Jim’s cell phone was ringing. “Oh no,” Jim groaned. “It’s Frank, with most likely another one of his schedule changes or damn trips. I hate it when his name comes up on my phone. Dammit!”
“Good evening, Frank. What’s up?” Jim said with unveiled reluctance in his voice to hear the answer.
“Oh, it’s not much of a thing, Jim. It’s straightforward, really.”
Sure, it’s always straightforward for the person who doesn’t have to do anything!
“Jim, I know I’ve changed your schedule a few times and asked you to do things out of the ordinary, but this is easy,” Frank promised.
Jim thought back to some old black-and-white TV Viking movies he watched at home. In almost every Viking movie, it was mandatory to have one ship ram the opponent’s ship.
Frank spoke into the silence. “Jim, this is a no-brainer. Easy.”
Here it comes. The rowers are pulling in time to the attack cadence of the drummer, and my ship is dead-center of that nasty spar attached to the front of Frank’s boat. I can almost hear him thinking, ‘Prepare to ram!’ Yup, prepare to ram.”
“Listen,” Frank continued, “Gabriella has passed every test we’ve given her. It’s about time to test her a little more in the community. Would you say she has a good amount of dexterity and balance?”
“Frank, you know the answer already,” Jim replied, watching the spar come ever closer.
“Well, we would like you to enroll her in a woman’s self-defense class at the little Jiu-Jitsu place near Lexington and Fifty-Sixth Street. We think it would be an interesting experiment and would give Gabriella a chance to test some of her motor skills in a different setting. Can you get her enrolled so she can start next Monday? They have evening classes for women, so it wouldn’t interfere with her work in the lab.”
“Frank, that’s not a good idea at all,” Jim replied, stress showing in his voice. “Why on earth would you ever want to do that? The only thing achieved is people will recognize she is an android. Martha has conducted tests in the lab, and Gabriella passed them all with no problems. She’s as fast as any human being. In a close physical contact situation, someone might notice her bone structure is different and start asking questions.” Jim’s voice became louder as he spoke. “She doesn’t sweat, either. Wouldn’t it be odd to others in the class if one of them wasn’t sweating while everyone else is dripping wet? How would you explain it?”
“Whoa, Jim, hold on a second. There is no reason to get excited. The experiments Martha did in the lab were exactly that, experiments in the lab. There is a world of difference between lab exercises where things are controlled and timed versus real-life experiments where things are more spontaneous and less controlled. We need to see how Gabriella handles herself in all situations. As far as sweating goes, we can have her wear a headband to absorb ‘sweat.’ She can mist herself using a spray bottle and toweling off. It’ll make it look like she’s trying to cool down. She has beauty and poise. The rest of the class will assume she’s another model-type pampering herself, trying to avoid working up a real sweat.”
Jim countered, “What about forceful physical contact? It might give her away. We designed her to feel like a human within the bounds of normal contact. Getting struck in a self-defense class was out of the design parameters.”
Frank’s smile at the other end of the phone was almost palpable.
“Well…” Frank paused a moment for dramatic effect, “it seems as if you have been in pretty tight physical contact with Gabriella already. What was your impression of how she felt?”
Jim’s blood pressure spiked. The veins bulged on his neck, but he could only utter a few stammering guttural sounds.
Frank’s smile grew broader. He responded to Jim in a condescending voice. “Very good then. Thanks for getting her enrolled in the 7:00 P.M Monday night class. I’ll be talking to you soon. Oh yeah, sign Martha up for the class, too, but tell her about it first. She can be feisty. Goodbye.”
Jim glared at the now silent phone in his hand and began furiously pacing behind his desk. He wanted to shout a rebuttal but had no grounds to do so. Frustrated, he resigned himself to sign both of the women up for the requested course.
“That’s it! I’m going home!” Jim shouted as he stamped out of the office and marched to the subway entrance.
But how did Frank know about my night with Gabriella? Most people in the lab know about it now, but it’s unlikely anyone would have told Frank. Gabriella’s cognitive pathways are backed up to the Cray, but Frank would have no skill to get into the system. Yet he seemed to know the details of our affair. I don’t get it. Are there shadow players I don’t know about? Something’s going on.
Jim arrived at his station and boarded the train for a quiet, thoughtful ride home.