Brobots Read online

  ‘Oh god. So would I cutie. So would I.’

  ‘Want me to get you one? I know a place. Knock-off prices.’

  Still chuckling and smiling they entered Jared’s kitchen out back where there was a small table. Jared figured that if he was going to be setting up a work area for a few weeks and act all detective-like then he’d want a discreet desk he wouldn’t have to disturb if anyone came over for a meal or something (he still had the dining room spare).

  A coffee refill in hand for them both (unfortunately no red wine tonight), they began to shuffle through the construction firm paperwork. Emails. Receipts. Purchase orders. Warranties. Some scanned. Some original. Some with side notes in pencil or pen; scraps of paper with notes from phone calls that hadn’t been typed up. In all, about seven years’ worth of material was there. Not a huge pile. But big enough - especially when, Yana figured, the good stuff would be the thing all this hard data could only cast a shadow of.

  Jared, of course, was new to this. He was hanging on every word like each one would be the key to fixing his broken man; getting his friend; finding his bro. That was fine. Yana had pre-triaged the pile and made sure Jared was getting the sheets that likely just had low-priority detail in them. That left her to pour over the more interesting parts. Why not? She was the pro.

  --

  Jared had to hand it to Yana. She’d been over at his place every night. Now it was Thursday and he was beginning to feel guilty; thinking that she’d highly likely forego a relaxing end-of-week night tomorrow too. ‘Take tomorrow off, Yana?’

  ‘Sure. If you want to.’

  There was a pause as they both continued to browse through, make notes, slurp warm liquid.

  ‘Do you?’

  ‘Do I what?’

  ‘Want to skip tomorrow night? Because I’m hooked. This shit’s good.’ Jared laughed and they looked at each other.

  ‘It is. Isn’t it? Like, truly fascinating.’

  They were sat on the long sofa together now. It was a bit later the same evening. They’d exchanged tea for wine. It was time for a recap, and to hell with work tomorrow; it was only a Friday.

  ‘So the original purchases were in 2052, and then the Type D’s were purchased in 2058. Just two years ago. Just over. The A’s, B’s and C’s are still working fine. The D’s are clunking out just days after warranty. Like it’s a time bomb or something.’

  ‘And we know it’s the batteries’, said Yana. ‘We know from my meeting that the botched PR launch is still affecting the unit supplier and their parent firm to this day. They never really got going. Then Michael mentioned as we wrapped up that they lost out on a military contract…I don’t know where he heard that from…I can’t find the source, strangely. Their shares have gone down though. I did at least confirm that.’

  ‘But if he’s right then that contract’s gone to an Italian firm, which is… a huge story even there, right?’

  ‘Right. I mean… national security, anyone? What’s the deal with that! I need to find out how he knew; or at least confirm it somehow.’

  ‘I’m beginning to think this will get you something good; I mean really good. But… Jeez. By the time it’s all out and everybody knows - it’ll be too late for Byron.’

  ‘How do you mean?’

  ‘Well …Sounds like Construcsapli is doomed, right? If Michael’s right and their other big potential customers got frightened away when they were launching then they can’t be doing well even if the dud batteries are a fluke. And it doesn’t sound like Brobotics is gonna prop them up forever; not when the parent firm have gone back into social robotics and stuff: no new Sentients on their website or blog. So how are we gonna get him his replacement battery? If a third party wrecked the stock intentionally, or their de facto supplier did something screwy, there may not even be such a thing.’

  ‘There is that possibility. But it’s too soon to say. Do you want to stop helping?’

  ‘Not at all. I’m… really enjoying working with you on this. It’s great to have something to do together that isn’t cocktails at the bar.’

  ‘Or whisky.’

  Jared nodded to that.

  ‘I need access to Brobotics.’

  ‘Don’t you mean Construcsapli?’

  ‘No. They’re just… a front in a way. The stuff that happened back in 2052 has nothing to do with most of the staff working at Dartonia now; and what little we can gain from the paperwork isn’t shedding enough light. I need to draft the story Michael wants me to write.’

  ‘I don’t understand.’

