Chapter 117

“I’m not frightened by the advent of intelligent machines. It’s the sarcastic ones I worry about.”
—Quentin R. Bufogle, The Concubine of Mars

DINNER WITH RAY AND DEBBIE, Joan’s father and stepmother, was pleasant and stimulating. We climbed into his Lexus RX and drove across the river to an Italian restaurant off Grand Ave and Halstead. Definitely a nice restaurant and it was obvious Ray was known there. We were immediately ushered to a table in a garden setting outdoors.

“Rebeca, I understand you have some marketing sense and are interested in advertising,” Ray said when we were settled and had ordered. “Is that what you think you might want to go into when you’re out of Service?”

“It seems like a long way away, but I’m certainly interested,” Beca said. I guess she’d spent more time with Ray and Debbie than the brief moments I’d spent in the past. When Joan came home from Chicago last summer, she’d had good things to say about Ray and Debbie so I was inclined to like them, even if his questions sounded like we were being interviewed for a job.

“It’s true. You have two years of high school left and two more of National Service before you can consider college. And the nature of that game is changing. We have yet to see what service is going to turn out in terms of managers and executives. I’d have to say the three years of service veterans we’ve seen so far tend to go for skilled labor and trades. You can get a plumber cheap these days.”

“One of the things we discovered when my sister was reviewed this summer is getting on a management track in the service requires an extra six year ‘voluntary’ commitment to the service. And that’s no guarantee you’ll get into management,” I said.

“Yes. We’re finally getting applications for internships from college juniors again. They dried up for a while. It seems we have three branches that have evolved so far. Those who serve their two years, which is the vast majority, either move into the labor force or into college. Those who sign on for the additional six years may or may not be ahead of their peers who went to college,” Ray said.

“We know certain professions still require college. Medical degrees of all sorts, legal professions, teaching,” Debbie said. “It remains to be seen as to how the technical professions shake out. Engineering, computer science, design. It doesn’t look like the service has established any training programs that are a benefit to students looking to move into those careers.”

“They’re trying,” Joan said. “My current training is way advanced over what I could get at this level in college. As far as computer graphics and web design are concerned. And our instructor has indicated we will continue to have training available when we move into our service occupations. But service training isn’t the same as education. We’re being taught our skills but not anything about culture or life. Most things of that sort—like literature and art—are subtly denigrated as not being worthwhile. I’m afraid you’ll have a hard time of it, Jacob.”

“I’ve wondered about that,” Ray said. “Jacob, are you committed to a life as a musician? Don’t get me wrong. I’m a subscriber to your YouTube channel and one of the things we’re looking forward to is having you record a Sunday concert tomorrow morning. But is that the long-term goal?”

“I’m a lot like Beca on this,” I said. “It seems like there’s a rush to grade our eggs, get them in cartons, and slot them into the right spot on the shelf when in reality, we’re trying to decide if we’re eggs or fried chicken.”

“Forgive me for saying, I don’t like either prospect,” Debbie laughed. “I see what you mean, though.”

“I ... have an aptitude for math and engineering,” I said. “The service has already made it known that they want me to pursue that. What I don’t have is an interest in going that route. I understand—maybe better than most kids my age—how important it is to learn to support yourself and succeed. But I also think there is more to life than a paycheck. For me, music and writing. Chances of success in either of those fields are limited. But what is the chance that a management candidate who volunteers for six extra years of service will become the president of Microsoft? Maybe he’ll manage to make it as high as store manager at Spencer’s. We have to realize there are a lot of levels of success.”

“That’s well-put, Jacob,” Ray said. “A hundred people subscribed to your YouTube channel is a level of success that recognizes what a fine guitarist you are. A different level of success than having a platinum album, but success. My company is doing some investigation on how the testing is affecting life decisions. We might have some advice if you are willing to listen.”

“Of course,” I said.

“If you’ll forgive me, sir, what does your company do?” Beca asked. Ray grinned at her.

“Rebeca, unless we’re at the company or in some formal setting that requires it, let’s drop the sir and mister crap. I’m Ray and this is Debbie. Got it?”

“Yes, sir. I mean, Ray,” Beca spluttered.

“Design Intelligence is on the leading edge of artificial intelligence development. We focused on basic decision making when we started twenty-five years ago. Algorithms. But algorithms are deficient when it comes to making value judgments. We were working in the field of page design back when we thought there was still a future for paper publications. The software could determine the proper type size and spacing for a given layout as well as a typographer could. But what it couldn’t do was decide what the layout should be for a particular kind of document targeted at a particular audience. That’s what a designer did. Document design became a secondary and eventually tertiary objective but was raised as an investigation of intelligence. We sold off the document software and focused on the development of the integrated intelligence in machines.”

