Chapter 23: School Eternal — Part 9
Bamboo made contact with the president through Senator Jones, who arranged for a meeting under the guise of public urgency. Bamboo found himself seated in a suite, the walls of which were lined with books. The office had no corners, which to Bamboo made little sense, since such a design required that the bookshelves and furnishings be custom designed specifically for the room. Jun sat at the edge of her seat, anxious but poised, not knowing what to expect from the biodroid. The president sat at a desk made of darkest cherry wood, hands in his lap, looking expectantly at Bamboo, who still seemed to be getting settled. On either side of the President stood a twosome dressed in coal gray suits. Jun was already assessing their strengths and weaknesses, had already determined that the two were not biodroids.
“Mr. President. I am here to assess how best I can serve your operations without encountering your more explosive personality traits.”
The President’s left eyebrow rose in a characteristic fashion, and the President began writing notes onto a piece of paper. “The real question, Mr. Bizaar is why you have an interest in national affairs to begin with, and how you managed to get an interview with me when it is more than obvious you are here with nothing to talk about.”
“I am here with much to discuss, however, being from another culture, I am not familiar with your norms and do not wish to offend you. Can I be direct? Should I be polite but hinting? What are the rules in dealing with a world leader of your stature?”
“As it has been brought to my attention, you have visited close to a dozen of my contemporaries before visiting me, so might I ask you, what exactly is my stature, and what do you feel you have to offer to me?”
Bamboo tried despearately to trace the threads of thought, tried to figure out what answer would result in collecting data he needed without triggering the autodestruct sequence of the biodroid. The others had simply asked him to leave, but this biodroid felt cunning. “I only visited you at this time because you have been so civilized in your approach to dealing with the current global crises.”
The President leaned forward. “What crises are these?”
“The ones that led the world into war again, as well as the ones being covered up by the premise that the ‘terrorists’ need to be fought with infantry in distant nations.” Bamboo paused. The Secret Service, always poised, were shaken a bit by his statement.
“Measures taken for global unification and stratification are necessary in order to acquire the resources necessary to end the conflicts that ultimately perpetuate hume suffering.” The President responded, very much so out of character now.
Bamboo leaned forward, sensing the last defensive statement to be an algorithmic dead end, of sorts. Circular logic was the only tool of rationality that the biodroid would have at its disposal. Bamboo looked straight into the President’s eyes, so the biodroid’s lie detectors would know he was being honest and forward in his intentions.
“Mr. President, what are you looking for?”
“Whatever do you mean?”
“Why did you initiate the massive replacement of military leaders at home and abroad? Why did you initiate the replacement of key political players from the Supreme Court all the way down to the scholastic level? Why the sudden and abrupt shift of policy? Why is it happening in every nation simultaneously? Why are they all completely hume?” Bamboo asked, never once taking his eyes from the President.
“Ever been to Mars, Mr. Bizaar?”
“Yes I have.”
One of the Secret service agents turned slightly pale. Jun kept her eyes on him, worried he would take action.
“Then you know how dirty this planet is, in comparison to Mars. How ugly and sick and twisted and wrong our politicians are. You know that as we speak people are unhappy and kill and die because of the filth that is humeity when it is in power. It happens in the bedroom, in the courtroom, on the street, in the city, in the boardroom, in the state, in the nation, and on every continent. But is not the most vile of processes that can be considered hume in origin.”
“This is true, but I know I am misunderstanding you, and I apologize for this. What is it you are looking for? What is it you have been asked to accomplish?”
The President stared at Bamboo for nearly six seconds, and Bamboo thought he had possibly triggered the end result. “Why is it you wish to know?”
“Because if I can help you find the object or accomplish the task, maybe less of the people who aren’t total assholes have to die or be hurt.”
“Only the Prime Director knows the end protocol. He is not synthesized.” The President said quietly.
Bamboo relaxed, the algorithm was in its basic level, the façade of the president’s personality was no longer being used as a defensive mechanism. It would be far easier to deal with the machine now, because at this basic level, there would be less of a chance for a misunderstanding. Bamboo leaned in even closer, looking directly into the sallow eyes of a dead man.
“Do you have the ability to ask the Prime Director for information on the End Protocol?”
“A request can be dispatched through the appropriate channels. Response time is 23.97236 planetary axial rotations.”
“Please dispatch this message: Minister of War, Bamboo Bizaar requests information on End Protocol from Prime Director in order to assist and facilitate safe closure.”
“I’ll see to it that the Prime Minister gets the message, though we cannot cease current conditionals simply because negotiations have been requested.” The Presidential overtones returned. “So I reckon I’ll see you back here in a few weeks, won’t I?”
“In twenty five days, give or take a few hours.” Bamboo replied, rising to his feet.
Jun squared off with the Secret Service agents at the door, but otherwise, the situation ended with relative peace.
“Do you think that we will get the information we need so easily?”
“I don’t know. The algorithm of this one biodroid is extremely complex. Combine his algorithm with thousands or hundreds of thousands of other discreet processors around the world and in subspace, and the process becomes so complicated even a trained eye will fail to see that none of the components are actually capable of rational thought. If one of the routes it takes to get to its end process is an informational anomaly, what we would call relaying a false message, then we might well be walking into a time delayed trap. If not, then maybe we’ll know better what Ambria had in mind when she made these things.” Bamboo cracked his neck as they walked, each of them fading into
a Snap. Orchid would need a report, so she could prepare for the meeting.
