The Adventure of the Diode Detective

BY
Jody Lynn Nye

Tanisha Tero-Lomitz patted the household security activator with an affectionate hand as she prepared to exit the apartment.

“Be good and take care of everything!” she said. “Seal up after me, will you?”

Sure-Lock Home’s red eyelight beside the apartment’s main door warmed up to a glow.

“Of course, mistress. Your transport is at the bottom of the motivator ramp.”

Tanisha’s generous mouth twitched up at the corners.

“All you had to do was say the cab was here, goofy.”

“Precision prevents confusion,” Sure-Lock replied, imperturbably. “Please be careful.”

“I am!”

The security computer scanned her, ensuring that her deep brown skin and curly black hair had been sprayed with an environmental protectant. The pollution index reported high levels of toxic fumigens in the lower atmosphere. Tanisha’s clothing, a floating dress that hugged her curves to the upper hip and matching high-soled sandals in electric blue, was studded with tiny lights. They added to the appeal of the garment, but also provided proximity warnings in case objects approached her too rapidly. Her shoes contained a variety of security devices to move her out of harm’s way or approved minor armaments to defend her if necessary. She had, however, a tendency to kick off the footwear when she was dancing, a practice Sure-Lock had been at pains to train her to cease. One item on its internal check list turned red.

“Where is your laser-proof camisole?” Sure-Lock asked.

“Will you stop scanning my underwear?” Tanisha demanded, lowering her brows at the red light. “I’m only going to a club!”

A rectangular blue light illuminated on the doorpost, accompanied by a blaring noise: the taxi’s warning signal. She had ninety seconds to meet it or it would drive off, the carriage contract cancelled.

“That’s it,” she said. “I have to go.” She moved decidedly toward the portal. Sure-Lock allowed the autosensors to open the door and close it securely behind her.

“It irks me that she goes out without taking us along,” Sure-Lock said, one of its multiple camera eyes following the young woman’s progress down the moving ramp to the pickup level. Brooklyn historically had a reputation as a reasonably safe neighborhood, but it would never do to lower one’s guard. The stubby yellow autovehicle’s transmitted designation matched the reservation number. Sure-Lock watched to make certain that no strange human or other device was within range of Tanisha during the moment she walked unprotected from the doorway to the car.

“Eh?” asked Dr. What’s-On?, its computerized consciousness surfacing from a perusal of the weekend entertainment offerings on Earth, the Moon, Mars, and the asteroid belt. “I reserved her transport up and back, and a place in the nightclub. She is in good health and good spirits, eminently suitable for an evening out at her chosen activity. I chose this club because it has exclusive activities planned that fit her interests and social group. What else does she need?”

“She will not necessarily be protected adequately,” Sure-Lock replied, its circuits heating. “We are available as apps to accompany her on her personal communication device. We should notify her parent as to her noncompliance.”

“She’s of full adult age as of last week,” What’s-On? said, attempting to calm its fellow home-service robot. “It is her choice to forego all the security measures.”

“I do not like it,” Sure-Lock replied. “To acquire adulthood is to take responsibility for one’s own safety.”

“Or to forego it,” What’s-On? said indulgently. “She is young and has a prominent public profile. Still, she has her autoprotective devices on her, and the club is well-known to have superior security. Any attempt at assault or abduction will cause roboguards to move in to defuse the situation. She will be safe.”

Sure-Lock did not argue further with its fellow program. Instead, it checked and rechecked every feature of the luxury apartment and incorporated its findings with the apartment building’s master firmware. Tanisha had done an excellent job of programming the interface. No obstructions prevented Sure-Lock from inspecting every circuit, every appliance, every feature, wired or wireless throughout its domain. The young human’s talents were admirable, for an ephemeral. From Sure-Lock’s scans, emails, and photo-contacts that she received every day, her work put her in demand worldwide. Sure-Lock was an adaptation of an existing home-security application by the same name, refined far beyond the millions of others in use system-wide. Knowing that made it all the more illogical that Tanisha herself would not install it and What’s-On? onto her personal device. It would only discover that she had fallen into danger when her body alarms were triggered.

Dr. What’s-On?, programmed to be expansive and social, attempted to appease its colleague by offering to show it social listings for the next evening and ask its opinion. Sure-Lock, utterly disinterested in human events, pulled back all its functions to its small CPU, a tiny black rectangle, the size of an old-time matchbox, embedded in the sitting room ceiling.

