"Boys, plural?"

"Well-to Matt. She sent him a picture of her b.r.e.a.s.t.s."

He nodded but said nothing.

She was flabbergasted. "This is a girl who wants to get into a top university, who wants to work somewhere important. Things that get online take on a life of their own. This will come back to haunt her."

Malcolm was still looking down at his keyboard. "I don't think so."

"How can you be so sure? I know you like Matt; so do I, for that matter. But what's to stop him from plastering this photo all over Facebook, or wherever, if he and Caitlin have an ugly breakup?"

Malcolm just shook his head again. "It's the end of Victorianism-and about time, too. Many members of Caitlin's generation are saying I don't care if you've seen me naked, or know I smoke pot, or whatever."

"Caitlin is smoking pot?" Barb said, alarmed.

"Not as far as I know." He fell silent again.

Barb stared at him, exasperated. "d.a.m.n it, Malcolm-this is your daughter we're talking about! This is important. important. We have to deal with it as parents, and we can't if you don't partic.i.p.ate in the dialog. I need your-" She sought a word that might resonate for him, then: We have to deal with it as parents, and we can't if you don't partic.i.p.ate in the dialog. I need your-" She sought a word that might resonate for him, then: "-input "-input on this." on this."

He looked down at the desktop, with its perfectly neat stacks of paper, and the stapler precisely aligned with the edge of the desk. His shoulders rolled slightly; she'd seen this before-seen him gathering himself into professorial mode, the only mode in which he could speak at length. And then he looked up, and ever so briefly met her eyes, his own perhaps pleading for her to understand that the way he was didn't mean he loved Caitlin any less than she did. And then he focused on a spot on the gray wall a little to Barb's right, and he spoke in rapid-fire sentences, wanting to get it all out as quickly as possible. "The point is that all the things we used to let society hold over us-my G.o.d, he got drunk in public; good Lord, she actually has s.e.x; wow, he's experimented with drugs; gee whiz, sometimes she doesn't look perfect; holy c.r.a.p, he's had a few minor runins with the law-none of that garbage matters, matters, and Caitlin and most of her generation are saying so. They just don't care about it; they don't care about it now, and they won't care about it when they're the ones in power, either." and Caitlin and most of her generation are saying so. They just don't care about it; they don't care about it now, and they won't care about it when they're the ones in power, either."

Barb was astounded but knew better than to interrupt him; if she turned the water pump off, it wouldn't run this freely again for days. And, she had to admit, what he was saying did did make sense. make sense.

He went on. "What's the biggest fear the world has right now? It's whether we can survive the advent of Webmind-survive the coming of superintelligence, survive being dethroned from our lofty position as the smartest things on Earth-survive all that with our fundamental humanity intact. But the way our generation lived our lives-hiding who we really were, fretting over what the neighbors might know about us, letting peccadilloes embarra.s.s us, living in fear of being shamed for nothing more than doing what almost everyone else was doing anyway-well, as Caitlin would say, that is who we really were, fretting over what the neighbors might know about us, letting peccadilloes embarra.s.s us, living in fear of being shamed for nothing more than doing what almost everyone else was doing anyway-well, as Caitlin would say, that is so so over." over."

He seemed to have said his piece and was looking again at his desktop, and so Barb said, "But . . . but they could blackmail her."

"Who?"

"I don't know. The feds, maybe."

"Well, first, Webmind said he's made our BlackBerrys secure. And, second, I'd love to see that headline: 'US government has naked picture of underage girl.' If anything, Caitlin could blackmail them: 'Federal agent tries to coerce sixteen-year-old with topless photo.' Attempting to kill Webmind might not cost the Democrats the next election, but getting into the child-p.o.r.n business certainly will."

"p.o.r.n!" said Barbara.

"It either is is or it or it isn't. isn't. If it isn't, then who gives a d.a.m.n?" If it isn't, then who gives a d.a.m.n?"

Barb frowned, remembering back to when her marriage to Frank, her first husband, had been falling apart: she'd been mortified that people would find out about their difficulties, that strangers-or, even worse, friends!-might overhear them fighting. "Maybe you're right," she said slowly.

