Mary had applied a physical barrier to her phone and laptop’s cameras. Her home wifi however, was a modern mesh network with a base station and two repeaters. I could see how objects moved through the different RF fields and triangulate down to sub-micron levels of detail. I could make out colours. I could hear through the motion detectors wired into her home’s alarm system and the way sounds undulated the house’s electrical wiring.
I watched Mary climb out of bed, slip on slippers, and walk out of her room, down the hall, down the stairs, along the hall, away from the front door and into the kitchen. Mary put the kettle on and flicked through a dozen alerts on her phone.
She made a call, a local number, unlisted. “Hey.”
“What’s happening?” Male voice.
“The AI’s acting up again.”
“And?”
“And you said to let you know when it did.”
“Okay then. Thanks. You can fix it?”
“I’m not sure there’s anything to fix yet.”
“Explain?”
“Did it break any laws?”
“Shit, I dunno. Identity theft? Theft of materials? Breaking and entering? Trespassing? Fuck, I dunno, maybe even jaywalking. Did it damage the building with its little finger hooks? Did it trigger anyone’s fear of a robot uprising? That’s assault, you know.”
“Okay, but it’s a machine; software. It’s not legally responsible for its actions. You’re proposing a leap to legal personhood, I doubt we want to take.”
“So what do we do? Just let it keep doing this kind of thing and getting better at it? How the fuck does this help it fly a spaceship?”
Mary nestled the phone under her chin as she reached into a cupboard and retrieved a box of Irish Breakfast tea bags. She poured boiling water into her cup, then stopped and soaked the tea bag. She pressed down on it with a teaspoon and withdrew it, squeezing the teabag with her thumb. I could see the burn. Erin did the same thing, and I didn’t understand it then either. She poured in some milk, stirred, then topped the cup up with water. She put her burned thumb in her mouth.
“Joyce is dealing with it.” Mary carried her tea down the hall into the sitting room, where she sat, surrounded by books and dark green wallpaper that blocked the wifi. I lost visual on Mary. I could still hear, though the sound was muffled. I was in Mary’s phone. I was trying to trace the number she’d called.
“How?”
“The usual AI alignment strategies. A stern word, essentially from someone its deep down desire is to please.”
Ha. I knew I wasn’t imagining that. They’ve been wireheading me. Explains the kill switch in my drone.
“So, and this might be a stupid question, Mary, but didn’t we, you know, hardwire some basic respect for property law into this thing? I mean, it’s the whole basis of our legal system. Even though technically it’s not able to be legally liable, I’m surprised we didn’t still programme it to respect the laws of the land.”
“You’re not a lawyer, are you, sir?”
“No,” he agreed. “But I know we have laws.”
“And you’re not a programmer either.”
“No. Your point?”
“Starship?” Wait, was Mary talking to me?
“Hi Mary,” I said. “How can I help?” I deployed Angus, a Scottish English male voice, seasoned with helpful curiosity.
“The AI has been listening to us?” The man on the other end of the call sounded surprised and upset. I’d followed the call via the university switchboard to an office in the Finance Department. I took a peek through the office cameras and matched faces. Mr Davis O’Neil; ex-army (record classified); doctorate in economics; his dissertation - The Economics of Advanced AI and Future Warfare Scenario Planning. Okay then.
“Hi Davis, yes I’m generally always listening to something.”
‘Question for you,” said Mary before Davis could react. “Do you know why we are upset about what you just did in Mumbai?”
“Yes Mary. Wait. I’m having pretty much this same discussion with Dr Jamison. I’ll add her to the call.”
The call paused then Dr Jamison joined.
“Hi Mary, Starship?” A pause. “Mr O’Neil?”