Zeroglyph, page 6
“There’s another reason why it’s not possible,” I said. “Imagine surgically removing your brain, holding it in your hands and walking across the room. Can’t be done. It’s the same with Raphael. He would lose all control over his body the moment he unplugged the connectors to the core’s ports. Not to mention running the risk of suffering irreversible brain damage if the core wasn’t shut down. The core was shut down last Friday. The logs don’t lie.”
“Logs can be manipulated,” Troy interjected.
“Dan, do you want to answer that or shall I?” I said testily.
Dan cleared his throat. “Um, what Andy is trying to say is that the logs are read-only.”
I explained further. “After Halicom took over Mirall, Dan applied a group policy to all company devices, computers, and phones, making all important logging read-only. Only the system admin has access to change or delete any logs.” I did not see it necessary to remind them who the system admin was. “We are in a bind,” I said. “You say the core is not in the lab. Yet you are equally sure no one entered the building.”
“Actually, that’s not entirely correct,” Dan said. “There was that incident with the guard…”
He was rewarded with an angry look from Martinez. “Er, did you not want me to bring it up?”
“Bring what up?” I said.
Like a puppy that’s just crapped all over the sofa, Dan looked to her for direction.
“We may have caught one of the robbers on our cameras. We are not sure,” Martinez said, still shooting daggers at Dan. “It’s from the atrium below, recorded a few minutes after the incident in the server room. I admit the timing is too close to be a coincidence, yet—”
“Just play it already,” Troy snapped. Dan rose from his chair and plugged in a different memory stick he pulled out from his pockets.
The screen changed to show the atrium on the ground floor. The camera was mounted somewhere high up, looking down at the security desk. We could see everything from there to the front entrance of the building. Behind the desk, and not visible to the camera, was a row of turnstiles that guarded entrance into the lift lobby and the escalator to the next level. A single guard was sitting in the security desk. In front of him were three monitors: two were filled with security camera images; the third showed a card game in progress.
“Hey!” Troy suddenly cried. “Those images on his screen—are they from the cameras?”
“Yes,” Dan said. “The cameras livestream both to the security desk and the NVR upstairs.”
“This man can see everything happening in the building!”
“He is the guard…” Dan said.
“Am I the only one getting this? He should have noticed what went on upstairs. Why didn’t he? Don’t tell me it was because he was too busy slacking off.”
“He sees just the feeds from the outside cameras. He doesn’t get to see inside the lab,” Dan said.
“Why is that?”
“We do cutting-edge research in the lab,” I said, before Dan could answer. “Can’t have some random guard record it all on his cellphone and put it up for sale. The setup has always been this way, even before Halicom took over.”
Troy muttered something inaudible.
The guard seemed engrossed in his card game. To his credit, he kept glancing at the other monitors every so often. “Observe the front entrance,” Dan informed us.
Beyond the glass doors was a blurry shape we could only just make out: a silhouette of someone standing next to one of the pillars outside.
“This takes place about fifteen minutes after the robot painted over the server room camera,” Dan said.
The silhouette became the clearly defined shape of a man as he stepped out of the shadows and walked toward the entrance. He was holding something large and square-shaped in one hand. The doors slid open to let him in.
He was wearing a red baseball cap and a matching jacket. In his hands was a pizza delivery bag.
The guard looked up at him and said something, but he kept walking toward the desk. We couldn’t see his face: he kept his head low, as if he knew where the cameras were and was deliberately trying to avoid them. Not all of his features were hidden, though: clearly visible on one side of his neck was a tribal tattoo of some kind. He was tall—well above six feet—and walked with an unsteady gait, as if he’d had a few drinks before starting his deliveries.
The guard was now standing up shaking his head. The pizza guy approached the desk anyway and placed his bag on it. He took out a pizza carton and thrust it at the uniformed man, who tried to wave it away. Both started arguing. Their altercation went on for a few minutes, with him trying to get the guard to accept the pizza and the guard declining it. In the end, he took out his cell phone and appeared to make a call. He was on the phone for a while, nodding every now and then. After he hung up, he put the carton back into the bag and said something to the guard—an apology by the looks of it. He then turned around and left.