  ‘The story Michael wants is about a poor hard-done-by construction firm that’s done nothing wrong save go to the wrong supplier. Whereas bad supplier has been providing faulty equipment that he says is out of contractual scope. Moreover it’s dangerous having units drop mid-task and it could pose a public health risk. He makes some noise. They sit up and notice. Give him compensation. Done.

  ‘…Either that or I get to reveal a bigger story: a screwy supplier up the chain causing a potentially hazardous mess or intentional sabotage because of politics. But I still get to find out the inside info on Construcsapli’s real performance – which is Michael’s minimal win. He can switch suppliers. Maybe even file for an insurance claim if it’s clear wear and tear is not to blame. He doesn’t want it to be big and complicated of course. He just wants it fixed.’

  Yana sipped wine, continuing with more gusto. ‘Whereas… if I take that “hard-done-by” version of the story, without running it, to Brobotics I can use it as leverage; get my foot in the door; probably talk to someone who was around at the time - someone who knows; at least, someone who can give me the other side to it. That way I can get the performance information Michael wants out of them and give them the opportunity to explain themselves. But you know… Why did the PR launch get messed up? Why did the Italian firm get the military contract recently, if they did? Why is the US government preferring foreign technology when an upstanding home firm is ready to go?’

  ‘Yeah. I guess you can’t just swan in to Brobotics and ask them to give you answers to Michael’s questions and then at the same time expect them to volunteer more. Not if your opening gambit is that Michael’s version will be what you run. But if you use it as a card you’re giving them the chance to make their own use of you.’

  Yana just smiled as Jared looked at her over the brim of his wine glass like a puppy dog. ‘You’re too smart, Yana. Too smart.

  Edward

  ‘I’m only too glad to see you.’

  Edward, an elderly skinny scientist type, was standing at the glass door of his office. Yana had introduced herself - she’d been escorted to his office, of course, by a Brobotic. It wasn’t a type D. Not even a type A. It was a brand new escort drone. It looked sleek. It looked modern. But its abilities were nothing like those of the legendary Construcsapli units. It wasn’t a sentient. The gesture sort of hid some truth of the matter in plain sight; as if the Construcsapli approach was already a thing of the past.

  The building was everything Yana had expected (hoped?) it would be. It classified as a fortress; it had a mote all around with very deep waters made to look more kind by the addition of small islands and grasses. Once over the wooden draw bridge the glass and chrome offices loomed above suggesting a calm, measured, thoughtful presence on the one hand and a ‘hands off/ don’t mess’ sort of attitude on the other. Welcoming yet secure. Admirable yet slightly menacing: the perfect rendition of modern-day commercial passive-aggressive double-speak in architectural form.

  ‘I’m glad to meet you too, Edward; although I’m sure I’ll find out why you’re too glad soon!’

  ‘Yes.’ Edward coughed a little as he ushered Yana into his office to take a seat at a tempered glass table. ‘We’ve wanted some…positive exposure here for some time.’

  Yana looked down at her legs. Today she’d worn a high skirt with a matching business jacket. Her tights were new and perfect. She shuffled to get comfortable. ‘So what makes you thin
k that I’m the one to give you that?’

  ‘We have a story. It’s…even a story you will like. But we couldn’t force feed it to the press.’

  ‘Big companies like you are usually begging for good PR. What makes you think your story wouldn’t get picked up?’

  At this question, Edward let out a sigh. He looked honestly, visibly, exhausted deep inside. ‘Because it runs too far. It’s too big. And our proof…’

  ‘Your proof is…’ Yana took a moment to choose a word ‘…scant.’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Interesting.’

  ‘I’m glad you find it interesting! Better than the alternative. But… about your offer?’

  Yana leaned forward in her chair and produced a clip file. It contained her news article; the one she had shaped with Jared’s help on research and following discussions with Alex and Michael.

  ‘I have a news piece already. It’s…substantiated.’ She pushed the file so that it slid across the polished glass to Edward, who looked down at it, but didn’t move; his hands clasped above the table and his expression attentive.

  ‘I can guess.’ Edward stated.

  ‘So tell me.’