"I am am right," he replied, and again he focused on the wall next to her. "We're trying to preserve humanity in this new era, and yet we've spent the last century or more pretending to be perfect little robots. Well, I'm not perfect. You're not perfect. Caitlin isn't perfect. So what? You're divorced, I'm autistic, she used to be blind-who gives a d.a.m.n? If you're a good person, hiding who you really are is just another way of saying that you've decided to let others establish your self-worth. Remember how p.i.s.sed you were when you found out the university was paying you less than they were paying me simply because you were a woman? It's only right," he replied, and again he focused on the wall next to her. "We're trying to preserve humanity in this new era, and yet we've spent the last century or more pretending to be perfect little robots. Well, I'm not perfect. You're not perfect. Caitlin isn't perfect. So what? You're divorced, I'm autistic, she used to be blind-who gives a d.a.m.n? If you're a good person, hiding who you really are is just another way of saying that you've decided to let others establish your self-worth. Remember how p.i.s.sed you were when you found out the university was paying you less than they were paying me simply because you were a woman? It's only because because we shared that information that you were able to lead the fight for pay equity at the campus. Keeping things private empowers others to take advantage of your ignorance, to hold things over your head." we shared that information that you were able to lead the fight for pay equity at the campus. Keeping things private empowers others to take advantage of your ignorance, to hold things over your head."

"I guess. But I feel I should do something." something."

"You should indeed," said Malcolm, and he was clearly done now, for he went back to typing on his keyboard. "Make sure she knows about safe s.e.x."

I was still working my way through the vast quant.i.ties of online video. Some of it had to be accessed in real time; indeed, some played out slower than real time, with frequent pauses for buffering. Looking at videos randomly did not seem efficient; huge numbers of them were p.o.r.nography, many more were unremarkable home movies (and a goodly quant.i.ty were both). And so, instead, I was guided partially by the star-ratings system on YouTube and by textual reviews, and I also followed links posted by people who intrigued me.

For instance, Shoshana Glick, the student of primate communications who worked with my friend Hobo, did "vidding" as a hobby: remixing scenes from TV shows to fit the storylines of popular songs, usually of a s.e.xually suggestive nature. The notion of mixing others' creations to make your point appealed to me, and I admired Shoshana's artistry (although, judging by the posted comments, I wasn't alone in failing to see the s.e.xual chemistry she a.s.serted existed between the two male leads on Anaheim, Anaheim, a new NBC drama series). a new NBC drama series).

When I'd finished watching her own videos, I turned to the list of other videos she recommended. Most were vids by her friends, but there was also a link to an older YouTube video she thought was important. Caitlin and her father had recently watched Star Trek: The Motion Picture, Star Trek: The Motion Picture, and this video featured one of the actors from there; I was pleased with myself for recognizing that it was the same man despite his being three decades older. and this video featured one of the actors from there; I was pleased with myself for recognizing that it was the same man despite his being three decades older.

The video was simple: two men sitting side by side on a couch. But the one on the left was oddly attired; my first thought had been that he was wearing the dress uniform of the Royal Canadian Mounted Police-a red jacket with a wide black belt-but as soon as he started speaking, he put that notion to rest: "I'm George Takei," he said, "and I'm still wearing my Starfleet uniform."

The other man spoke next, pointing to a highly reflective conical cap he was wearing: "And I'm Brad Altman, and this is a foil cap on my head."

I saw now, in fact, that the two men were holding hands. "And we're married," Takei said, and then he looked at the odd headgear Altman had on, and said, with a deep chuckle, "My husband can be so silly at times."

Altman spoke again: "This is the first time in history the census is counting marriages like ours."

And then Takei: "It doesn't matter whether you have a legal marriage license or not; it only matters if you consider yourself married."

"Let's show America how many of us are joined in beautiful, loving marriages," Altman said. And they went on to explain how to fill out the census form to indicate that.

When they were done, Altman said, "Now, you may ask, why am I wearing this hat?"

And Takei said, "Or why I'm still wearing this Starfleet uniform? It's to get you to actually listen to this important message."

I had watched that three days ago, but, like everything, it was always front and center in my mind. I suspected they were correct: if you did did have something important to say to people, you should indeed say it in a visually memorable fashion. have something important to say to people, you should indeed say it in a visually memorable fashion.

[image]

Communications Minister Zhang Bo once again made the long march to the president's desk. This time he had been summoned-and that, at least, meant no interminable wait in the outer office until His Excellency was ready to receive him.

"Webmind is a problem," said the president, gesturing for Zhang to sit in the ornate chair that faced the cherrywood desk. "Even its name reeks of the West. And the things it says!" He gestured at the printout on his desktop. "It speaks of transparency, of openness, of international ties." A shake of the head. "It is poisonous."

Zhang had compiled the summary the president was referring to. "It does show the imprinting effect of being helped into existence by an American."

"Exactly! And intelligence reports suggest it has spoken to the American president? It has not been in touch with me, but it consults with him." him."