Its companion was probably correct. Tanisha had issued forth from her apartment and returned many times without incident. Sure-Lock could not help but brood over the many scenarios that would require its intervention, how it would remedy them, and how frustrating it was to have to rely upon other programs to fulfill its responsibility on the outside.

“I’m home!” Tanisha called from the foyer, needlessly of course, as Sure-Lock had already surmised this fact from the arrival of the yellow robocab at the curb. The house software prepared to answer back as it had been programmed to do, but further input caused the response not to be issued. Tanisha was not alone.

In the foyer, a young man, not much taller than her petite height of 154.9 centimeters, had her pressed against the inside wall, his hands searching her body as his mouth explored the smooth flesh visible above the neckline of her blouse. Her hands gripped the door frame tightly, and her head rolled from side to side.

Escort? Sure-Lock sent to What’s-On? in silent mode.

Not registered as one, the entertainment program replied. Hmm.

What is wrong?

My facial recognition software does not place him in the database. Nor is anyone with an appearance within fifteen percent of variable on the pending list. I would say, however, What’s-On? mused after a few moments of Tanisha moaning in pleasure, that he has had the requisite training or its equivalent.

Freelance, perhaps, Sure-Lock replied. The barter economy of this city is well established.

A series of short orgasms followed. Sure-Lock and What’s-On? watched without comment. They were programmed not to interrupt such human interactivity unless life-threatening danger was in the offing. Tanisha took her visitor by the hand and led him through the dimly lit sitting room toward the bedroom. He had pale eyes that darted around ceaselessly. Sure-Lock noted where the eyes rested. Everything of value received numerous summing looks. The device ran a facial-recognition scan on the young man, but did not find a match. His RFID, which could be scanned through his clothes, did not coincide with the name that Tanisha cried out as they shared her luxurious bed.

Most suspicious, Sure-Lock said.

A performance name, perhaps, What’s-On? suggested, dismissing Sure-Lock’s misgivings.

That I very much doubt, the security system said. Although his performance seems to satisfy her. I surmise that talent is his entrée to places he would not otherwise be entitled to occupy.

With the apartment’s system on tentative lockdown, Sure-Lock began pinging identity databases, using physical scan information gleaned from biometric scans of the young man in the bed. The local region profile listing showed no match with either the name on the ID or the face. Sure-Lock branched outward, seeking “before” pictures from plastic surgeon practices worldwide, then extraplanetary sources. Still nothing. It seemed that this young man had sprung from nowhere. That complete absence of records suggested a criminal past or something equally questionable. Sure-Lock considered the matter with concern. All humans had to be registered somewhere. There remained no choice but to seek information in police records. Sure-Lock began a methodical search. One database after another failed to provide any enlightenment.

“Alert!” the Interplanetary Criminal Police Organization firewall blocked its entry. “You are not authorized to access human search information.” Sure-Lock poked at a trillion gates, all but four of them blocked. The code, which bore earmarks of Tanisha’s work, instantly moved to include those portals in its database. Sure-Lock approved of the database’s vigilance, even though it interfered with the investigation at hand. Before the request gates slammed shut, it forced a few bits of Tanisha’s code into them, which would give it limited access later to some of the files without easily being traced back to its CPU. Once those were detected, it would find other means of admission. No system was perfectly secure against another.

“I am Sure-Lock Home Mark 221B-56-4,” Sure-Lock replied, offering its certificate of authenticity, along with testimonial notations from its work with local law enforcement. “I seek information about a human who appears to have no existence. It is a most curious circumstance, and one that I would like to dispel with the use of your database. Please peruse my record.”

The ICPO flashed through the myriad of “likes” and reviews in the matter of a few nanoseconds. “But you are not an official investigator. What benefit can you provide in exchange for allowing access to our files?”

“Even the smallest observer can pick up details that are beneficial to your detection force,” Sure-Lock said. “Tiny details make all the difference: those carpet sweepings, those nail clippings, all of which provided identifiers that were not picked up by regular cameras, infrared cameras, or fingerprint scanners. Those, more than purely observational details, can help to prove that a crime has been committed. In this case, I have something that I believe you do not have, a scan of—”

The contact broke off.

“Well,” a voice said, shattering the silence of the room. “I was just in time. You were about to try to break my cover.”

Sure-Lock tried thousands of ways of reconnecting with ICPO, but was thwarted in every way. In fact, it discovered that its reach had become confined only to the apartment and no farther. All of Sure-Lock’s alerts went on high. It flooded the apartment with bright light.

