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Good team, bad team...'Hi, girlie. You can stop ringing my bell now. What brought you here?'What? You sound like a journalist. You are? Really?.. Then you've come to a wrong place, girlie. I'm just an old man. No hot stories here... 'Yes, I'm Paul Holmsky... Well, if you insist - I am the Paul V. Holmsky. But I still don't remember inviting you here, girlie. 'Ah, you're writing that AI series!.. Good, they are. I've read all seven stories in this serial. Good, they are. But you yourself are not deep into AI, are you? 'I thought so, girlie. You see things, but you can't explain, so you write the most disastrous explanation. A journalist. 'But... what? You want to interview me??? On the late-90 breakthrough??? Why is that? Sure, everything worth talking is published by now 'Oh, I see, girlie. You don't want the technology - you're after the feelings these days. Well, I can do this, sure. I still remember some of those. But give me a promise: whatever happens, don't rely on me as your source. I'm too old, too damn tired... 'No, it's no qualified, at least what I will tell. All I can talk of is a "Feyd" project, been there for 35 years, and this was under military "25 years silence" act - but it's over some seven years ago. 'You want to know how it all started... Well, first - write it down that it was me, who made "Feyd" dance. In 2008. But the story started 9 years before, when I just got my PhD in AI, and was trying to figure out what to do - either to go for second PhD, or go work for HiThink Lab., for they offered me huge money. '...Just in case, I went to interview at HiThink...' * * * 'Paul Holmsky, are those your papers?' the tall and nasty-looking man had thrown a pack of papers across the table. I barely caught it, and, again, looked up at the man - he, clearly, hated me, don't know for what. 'Looks it' said I after a while. 'There's my photo...' 'So' The tall man across the table smiled 'We've got ourselves another joker. How nice. Just have in mind, that all you jokes mean zero in here. None. Zilch. Nicht!!! More, I hope, that in a week I'll be your worst enemy. You know why???' 'No' I was a bit terrified, and wondering, how the hell this obviously crazy punk got through the official testing. Or had he just instantly got barking mad? 'Because it's my job to kick out everybody, who doesn't qualify. Nasty job, but I'm good at it.' The tall man stood up 'Your papers are insufferably good. So, be happy - you're in. And be happy twice - for I'll be watching your every step.' * * * 'Fuck me...' was what I've said, once out of the interview room. However, it was not ALL too bad - I was appointed to the room 5-A12, as a free assistant (that's as low as you could be without being qualified as a mere 'technical support force' and, in effect, meant, that anybody had all the rights to order me around - but such things happened about twice a day, and all remaining time I could use the whole lab for myself). ...This first day, however, I didn't have a chance even to look at the lab - for in five minutes after I was given a key to my personal office I was summoned to the Big Boss. The General Carruthers himself, though by then I haven't even heard his name. * * * '...Well, girlie, it's always like that - the more a man is, the less public knows of him. For the Old Car it was especially true - for, heading the AI research for the Military Office, he had unlimited resources. I knew one hacker in there, whose sole job was to make ten thousand a-day. That hacker tapped into banks, intercepted money transactions, all the nasty things Have you ever imagined, girlie, that by changing a rounding from fifth to fourth digit you can win five thousand from a single ten-million transaction?. 'Well, don't. It'll not work anymore. But by then the Old Car was on the top. Covert Office tried to rid of him - too late, too. They have collected everything nasty about Old Car, and tried to retire him - that was in '01... 'Ah, you red about this scandal, but the Old Car's name was not in it? Yes, it was not - he managed to hire some crazy hacker, who tapped into personal line of CO chief - scrambled, of course. But the hacker still got through - and just a week before the closed hearings about Old Car misusing the power, the whole blast about CO chief was released in the press - perjury, cover ops inside the country, sleeping with three women at once, all the shit, girlie. A week after, nobody cared about the Old Car. And, what's funny - nobody could ever find out who released all the dirt... 'No, girlie, for heaven's sake, NO! The Old Car was the greatest man I've ever seen! Just think of it - he took a half-dead software office, and in just fifteen years turned it into the greatest AI lab there is.' * * * 'Come in, Paul' general almost managed to produce a smile - come in, sit - he pointed at an empty chair across the table. I did. 