  ‘This will be from Dartonia. It wasn’t difficult to work out that they’re doing a big job in your home city right now. They’re also using Construcsapli Type Ds.’

  Edward paused to get up from his chair, turn away from Yana and look out his window to the city skyline outside. ‘They approached you because some of their D’s are starting to fail. They didn’t get the answer they wanted from our subsidiary company. So they’ve decided to pile on some pressure; maybe talk about robots running wild or some such thing. Machines clunking out - causing a public health risk. Construcsapli takes the bait, backs down, and meets their demands. People can get back to work.’

  Edward turned away from the window to look back at Yana who remained poker-faced despite the fact that Edward had perfectly guessed the card on the table without even looking at the folder.

  ‘But you haven’t published it, Miss Daltry.’ Edward sat down again as before; hands clasped. ‘Instead you’ve come to me with an open hand. You’re not giving me a final word before this runs. You’re here with your own questions. That either makes you a careerist, wanting to see how big you can make your latest project. Or it means you’re thorough; just a more palatable version of the first option. Or…and this is what I’m hoping on…you can smell a rat; and the rat isn’t with us. That’s got you piqued.’

  ‘You’re a bright man.’

  ‘You don’t get to be CEO of an artificial intelligence company without being intelligent.’ Yana could have rolled her eyes, but just nodded once to take it as read.

  ‘But so far I’ve done all the talking. You tell me why you smell your rat.’

  ‘Italian firms don’t get US military contracts to supply artificially intelligent robots. No non-American firm does. So why in the hell did that happen? Rhetorical, for now. Secondly, slick companies like yours – and any subsidiaries you hold – don’t make a dog’s dinner out of a marketing launch. Things like that get planned for months. You said it yourself; you’re a smart bunch. Some might say that geeks only know how to talk to computers; that PR is bound to be a weak spot. But that doesn’t wash with me for one minute. You’re a big operation; you’re going places. Or at least, you were. Your PR is probably done by experts; not interns.’

  Edward smiled, looking at Yana as though she had just passed some kind of Turing test. It felt rewarding and discomfiting to Yana both at the same time.

  ‘Quite so. So what does that tell you?’

  ‘Someone’s out to get you. Probably not your battery supplier. That’s too lame. It may even go right back to why you separated your sentient models from your other models; developed and launched them through a subsidiary in the first place. Not standard contingency; something more like real fear. If they went down, the mother ship would still be in the air. I’m guessing now that this is why you said it runs too far.’

  They both took a moment to sip their water; the one looking at the other. You got that right.

  ‘Still willing to take it on?’

  ‘Surely that question is yours; not mine?’

  Edward’s lip twitched at the sides with mild amusement. ‘Our staff… have ways of protecting themselves. We’re a high-tech firm. Super-high. You on the other hand are a single pawn. Easy to take out.’

  It was at that moment Yana realized she had reached her cross road. Every reporter encountered one sooner or later in her or his careers. You went from reporting in a local news outlet about cats getting stuck up trees to stumbling upon a story of national significance. Things ramped up a notch, quite often with deeper elements that needed understanding even if they didn’t always make it to publication, and the challenge in taking the harder road was one of risk. Take the job, extend your career, get out alive. Don’t take the job, pass up on opportunity, stay safe but also stay lower-paid. If she was doing this now, she wasn’t doing it for Jared and his Brobot. She’d be all in for herself. Her stomach churned a little, but at the same time she felt excitement (fear?). She decided it was probably a ‘yes’; but she needed to walk around this one a bit first before committing.

  ‘I can’t prove this, Edward, but my gut tells me your mother ship isn’t as high in the sky right now as you’d have liked it to have been back in 2052. I find out what really went on and publish that? You have no way of knowing whether that means good PR or bad PR for Brobotics or Construcsapli. I mean, it might vindicate you ultimately perhaps. But whether that improves your share price or cash flow is another thing.’

  ‘Perhaps it’s not about that for me any more. I’m at the end of my career.’

  ‘But you have a whole firm here. This isn’t just about you?’

  ‘No, that’s true; although I was there at the time. Like you say; perhaps our companies are at that point where we have little to lose now.’