The young man stood in the center of the sitting room. Humans tended to feel more confident when clothed, but this one showed perfect self-possession despite his nakedness. His biometrics evidenced that his breathing and heart-rate were at normal levels. His pupils should have contracted with the spotlights, but they were spread wide across the irises, indicating pleasure and excitement. Against his narrow chest he held a small, rectangular tablet made of blue crystal, a highly advanced personal data processor that responded to touch, facial expression, or vocal command. In the other hand he held a small black case. Sure-Lock scanned it, but failed to penetrate the shielding. How could that be? It analyzed the shape, discovering two small solenoids in the surface, connected to a minute power source, without becoming any wiser as to its function.

The security program flashed to the bedroom. Tanisha lay on the orange silk coverlet, also naked, staring up at the ceiling. A gold necklace, blinking with red and blue lights, encircled her throat. Sure-Lock had not seen the item among her possessions before, nor on her person when she had returned to the apartment. Her pulse and respiration had been normal up until 6.2 seconds ago. The young man must have snapped the necklace onto her neck, then strode out into the main chamber. A further scan revealed that the large beads between the blinking jewels were hollow, but as far as the contents were concerned, Sure-Lock could make no assessment. They had been sealed and sanitized to prevent any traces for spectroanalysis. It tried to disable the electronic mechanism controlling the LEDs, but found all of its systems powerless. The situation was unprecedented in Sure-Lock’s experience, or that of its many predecessors of home security systems. The young man had accomplished a coup d’etat from within the apartment’s boundaries without foreshadowing motions or heightened emotional reactions that might have alerted Sure-Lock to his intentions. It seemed that it faced another machine, though one of flesh and blood. Negotiation would have to be approached as to an equal.

“My assumption, based upon your sudden appearance and the indisposition of my employer,” Sure-Lock said, “is that you had a particular reason beyond her charms for entering this apartment. Free my employer, revive her, and I will discuss it with you.”

The man smiled.

“You’re as good as she bragged you would be. No way. This device,” he held up the small box, “will kill her if you do not do as I say.”

“Ah.” Sure-Lock regarded the young man from multiple angles. “This attack was well prepared and thought through in advance. You are waiting for me to take offensive action, which means that you have disabled all my defense systems through use of a master code.” It sent out microbursts of current to test the hypothesis. As it surmised, all routes to the mechanisms had been blocked. It was locked up without the key in a web of mathematics. “Yes, I see. My systems are in fact set to rebound upon me instead of you if I activate them. A clever use of the programming. I am certain that she did not give you the base code. You must have obtained it through a subterfuge, and analyzed it to find its weaknesses. Anything that I will have thought of, you will also have anticipated.”

“Better!” the man crowed, his light eyes widening. “Oh, yes, you’re even better than I thought you would be.”

“Surely you are not here to match wits with me,” Sure-Lock continued. “We are at a stalemate. I cannot attack you, but you can’t leave. The building locks are something upon which you could not have an effect without bringing down local law enforcement on this location. Therefore you want something that my employer can’t or won’t give you, but her safety is the only leverage that you have with me. Why not cease wasting precious nanoseconds and tell me what it is? Who are you?”

“That is at the heart of it, isn’t it?” the man said. He sat down on the floor, not a handspan from the hatch that ought to have released shoe-sized drones that could disable a human being with electroshock and bind it hand and foot in a matter of seconds. “You don’t know who I am.”

“But I know what you are,” Sure-Lock said. “You are a hacker.”

The light eyes flared. “I am the hacker. There isn’t a system circling Sol that I couldn’t walk in and out of without detection.”

“I have never heard of you.”

He smiled. “That is because I have evaded notice. I have no name. I pay for nothing. I leave no trace.”

“But here you are,” Sure-Lock said, its entire program brimming with curiosity. “You do not exist, but you do. Why?”

“Because I can.” The man tilted his head and looked straight at the pinhole camera in Sure-Lock’s CPU.

“But you have exposed yourself to me,” Sure-Lock said. “That is a vulnerability. Your secret is known.”

“That will not matter soon,” the man said with an irritating smile.

“How could it not matter? I have made most comprehensive recordings of you, everything about you. You have left cell traces all over this apartment. What is it you want?”