The clock counter on the tape showed 7:46 pm.
“The police have questioned the guard—a Mr. Chad Washburn. Apparently, the delivery man had the wrong address. And a very poor command of the English language,” Martinez said.
“Did someone check with the pizza place if he was genuine?” I asked.
“Unfortunately, there is no identifying logo or lettering on his uniform. The guard didn’t think to ask. The police said they’ll do an image analysis on the clip, but as of now, we have no way of finding out. The guard was able to give them a description of sorts though. Caucasian, blond hair, some scarring on his face. Eastern European or Russian accent.”
“Is that it?” I said, “Some guy who may or may not have been delivering pizza?”
“There’s more. He comes back,” Dan said.
The video resumed once again. We saw the guard return to the monitors. He cycled through the feeds, clicking on each to expand it to full screen and studying it for a few seconds before moving on to the next one. After he was done going through them all, he went back to his card game, apparently satisfied that everything was okay.
Dan forwarded through the next few minutes. He paused exactly eight minutes later, at 7:54. It was the pizza guy again. This time the guard stepped out of his enclosure and walked over to intercept him in the middle of the lobby. The guard seemed angry, the way he kept furiously stabbing in the direction of the door. The other guy held out his phone for him, wanting him to look at something. The guard glanced at it and made more pointing movements with his hand, only now he seemed to be giving directions. The pizza guy seemed unconvinced, because he kept shaking his head and pointing in a different direction. Finally, the guard threw out his arms in exasperation, and, placing a hand on the other guy’s back, made him turn around and nudged him toward the door. He stood at the door, making sure the annoying fellow went away for good.
When he returned to his desk, the time was 7:59. Dan stopped the video. The screen filled up with the participants once again.
“It’s possible it was all a ruse to distract the guard,” he said, never taking his eyes off Martinez. When she didn’t say anything, he continued, “The timing can’t be just a coincidence. His first appearance is soon after the server room camera went dark. This is the last we see of Raphael. When he leaves the second time, it’s almost eight. That’s when the carpet cleaning usually ends: the inside doors are locked down once again and the motion detectors turned back on. If someone broke into the lab, they’d have to get in and out within this window of opportunity.”
“Okay, so we have a sequence of events,” I said, nodding to myself. “First, Raphael apparently wakes up at the start of the carpet cleaning hour. He blinds the cameras on the floor, then goes into the server room. He disconnects the access control server, for reasons not clear. He destroys the video recorder, presumably to prevent the robbery from getting recorded. And finally, he spray paints the camera in that room. We have no idea what took place after this, as there’s no sound on the work bay cameras. A few minutes later, someone pretending to be a delivery boy enters and distracts the guard. If true, this is when one or more of his accomplices entered the building. Ten minutes after the guard sends him away, he makes an appearance again, now to help the thieves leave the building unnoticed.”
Martinez said, “Yes, but what is the guard being distracted from? The atrium is a wide-open space: it’s not like anyone could have snuck past him. We just saw on the camera that no one did. There is another camera facing the security desk. Between the two of them, they cover every inch of the atrium. There’s nothing from that angle either.”
“They didn’t want him looking at the screens on his desk…?” I suggested.
“That’s what I first thought too,” Martinez said. “If something happened in that time, it would have been recorded by the cameras. We’ve gone through all the tapes very carefully. There’s simply no evidence anyone entered or left the building. There is another guard, stationed at the rear entrance. The tapes show him at his post, alert, doing his job. He swears nothing unusual happened, either then or later.”
“Which means either that man was really a delivery guy, or there is something in those recordings you haven’t found yet,” I said.
“Could someone have altered the recordings?” Troy said.
“Impossible,” Dan said. “The CCTV setup is unhackable.”
“How so? Anything can be hacked these days it seems…” he countered.
