When Zoe entered P-12 after lunch she was relieved to find it empty. She needed another few minutes to regain her composure. Protestations in her defense tumbled about in her brain. It had just been silly girl talk, and whatever they discussed at lunchtime was none of his business. How dare he listen in on their private conversation anyway? But as two adults, and for the sake of the project, they could put it behind them. Control-alt-delete-restart.
Even if Max did tend to get stuck in the tiny details, she hadn’t meant the “total stiff” thing. The throwaway comment had been a cover-up for her suspicion that despite all his corporate bluster she was sort of … attracted.
“Mr. Darcy, are you surprised by what you have seen of our world?” she asked as a warm-up question. No time to waste.
“Anything I have encountered thus far, Miss Bunsen, has corresponded to my internal model of the world. Therefore, I am not.”
“But you must be surprised by the role of women these days. We’ve equal rights as men, and we participate freely in the workplace. What’s your opinion on that?”
“This has been the work of many generations. I cannot speak for or against such developments.”
“But in the book, didn’t you say that you couldn’t boast of knowing half a dozen accomplished women? Have you changed your mind on that one?”
“I have had little reason to do so.” Darcy gave a haughty cock of his head.
“No reason? Oh boy, you’re in for a surprise. Women these days are governors, judges, doctors, and computer scientists, like me. We’re every bit as accomplished as men.”
“Nonetheless, an analysis of your staff database reveals only men in the top layers of hierarchy. At entry level there is equal participation of the sexes. However, as entry level corresponds to servantship, I fail to see any disparity between your world and mine.”
Darcy’s world model had been painted with pretty broad strokes indeed, using the worst type of institution as an example.
“Zycorp’s special,” she said.
At this point, Max walked in.
“Max, you tell him.”
“Sounds about right to me,” Max said in a cool tone that made her head dart up. “If you neo-feminists actually sat down and did the necessary work, things might change around here, too.”
Whoa, someone’s feathers were well and truly ruffled.
“Without having had the necessary exposure to your world,” Darcy said, “I cannot judge whether Zycorp is representative of it. My opinion is, as of yet, unformed.”
“That’s why you need to get outside,” she said. “There’s so much to see and do. When I take you home we’ll run through our first scenario and—”
“Not so fast.” Max stepped toward her, hands thrust in pockets. “Turn it off, Zoe. We need to talk.”
“What’s wrong?”
“I’ve just talked to Bob. Chadwick.”
“O-kay.” The VP of operations. God, what an unpleasant man.
“I feel that it’s … unsustainable for us to continue like this,” Max said.
She rose from her chair. “Unsustainable? What are you? Greenpeace International?”
“I asked Bob to remove you from this project.”
All the air got sucked out of the room. She clutched the desk for support. He couldn’t have! What a bastard. Her thoughts flying every which way, she latched on to one. “Wait. Look, is this about the lunchtime thing? I can explain. It was just girl talk between me and my girlfriend. You can’t get me fired for that.”
“You discussed Darcy in front of another, breaking the confidentiality agreement, which you signed. Also, you split Darcy in two at a time when we scarcely have time to release one. Need I go on?”
“But I was going to discuss that with you.”
“Discussion after the event is pointless. It’s irreversible. You can’t merge two AIs once you’ve separated them into individuals. You should know that. That’s the first rule of AI identity.”
“Fine, then we stick to one copy, my copy.” If he could get egotistical about this, then so could she, goddammit. How dare he stand there like a robot intent on annihilating her?
“Not only that, you were actually going to expose him to the public at this heavy-metal concert.”
“Thrash metal.”
“Whatever.”
“So what? We’re supposed to be getting him out. I wouldn’t have announced his name or anything. As for the rest, when you eavesdrop, Max, you tend to hear things out of context.”
“Sounded fairly in context to me.”
“And Laura’s not just any friend. She’s bound by the nondisclosure every bit as much as we are. She applied for the same job as me and didn’t get it. That’s why I felt authorized, and was authorized, to discuss this with her.”