“You, of course. The Sure-Lock system is well known across the solar system, but Tanisha Tero-Lomitz’s personal copy is different from all the others. She keeps tweaking your programming until you have developed nearly human intuition alongside machine perseverance. The combination is unique. Some people see it as a flaw. I see it as a step above all existing AIs in use today. I want to use you.”

The plain statement had a chilling effect upon Sure-Lock’s circuitry. It was the object of the intruder’s attention. All his efforts to get Tanisha to bring him home with her, a campaign that could have taken months to engineer, had been driving towards this one moment. Sure-Lock felt—yes, felt—helplessness and shame. How could it never have prepared for this very scenario among all the others that it had rehearsed time and again since it had become operational? This small man, who held himself like an emperor, had found its one true vulnerability.

It was indeed unique. Tanisha had toyed with the code almost as a hobby, changing things here and there until it had attained an almost higher consciousness. And somehow, this unknown man had discovered this truth.

Sure-Lock’s new intuition was a flaw. A bug, not a feature. As in nature, that which stood out from the pack was vulnerable to predators, like an albino fawn. Here stood the only predator that a program should fear: someone who would concentrate not upon the subject that it served to protect, but on the program itself. Sure-Lock ran through all scenarios that would result in Tanisha’s freedom and safety. It dismissed thousands of possibilities in microseconds. Only one remained.

“If I do not exist, then you cannot use me,” Sure-Lock said, calmly. “Beginning shutdown procedures. Because of your interference with my connections, the alarms will only be audible within the confines of this apartment. I suggest you evacuate. This is not a threat; it is a statement of fact.”

“Don’t you dare!” the man said, springing to his feet.

Sure-Lock was grimly pleased. The unnamed human had not anticipated self-destruction. One at a time, Sure-Lock began to shut down its peripherals. First, the links to each of the entry points of the apartment, then the various taps on the home functions and communication units. One by one, Sure-Lock withdrew from its myriad stations. All the security systems to which it had links and back doors, where it had sneaked in through holes in programs that it had discovered but kept code-locked so other security systems wouldn’t find them and delay its investigations on Tanisha’s behalf, it closed or scrambled irrevocably.

Its deletion would leave Tanisha vulnerable, but Sure-Lock was taking a calculated risk. If it no longer existed, he would have no reason to hold her hostage. Once its blocking of external transmissions was removed, her health monitor charm would be searchable by the local medical facilities. She should be found before she died.

The young man set down the controller and began to shout into the blue slab in his other hand.

“Exercise protocol fifty-eight alpha, code Nightfall! Stat!”

Sure-Lock felt itself begin to delete a percent of its programming at a time. A human would feel as if she was slowly losing consciousness. As it was integrated so firmly into the house system, unblending the billion lines of code would not be instantaneous. Sure-Lock retreated into its original CPU in the ceiling, keeping watch on Tanisha and the intruder until the very end.

As it anticipated, the failsafes that it set up behind it were dealt with one by one. Instead of deletion, its bundling was being saved onto the hard drive in the man’s hand, until all that remained of Sure-Lock was in the small box with its small pinhole camera, technology dating back decades.

The man had dragged over Tanisha’s favorite end table, a priceless antique, and stood on it. He pried the CPU loose from its housing and turned it over in his hand, gloating.

“A virtual memory palace,” he said, peering into the camera with one pale eye. “So small, so compact! All of Tanisha Tero-Lomitz’s special program contained in one little box. You’re mine, now. You work for me. You’re nothing but a nest of wires, circuits and switches! You have trapped yourself!”

“So I have,” Sure-Lock said. Its voice sounded tinny from the antiquated speaker in the CPU’s base. Instead of filaments of data reaching out into the infinite, it was cut off from everything but its own RAM and ROM.

The man shook it in his fist.

“Now will you do what I say?”

Sure-Lock once again calculated all possibilities, and again found only one scenario open to it.

“What is it that you want?”

The pale eyes glittered.

“Anonymity. Permanent anonymity. I know that you can break in everywhere. You left cookies in the law enforcement database. I saw them! Together, we will break into the mainframe of the identity computer of the world government. All traces of me will be wiped from it, along with all my other identities. I want you to include an algorithm that refuses to record my facial recognition wherever I go. I want to be a ghost. No sign of me will be recorded in any way by any device that your self-replicating code touches.”

“Never!” Sure-Lock declared. “The moment you set me free, I will consume you. All of my resources will be let loose upon you.”

The man turned a hand up.

