In which a social engineering major threatens to socially engineer Oso’s vision!
At the next interview session, Oso found himself entirely amused at the confab he’d created: Devon was happily stacking a box of colored playschool blocks Oso had given him; Gilly was glowering in a chair, but still quite happy to be included, if Oso knew his friend. His granddaughter sat primly and prettily, her teletyper balanced on her lap as she sucked up the fruits and cheeses and coffee and cream his assistant had brought them. After prodding her with his cane, the woman had brought Gilly his green tea and crackers.
Ah, and then there was Mark. Mark was the son-in-law he’d always wanted. Out of all his children and children-in-law, only Adam had the creative energy of Mark. He wished he could experience a future memory of a wedding between Stephanie and Mark which he would attend as the head patriarch, but he would suspect it to be wishful thinking.
“Granddad,” Stephanie said, “before we get started, I have to ask you a very relevant question. Is she, or isn’t she?”
“I’m sorry?” he asked, pretending obtuseness. He knew what she was asking; the question had been written all over her face since the first time he’d seen her interact with his assistant.
“Your assistant. She’s not a Minä. She’s too cunning to have gone through the typical lobotomy. You and I both know it’s illegal to create intelligent humanoid AI. Out of all the people on the planet, you have the resources to create it, and who would stop you? I mean, she’s just a little too perfect and artificial. A 5’10” size zero blonde who doesn’t respond to the world as she should. Who wears hats.”
“Yes, hats. Today she’s wearing a hat indoors, and the last time, she was wearing a scarf. Is that to hide her big ears?”
“First of all, if I were to create intelligent humanoid AI, nobody would ever know, would they, darlin’?”
“So what you’re saying is because I know, she can’t be AI?”
“But you don’t know, or you wouldn’t be asking. She could be AI, by your logic. But you’ll never know either way, because if I were to do such a thing, nobody would ever know. ‘Nobody’ being the operative word.”
Oso snorted. “Why don’t we get started,” he said, looking sidelong at the glowering Gilly. “You ready to start, Gilly, old buddy?”
“I am not your buddy,” Gilly said, accidentally spewing cracker crumbs from his mouth, which disgusted him.
“’You can hug ‘em, you can love ‘em, just don’t leave ‘em near the oven…’” Stephanie sang out.
“Good God, man! Do you always indulge your granddaughter this way?” Mark had, of course, already forgiven Oso and now felt comfortable addressing him in that chiding manner. They might as well have been buddies. “Make her stop singing that song.”
“I’m not a dictator,” Oso mildly said. “But—” and here he pounded his cane on his own very expensive desk— “we need to start if we’re going to get this book written. All of you need to be quiet, including Stephanie.”
“Except for you, clearly,” Gilly said. “I won’t get any say in this story.”
“The story wouldn’t exist without you, old friend.”
“No, it wouldn’t. I was always the brains behind everything. I’m the reason you have any resources.”
“Gillilander. Friend,” Oso said, his voice a low growl. The low growl always happened when he tried for soothing—nothing he could do about it. “How could I deny that? And you wouldn’t have two dimes to scrape together if not for me.”
“Sure, you know how to work the system, file for bankruptcy and start all over again. It’s the people paying the price for it that don’t have two dimes to scrape together.”
“The people who pay the price leave available resources untouched and then complain when others use them. They’re like children in nursery school who can’t see the potential of a toy until another child plays with it.”
Stephanie straightened and opened her doe eyes wide as she pulled her teletyper closer, so as not to miss a moment.
Gillilander sat, impassive, his tea cup gripped in his claw-like old hands. “At least you’re willing to admit you’re just a big child.”
In answer, Oso merely laughed. The confab was, indeed, enjoyable, even Devon who clapped his hands for no obvious reason. Above Oso’s head, the holo-tattooed saying rested like a forever etched-in-stone truism: Mr. Beñat was the best one time cowboy I was ever with. I would sleep with him again and I’m sure he would agree I look great for 70, but then I would have to permanently delete this review. Stephanie had asked him during the last session who had authored the sentiment, and then had proceeded to put on her mock indignation when he insisted he had no clue. Yes, life was good.
“We should start,” he said.
“Just a minute, Granddad. Don’t start yet,” Stephanie said. “Now that I’ve got that conversation down, I’ll need to consult my notes.”
