Chapter 21 #2
It made Chloe think of a larger, more advanced version of the old NASA Mission Control, or the command center from every science fiction movie ever.
Some were labeled with the names of the major subnets, and more with labels Chloe didn’t understand, like “Neural Interphase,” “Emotives,” and “Hierarchical Netflow.” Technobabble made a constant background murmur, but it was kept low because everyone was half listening to Norman, who paced at center stage, talking with the inward look of someone in a phone conversation.
Chloe focused on him and subvocalized a command, and her smartbuds amplified his voice.
“Mr. President, there are riots in most of the major cities. I can look out the windows here and see thousands of people near the Tower. I bet more are gathering at the White House. If we want to avoid violence like the first Cybercrash, you need to authorize the System’s launch on OverNet and MilNet.
She can calm the people and defend us from Russia. ”
“Oh, phreak,” Chloe breathed.
“Indeed,” Grandma said drily.
The System, the one standing in the elevator, said softly, “That’s not all.”
Her figure on the dome screen spoke—the calm, sweet voice echoing through the room’s speakers. “I have just determined that the Russian alert posture has reached their equivalent of Defcon Two.”
“Hear that?” Norman said to the president. “They’re fueling their nukes! We need to be ready!” He looked at the System on the dome screen. “How are our own defenses in case they try another terror attack?”
“The Armory is on alert,” the System said over the speakers. “F-59s and their loyal wingmen drones are performing combat air patrol. The alert bombers are airborne. Revere batteries are tracking everything in our airspace. Chloe is here.”
Chloe jumped. To her surprise, Norman’s face lit up, and he waved her over.
“Go on,” Grandma hissed when Chloe hesitated.
“What about you?”
“He doesn’t want me. It’s all you, girl. You can do this.”
The System in the elevator stepped out and began walking down the aisle. “Follow me,” she said to Chloe over her shoulder.
Chloe could feel the curious eyes of the hundreds of technicians as she set out down the long central aisle. When she got close, Norman came toward her on long strides with his hand extended. “Chloe. Just the person I need.”
She took his hand for a quick shake. “I thought you’d be mad at me.”
He shook his head. “You were right: The Final System’s power is meant to be used. And thanks to you, the whole country saw what she can do.” His smile went brittle. “In . . . graphic detail.”
“I didn’t expect anyone to pay attention to my live stream,” Chloe said.
His brow creased. “Really? You were part of the top developing news story about your daughter’s kidnapping, with every news org in the country focused on you, and you didn’t foresee that?
” He shook his head. “No matter. What I need you to do now is convince the president that the System can help the country the way she helped Kleio. System, loop her in.”
“Wait, you want me to talk to—” Chloe began, then shut her mouth with a snap as she found herself suddenly looking at the president of the United States.
Chloe had seen President Sunday in person before, but only as a figure speaking at the front of the House Chamber.
Seeing him now via smartspace persona, appearing to stand next to Norman, she was ironically struck by how human he looked.
Sunday had won the last election by dint of being the least objectionable candidate, and that, along with the obvious play on his surname, had led to his nickname in the op-eds: “Vanilla.” Although his avatar was broadcast ready in dress and hair, the amount of white in his eyes and the press of his lips gave away that this was a man in over his head.
Chloe could feel the same wideness in her own eyes and tenseness in her jaw, so she experienced a burst of fellow feeling for him.
“Um, hi,” she said, giving him the awkward wave that served as a handshake in smartspace.
“Dr. Dunne-Carr,” he said with a wan smile. “How’s your daughter?”
“Safe, thank god.”
“Thank the System,” Norman interjected, nodding to her life-size avatar who had joined their group.
“Mr. President, Chloe spoke against the System only days ago. But when a crisis hit, she knew only the System could help her. The situation we’re in now is an extension of the same crisis and needs the same solution. ”
“I watched your stream,” the president said to Chloe.
“As the System herself said, what she did was shocking. Not the bloodshed, but the, well, manipulation that led to it. Getting those gamer kids and those hackers to behave exactly as she needed. Andrew’s been telling me that getting MeNet back online won’t be enough to quell the riots that are already breaking out.
We need to make the System OverNet admin so she can use those same powers of manipulation to calm people down.
But unleashing those powers on American citizens, even for good, is not something I can take lightly. ”
Chloe revised her opinion of the man; he was sharper than she’d thought. And the fact that they were having this conversation, that he hadn’t immediately caved to Norman’s demands, was to his credit.
“Before I use my emergency powers to hand over the keys to OverNet and MilNet,” the president said, “I need to know who I’m handing them to. So my first question is: Is the System real? I mean, is she a person?”
