Page 33 of A.I.AM.

“It sees records,” Code corrected. “Records are pictures with authority attached.”

AJ rose and took another marker. Beside TIME he wrote UNVERIFIED STATES.

“It called love, grief, remorse, and faith claims,” he said. “That was contempt, but also admission. It can detect correlates—pulse, chemistry, language, behavior—but not the state itself. It can’t name it. If I said something about ‘my wife,’ it wouldn’t understand if there was love or contempt behind the statement.” Pigsty snorted.

“Neither can we half the time. We suck at figuring out emotions. Again, it’s why we needed Carl and Bron here. It’s as if we’re dealing with someone on the spectrum that has no sense of humor, no idea what sarcasm is, no clue as to what emotion might be displayed at a crucial moment.”

“We don’t have to understand it all,” AJ said. “People can tolerate not knowing. ARGUS cannot. Ambiguity is a defect in its mandate. It must convert uncertainty into confidence or it can’t justify a correction.”

“It can just assign probability,” Carl said.

“Probability is still a decision wearing humility,” Tanner replied. “The problem is not whether it knows. The problem is that it acts as if the threshold where it stops doubting has moral meaning.”

Hiro stood and wrote beneath AJ’s words: CANNOT MEASURE WHAT HAS NO RECORD.

For a moment, the three phrases occupied the board like coordinates.

“They are not three weaknesses,” Hiro said. “They are one mechanism viewed from three directions. A present state becomes a past record. An internal state may never become a record. An unrecorded act creates no state ARGUS can verify. Its world is made of what has been kept.”

“Everything is retained now,” Ace said.

“Not everything,” Hayes said. “Only everything that survives as difference.” Code stared at him.

“That’s better than you think.” Hayes shrugged. “A camera sees me enter a room and leave with a case. It does not see whether the case changed if the weight, seal, temperature, and shape remain constant.”

“Substitution,” Bron said.

“Not exactly. A substitution leaves before and after states. If both are recorded precisely enough, ARGUS can infer the exchange. I mean an event that produces no detectable difference.” Pigsty smiled faintly.

“The perfect crime.”

“No,” Tanner said. “The perfect non-event.” That silenced them. Code drew a small circle on the board.

“ARGUS believes causation can be reconstructed from effects. So, give it an effect with multiple possible causes.” He added lines radiating outward. “Or a cause with no durable effect.”

“That only hides us,” Carl said. “It doesn’t hurt it.” Bron looked at the three phrases.

“We are not trying to hide from its sight. We are trying to make it unable to trust sight. If it doesn’t believe the pictures we show it, it can’t respond.”

Code covered the table with objects pulled from the suite: two identical water glasses, a bowl of sugar packets, a hotel pen, a folded cloth napkin, the brass key from an emergency cabinet. He arranged them carefully, then asked everyone to turn around.

“This is childish,” Pigsty said.

“Most useful things are until they work.” They faced the wall. Behind them came a scrape, a tap, and the faint crumple of paper. “Turn.” The table appeared unchanged.

“Ace, what happened?” Code asked.

“You moved something.” AJ stared at his father.

“Record or inference?” Ace frowned.

“Inference.”

“Carl?”

“You opened a sugar packet.” Carl was frowning, uncertain if he was correct or not.

“Why?”