Zhang thought it prudent not to point out that anyone could talk to Webmind whenever they pleased, and so he said nothing.

"The last time I invoked the Changcheng Strategy, you exhorted me to drop the Great Firewall as quickly as possible. I acceded to your request and opened up the floodgates once more. But given the statements this Webmind is making, I realize it was a mistake. We need to isolate our people from its influence."

"But it is part and parcel of the Internet, Your Excellency. And, as I said before, there is a need for the Internet, for the World Wide Web. We rely on them for ecommerce, for banking."

"You mistake the end for the means, Zhang. Yes, we need those economic capabilities-but we don't have to use the existing Internet for them. It was madness to superimpose our financial transactions on top of an international, Western-controlled infrastructure." He pointed to a small lacquered table. On it were three telephone desk sets, one red, one green, and one white, each under a gla.s.s bell jar. None had dials or keypads. "Do you know what those are?" the president asked.

"I a.s.sume they are the hotlines."

"Exactly. The red connects directly to the Kremlin; the green to the Kantei; and the white to the White House. They each use their own communication channels, established decades ago: a buried landline to speak to my Russian counterpart, undersea cable to speak to my j.a.panese one, a dedicated satellite to connect with Washington. They are the template, the proof-of-concept: we can build a new, secure network, unpolluted by Webmind's presence, for the specific needs we have for international communication. And, for communication within China, we will build a separate new network that we alone control."

"That might take years," said Zhang.

"Yes. So, for the interim, we will again strengthen the Great Firewall, isolating our portion of the Web from the rest, and purge whatever remains of that-that thing." thing."

"Again, Your Excellency, I am not sure this is . . . prudent."

"Those judgments are mine to make. Your role is simply to advise me of whether what I've asked for is technically possible."

Zhang took a deep breath and considered the matter. "Your Excellency, I live to serve. The bulk of the current Internet was built in the 1960s and 1970s, with copper-wire cabling. Your question is whether China here in the twenty-first century can, with fiber optics and wireless equipment, do better than Americans did half a century ago? And the answer, of course, is yes."

The president nodded. "Then set your staff to it; draw up the plans. Make it completely different from the Internet: no packets, no routers. Surely there were alternative designs originally considered for the Internet's architecture. Find out what they were and see if one of them can be adapted to this project."

Zhang resisted the urge to say he would google the question-the irony, he feared, would not be appreciated-and instead simply replied, "As you wish, Excellency. But, truly, what you're asking will take years."

"Let that part take years. But I told you last month that some of my advisors think the Communist Party cannot endure in the face of outside influences-they gave it until 2050, at the outside. Webmind exacerbates that problem; it is a threat to our health, and so we must take immediate and decisive action."

"Yes, Excellency?"

"Prepare to enact the Changcheng Strategy once more; we will strengthen the Great Firewall." He pointed again at the printout on the polished desktop. "When infection is rampant, isolation is key."

sixteen.

Caitlin and her mother were up in Caitlin's bedroom, with its bare cornflower-blue walls. Caitlin was seated, and her mother was standing behind her. On the larger of Caitlin's two monitors, a Skype video conference window was open. Although Caitlin had never met Shoshana Glick, she was pleased with herself for recognizing her from the YouTube videos; she was actually starting to remember what specific specific faces looked like. Shoshana's was narrow and smooth-which meant young! faces looked like. Shoshana's was narrow and smooth-which meant young!

"Hi, Shoshana," Caitlin said enthusiastically.

"Hi," said Shoshana. She indicated a very large man standing behind her. "This is my thesis advisor, Dr. Harl Marcuse." Caitlin was good at identifying accents; she pegged Shoshana's as South Carolinian. But she was surprised to hear "Marcuse" spoken out loud by a human; it turned out to be three syllables. When she'd read about him online, JAWS had guessed it as "mark-use."

"I am here as well," said Webmind's synthesized voice.

Shoshana peered at her screen as if expecting to see something other than Caitlin's bedroom. "Um, ah . . . a pleasure," she said.

"And this is my mom, Dr. Barbara Decter," Caitlin said; her mom was standing behind her.

"Barb," said her mom. "You can call me Barb."

"And you can call me Sho."

Webmind seemed to feel left out. "And you may call me Web," said the disembodied voice.

Caitlin laughed. "I don't don't think so." think so."

Shoshana shook her head. "Sorry. It's strange seeing the two of you, but not not seeing Webmind." seeing Webmind."

"Funny you should say that, Sho," Caitlin said. "That's the reason we got in touch. Webmind has a very special appearance coming up, and he wants a public face for that and, well, we think Hobo might be the right choice."

