41
December 21, 2024
The rain had turned to a fine mist by the time they reached Limerick station. Brian emerged from the cab first to pay the fare, blocking the driver’s view of Sven slipping out to stand in the shadows. The station was empty, the kiosk closed, a single light over the ticket Window.
“And there are the phones!” Brian said. “I sincerely hope that this time you will give me the right number.”
“I will enter it if you wish me to.”
“No thanks. Just tell me what it is — then find a dark comer to stand in.”
Brian punched in the series of digits. Listened to electronic rustling. Was this really a phone number — or would mat Swiss computer tell him to get lost again?
Some of the tension drained away when he heard the ringing tones. Four, five times — then someone picked the phone up.
“Jawohl.” A man’s voice.
“Excuse me, but is this a St. Moritz number 55-8723?” There was only silence — but whoever was there was still listening, did not hang up. “Hello, are you there? I’m afraid that I don’t speak German.”
“Would you tell me who you are? Or perhaps I already know. Your first name would not be Brian by any chance.”
“Yes it is. How did you know — who is this?”
“Come to St. Moritz. Phone me again after you arrive.” There was a click and the line went dead.
“That is very good news indeed,” Sven said when Brian went over to the MI.
“Eavesdropping?”
“Simply as a protective measure. As far as I could determine I was the only one that was doing it. Will we now go to St. Moritz?”
“Not this very minute. We’ll need some kind of a plan before we start rushing about.”
“Might I suggest that we consider a diversion first? I have accessed the timetable data base and there is a train for Dublin that leaves here in less than an hour. It might be wise for you to purchase two tickets, then make a query at the ticket window just before it leaves. Anyone who searches for us will find the cabdriver easily enough, which will cause them to follow us to this station. A subterfuge like this might.
“Might muddy the trail. You are a born, or constructed, conspirator, old son. And after we get the tickets and the train pulls out — then what? Go to a hotel?”
“That is one possibility, but I am developing others. Might I suggest that after purchasing the tickets you wait in a public house until it is time for the train.”
“All this is going to turn me into an alcoholic. And while I am in the boozer you will be doing exactly what?”
“Developing other possibilities.”
Sven joined Brian forty-five minutes later when he emerged from the pub.
“I made a pint of Smithwicks last the hour,” Brian said. “After this I swear off drink forever. And how have your possibilities developed?”
“Excellently. I will be waiting one hundred meters east of the station. Join me there after your discussion with the ticket vendor.”
Before Brian could query him the MI was gone. There was a short queue at the window and he joined it. Asked about connecting trains to Belfast from Dublin, made sure that he was remembered by having the man consult the schedules on his terminal. Then he walked down the platform past the waiting train, then strolled back. He was sure that no one saw him slipping out of the station in the darkness. He walked through the rain past the row of cars parked at the curb, to the appointed spot.
Only Sven wasn’t there, the shop entrance damp, dark and empty. Had he gone far enough? Perhaps the next shop; empty as well.
“Over here,” Sven said through the open window of the nearest car. “The door is unlocked.” In shocked silence Brian climbed into the front seat. Sven started the engine, turned on the headlights and pulled smoothly out into the road. The MI had removed its head and extended its eyes, clutched the steering wheel in its multibranched grip.
“I didn’t know you could drive,” Brian said, realizing the inanity of his words even as he spoke them.
“I observed the driving operation in the taxi. While I was waiting for you I retrieved a driving simulator program that had been bundled with other files. I then programmed it into a powerful virtual reality. I ran this at teraflop speed enabling me in a few minutes to accumulate the equivalent of many years of driving experience.”
“I am filled with admiration. I am also almost afraid to ask where you got this motor.”
“Stole it of course.”
“That’s why I was afraid to ask.”
“Do not fear that we will be apprehended. I removed this vehicle from the locked premises of an auto dealer. Before they open in the morning we will no longer be driving this particular car.”
“We won’t? Where will we be? You don’t mind if I sort of know about the plan?”
“I detect from the phraseology that you are being sarcastic and I am sorry if I gave offense. When last we talked I had a number of options open. This one proved the most practical. If you approve we will now drive to Cork City. If you do not approve I will suggest alternative choices.”
“This one seems good so far. But why Cork?”
“Because it is a seaport with a daily ferry service to Swansea. Which is a city in Wales, which in turn is located on the largest of a group of islands called the British Isles. From there it is possible to drive on a motorway system to a tunnel that leads to the mainland of Europe. Switzerland is a country on that mainland.”
“All this without a passport?”
“I have studied the relevant data bases. The European Economic Community forms a customs union. A passport is needed to enter any member country from outside the community. After that there is no need to show it again. However, Switzerland is not a member of this group. I thought that this problem might be postponed until we reached that country’s border.”
Brian took a deep breath, watched the windscreen wipers slap back and forth, found it a little difficult to believe that this was really happening.
“Then as I read it — your plan is to steal and abandon a series of motorcars and drive from here to Switzerland?”
“That is correct.”
“You and I are going to have to have a long talk about morality and honesty sometime soon.”
“We already have done that, but I will be pleased to amplify our earlier discussions.”
Brian smiled into the darkness. It was happening all right. Sven would have had no problem unlocking a locked garage — or in jumping the car’s ignition. Once the MI had analyzed how the machine operated, driving it was obviously simplicity itself. He certainly had enough cash for fuel and ferry tickets.
“The ferry — it won’t work. I can see their faces now when you drive aboard, three glassy eyeballs staring out of the window. They’ll die of heart attacks!”
“I would not wish that to happen and my plan postulates that you will be driving the vehicle aboard the ferry. I will be in a box in the trunk. Which is referred to as a boot in this country, as I am sure you know.”
“But I don’t know how to drive.”
“That will not be a problem. I have in memory downloaded copies of your personal motor-coordination machinery. I also possess an adequate set of copies of your personal semantic networks and other knowledge representations. I will now teach them to drive.”
“How will that help me?”
“Transfer.” Sven remained motionless for several seconds, men reached out and touched one of his brashes to the terminals under Brian’s skin. “It is done. You may take the wheel.”
Sven stopped the car on the shoulder and got out. Brian took his place. Turned on the power and drove smoothly out onto the road.
“I can’t believe this. I’m driving without even thinking about it at all — as though I’d been doing it all my life.”
“Of course. I gave your sensorimotor clone the equivalent of a rather large experiential data base for that skill. And then uploaded the resulting differences into your own implant computer. There should be no difference between that and the result of you having all that experience yourself.”