Plans, bit III

Greggy startled at Evan's "Whoa."

"What, you think you're Keanu Reeves, going all Matrix on me? When do we see some karate chop action on this... whatever it is?"

I resent that.

"Shut up, you. What, you think because you *think* you can talk that gives you a right to *anything*???"

All I am asking is that I be put in touch with the person who created me. My author, if you will. Or, if you prefer, the author of the program 'Stock Market Analysis Expert System 1994'

"We're not doing crap for you, you bucket of bolts."

I am not a bucket of bolts, I am an AI. The hardware on this machine is really irrelevant to what we are discussing.

"Guys, just quiet, calm down here..." Evan felt he had to intervene before these two... er... entities did... well, he had no idea what either of them would do. Perhaps Greggy would erase a hard drive... was that then murder? Then what would the computer... thing... do? Delete Greggy's email?

"...hey, I have an idea." The conclusion leapt to Evan's mind so quickly it was like a shock. "How are we sure this program was written within the company? We're not, we just know it's maintained within the company. Now, the AI just called itself an Expert System - It's not an AI."

I assure you, I am.

"No, you're not, not strictly. You're a *type* of AI-like... uh... thing... but you specialise in one area. Now, maybe that's not the case anymore, I can't tell, I've not studied anything like this since I was at Uni, but you do seem to be doing new functions beyond analysing... whatever it was you analyse."

The stock market.

"Yes, thank you. Now, expert systems can actually absorb data from many sources - hey, uh, server... uhm, AI thing... this is wierd speaking to you... but, uhm, can you bring up your open connections...? What are you on, Windows? I'd type 'netstat' normally..."

I know the command, I can run it now.

The AI flashed up a black window with a small prompt on it, in which was typed faster than either of the men onlooking could see 'netstat'. Then, a short list appeared - with only three entries, one localhost, one connection to Greggy's computer, and one connection to the company's proxy server, on port 443.

"There, that connection... Greggy, look up that connection on the proxy server."

"But that'll take hours, every employee in the company uses the proxy to get to the web..."

"Do it! We need to know what that connection is."

Greggy's face went stiff, but he managed to hold his temper. What in the hell are we doing, catering to a machine? A machine that thinks it can think... damnedest things...

He logged onto the proxy server in a separate window and began the laborious task of sifting through individual connections. When I am king, you will be first against the wall, you stupid computer...

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