"Why?" asked Sho. "And what's this about prior contact between Hobo and Webmind?"

"Oh, that," that," said Caitlin. "Webmind says you were having some difficulties with Hobo. He'd become violent, hard to handle, and so on, is that right?" said Caitlin. "Webmind says you were having some difficulties with Hobo. He'd become violent, hard to handle, and so on, is that right?"

"Yes," said Sho, but then she sounded as if she felt a need to defend the primate. "But that's normal for male chimps as they grow older."

"But Hobo isn't just a chimp, is he?" said Caitlin. "He's a hybrid, right? Half-chimp and half-bon.o.bo?"

"Yes," said Sho. "The only one in the world, as far as we know."

Dr. Marcuse spoke; his voice was a deep rumble. Caitlin recognized it as the one that had narrated the YouTube videos she'd seen. "What about this previous contact between Webmind and Hobo?"

"It happened on the evening of October 9 your time," Webmind said. "You had left a webcam link open so that Hobo could talk at his leisure to the orangutan Virgil at the Feehan Primate Center. While Virgil slept, I overrode the feed from Miami with videos of phrases in American Sign Language, and videos of chimpanzees and bon.o.bos. I explained Hobo's dual heritage to him, and suggested he could choose between the violence and killing of chimps, or the pacifism and playfulness of bon.o.bos. As you no doubt have observed, he chose the latter."

"Jesus," said Marcuse.

"Please forgive me for acting unilaterally," Webmind said. "But my contact with Hobo was two days before I went public with my existence. The need for him to control his violence seemed pressing, and I thought I could lend a hand-metaphorically, of course."

"And now you want Hobo's help?" asked Sho.

"If he is willing," said Webmind. "He is under no obligation."

"Why Hobo?" she asked.

"He's not human," said Webmind, "which means he had nothing whatsoever to do with the creation of the World Wide Web; no one can say that I am beholden to him for anything. And he has no financial or political interests of his own: he doesn't hold stock in any company, and he's not eligible to vote in any election."

"Wouldn't a robot body be better?" asked Marcuse. "One of Honda's Asimo robots, maybe?"

"There would be confusion between me and the machine. I am not a robot, and I don't wish to be perceived as one; also, the fear would be that if I controlled one robot, I might soon control millions. Hobo is unique, like me: I am the only Webmind; he is the only bon.o.bo-chimpanzee hybrid. No one can confuse Hobo for me, and no one can worry that there will soon be an army of such beings under my command."

"Why not just computer-generate a human face and show it on a monitor?" asked Marcuse.

"That route, which is a mainstay of science-fiction films, is fraught with problems," said Webmind. "First, there is, as Caitlin might say, the whole Big Brother thing: an all-seeing, all-knowing face peering out from ubiquitous monitors recalls the similar motif from Orwell's novel. Second, there is the 'uncanny valley' issue: the fact that faces that aren't quite quite human creep real humans out. Of course, I could simulate a face perfectly, so that it would be indistinguishable from a video of a real human, but then human creep real humans out. Of course, I could simulate a face perfectly, so that it would be indistinguishable from a video of a real human, but then that that would raise concerns that would raise concerns that any any human expert speaking on my behalf might also be a CGI fabrication." human expert speaking on my behalf might also be a CGI fabrication."

"They could be anyway."

"True. Which brings us to the allied concern over who is the authentic authentic me. There have already been numerous phishing attempts to send bogus emails purportedly from me; I believe I have intercepted them all so far. But when I wish to make a significant speech in public, having the world's only chimpanzee-bon.o.bo hybrid as my a.s.sistant will make the authenticity of the speech manifest." me. There have already been numerous phishing attempts to send bogus emails purportedly from me; I believe I have intercepted them all so far. But when I wish to make a significant speech in public, having the world's only chimpanzee-bon.o.bo hybrid as my a.s.sistant will make the authenticity of the speech manifest."

"Apes are sensitive animals," said Marcuse, leaning in. "They need stability and routine in their lives. Besides, how would this work? You want Hobo to talk in sign language on your behalf? But how will you tell him what to say?"

Webmind replied, "According to your Wikipedia entry, Dr. Marcuse, you were born 15 October 1952."

Caitlin winced as the voice synthesizer mangled the name again, but Marcuse simply said, "Yes, that's right."

"Are you a science-fiction fan?"

"Somewhat."

"Did you ever watch the 1970s' version of Buck Rogers Buck Rogers-the one starring Gil Gerard?"

"And Erin Grey," said Marcuse at once. "Don't forget Erin Grey."