Chloe bit her lip and glanced at the System, who had been watching silently and now gave her a small smile. “I’m not really qualified to make that assessment.”
“Who is? I want your opinion.”
“My opinion?” she said slowly. “My opinion is that a computer-based consciousness should be impossible. The System herself told us that. But somehow, when I look at her, I see a person. I can’t say why.
” Maybe it was an emotional reaction because she saved Chloe’s baby.
Maybe it was because the avatar she was projecting in Chloe’s lenses was so real. Or maybe it was an act of faith.
The president nodded. “My next question is: Can we trust her?”
Chloe looked at the System again, who did not smile this time.
Yes, an act of faith, in more ways than one.
In the medieval usage of the word, faith wasn’t blind belief in something invisible, but a conscious act of trust. Did she have faith in the System?
Yes, she did, both that she was real and that she was trustworthy.
But the System wasn’t the only person in this equation.
She said slowly, “Trust her to do what? Manipulate people into not panicking?”
Norman snorted impatiently. “Manipulate? I think the word you want is moderate. That’s the mandate of the NNA: Moderate the Nets to prevent hatred, violence, and chaos.
Part of that moderation has always involved regulating the types and amounts of inputs people receive, to make hatred and violence less likely.
The System’s moderation will be no different in kind than what we already do, just much more effective. ”
“I think you and I have different definitions of ‘moderate,’” Chloe said. “I don’t think of people as input-output machines, for one.”
“What about your impassioned story about Jasmine, your wide, feminine eyes and the conviction in your voice? Aren’t you, too, trying to change people’s inputs to get a different output?”
Chloe had started to respond, but “wide, feminine eyes” left her spluttering.
Norman went on, “What is politics but giving people inputs to change their outputs?”
Chloe found her voice. “There’s a difference between convincing and manipulating! If I try to persuade someone to vote with me, they still have a choice.”
“‘Choice.’” Norman’s eyes flickered upward.
Giving her up as a lost cause, he turned to Sunday.
“Mr. President, what do you think caused all the violence in the first Cybercrash? Russian bot swarms? They were just the spark. What fanned the flames were the things that have always driven humanity: Tribalism. Confirmation bias. Cognitive dissonance. Doubling down. The Dunning-Kruger effect. Those are our algorithms, Mr. President, and all our social media, all our connectivity, all our glorious inventions, have only amplified them. Society, humanity, has been like a room slowly filling with invisible, flammable gas. Now Russia’s flicking the lighter.
But the System can put it out again. She can give each and every citizen, individually, exactly the inputs they need to generate the output that will make them law-abiding citizens again. ”
At that moment, a text came in from Grandma: And all for the want of a horseshoe nail.
Chloe felt as if the NOC—no, the whole world—had tilted dangerously.
She suddenly understood Norman’s grand vision in a nutshell.
The System wasn’t the dangerous machine: Humanity was.
So he’d built a new machine, one that could control all variables, make everyone receive exactly the right inputs to make their outputs benign.
The System would be admin not only of OverNet but of humanity itself, with Norman atop all, leading humanity into an unprecedented age of perfect unity. Pax Normana.
As the dizzying realization passed, she found the others staring at her. Norman’s throat was moving as if he were subvocalizing. The System’s face was closed and inscrutable. The president was expectant, and she realized he had just addressed her. “What?” she said stupidly.
“I said,” Sunday said, “I’m asking for your final recommendation on whether we can trust the System.”
“I trust the System,” Chloe said. “But her creator scares the hell out of me. So no, I don’t recommend—”
She stopped, because two things happened at once.
One was that the System’s face, in a single instant and with no process of transition, transformed.
Every parent recognized the gradations of their child’s unhappiness, the difference between a tantrum over bedtime, the tears after a bump or bruise, and the look or sound of true distress that would cause the parent to drop everything and run, gut clenched, to help.
The System’s face triggered that gut clench.
Her eyes were filled with tears and terror, her mouth open in a soundless wail.
At the same moment, Chloe heard her own voice, speaking over her, and then, when she stopped, continuing without her: “So yes, I recommend that the System be placed immediately and permanently atop OverNet and MilNet, as administrator of those networks and all their subnets.”
“Okay,” the president said, blowing out his cheeks. “I’ll trust your trust in her. Thank you.”
“What?” Chloe shouted. “No!” But she heard her own voice say, “You’re welcome, sir. I know she’ll get us through this.”
The president nodded curtly and disconnected.
A corner of Norman’s mouth stretched knowingly. “Thank you, Chloe,” he said. “That’s all I needed from you.”