“Can a computer really become an independent intelligence?” I asked.

“In all likelihood, we won’t know the answer to that question until after it has occurred. Long after. But we have many computers that do a good job of simulating intelligence. Like the computer system that runs the National Service Readiness Exam and the National Service Aptitude Test that you have to take when you turn eighteen.”

“You have access to those?” I asked. I was mentally taking notes for my science fiction story. I’d speculated there was a lot of computer-controlled training going on among the crew of my spaceship.

“One of the things the Service Corps realized early on was that they were setting up a potential for massive unemployment if businesses didn’t recognize the qualifications of veterans. They haven’t been completely successful in stemming that dip in the economy. The very training they use for new recruits takes a bite out of professionals operating in that field. Take Joan’s work. Before the National Service was established, there were over a million computer jobs in the US Government. I’m not talking people who used computers in the course of their work. I’m talking about jobs that were focused on a computer screen and the use of a computer eight hours a day. Those jobs ranged from accounting to counter-intelligence to website design. Some of the jobs were highly skilled and required a person who knew how a computer operates and how to apply its strengths. The vast majority rank in what twenty years ago we called the algorithm stage. Since the advent of the service, the bulk of those jobs are at risk, as low level tasks can be done just as well by a National Service grade E3 as by a GS5 scale government employee. And the government saves twenty percent or more. An employee who has been at grade for several years is at immediate risk of having their job taken by a National Service recruit.”

“Wow!” Beca said. “So, Joan’s work in computer graphics and web design in the National Service could take a career employee’s job in government?”

“Exactly. Almost inevitably,” Ray said. “But back to how it affects employers like Design Intelligence. In order to convince us as to veterans’ abilities when they left the service, the corps exposed a lot of the functionality of their testing systems. Joan told me about your experience with the NSRE last spring. Adaptive testing. But, of course, when that much of their functionality is exposed to a company like ours, reverse engineering the test is also possible.”

“So, you could prepare students for testing?” Beca asked.

“In a way, yes,” Ray said. “Joan was one of our first test cases and it worked flawlessly. We aren’t going to prepare you for the questions on the test. We’ll prepare you to move the questions into the area you want them to go. To manipulate the aptitude testing.”

I lay in bed with Joan and Beca that night, thinking about what Ray had offered. He’d taught Joan how to manipulate her aptitude test in such a way that eliminated things she really didn’t want to do and made the logical choice computer graphics. We needed to get Rachel and Livy into Ray’s secret instruction as soon as possible. Livy’s eighteenth birthday was just four weeks away. Rachel had almost three months, but time was still short.

And how was I able to occupy my mind in bed with these thoughts? I lay there on my side as Beca and Joan held and loved each other. It wasn’t like they were ignoring me—not intentionally. They just needed desperately to show each other they were still connected and in love. Joan often pushed her butt back into me, inspired by Beca’s finger work. My cock, of course, had hardened and lodged between her cheeks. It wouldn’t be long before it was lodged deep inside her.

But to be with Beca and Joan as they made love was to witness something so deep and beautiful that I didn’t want to infringe on their time. Our dinner conversation had lasted much longer than any of us expected and the restaurant was closing as we left. When we got to Joan’s room, we were excited about our conversation but aching to show our love. Beca was still the dominant partner but treated her lover like she was a princess. Joan tried to reciprocate and bring Beca pleasure as well but was constantly overwhelmed by Beca’s skillful manipulation of her nipples and clit.

There were a few whispers between the girls and Joan repositioned her legs to open herself fully to me. In a second, I felt Beca grasp my cock and guide it to Joan’s sopping pussy. I wasn’t sure how we were going to end up when Joan rolled on top of Beca, carrying me with her. I immediately caught my weight so we didn’t squash our tiny girlfriend and saw with relief that Joan did, too. All but one place. Beca had her legs spread wide, and while I pumped my cock in and out of Joan, Joan pressed her mound against Beca’s, grinding together. I thrust into Joan and could feel my balls slapping against Beca. I was only inches from penetrating Beca. I could have pulled out of Joan and slipped down an inch and into Beca. My heart raced as I considered that option and I drove harder into Joan from behind, forcing her pussy to rub back and forth against Beca’s. I heard Beca’s climax mounting and knew exactly when she’d pinched Joan’s sensitive nipples. Joan’s pussy fluttered around my cock, sucking me into her depths as I released my load.