  ‘Then…there’s a shit storm already planned out there waiting for whoever takes this on. If they planned your demise all that time ago, which I’m taking as read right now, then they’re smart enough to see that you’d be a liability now you’re past caring about public profile. I mean… While you’re still fighting for your financial life you’re no threat. But when you stop fighting it’s a different matter. I gotta know what’s in it for me.’

  ‘Protection. Drones. Bugs. Flies on the wall. Plus… name your prize. As long as it’s realistic.’

  I can make this good for Jared. And for me.

  ‘Protection is good.’ Yana looked down at her skirt and took a moment. ‘I …have a friend. He…uh… he found a disposed type D at the Dartonia site. He’s a loner geek type; fixes things up. He’s gonna need a battery replacement, ownership papers, warranties, access to the relevant software updates network, access to support systems. …And of course your word that just because Dartonia disposed of the unit neither you nor Construcsapli will be demanding it back; it was paid for and trashed after all.’

  Edward chuckled. ‘Ours is not to question why. Okay. Done. Anything else?’

  ‘Ten grand straight in cash whether this story runs or not. But I can assure you that if this goes well, all America will be hearing about it; as will the rest of the world in a flash.’

  ‘I figured you’d be good the moment I saw you walking towards my office door. I go on gut feelings. Always. Deal. When shall we start?’

  Yana took out her tablet computer and pencil. She started a fresh page. ‘Well, first question. What do you know off record? Then we can move to what you can substantiate.’

  After another hour of talks, Yana was being escorted back down to the entrance lobby and out to the street where a taxi pod could collect her. Brobotics had their own; and Edward had guaranteed that they were shielded against bug drones. Having instructed the pod to take her back to the airport, she shook her wrist and asked for Jared’s line.

  ‘It’s Yana. Yes. There’s… progr
ess. Tonight. No, your place is better. Hmm. Actually neither. Let’s meet in town. No; better not to choose an exact place. Outside the club first; then we’ll walk. I’ll explain later. Don’t worry. Ciao.’

  --

  Jared was standing outside the Palm Tree Club. It was definitely autumnal now; already dark, and the chill in the air unfunny. What’s keeping her? Why are we meeting here? Jared was both excited and anxious. He was looking up the sidewalk in the direction of Yana’s end of town. When she tapped him on the shoulder from behind, he took a jump.

  ‘Oh god! Don’t do that Yana!’

  Yana chuckled. ‘Sorry.’

  ‘Where are we going? What’s going on?’

  Yana flicked her hair. ‘Not here. Let’s walk. Just follow me. Don’t say the name of the place when we get there. You may not be on security alert yet, but I may already be. So the rules of the game change from here on in.’

  Yana took Jared to a café he’d never been into himself. She did have a life outside of the one she shared with her closest friend, and this place was one detail of that life she had kept to herself until now; a favorite haunt for stealing away when the office became too stifling and only passing pedestrians and hot drinks would clear her head for writing. She figured it was probably safe enough for tonight; but perhaps not even for tomorrow.

  ‘There’s what Edward thinks is going on. Then there’s what he can prove. For the latter I’m going to get another set of files in a day or two sent to an encrypted corner of the cloud. The key code is going to come separately.’

  ‘Shit.’

  ‘Yeah.’

  ‘So what does he… think is going on? Has been going on?’

  ‘Oh…y’know. Exactly what I’d figured – not. Top Dartonia board men have connections to the military. They …magically appeared at the front of the queue for Construcsapli’s Sentient models despite some bigger offers of contract elsewhere. First customer guaranteed. Then when the PR launch happened all of Construcsapli’s marketing goes offline, the news coverage they thought they were getting was swapped out for something damaging, and the PR company they’d used disappears into thin air. Before they know it, the public are going mad about untested machines taking good men’s jobs, a construction firm is complaining about late delivery, no support, unreliability, and that military contract they were hoping to get recently is going to an Italian firm because their performance as a company is too weak; also because Italy and the US signed that military technology pact. Exchange of goods and knowledge – the timing for which is uncanny.’