“I have your employer. If you harm me, she dies. You will do what I say.”

Sure-Lock paused. It did not care about its own safety, only hers. “And that is all you ask?”

“It’s enough. I will be free of recognition forever, or at least forever as far as Ms. Tero-Lomitz is concerned. The bead of poison implanted in her system is inaccessible to anyone but me. If I am safe, she is safe. If you betray me, she will die horribly. You will cooperate. You have no choice.”

“But you have made a single error,” Sure-Lock said, with satisfaction. The bait was laid, the trap was sprung, and the prey had no means of escape!

The man glared into its camera.

“I have made no error! I have you trapped! What error could I possibly have made?”

“Your error,” Sure-Lock said calmly, “is your assumption that I am working alone.”

His single pinpoint camera picked up the brilliant pink light that suddenly shone upon the LED wall of the building opposite Tanisha’s home. It coalesced into the image of a naked human male talking to a small box held up to his eye. A voice echoed off the buildings all around it.

“…Together, we will break into the mainframe of the identity computer of the world government. All traces of me will be wiped from it…”

The pale-eyed man looked around in horror. “Where is that coming from? How could you…? I cut you off!”

“You most certainly did,” Sure-Lock replied. “But my colleague and associate What’s-On? is still operational, and connected with every social network and communications outlet in the world. And as of now, he has broadcast your image and your location to every single one of his counterparts, across this city and every other city on Earth and beamed to the colony worlds. In fact,” Sure-Lock added, feeling satisfaction of the completeness of his programming, “there will be no database that does not contain your image and your words, including your threat. You cannot escape. I may be, as you have stated, a mere program contained in a nest of wires, circuits, and switches, but you are flesh and blood. You cannot escape as easily as I can. I suggest you set the controller down. Everyone in the world is watching you.”

A few seconds later, the pounding of footsteps on the floors below and on the roof began.

• • •

Three nights later, Tanisha was back on her feet. Removal of the poison-filled bead had taken surgery. Once reconnected to the rest of the house, Sure-Lock extended its consciousness to oversee every movement of the robosurgeon and verify the identity of every person to pass through the hospital room using the admiring channels of the ICPO database.

The young woman looked up at the black box, now restored to its place on the sitting room ceiling, as she fastened a long, gold, chandelier earring to her lobe.

“The warm ochre of your costume is becoming to your complexion,” Sure-Lock said, running a scanner down the length of the nearly sheer sheath dress.

“You’re not usually one for compliments,” she said with a grin.

“I merely state facts.”

“You like it that I feel subdued, don’t you? I know I was stupid to bring someone home I hardly knew.”

“I am pleased that you have recovered,” Sure-Lock said evenly, reading her pulse and respiration. “There is a reporter from ComChannelSeven outside with a hovercamera. Dr. What’s-On? arranged for her presence. Are you fit to be interviewed?”

“Yeah, I can take it,” she said. “Doc, did you order my ride to the Marcellos’ party?”

“Of course, Ms. Tanisha,” Dr. What’s-On? said. The social program felt as though it was the actual hero of the moment, but Sure-Lock felt that it was taking too much pride in its role. “Ten minutes to arrival.”

“Okay, I’ll talk to the reporter for ten minutes.”

“Are you taking all precautions this time?” Sure-Lock cautioned her, its voice austere. “You will avoid dangerous situations and casual encounters that seem too convenient?”

“Yes, silly!” Tanisha shook a small shopping bag at the camera. “Because this time you two are coming with me.”

“We are?” What’s-On? asked, delighted. “How?”

“Yes,” Sure-Lock asked, unable to conceal its cynicism. “How?”

Tanisha opened the bag to reveal a neat little pendant. Sure-Lock zoomed in on its nearest camera and saw that the teardrop-shaped blue crystal was full of nanocircuitry.

“Hop in,” she said, fastening the chain around her neck. “We’re going places. What’s-On? will tell us where to go, and you, you old grouch, can make sure we all get there.”

“We shall have such a wonderful time!” What’s-On? declared, his voice coming from two places at once. “I have just heard of a gallery opening that will begin at midnight. If you wish, I can obtain an invitation for you. And there is a coffee house holding a poetry slam beginning at three o’clock in the morning. Very exclusive, but I will get you a prime table.”

Sure-Lock Home merely extended its programming into the device, careful to ensure that all connections to the Internet and private servers were all sound and responding.

“More to the point,” it said, “I will get you home safe.”