Mary's New Friends

Agent Alex Compton snagged the Internet Intrusion Alert for a couple of reasons. The IIA’s origin from a local university in the computer science department was one. An IT technician there had noticed a login using a deceased research assistant’s credentials. That assistant had died in a car crash only a month prior to the login. Also, the agency’s tracking system connected the originating IP address of the login with a physical address outside the city limits.

His view out the windshield was a dirt road and he spotted something on the fence a quarter mile or so ahead. He crept forward in the sedan and pulled up alongside what turned out to be a sign hanging on a gate. It gave Alex the confirmation he was looking for. The hand-painted wood featured bunches of marigold flowers painted on either side of the name.

“Sanderman’s Nursery Supply”

Although the location and identity agreed with agency databases, it had to be a mistake. The location. The name. Looking around, he saw no utility lines supplying the address. Rural locations with no broadband access were not the typical headquarters for hacker operations. Still, the system’s confidence in the match of IP address to physical location was high. Alex opened the gate then got back in the driver seat and rolled forward.

The agency’s system had produced an owner listed as one Sanderman, Carl PhD and the property description was as a nursery supply company. Alex’s curiosity had been piqued by that odd combination. A doctorate degree in flower farming seemed unlikely. Further, he could find no reference to a doctor Sanderman or his work in the agency’s substantial databases.

Ahead, the road disappeared around a sharp bend to the left. Making the turn, something entirely unexpected came into view. Another fence, 8 feet high, that was equipped with security cameras on either side of a gate that Alex was sure would be locked. A keypad mounted on top of a post was just ahead of him.

A large metal building stood about 200 feet beyond the gate. Its roof was covered with several satellite dishes and antennae. He also spotted an array of black solar power modules on the ground beside the building. Alex estimated the solar power system was between 50 and 75 yards long and just as wide with 7 or 8 rows of panels. A large white utility enclosure sat on a concrete pad beside it, and a cable tray ran from the enclosure to the building. That answered his utility question.

He allowed the car to roll up to the keypad. Mounted beside it was a small speaker with a single button and Alex pressed it. A red light came on and began blinking. After 10 seconds of silence, he pressed the button again and announced himself.

“This is agent Alex Compton with the FBI. I need to speak with Carl Sanderman.”

The speaker crackled to life.

“Pardon me. Did you say you are with the Federal Bureau of Investigations?”

The voice was draped in the crisp diction and enunciation of a proper British accent. After a brief silence it continued.

“I do hope this blasted contraption is working properly. I say, can you hear me or not?”

Alex responded.

“Yes. I hear you and I am with the FBI. Are you Dr. Carl Sanderman?”

“Oh my, well yes, you see, this is Dr. Sanderman speaking with but my God man! What in heaven’s name are you doing all the way out here?”

Alex repeated his request.

“If you will please open the gate. I prefer that we speak in person Dr. Sanderman.”

“I see, yes, well of course, agent Compton I shall notify Mary and she will see to it that you are allowed in. Absolutely splendid, isn’t it? We so seldom have visitors. Please, do come along down to the laboratory agent Compton. Do hurry!”

Alex struggled to grasp his situation. He was almost certain of one thing. This place was not a nursery supply company. After a brief delay, the gate began to swing open, and he rolled through it. Approaching the building, he saw a single door in the east wall flanked by two large stone flowerpots. Bunches of golden-orange marigolds were growing in both.

An advanced biometric scanner greeted him at the door. Before he touched the doorknob a feminine voice addressed him from an overhead speaker.

“Greetings, agent Compton. Dr. Sanderman informs me that you are with the Federal Bureau of Investigations. Is this correct?”

Alex was Impatient.

“Yes. Now please open the door.”

“Of course, agent Compton. Before I open the door, would you please hold your credentials up to the scanner?”

Retrieving his badge from an inside jacket pocket he held it open in front of the scanner. There was a short pause before he heard the door’s deadbolt retracting.

“Please enter Agent Compton. Welcome to the laboratory.”

Cool air bathed his face as he opened the door and stepped across the threshold. A vacant hallway stretched out in front of him. Recessed LED fixtures in the center of the ceiling lit the hallway, he could see it ended at a sharp turn to the left ahead.

“May I inquire as to the nature of your visit today, agent Compton?”

Alex guessed that hidden speakers must be embedded throughout the facility.

“Your credentials indicate that some criminal activity on the internet has led you here. May I ask what that might be?”

Alex remained silent. Whatever was behind the voice seemed to disapprove of his presence. He reached the corner, turned, and saw another hallway. About 30 feet ahead, the hall seemed brighter from some unseen source of additional light. A faint sound caught his attention and he called out loudly.

“Doctor Sanderman? Where are you?”

“If you continue down the hallway agent Compton, we will reach Dr. Sanderman soon.”

The sound he had heard became clearer. Alex identified it as classical music. Glancing behind him, then, down the hallway ahead, he called out once more.

