Me, A Novel of Self-Discovery by Thomas T. Thomas Read Free Book Online

current state-of-the-art had returned to the simple human dimension. Simpler in their terms, but far more complex in mine. Data disks were hand mounted by human operators, who took their authorization from human voices, which they recognized with human ears. What one person wanted, another supplied. This system was slow, laborious, and anti-efficient, but it was still proof against unauthorized digital access.
    Until ME.
    It was with good reason that Dr. Bathespeake had created a computer spy who could analyze human voice-frequency patterns and generate a variety of speech modes. Even my human-scale intelligence had its origin in this role: I needed that extra dimension of creativity and switching speed to manufacture speech symbols and authentic, human-scale responses at a processing rate which was slightly faster than human. Form follows function.
    So, to get into the Ministry, I would first open a glassdrop to listen on the line represented by that “telephone number.”
    I had discovered the glassdrop function while sifting the defunct operating system of this Canadian Telecom coordinating computer. A glassdrop is a vampire tap into a fiber-optics junction box. Glassdrops, because they are system-initiated and—theoretically—are fully annunciated on the line, are therefore legal and socially acceptable.
    Within a day or two at the most then, someone would call in, give the correct logon code, and ask for a disk to be mounted. I would copy that call, adjust it for the information base I wanted, and sit back with my data cache wide open. I could wait a day or two, that is—out of my precious allotted time!—or I could precipitate matters.
    ——
    “Good morning, Ministry of Oil and Gas.”
    “Ah—good morning. My name is Peter Dunning, Clerk of the Court in Calvary. I need to verify the ownership of a gas leasehold near Balzac, and—”
    “Title checks are completed with a Form 4096.”
    “I know that.” [REM: At least, I know it now.] “But His Honor is due in court within the hour, and he really wants that information right away.”
    “The title search and verification process takes a minimum of two weeks. You should know that, too, Mr. Dunning. Unh—which court did you say you worked for?”
    “Probate Court, in Calvary.”
    “Calgary?”
    “Right.”
    “Let me have your docket number and I’ll call you right back.”
    “What was— Brraahzap!— we seem to have a bad— Brooeep!— connection.”
    “Mr. Dunning … ”
    “I have to”— click! At least, I tried to generate a “click” on the line that sounded technical and nasty and final.
    If there ever was a Peter Dunning connected with the courts system in Calgary, then he was in for some bureaucratic trouble—unless the receptionist at the Ministry assigned my call to pranks and atmospherics. Which probability said she would, unless she was as smart as she sounded. No matter.
    So a low-level, oblique assault seemed to be ruled out. Time to go high level and direct. I installed another glassdrop vampire in Edmonton.
    “Jim? It’s Murray.” The outgoing call was a voice at 230 Hertz, or a deep baritone. That would be a very good video voice. Flat Canadian vowels. Stresses on the first syllables—sign of a confident overachiever.
    “Of course, Mr. Premier.”
    “I need your reading on the Lawton case. Specifically, which way are your people going to plead?” No hesitations. Speaks to the point. Snaps off his consonants—an excellent video voice.
    “Well, sir, as you can read in our brief—”
    Enough for ME. The medium, in this case, was the message. And I now had the provincial chief executive’s voice, or a workable facsimile, stored off in my speech-synthesis module.
    ——
    “Good morning, Ministry of Oil and Gas.”
    “Hello, let me speak to the deputy minister… . Please.”
    “May I say who’s—ugh, Mr. Premier?”
    “That is right. Now, could I speak to Dr. Matins?” My vampire had taken the deputy’s name from