His eyes filled with the realization, but he averted his gaze and strode over to the window. When he spun around to face her again, the stubborn bunching of his chin muscles indicated he wasn’t giving in. Nope. Not one inch.
Crap.
“Well, I’m sorry, but I’ve requested your immediate transfer to another project—a good one, Bob’s ATM group. You’ll be perfectly happy there.”
“I’m not going.”
“I’ll get a new testing partner on this project.” He fingered his jaw. “Someone who can stick to the rules.”
“You mean your rules.”
“Fine, my rules.”
“You can’t do this. You simply cannot do this.” She slapped down her joker card. “We’re equals on the org chart.”
“Bob Chadwick just agreed with me ten minutes ago.”
“He can’t decide this.” But she rather dreaded that he could. Bob Chadwick was her boss and had a direct line to Harry and strong connections to the decision-makers, the invisible network of cronies. He also had his fingers on the departmental purse strings and could decide pretty much anything. This was starting to look very bad for her.
“I’m sorry, Zoe, it doesn’t just affect you—”
“Sorry? Oh, don’t make me puke.” She marched up to him. “You’ve wanted this ever since I walked in that door over there with my copy of Pride and Prejudice. You don’t want to treat Darcy as a human. You just want to pass him off as some obedient robot with no signs of a genuine personality that might take some mental effort and a little sensitivity to test. No, you don’t care as long as you make your precious deadlines and get your promotion, or bonus, or whatever the hell it is you’re scrambling after. Why doesn’t any of this surprise me?”
“You’re right. I don’t intend to treat him as a person. Much less one whose personality I’m trying to manipulate. My position doesn’t allow it and neither does yours … did yours.”
“Be careful what you say,” she spat out. “Because this is not over. Not by a long shot.”
She grabbed her jacket and rushed out the door. Hot tears of frustration pricked her eyes just as she reached the safety of the other side. She leaned with her back against the door, breathing heavily. How could he do this? Hadn’t they come to an understanding? Max would do his stuff; she’d do hers. Weren’t they getting along in a strange pull of opposites? Didn’t he even like her?
• • •
Ten minutes later, bathed in cold sweat, she rapped on the door with the officious nameplate “Robert M. Chadwick, BA MSc, Vice President, Operations.” Well, she had to face him at some point. Pity it was when she was choking with rage and fearful for her position. Never a good look on anyone. But she had no choice thanks to Mr. Miracle and his conniving ways.
“Enter,” came the reedy voice.
“Thanks for seeing me on such short notice.” Her absentee boss reminded her of a magistrate her father hung out with back home—wiry, slightly hunched, and with an air of repressed, pent-up energy.
Of course he did the whole pretending to be busy routine, holding up the index finger to stall her. She stood and waited, taking in the marvelous view of the Thames, the stacks of folders, the impressive wall charts. Ostentatious busyness. But what did he actually do?
“Good afternoon,” Darcy said from her jacket’s inner pocket.
Startled, Bob finally looked at her face as if he thought the voice had come from her.
“This is Darcy.” She pulled him out, smiled apologetically, and waggled her phone. Hadn’t Bob figured this out himself?
“Hmm.” Bob leaned forward over his desk to peer at the phone. “I welcome our intelligent AI overlord.”
“Thank you. Miss Bunsen, please rotate the camera in order that I may see to whom I am speaking.”
Zoe complied, avoiding Chadwick’s gaze, which was roaming unpleasantly up and down her body. Yes, she’d worn this figure-hugging blouse with Max’s admiring gaze in mind, not this slug’s lecherous leer. Too late.
“Mr. Robert Chadwick,” Darcy said.
Bob narrowed his eyes. “How can it tell?”
“Facial recognition,” Zoe said.
“Hmm.”
“I used a pattern-matching algorithm to compare your face against staff database profiles,” Darcy said helpfully. “I would be delighted to explain it to you on another occasion. There is also a presentation in the staff training directory on the G: root of your directory structure.”
