manual mode. No vidCap,” the multiCom confirmed.
Did she hear a note of disappointment in the synthetic voice of the multiCom? Meagan was suspicious of AIs. It irritated her to have to be polite to a machine and she refused to name her multiCom — “like some pet” as she put it. Consequently, she almost always requested manual mode. The “no vidCap” command turned off the multiCom’s ability to capture and transmit her image.
The WBN technology reporter wondered what her viewers would think if they knew she was paranoid about technology. They would undoubtedly think she was ignorant of the capabilities of these modern marvels. The fact was, Meagan feared technology because she did know its vast capabilities. But it was more than a fear of technology. It was her need to be independent, to get by on her own, to not need other people.
Meagan accepted the fact she was a loner and knew why. She was neither pretty nor popular in high school. High schools — plural — to be more accurate, having gone to three different schools in four years thanks to her father’s military career. She was intelligent, smart, and savvy enough to know there was a difference between smartness and intelligence. Growing up without a mother and having a father who was often distant geographically, and always distant emotionally, did not prepare her well for developing lasting relationships with humans, pets, house plants or, God forbid, a machine with a mind of its own.
So, rather than rely on her AI, Meagan typed her commands on the screen embedded in the desktop.
SEARCH: GundTech + “corporate info”
In seconds, her screen was filled with links to data and video files about GundTech. She selected a file labeled Corporate Structure. She expected it would tell her who owned the company. To her surprise, the file was brief. GundTech was a privately owned company, meaning there were no investors to whom the company must answer. There were no public documents that could give her clues to what GundTech was doing. Most large companies are owned by thousands of people who invest in them by purchasing “shares.” Companies sell shares to raise the money they need to build and expand. However, GundTech shares were all owned by one person — no, not a person, a foundation called “The Gund Fund.” Like GundTech itself, the fund was based in Oslo, Norway.
She again typed on the embedded desk screen.
SEARCH: “The Gund Fund” +Oslo
The results of the search flashed onto the screen.
No match found. Refine SEARCH?
Curiouser and curiouser, thought the reporter. If I can find out what GundTech is up to, that would be real news.
– End Chapter Five –