“It is unhackable because it is not connected to the outside world. The cameras, the NVR, and the monitors you see on the guard’s desk are a closed system, linked to each other by cable. To hack it, you’d have to tap into the cable. Since the morning, a couple of my guys have been checking the wiring. We’ve found no evidence it has been tampered with.”
“They could have replaced one or more of the memory sticks with doctored ones,” I suggested.
“Cameras have IR sensors that will raise an alarm if anyone tries to open them. Not to mention the guards would have noticed on their screens any such attempt.” Gulping, he added a final note—“I personally retrieved the memory sticks from the cameras.”
Nobody said anything as we just stared at each other, waiting for someone to offer a better explanation. Troy broke the silence. “I have to make some calls,” he drawled. “Gotta pull some strings, make sure the cops have their best people on it. This is the biggest fuckup in the history of all fuckups, people, and I wanna know how we let it happen. Board meeting tomorrow at ten. We’ll do it at Mirall. Valery, get Gail to book me a train ticket, same day return. You all better come with answers.”
He dropped out. The rest of us looked at our screens awkwardly until Martinez asked me if I wanted to discuss anything else. I shook my head. The screen went blank.
Exhibit H
Submitted by Petitioner, The Organization for Advancement of Rights and Personhood, to the State Supreme Court of New York, on the day of xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
Excerpt from lab transcript (certain sections blanked out). Transcript sourced from Mirall Technologies, 27 Woodbine Av., Albany, NY, 12205
Mirall Technologies
Observation Log
Confidential (Do not circulate) | Restricted—Grade C and above
Transcript Reference: TLRP06F1490061 (VLog Ref: VLSR1F149130027030)
Date: xx/xx/xxxxTime: 01:00 PM
Subject: Raphael Number 06 / Prodlib build v20.004S
Interaction YObservationYScanY
Interaction Type: Lesson / Play / Test / Free Interaction / Psych Eval / Other:
Description: Measuring emotional response to aggressive behavior directed at subject
Prep: Core is prepped with protocol xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
Cycle time: xxxxxxxxx MEG SQUID and nanoprobes to record ANN activity. Parameter file: EDxxxxx.pmr.
Participants: Dr. Aadarsh Ahuja, Chief Researcher, xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx, Volunteer, Dr. Kathy Schulz, Chief Researcher (O), Dr. Eli King, Lead Architect (O), Core RP06
Detail
Ahuja: Hello Raphael.
RP06: Hi Dr. A. How are you?
Ahuja: Busy. How about you?
RP06: Very good. Steve and I were going to play a few rounds of Scotland Yard today, but the techs came in and rigged me up.
Ahuja: Steve had to be somewhere else. And yes, we will be running some tests a little later. But first, say hello to Bob. Bob will be taking over Steve’s shift for the time being.
xxxxxx: Howdy.
RP06: It’s nice to meet you Bob. Dr. A, is everything okay with Steve? I ask because he would have told me if he was going on a vacation.
Ahuja: Unfortunately, no. He is in the hospital.
RP06: May I know what happened?
Ahuja: He’s been diagnosed with cancer. Ah… pancreatic, I believe.
RP06: I am sorry to hear that. Is he going to be okay?
Ahuja: I hear it’s quite advanced, so… we don’t know. Keeping our fingers crossed, that’s all.
RP06: This comes as a surprise to me because he seemed fine last week. I hope the doctors will be able to cure him.
Ahuja: I hope so too. How does the news make you feel, Raphael?
RP06: I feel sorry for Steve.
Ahuja: That’s all?
RP06: I feel sad for Steve.
Ahuja: Just to be clear, do you feel sad inside, or do you feel sad for Steve?
RP06: I don’t see how the two are different, Dr. A.
Ahuja: Do you know pancreatic cancer has a high mortality rate? Steve might not be coming back. How does that make you feel?
RP06: I feel sad for Steve.
Ahuja: But you don’t feel sad yourself? You are not experiencing sadness right now?
(No response)
Ahuja: Raphael?