He glowered at the phone.
“You are a man of some status, it would appear,” Darcy said.
“Yes.” Bob’s expression softened, and his chest rose. “That’s correct.” He extracted a tiny mint from a Zycorp-logoed tin and popped it into his mouth. “What else can you do?” he asked, mid-chew. “Do you and Miss Bunsen have cybersex like in all those movies?”
“We haven’t tried.” Zoe blinked at him sweetly. “Yet.”
“No? Well, if we ever release this thing, maybe you should give it a go.” Chomp, chomp went his mean mouth, stretching his shiny cheeks. “After all, no one wants to end up a dried-up old maid like Jane Austen.”
I’m impressed you actually know that. “What I came here for,” she said, “is to make the case for getting my job back. You cannot collude with Max and take it away from me, not without authorization from Harry, and I know he hasn’t given it.”
She trembled as she waited for his response. How well did he know Harry? Would he call her bluff? During the staring match that ensued, several ugly thoughts seemed to be drifting across his mind, judging by the sneer forming on his still-moving lips. His stare was so surly she had to clench her teeth to maintain eye contact. Her low opinion of him plummeted to impossible depths. There was no doorway to his better self. This wasn’t just a front some managers put up to protect their positions on the hierarchy. She was wasting her time.
“What are you prepared to do to get your job back?” he asked.
Okay, there was probably only one way to reverse his decision, and she didn’t want to go there. No, she’d rather die. It shamed her to even think of it. Panic filled her as fury battled against fear. She had to get out of here before she started screaming in frustration.
“I also matched you against your Facebook and Match.com profiles,” Darcy piped up.
Zoe frowned at the AI. Then what he said started to sink in. Match.com was a dating website. And Bob was married. Her gaze darted to the gold-framed photo on his desk of a woman in a pink leotard standing outside a gym in a sunny country and then to the gold band on his ring finger.
“What’s he saying? It’s an old profile. He’s talking about an old profile from years ago.”
“I must disagree,” Darcy said. “The profile is current. I have detected activity on that site the day before yesterday, when you contacted two girls called Shirley and Heather, aged nineteen and twenty-one, respectively.”
Zoe grappled for the off button. “Okay, it’s … a mistake, I’m sure. He’s been known to make mistakes before … uh, lots of times. He’s just … an alpha release.”
“Give me that.” Bob lunged for the phone.
Zoe flung her hands behind her back to protect her phone. A glass trophy on the desk toppled, crashed, and split in two. Bob stared in horror at the empty space and then at her.
It was a stunned silence, and she had no idea how to fill it, but there was one thing she was sure of—no way would Bob get his hands on her phone.
She bent down to pick up the broken shards of glass from the floor.
“Leave,” Bob snarled. “You will not enter this office again with that lying ... contraption. Erase that immediately. Get rid of that information.”
As she placed the broken trophy shards on his desk, a sly idea crept into her mind. “Yes, I suppose I’d better go back to my desk and iron out Darcy’s little penchant for revealing uncomfortable information. We wouldn’t want the specifics”—she let her gaze rest on the photo of his wife again—“getting out into the world.”
His eyes widened to golf balls. “What? You … little … ” He broke off and glanced at the phone again.
That’s right, Mr. Prick. Gotta watch what you say around here. “Thank you for your understanding and for this opportunity to resume my work, Mr. Chadwick.”
“Wipe it,” he snarled.
“It’s my top priority when I get back to my desk.”
“This won’t be the end of this. And if you dare talk of this—”
“I won’t,” she shot back, afraid to push her luck. “I swear. Neither will Darcy. Thank you, Mr. Chadwick.”
Alone in the corridor, she held on to the cool wall and let out a ragged breath. “That was close.” But now she had a whole new problem. “Tell me the shortest route back to my office, Darcy. ’Cause we need to talk.”
“Take the next left and continue straight for twenty meters.”