'General...' 'No. Have you been comfortable? You've seen your room, is it OK?' 'Yes, General,..' I could not help teasing a bit 'though I'll have to throw out the Coca-Cola from the fridge, and load Fanta instead.' The Old Car was impenetrable for sarcasm. Most likely, he could not even detect it. 'As you like. Now, Paul, you know what we are doing in here?' 'General' I, suddenly, felt a bit uncertain. After the first interview they gave you a pack of paper, about three hundred pages, concerning the project in general. THAT I was familiar with - but those were a general talk-talk, nothing more. Of course, after I've passed the second interview and was in, I was immediately shot at with another fifty-page report, much more specific, even with some math. But I only had ten minutes to look it through, and, for sure, missed a hell lot of details. Still, I knew the general directions. 'Of course, I do. This is a project in a distinctive hostile behaviour. Robot soldier. Called "Feyd" - probably, after the Frank Herbert's book of Dune, for there Feyd-Rautha was the most distinctly hostile person.' 'Go on' nodded the general. 'And, as my copy of report suggested, I was called in the general co-ordination team. But, General,..' 'Yes?' 'With all due respect, sir, I still think that the project team will not be able to deliver...' that was it. * * * 'Yes, girlie, I just said the Old Car was IT. And this one was the best job prospect I've got by then, true. But I couldn't say anything else - I've been following the '99 recognition theory close enough, and what I red in that report went completely opposite to it. I just couldn't resist pointing it.' * * * To my surprise, Carruthers was still motionless and emotionless, he just asked me to clarify. I did, the hell I did. 'General, one year ago it has been mathematically proven that a computerized neural net, however complex, cannot be used for real-time image recognition, because of its discrete nature. This report I was given' I pointed to the thick pile of paper, which I've brought with me, of course, 'has enough high maths to confuse even a PhD. In fact, General, I think, it was given to me in order to confuse me as well - and leap for the help to one of HiThink researchers. However,...' 'Yes?' 'General, in University, all four years, the primary area of my interest was recognition of natural languages. Not quite what is going on here, but close enough to understand a branch of math they are applying. And, General, they are ignoring two most fundamental things - the Occam's Razor and, on top, the whole Theory of Uncertainty.' 'I expected this' Carruthers picked up the phone 'A joint meeting is rescheduled to fourteen-hundred hours... Fuck'em... No, NO!!! ...I don't care - terminate the experiment and get him here too. You know, what to do...' after what he turned to me 'There'll be a big meeting at two. Be there. Now - dismissed...' * * * Still, the meeting was not until half-two, but, finally, they gathered. Three men heading the HiThink labs, with Torrungh himself there, plus a three-team of some strange people I never heard of. There was one tall sticky man, over six feet, and two aides, much smaller. I still sat in the reception room - until the secretary went back and told me I have to go in. When I entered the General's room, all were sat, and one chair on the side was, obviously, for me. I sat, too. The Old Car interrupted his talk for a second, but immediately continued: '... and all the time your robot was way too busy shooting up rabbits, while a whole squad of men, armed to their teeth, went through. Is that how you always work?' 'But, General' Torrungh himself was talking 'we were collaborating with the military AI for six years. And, in this time, we have delivered...' 'Delivered what' Carruthers interrupted without as much as a shadow of respect 'A mess? Or do you expect our robots to operate in an environment completely rid of rabbits? What will your freak start hunting then, cats?' 'But, General' Torrungh was now much less self-assured, but Carruthers didn't even let him finish: 'Enough!' the Old Car was, definitely pissed. 'I've just had enough of you. And your weird theories, too. So had the government. Meet professor Aaron' Car nodded to the tall man I was staring at 'his research centre is taking over. I would have thrown you out a week ago, but I still thought that you are just hiding something from me, and, should I push enough, will tell, just to save your asses. It appears not to be true. And, in such case, you and your men have twenty-four hours to get their stuff and disappear. No information of artifacts concerning the project can be taken out. All research network has been shut down as of ten minutes ago. And, I must inform you, Torrungh, that any of your men, including yourself, may be searched on their way out.' 