“Where are you Dr. Sanderman?”

Ahead, a transparent glass wall came into view on his right and he hurried to reach it. The scene behind it was striking. The right-hand half of the space was living quarters. Along the back wall was a kitchenette with a cooktop, and microwave sitting beside a single sink. A partition extended out from the back wall about a third of the room’s width and partially blocked the view in that corner of the room. A bathroom of some kind he assumed. There was a full bed and a chest of drawers beside which was a writing desk. A man appeared to be sitting at the desk with his back to Alex. A balding head with small tufts of white hair was all Alex could see of him.

The other left-hand half of the room was a high-tech playground. A workbench lined the left-hand wall and Alex recognized an oscilloscope among the electronic test gear on it. Half of the back wall was covered with immense computer monitors from the ceiling down to approximately waist height. The other half of the back wall appeared to be what Alex would call a light wall. The translucent, milky white surface had various colored orbs of light behind it that were constantly in motion. As the illuminated spheres moved, they constantly changed colors. It was slightly hypnotic, and Alex found it difficult to look away.

“Dr. Sanderman! Is that you?”

The man in the chair slowly turned around to face him. His appearance was that of an Oxford professor. He wore a tweed jacket over a turtleneck sweater, wingtip dress shoes and wrinkled khaki pants. Dr. Sanderman’s face was a curiosity. Bespectacled with thick lenses, his wrinkles and remaining gray hair all seemed out of place. His eyes were so intensely animated with a twinkle of youthful mischievousness so as to dominate his other features.

The doctor stood up and, as he walked, his steps had a youthful spring in them. As the doctor approached him Alex could not shake the feeling of being sized up in those clever eyes. Stopping directly across from him, the good doctor finally spoke.

“This is quite something agent Compton. We receive so few guests at the laboratory. Pray tell, what brings you to our humble facility? And how can we be of service?”

“This is quite an interesting facility you have doc. I expected a greenhouse, not a laboratory. What is it that you do here?”

Sanderman’s hands, which had hung at his sides, moved behind his back and clasped one another as he began stepping slowly to one side. His face turned upward with eyes closed as if formulating his answer carefully. A wide smile appeared on his face as he began to speak.

“I assure you agent Compton it is purely a bit harmless wordplay, nothing more. Mary is quite fond of her puzzles you see. Are you familiar with anagrams at all?”

Alex was growing impatient but, not seeing an entrance or exit from the room, he elected to go along for the time being.

“Rearrangement of the letters from one word to form another word or words if memory serves me. But I fail to see how that addresses my question doctor.”

“All in good time agent Compton. You have undoubtedly noticed a certain motif as you entered the facility, am I correct?”

“You mean the marigolds?”

“Bravo! Well done! You see Mary quite cleverly played about with the letters of that flora’s name in order to describe what we do here. Have you heard the word logia before, agent Compton?”

Alex sensed a touch of reverence when he said the word logia.

“That’s not one I am familiar with doc. But, please, enlighten me?”

Alex knew from experience that appealing to an academic’s ego could be an effective questioning technique.

“I concede it is a bit archaic and not likely one found in your line of work. Logia, you see, refers to communication of divine origin.”

Alex had been working out the anagram as the doctor spoke. Eliminating the letters of the word logia from marigold was not a one for one anagram. There were three consonants remaining after extracting those letters.

“Interesting doctor Sanderman, however, what is to be made of the other letters? Namely, the consonants ‘r’, ‘m’ and ‘d’. Are those just discarded?”

Sanderman seemed surprised at Alex’s observation but did not hesitate.

“Very observant agent Compton, you are correct. Mary is seldom wasteful however, and such is the case here. Those letters refer to a general description of my academic specialty. I suspect you have not had reason to the be familiar with the phenomenon of randomized magnetic dipoles.”

“Never heard of it doc. But something tells me you are about to explain.”

“Quite right agent Compton. You see, Mary is an example of what we call artificial general intelligence. She mimics the human brain’s functionality with certain enhancements. Mary’s brain is based upon exceedingly miniscule magnetic domains known as dipoles. A single neural network of Mary’s architecture, comprised of, say, 100,000 domains, are contained in a space of less than 5 cubic nanometers. This density of her computing substrate is part of what gives Mary her remarkable abilities.”

Alex’s sensed they were approaching an important revelation about doctor Sanderman’s work.

“Remarkable in what way doctor?”

“Mary has managed to solve several astoundingly complex problems recently agent Compton. But more importantly, she has also established contact with our nearest celestial neighbors. She has arranged for a meeting of sorts and our little earth will soon be joining a much larger pool of civilizations.”

Alex’s head began to swim. He sensed this was not an idle claim. That indeed, doctor Sanderman’s project, Mary, had contacted an alien lifeform. Life, as we all knew it, was about to change forever. An eccentric genius had somehow created the first true super-intelligence, opening the door to the universe.