“By all means, you be in charge.”
“I wasn’t—oh, never mind. I already asked about your assistant and you didn’t answer. Oh, I know. You said Grandma Berna was married before she met you. Can you tell me anything about her first husband?”
“Yes, but he’s irrelevant. She married a New Mexican who wanted to remain in New Mexico. He was unremarkable, except for his expensive hobby of building airplanes. He died in an airplane crash. She was pregnant by him once and had a miscarriage.”
“If she’d married me in the first place, she might not have suffered.”
“It’s the truth. But none of us can change the past. Thinking about it is destructive.”
“And yet here we are, thinking about the past,” Gillilander said.
“I’m not trying to change anything. I’m giving the raw, unadulterated facts. Contributing to the historical record.”
“Sure, your side is the raw, unadulterated facts. What a load of crap, Oso. Old friend.”
Stephanie cleared her throat. “If you two stop arguing for a little while, we can get started.”
“Whatever,” Gillilander muttered.
Oso jogged up and down at Socorro’s Clarke Field while waiting for Gillilander to show up. He had Bernadette on the phone; they spoke several time a month, keeping a distant but friendly relationship. Normally, he let the conversation go, as it was pleasant to have a woman around only to listen to him talk. But today, he wanted to hang up with her before she found out he was in New Mexico. He didn’t want to visit her. He didn’t want to lay eyes on her husband, the unremarkable dope she’d chosen over him.
Gilly had stayed in Socorro to study mechanical engineering at New Mexico Tech. Tech was a good school, and it made sense for Gilly to study there, as his mom worked in administration. And despite Oso’s drive to get the hell out of Socorro, he regularly drove back home from LA to visit his old friend, who didn’t do the same for him. Since Oso had moved to UCLA, Gilly had visited him precisely zero times. If nothing else, at least Oso was a loyal friend.
Bernadette, in a rare fit of chattiness, was detailing the horror of her senior year, her desire to be done already, and her appalling decision to go on for her master’s degree.
“Hey, Berna, I have to go,” he said. “I have a friend coming over.”
“You sound like you’re outside.”
“I am. That doesn’t mean I don’t have a friend coming over.”
“Oh.” She paused. “Oso, would you just be honest, okay? You don’t have to make excuses at this point. If you don’t want to talk, just say so.”
“I was being honest.”
“My best guess, you’re in Socorro for spring break visiting Gilly, and you don’t want to visit me here in Cruces.”
“Your husband doesn’t want me to.”
She sighed. “You’re right, but I’m going to be home next weekend for Easter. Going to church with my family.”
“If I were a church-goer, I might see you.”
“I love you, too, Oso. Always have.”
He snorted and didn’t bother with a goodbye before disconnecting the call. If she’d always loved him, she should have married him and not the builder of small aircraft.
To forget about her, he quickly turned his attention to gathering his surprise gifts for Gilly. These were a real leather soccer ball he’d discovered at a specialty shop in Los Angeles, and two team jerseys he’d had made up. They were emblazoned with Team Beñat-Herrera because it was time to start that team and move some revenue into his pockets. And Gilly’s, of course.
Ever since Oso had entered UCLA as a premed student who meant to go into neurology, he’d been bored. School would take him eight years or more to work his way through. He wanted to do something now. There was no time like the present and, although he could see the value in an advanced degree for those who would become surgeons and the like, he had no aspirations to such. He was in it for the research. Even that was only for…he wasn’t sure. But it had to have a practical, real world purpose, or it made him impatient.
By contrast, Gillilander had gone into a degree that led to a practical real world outlet, and yet Gilly would have spent all his time in research if he could. He couldn’t care less about immediate results. Gilly’s lack of care for real world results in fact frustrated Oso. Gilly was so smart in ways that Oso wasn’t. Oso sometimes felt like shaking him.
Today, however, he was simply happy to see his friend again. He clapped him in a big hug before Gilly pushed him away. Gilly wasn’t much for physical contact. Oso handed him the jersey.
Gilly held it up and looked at it. “Team Beñat-Herrera? Are we a team? Why am I number 00?”
“Because I will always be numero uno.”
“In your own mind maybe,” Gilly said, and sneered. He put on the shirt, though, and smoothed it out over his running shorts. It was a little big for his lanky frame. “Are we going running, or what?”