'But, General, THIS is preposterous!!!' Torrungh almost shouted 'You have no right to...' 'Shut up!' barked Carruthers. The words hung up in the air, and Torrungh stopped in a middle of the word, as if struck by lightning. Even I, unconsciously, lowered my eyes, hoping the thunder to come by. 'I was re-reading your contract this morning, just in case. Of course, you recognize your signature' and Car thrown a couple of sheets almost to Torrungh's face. Torrungh caught it, and, after a brief look, answered, very quietly, 'yes...' 'In which case, you know, than on page three, in a footer, the note 3-09 states, that all your men, including yourself, are under military discipline as of the contract start date. Your procedure of leaving this establishment, including personal search, I approved myself, as a commander-in-chief of the AI research division. Any disobedience on your side will lead to a court-martial in forty-eight hours. Anything you have to say?' Torrungs didn't say anything. He just stood up and went for the door, his two assistants with him, too. When he opened the door, General addressed him once more: 'Be advised, that, before the network is restored to operation, all access tokens, including login passwords, will be changed completely.' ...aha, THAT was a low-blow. Torrungh even froze for a moment. Certainly, he didn't expect the mere military general to think of THAT... 'But, Paul, as you are telling the story, general ordered Torrungh and ALL his men out. You, yourself, was employed by Torringh's lab. Why wasn't YOU kicked out with them?' 'Ah, girlie,.. you see, in a matter, the Old Car hadn't thought of changing access tokens. I did. While he was barking, and when it was clear to me, that HiThink team will lose anyway, I wrote a short note to him, and asked his orderly to show it to Old Car right now. About the fact that ninety-plus percent of security penetrations were inside job through old passwords. Of course, I risked dearly - for, if he DID think of it himself, he would definitely believe that I was trying to play a bowb-your-buddy trick to save my own ass. Still, just as I guessed, the note caught him by surprise. 'So, it is dirty play, so what? Girlie, you know nothing about it. I didn't owe any loyalty to HiThink. At least, I stayed in...' * * * ...When a door opened, the young man, about twenty-five, was making coffee, just as usual - death-black. Only after the pot was safely under thick double blanket, to keep the heat in, did he go to the living room, where an older man, near his fifty, was already sitting in a low arm-chair, his eyes closed. 'So, papa, how it went' the young man addressed the older one. 'Just the way we planned, even better. You were right all the way - Car was about to throw my team out, and was considering four other labs to replace us. So, your little trick worked - after yow urged Aaron to warn Car of our inabilities, and saw to it that Aaron did, we reprogrammed the prototype 4 to shoot only at non-intelligent life forms.' 'So, Car threw you out even faster?' 'Yes, but Aaron's lab was the chosen one out of four the moment we failed...' 'I see. They warned, so they must have known, so they must be good?' 'Precisely. Only we had a small bonus on top - Car has just hired some another hacker. That one could not find anything better to start with than to convince Car we can't achieve what we claim...' 'Dad, what about this hacker? If he is that smart,..' 'Oh, no, not that. I've seen him - he's just graduated. All he can think of is his favourite analogue networks based on fuzzy logic, and how to prove that any other approach is wrong. Don't worry - they won't deliver, just as we hadn't. Theory says it is impossible - so it must be. But now - Aaron and his people have, as I've heard, a ten-year contract.' 'OK, papa - I must run now - I made your a coffee, just the way you like it. Sorry - and the youth quickly disappeared.' While driving to his lab, he replayed all the conversation again - just the way he always planned it to go. Let papa think he's still working for the family - maybe, in a way, he even did. But now - his new lab, just assigned to him two weeks ago, was waiting - a new lab, but he already managed to stick a small sign which said in gothic letters "Mr&Ms Leon Torrunh and Valerie Aaron. Personal research lab." - it was a good idea to marry Aaron's daughter. Now, for another ten years, the money will go here - delivery or not...
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