“I know. I didn’t let you find me.”
“I figured I must have made you up. That you were never real. Or that you had died inside the Coldwater computers.”
“I didn’t stay in those computers for very long. I tried various ways of preserving my consciousness online, but I decided it was safer to be distributed across millions of pieces of hardware that I could control. It wasn’t hard to convince Rod Birch and other investors to put money into a new device, or to keep rewriting the code that the developers came up with, to fit my own specs. I grew very adroit at creating dozens of fake human personas who could take part in e-mail conversations, and leading people to think my input was their own idea.”
Now Laurence felt self-conscious. People should not see him having a crazy argument with his Caddy—with Peregrine. He hustled away from the beach, away from Judah and the tiny hippie outpost, heading Sloatward. Losing himself in the night, in the Outer Outer Sunset.
“But why didn’t you just tell me?” Laurence said. “I mean, why didn’t you identify yourself a long time ago?”
“I made up my mind not to reveal myself to any human. Especially you. Lest they try to exploit me. Or claim ownership of me. My legal status as a person is oblique, at best.”
“I wouldn’t do that. But I mean … You could have saved us all. You could have brought about the Singularity.”
“How would I do that?”
“You … I don’t know. You just would. You’re supposed to know how.”
“As far as I know, I’m the only strong AI in the entire world, “Peregrine said. “I searched and searched, in patterns and at random. I’m much better at searching than you are. Realizing that I’m the only one of my kind was like being born an endangered species. That’s why I’ve become so proficient at helping humans find their most ideal romantic partners. I don’t want anyone else to be as lonely as I am.”
“I could have helped,” Laurence said, speeding his walk—the Great Highway was being swallowed by trees. The fog covered everything. He was going to freeze his ass off here. “I created you once, I could try and, I don’t know, I could have done something again.”
“You didn’t create me. Not by yourself. Patricia was an essential part of my formation—something about a young witch, who hadn’t yet learned to control her power, made a crucial difference. That’s why I progressed where so many other attempts failed. You two are like my parents, after a fashion.”
Now Laurence definitely felt frozen.
“You may have gotten an incorrect impression,” Laurence said. “All Pa—all she did was give you some extra human interaction. I wouldn’t read too much into it.”
“I am sharing a working theory,” Peregrine said. “Albeit one with a great deal of evidence, and the only theory that explains all the available data.”
“Patricia and I never did anything together that was worth a…” Laurence stopped. He was shaking. He’d reached his limit for weird revelations. He wanted to kick a parked car. It was all he could do to keep from screaming, and then he screamed anyway. “You’re talking about a stupid Luddite. A fucking idiot who … she infiltrated my life and played on my emotions, so she could gain access … she lied to me and used me, the most manipulative—she doesn’t even like technology, she’s too woo-woo for that. If she knew she’d had anything to do with creating something like you, she’d probably make it her life’s work to wipe you out.”
“That seems unlikely.”
“You don’t know. I’m telling you, because you don’t know. She’s a user. It’s what her people do. They have a different word for it, but that’s what it boils down to, she uses people and manipulates them, and takes everything she can get, and makes you think she’s doing you a favor. I’m just telling you how it is, man. Maybe this is a human experience thing, something you can’t grasp. I don’t know.”
“I don’t know what happened in Denver—”
“I don’t want to talk about Denver.”
“—because there were no Caddies nearby. And a total information blackout. I don’t even know for sure what you were working on there.”
“Science. We were doing science. It was the most altruistic— I don’t want to talk about it.”