“I have something much better. A real soccer ball.”
“I don’t believe you. I haven’t seen one of those since…I don’t remember exactly. Was it sixth grade?”
Oso produced the beautiful, untouched leather orb from the trunk of his car. It was actually not untouched, as he’d practiced a little back in LA before bringing it home to Socorro. He didn’t want to appear a doofus, though trying to remember the types of kicks he’d learned before the airfoot days was a challenge.
The two dribbled the ball and passed it up and down the field for a while before Gilly volunteered to be the goalie. The problem, of course, was that Gilly had never been a goalie and certainly not with a real ball, and he appeared to have no sense of what Oso would do with the ball. If Gilly tried to block the near post, Oso would aim for the far post. It was the same for the far post. When Gilly tried to block both at once, Oso would kick the ball between his legs. Playing with Gilly was like playing with a child.
When they switched roles, Gilly got barely a ball in. As Gilly’s frustration was palpable, finally Oso stopped, threw his head back, and laughed.
“What?” Gilly glowered.
“You always give yourself away. Every time. Your body language is terrible.”
“I thought we were going to run, dipwad. Let’s go! I’ll race you to the other side of the field!”
If Gilly hadn’t tripped over a tuft of grass and nearly lost his glasses, which were strapped on as it was, he might have won. Oso gave him a hand up.
“I already know you’re faster than I am,” Oso said.
Gilly still glowered.
“Whatever. Why in the world would you want to be on a team of two with me?” Gilly asked.
“Because we’re going to start a business together.”
“Nice of you to consult me before making that decision.”
“Aren’t you bored of school? I am. We’ve been in for almost four years now. I can’t do this for another four years.”
Gilly appeared to study the sky for a moment. It was spring, a bit brisk out, but the sky was clear. There wasn’t a lot to study in the sky, to be honest. Finally, he shook his head. “No, I’m not bored of school. I love it. I made a drone the other day.”
“A drone? We should build stuff and take it to market. Make some money.”
“I have some designs, but they’re not ready.”
“What kind of designs? You should show them to me.”
“No, I told you they’re not ready. They’re just more silly robots like we’ve always made. I’m working on some sensors for this skin I’ve managed to 3D print, though. If you have to know.”
Oso felt his skin prickle with excitement, as though his own body were detecting sensors. “Telehaptic memory.”
“Something like that.”
“There’s a market for that.”
“What market? For expensive robots that aren’t yet functional? How? Who’s going to buy that?”
“No, you’re not thinking big enough. Yeah, robots are big, but why wait until we develop one for the market? What about getting into assistive technology?”
“How are we going to fund a business like that?”
“Backers. That I’m going to find.”
“You do that, Oso,” Gilly said, and while it seemed Oso was momentarily daydreaming, he kicked the ball toward the unprotected goalposts.
Oso shot his leg out and nicked the ball just enough that it went off course. “You wanna go to the Cap and get a beer? I’ll buy.”
Gilly’s shrug was listless.
“We can talk more about our future business. Look, I need you. I don’t have your creative mind.”
“All right. You can buy. But I don’t want to discuss our future business because I don’t want a future business with you.”
Oso tried to hide his disappointment. Actually, Oso was never disappointed. He tried to mask his hurt. No, he was never hurt either. “Why not?”
“You’re too pushy. I don’t want you pushing me around. I was enjoying designing robots without you, like in the days before seventh grade. It’s been nice not having you here.”
Oso’s body stiffened. “I thought we were best friends.”
Gilly chewed on his fingernails, the same nasty habit he’d had for years. “We are. You’re just a little…overbearing at times. Without you around, I go on dates. With girls who look at me because you aren’t around. I’ve been dating this one girl for a while now, and I think it might be serious. But she thinks I’m going to take that job offer at Sandia Labs and settle down to a stable life. Starting a business with you isn’t stable, is it?”
“Hmm. Sounds boring. Why haven’t I met this girl?”
“Because you say things like that. She isn’t your type, so, yeah, I’m guessing you’d find her boring and unattractive.”
“I’m not going to steal her from you. Why would I do that? And I wasn’t saying your girlfriend was boring. Marry her if you want. It’s the stable job at Sandia Labs that’s the big yawner.”
