Free Living in Syn by Bobby Draughon Page A

don't think so.  Specialized processors generally
handle sensory input.  The speech processor converts language accepted in
visual or audio form.  The speech output processor converts machine format back
to human language and then to verbalization.  No, I don't think so."
    "Does
Paradox use a special processor for physical movement?"
    "Yes,
on the eights and nines.  But it coordinates muscle groups.  The decision to
move in the first place occurs in command central."
    "What
about intercepting all sensory information and altering it to create situations
in which the syn believes it is behaving defensively?"
    "How
do you mean?"
    "I
don’t know. I’m throwing out anything that pops into my little brain."
    Susan
shrugged, “I just don’t see how you could do it, it’s so incredibly complex.”
    Again they
sat in silence for minutes, and then Mission said, “For now, let’s accept your
position that core programming is simply too complex and secure to alter,
easily. So let’s focus on the peripheral chips. Highly specialized, sometimes
contracted to third party suppliers, it feels like the most obvious point of
attack on cognitive integrity."
    Several
hours later, Susan decided she could not go on.  "Mission.  Mission! 
Let's take a break from this.  Okay?  You give me the feeling that if we finish
this early, we'll start work on that pesky little perpetual motion problem. 
Can you spell obsessive?"
    "Oh,
excuse me.  I thought with your life and mine in jeopardy, there might be some
sense of urgency.  No hurry though, once we're dead, we'll have nothing but time
on our hands."
    Susan
gave him a pained look.  "I think there exists some middle ground between
painting bulls eyes on our chests, and driving ourselves into nervous
exhaustion."
    "Point
taken.  So, you need to buy some clothes since you can't go back to your
place.  We both need a decent meal.  And we are in walking distance of two
excellent choices for entertainment.  The Van Cliburn Competition first round
at the Fine Arts Auditorium, and the Modern Art Exhibition at Redgrave
Hall."
    Susan's
look soured.  "My God, Mission.  No wonder you drink to excess.  You need
to lighten up.  How about a movie with gratuitous sex and violence masking the
lack of a discernible plot?"
    Mission
smiled at her.  "Cool."

11
 
 
    Mission
and Susan entered his apartment laughing.  Susan's eyes were alive for the
first time in his memory.  She looked at him mischievously and said, "I
thought you might die from embarrassment when you screamed."
    He
grinned and said, "They should give you some warning before a man with an
ax jumps into the scene."
    "I
think the whole point is to surprise you."
    "I
suppose.  But what about you, yelling for the maniac to kill that teenager?  I
never pegged you as the bloodthirsty type."
    She
smiled.  "I'm not, this is about escaping reality.  Besides, what woman
doesn't want to see the perky blond, brainless cheerleader chopped up?"
    Mission
grinned and said, "Another perky blond, brainless cheerleader."
    They had
never gotten around to dinner. Mission said, "I mostly stir fry.  Chicken
or fish with fresh vegetables and brown rice.  Is that okay?"
    Susan
nodded and Mission continued.  "Alright, how about you and me planning the
kidnapping while I fix dinner?"
    Her hand
flew to her mouth and she said, "Oh no, Mission.  I can't do anything
illegal."
    He
smiled and said, "Sorry, figure of speech.  I'm talking about capturing the
synthetic John Jones.  It will take a lot more planning and skill than usual,
because we have to preserve the brain to meet our objective."
    "Which
is?"
    "We're
going to climb inside that skull casing and get some answers."
    "Mission,
I don't know.  I've never done anything like this.  I'm not sure you can count
on me under pressure."
    Mission
looked at her for a moment and then nodded.  "That's fair.  So this is all
I'll ask.  Help me develop the plan, and then you don’t have to do