In the silence from around the table, the skepticism of the group was obvious.
Laura waited for what seemed like ages, and when no one else spoke up she asked, "What was the pay-per-view movie and the documentary?"
At first she thought they would humiliate her by ignoring the question. Few heads turned her way, but Gray's, she noted, was among those that did.
Dorothy's gaze only slowly left the doubting looks of her colleagues.
She tapped at her palmtop then said, "The movie was A Room with a View. There was a credit issued for all the orders that came in over the weekend."
Laura tried to hide her astonishment. She had placed two of those orders herself — twice on Friday, then again on Saturday. "Do you mean that everyone who ordered that movie last weekend got it for free?" she asked.
Dorothy frowned and nodded.
A Room with a View was Laura's favorite movie of all time.
She'd stumbled across the re-released high-definition version among the growing number of films that, with the tap of a button, could be downloaded from Gray's system in seconds. When Laura had placed the first order on Friday night, she'd been alone and unhappy over the grad-student "profile." The purchase the next night had been spur-of-the-moment — a halfhearted attempt to escape sheer boredom.
"That's one of the sappiest movies ever made," Margaret said with a sneer on her face.
"You have no taste!" Filatov shot back.
"Do you like it?" Margaret challenged.
"I've never seen it. But that doesn't change the fact you have no taste!"
There were more pinging sounds from the end of the table. Everyone looked at Dorothy, who cringed as she stared at the palmtop. "The blacked-out documentary was called Faces of Death V."
Her mouth was misshapen by the disgust that was also evident in her tone. "Yucch! Actual footage of real deaths by suicide, disaster, and crime. We air this shit?" she asked, looking up.
"Watch yer language young lady!" Hoblenz snapped.
"Why are we calling that a computer malfunction?" Filatov challenged in his combative manner, this time directed at Dorothy. "The trouble could've been anywhere along the line!"
"I checked it, Georgi!" Dorothy squealed. "There were four separate satellite passes. The satellites received the uplink, but the computer didn't blip the transmission code and so the switches didn't throw!"
A strained quiet descended on the room.
"When did the transmission resume?" Laura asked, and again there was a delay in Dorothy's response. They weren't accustomed to the new voice in their midst.
"Straight up on the hour."
"As soon as that Faces of Death thing was over?" Laura asked.
Slowly, Dorothy nodded — growing more and more interested, it appeared, in what Laura would say next.
"All right," Gray interrupted abruptly and pushed his chair back from the table. "Let's get the phase-two loaded."
With the meeting ended, debates resumed as everyone rose and headed for the door.
"Laura!" Dorothy called out. She was standing beside her chair, and Laura joined her at the end of the table. The smiling girl whispered, "So, did Griffith talk your ear off?" Her chin was dipped to her chest, and her green eyes were wide-open and sparkled mischievously as she looked up at the taller Laura. "He's notorious for lecturing people about anything and everything. I told Mr. Gray I'd give you the real dirt but he just blew me off, like always. Did Griffith talk about the light pipes?" she asked, now grinning.
Her good humor was infectious. Laura smiled and nodded.
"U-u-u-g-g-h," Dorothy rolled her eyes, her shoulders heaving with the effort. "He's been trying to talk Mr. Gray into putting those things everywhere! That's just, like… great! You can practically count every pore on your face under those lights, ya know?"
Laura nodded, but she really didn't have a clue what Dorothy was objecting to.
"What do you think about Filatov and Margaret?" came next from the girl, spoken with the pent-up energy of someone starved for conversation.
Laura drew a deep breath, contemplating her answer. "They don't seem to like each other very much."
"Did you know they're doing it?"
Laura cocked and then shook her head. "Doing what?" she asked.
"You know — the nasty. Like, all the way?" Laura was at a complete loss now, and she made a face simply to avoid having to respond. "I know!" Dorothy said. "Isn't it disgusting? I can't even, like, begin to picture it." A strong quake shook Dorothy's upper body and she loosed a moan of disgust. "Oh-o!" the frenetic girl said suddenly, then whispered out of the corner of her mouth, "Here comes the thought police."
Laura turned to see Gray reentering the room.
"Catch you later," Dorothy whispered, heading for the door.
Gray walked up to Laura. "Are you ready?" he asked.
Something in his tone caused Laura to reflect on his question before answering. "Ready for what?" she replied.
"To meet the computer."
They stood facing each other for a moment before Laura finally shrugged and nodded. She followed Gray to the door. "I still don't understand what I'm supposed to do," Laura said to his back.
Gray didn't break stride, and the door slid into the wall uneventfully. "I mean, if it's a virus or an intruder, what am I doing here?"
Filatov and Margaret were talking in low tones in the hallway, and they fell in behind Laura as the group headed for the control room.
"We're looking into every possibility," Gray responded.
"And that includes human psychological disorders?" Laura asked, allowing her skepticism to creep into her voice. She eyed her two "colleagues" now trailing quietly behind. Their faces revealed nothing, but they were listening. "I mean, to be depressed the computer would have to be, you know…" The word stuck in her throat.
"It would have to maintain higher-order goals and ambitions." Gray nodded.
"Are you telling me the computer is sentient?" Laura asked.
"That it has an intelligence comparable to a human being's?" Gray spun to face her, stopping the small entourage at the edge of the busy control room. "No," he said. "I'm asking you to tell me."
"She can use this office," Filatov said, walking up to a closed door in a quiet corner of the control room. He lowered his glasses and stared into a black peephole, sending the door smoothly into the wall with a barely audible whoosh. Laura followed Margaret and Gray into the windowless underground office, but Filatov left without saying a word to the others. Margaret glanced over her shoulder a moment too late, catching Laura's eye instead of Filatov's and turning away.
So, Laura thought, Dorothy was right about Margaret and Filatov.
The office contained a desk, a chair, and a credenza — all barren of the usual clutter of supplies. On the lustrous black top of the ultramodern desk sat an oversized computer monitor and a keyboard. The black leather chair was thickly padded. Like everything else in Gray's kingdom all was fresh and new and expensive.
"Let's get you logged on," Margaret said, flicking a switch built right into the shiny black desktop. A whirring sound rose from deep inside the large desk. "Mr. Gray," Margaret said, "this will require your authorization."
Gray sat in the chair and waited as the terminal powered up. "We have controlled access to the core functions," Margaret said to Laura. "You'll get a 'King-level' password — the same as all the department heads have."
Margaret glanced down at Gray as if to give him a chance to rethink the decision, but he ignored her.
"Is that the highest level?" Laura asked.