"Hello." The voice came from the corner. It was light and silvery.
"A woman's voice?" asked "Jones."
"Nice touch, don't you think?"
"I don't know. It doesn't sound very businesslike."
"You want businesslike? Ask her to think."
"How?"
"I'll do it. Computer, scan the room."
"Room scanned."
"What do you make of what you see?"
"Two options. Either this is a high-security area or someone is playing a joke on you."
"What makes you say that?" "Jones" asked sharply.
"Because you have a forty-five-caliber Army-issue Colt automatic in your right hand and a paper bag over your head. If the weapon is real-and I am unable to quantify that judgment at this distance-then it means this is a security situation."
"How do you know this isn't a mugging?" asked "Jones." "I could be a mugger."
"Your body language indicates ease with your surroundings. You are in a familiar place. Therefore this is your office. And you would not be mugging a man in your own office. Your disguise would be pointless."
"But I don't understand. What makes you feel that this is a security area?"
"Because I am the ES Quantum Three Thousand, the most advanced artificial-intelligence system on the planet and, according to my own projections, likely to remain so for at least another thirteen months."
"Thirteen months." Chip Craft whistled. "The boys in Research and Development had it pegged at twenty-six months."
"They are not aware of the recent Japanese AI advances."
"What recent Japanese advances?" Chip demanded.
"The Mishitsu Corporation has just made a superconductor breakthrough which will lead to parallel processing speeds of nearly twice my current rate."
"I hadn't heard that."
"It has not been announced yet."
"Then how do you know about it? I just turned you on, for Christ's sake!"
"Because I am hooked up to the telephone system in this office. Already I am reaching out and assimilating other data on a global scale. The Japanese advance will be announced on Tuesday."
"My God, she works better than we thought."
"What else do I need to know about this system?" asked "Jones."
"Not much-"
"You may address that question to me," said the ES Quantum. "Now that I am fully on-line."
"You heard the lady," Chip said proudly. "I guess my job is done."
"I will have to blindfold you again for the drive back."
"Okay, let's go."
"Then I was correct," said the ES Quantum Three Thousand.
"Yes," "Jones" said. "Now, please wait here for my return. We have much work to do."
"Where would I go?" the computer asked.
"She's got a point," Chip said as the blindfold covered his eyes once more.
"Er, yes, of course. How silly of me," "Jones" said, looking at the ridiculously ornamented computer.
"One last bit of advice, Jones," Chip Craft offered as he was led out the door.
"Yes?"
"Try not to fall in love with her. She's probably a million times smarter than you."
Chapter 18
A week passed.
No further attacks were made on the United States of America. NORAD radar systems picked up no unidentifiable objects over the Atlantic. With no ongoing emergency to sustain the crisis atmosphere, the military went back to Defcon Three and then Defcon Four. The Washington press corps, after being supplied certified copies of the President's latest physical, filled newspaper column inches and airtime with the story that the President had no drinking problem after all.
The President read the morning newspapers and shook his head.
"They've absolved me of a drinking problem as if they were all bucking for Pulitzers. It was a nonstory, for crying out loud."
At the other end of the line, Dr. Harold W. Smith said, "What? Excuse me. What did you say?"
"Have you been listening to me, Smith?"
"Yes, of course," Smith said. His voice was vague.
"Smith?"
"Of course, Mr. President. I heartily agree."