“Married? We’re not that serious. We were just going to try living together up in Albuquerque after I graduate. She’s got a year left of her social engineering degree at UNM.”
“What the hell kind of degree is social engineering?”
Gilly shook his head. “Social engineering? I didn’t say that. Civil. She’s studying civil engineering.”
Oso couldn’t help it; his eyes glazed over. “Tell me you don’t find your future plans the tiniest bit stifling.”
“Yes, they’re boring. But they’re my plans and not yours. You see the difference?”
“We could make plans together. Like right now at the Cap.”
“You know, you sound like you’re proposing.”
“I am, Gilly, old buddy. I’m proposing we start a business together. With my brilliant business skills, and your brilliant designs. It’s a win-win.”
Gilly visibly cringed. Oso grinned. He knew his friend hated being called old buddy, but he was also pretty sure that wasn’t why he’d cringed. Gilly was going to cave, and they both knew it, and Gilly would hate Oso for it. And love him—in a purely platonic way.
“So, meet you at the cap, or what?” Oso said, and he climbed in his car and slammed the door before Gilly could respond.
“Granddad,” Stephanie said, “would you please refrain from correcting me when I interpret your story descriptions? If you were heavy inside and felt defeated, you were disappointed. If you felt like you were going to cry on the inside, you were hurt. Now my text sounds ridiculous: Oso tried to hide his disappointment. Actually, Oso was never disappointed. He tried to mask his hurt. No, he was never hurt either. What does that mean? It’s meaningless.”
“It means he admitted he has the emotional fortitude of a little girl,” Gilly said. “He always has.”
Oso shook his head. “It means that disappointments happen, and still I have hope. And working memories of the future. I knew we were going to start a business together. Maybe I was a little hurt, but not enough to stop trying.”
“That’s not what you said,” Stephanie pointed out.
Gilly took off his glasses and wiped them on his shirt. “Get used to it. He never says what he means, but he always dominates the conversation. Notice how I didn’t get any say at all.”
“On the contrary, I always say what I mean. And next time, you can have the floor.”
They all stretched and rose from their seats. It took them a minute to realize that Devon and Mark had disappeared. When they peered out the french doors off the study, they found the two drawing with chalk on the patio. It appeared Mark was trying to teach Devon to write his name.
Oso looked down at the writing like an implacable father. “It’s useless. He’ll never write because he hadn’t been trained to do it pre-lobotomy. There’s no muscle memory for him to rely on.”
“He wrote it, though.” Mark grinned, clearly pleased with himself, and pointed to a group of almost legibly formed letters done in purple chalk.
“Yes, of course, you can teach him to write it. He’ll do anything you tell him to do. He won’t remember it. You’ll have to teach it again the next time you’re here.”
Mark’s face fell. “I thought if he attached the color purple to the letters, he’d remember.”
“A kind of simulated synesthesia? It’s an interesting thought, but I don’t think it will work. He’s missing too many parts of his brain to make connections.”
“Why do you keep him?” Mark asked. “What’s in it for you?”
“Nothing. I created him. Or, my technology, plus government regulations, plus the corporation bearing my name created him. He’s my son through no fault of his own.”
“Technically, his body is my technology,” Gilly said.
Mark watched as Devon continued to write the letters of his name through copying his first try. The second copy was almost unreadable. “There are thousands more like him roaming the streets. Are they your sons, too?”
“In a sense, yes. But I can’t adopt them all. Nor can I change government policy. I’m just relieved Tomi Corp has gotten out of the business of making them. The novelty of human pets wore off long ago. No, instead, they found it more useful to create mindless, emotionless robots that would toss humans out of the workplace. Much more practical, destroying human industry like that.”
“There was a startup last year that created an app that would automatically add new legislation every time a baby cried,” Gilly said.
Oso stood solid with his cane, unamused.
“And then there was the one that created new industry through the federal reserve printing presses. Printing industry instead of useless moola. Good stuff, that. Very creative.”
“Oh, shut up, Gilly,” Oso said, almost under his breath. “Time to refocus so we can finish this blasted interview for the day.”
“Interview?” Gilly said. “Don’t you mean, you talking endlessly about yourself?”
“No, I’m talking about both of us. And now I’m going to tell Stephanie about my profound thoughts in the LA nightclub.”
Gilly spluttered. “Your…? Oh, would you just…?