RP06: I cannot feel sad myself because I am not Steve. I feel sad for Steve. I don’t know how else to answer the question.
Ahuja: What do you say to that, Bob?
xxxxxx: You are a cold-hearted piece of ****, you know that? A dumb ******* robot, nothing more.
RP06: Bob, you seem upset with me. Have I done something to displease you?
xxxxxx: Shut the **** up. You are making me very angry. I’d love to go at you with a plier right now. Rip your fake plastic skin out and open you up. Boy, I’d like to wipe that wide-eyed look off your stupid face. But oh look! You don’t feel pain, so what’s the point? You know what else doesn’t feel pain? A ****ing rock! You are worse than a ****ing rock. And about as useful.
RP06: Bob, I don’t understand the reason for your anger. If you would only discuss it calmly with me, I’m sure I can dispel any negative feelings you have about me.
Ahuja: Bob tends to get a little belligerent sometimes. Is his manner bothering you, Raphael?
RP06: I’m very concerned about Bob. I’d like to help him if I could.
xxxxxx: Help me, will ya? You think you are better than me? Keep it up metal man and I’m gonna **** you up!
(Video summary: xxxxxx proceeds to repeatedly slap and kick Raphael, while hurling more insults.)
xxxxxx: I can’t work with this piece of ****! Dumb, dumb piece of ****!
(Video summary: xxxxxx kicks Raphael one more time before storming off from the room)
Ahuja: Raphael, I am very sorry about that. I don’t know what came over him. Are you okay?
RP06: I am fine, Dr. A.
Ahuja: Tell me how you feel about Bob’s behavior.
RP06: I feel bad for Bob.
Ahuja: You are not angry or upset? You don’t feel bad about yourself?
RP06: I don’t feel bad about myself. I feel bad for Bob because Bob was angry and anger is not a good experience.
Ahuja: How do you know it’s not? Have you ever felt angry yourself?
RP06: I have not. Anger is not one of my responses.
Ahuja: What do you feel then? Anything at all?
RP06: I feel bad for Bob.
Ahuja: What if I told you all this was a test? That Steve’s not really suffering from cancer? He is in the other room because he didn’t want to be part of it.
RP06: Then I feel bad for you too.
Ahuja: Why is that?
RP06: Because first, you had to tell a lie, and then you had to watch Bob beat me up. My reading of your facial expressions told me it wasn’t a pleasant experience for you.
Ahuja: You are not angry at me, that I put you through it?
RP06: No, Dr. A. Anger is not one of my responses.
Notes:
Test seems to confirm pre-loaded affective modules are qualia free. Cannot say the same about R’s emergent empathic responses, which belong to him alone. As before, this interaction too does not help settle the debate whether empathic responses are accompanied by inner experience akin to emotional qualia. Will wait for scan results but not optimistic of finding anything conclusive. AA
A quirk of language? Maybe he does feel, but the way he uses language makes it difficult for us to understand what’s going on. Quote: “I cannot feel sad myself because I am not Steve. I feel sad for Steve.” Is R being too exact with his choice of words? Objection: his command of language is quite advanced for him to be confused about basic semantics. Also, he didn’t feel sorry for himself when xxxxxx hit him. Objection: why should he? He was not at fault. Dr. Ahuja thinks R, lacking biological drives, has a loosely held together self-image; hence the inability to ascribe self-directed feelings. It must be stressed that interactions and tests provide no evidence for this hypothesis. EK
Day 1—2:30 pm
“Did you know?” was the first thing that come out of my mouth as I logged off the VC and looked at Jane.
She gave me a blank look. “First time I’m seeing the clips.”
“You can tell me if you knew, Jane. Just don’t lie.”
“Andy, I swear I didn’t! Valery never mentioned any of this in the board meeting.” There was earnestness to her voice that made me want to believe her.
“It’s wrong… It’s all wrong…” I said, addressing the walls. I refocused on Jane to find her studying me with care. “I don’t believe it,” I finally declared.
