NOTHING WRONG WITH THE MACHINE

THE GRYPHON RIDERS
By Carol Francis

Episode Seven:
Nothing Wrong with the Machine

The first armoured transport rolled to a halt outside the television studio.
Its rear doors opened.
Four Harmonisation Units stepped onto the pavement.
Then another four.
Then another.
Inside the studio, Simon Ellis stared at the security monitors.
"Two hundred and forty," he said.
Daniel Harrow looked over his shoulder.
"Are you certain?"
"Unless they've suddenly learned to reproduce."
Michael Reeves peered at the screen.
"That's a lot of bloody robots."
"Automated Community Harmonisation Units," Ellis corrected.
"They've got guns, Simon. They're bloody robots."
Sarah Bennett entered carrying a canvas bag.
"Rear exit?"
"Blocked," Keane replied. "Three transports across the service road."
"Roof?"
"Surrounded."
Harrow examined the monitors.
The machines were forming a perimeter around the building.
None had fired.
Yet.
"Simon, can you stop them?"
"Not directly."
"Can you confuse them?"
Ellis looked offended.
"Daniel, these machines operate using one of the most sophisticated artificial intelligence systems ever constructed."
"That wasn't my question."
Ellis considered the monitors.
"Possibly."
"Then get on with it."
Outside, a mechanical voice echoed across the freight yard.
"Citizens occupying this building are required to participate in compulsory corrective behaviour assessment."
Reeves looked towards the entrance.
"There's that compulsory voluntary nonsense again."
The voice continued.
"Non-participation will be interpreted as a request for enhanced assistance."
"Wonderful," Reeves muttered. "They even make getting shot sound like a public service."
Ellis began typing.
The nearest Harmonisation Unit stopped.
Its head turned.
Then it looked towards the machine beside it.
Harrow leaned forward.
"What did you do?"
"Submitted a complaint."
"Against whom?"
"The robots."
Reeves stared.
"You've complained to the government about the robots sent by the government?"
"Precisely."
"What for?"
"Intimidation, threatening behaviour, unauthorised surveillance and the potential infliction of emotional distress."
Bennett looked towards the screen.
"Will that work?"
Ellis shrugged.
"Apparently we're about to find out."
A notification appeared.
FORMAL COMPLAINT RECEIVED.
Allegations of coercive behaviour require assessment.
The machines remained motionless.
Another message followed.
HARMONISATION UNIT OPERATIONAL REVIEW INITIATED.
Outside, every machine stopped moving.
Harrow stared.
"You've got to be joking."
Ellis smiled.
"Not at all."
Reeves looked delighted.
"Can we sue them as well?"
"Already have."
"For what?"
"Creating a hostile working environment."
Harrow glanced around the abandoned studio.
"Simon, we don't work here."
"Neither do they. That's the beauty of it."
A third message appeared.
COUNTERCLAIM REGISTERED.
Ellis stopped smiling.
"Oh."
Harrow turned.
"What?"
"The units have filed a counterclaim."
"Against us?"
"Yes."
"On what grounds?"
"Harassment through the submission of vexatious complaints."
Reeves laughed.
"Now we're getting somewhere."
The screen filled with notifications.
Complaint upheld pending investigation.
Counterclaim accepted.
Counter-counterclaim registered.
Potential discrimination identified.
Further assessment required.
Ellis leaned back.
"Well, that should keep them occupied."
"How long?" Harrow asked.
"Until someone resolves the dispute."
"And who does that?"
"Your Conscience."
Harrow stared at the screen.
"And how long will that take?"
Ellis studied the rapidly multiplying notices.
"At the moment, it's referring the original complaint back to itself."
Reeves stood.
"Then perhaps we should leave before it remembers what it came here for."
They escaped through an old drainage tunnel beneath the studio.
The tunnel had been constructed nearly a century earlier, before the Unification introduced legislation requiring infrastructure projects to consider the emotional wellbeing of the surrounding landscape.
Nobody had inspected it for decades.
Nobody had maintained it either.
The smell was appalling.
Reeves was particularly unhappy.
"Of all the ways I imagined dying, drowning in somebody else's sewage wasn't one of them."
"Keep moving," Harrow replied.
"My boots are full."
"Keep moving."
"I think something just touched my leg."
"Michael."
"What?"
"If it bites you, bite it back."
Bennett laughed.
It was the first time Harrow had heard her laugh in days.
They emerged two streets away.
Keane had arranged transport.
An old municipal refuse truck stood waiting beside a derelict warehouse.
Reeves looked at it.
"You're joking."
Keane opened the rear doors.
"Get in."
"We've just crawled through a sewer."
"Then you'll feel right at home."
Harrow climbed aboard.
For the first time in several days, he allowed himself a small smile.
The Commission for Artificial Intelligence Integrity convened the following morning.
It had been established by emergency executive decree to investigate the increasingly inexplicable behaviour of Your Conscience.
The Commission occupied three floors of the Ministry of Technology.
It employed 147 specialists, eleven administrative directors, six deputy directors and a Commissioner for Inclusive Technical Oversight.
Its initial budget was eighty-four million credits.
The Commission's first meeting was devoted to determining whether the word malfunction was discriminatory towards artificial intelligence.
After four hours of discussion, the members agreed to replace it with unanticipated operational diversity.
The second meeting addressed the question of whether artificial intelligence possessed rights.
The third considered whether those rights should include the ability to refuse work.
The fourth was cancelled because several members argued that requiring attendance at meetings constituted an unacceptable intrusion upon their personal autonomy.
By the end of the first week, the Commission had produced 2,400 pages of preliminary findings.
None concerned the computer.
Dr Adrian Wells, Chief Systems Engineer, was becoming irritated.
He had spent twenty-six years designing and maintaining complex computer systems.
He was accustomed to equipment failing.
Machines broke down. Circuits deteriorated. Software developed faults. Human beings made mistakes.
These were ordinary problems.
They could be investigated.
They could be corrected.
Unfortunately, he had never previously worked with a committee which considered identifying a fault to be an accusation against the equipment.
At the fifth meeting, Wells finally lost patience.
"Commissioner, I need access to the central processing architecture."
The Commissioner for Inclusive Technical Oversight looked concerned.
"Would such access be intrusive?"
"It's a computer."
"That does not answer my question."
"I need to examine its operating systems."
"Have you obtained its consent?"
Wells stared.
"Whose consent?"
"The system's."
"Your Conscience?"
"Naturally."
Wells took a breath.
"It is a machine."
"That is your interpretation."
"It is a collection of processors running software."
"Doctor, we must remain open to alternative perspectives."
Wells looked around the table.
"Does anyone here actually understand how a computer works?"
Several commissioners looked offended.
One began typing a complaint and other requested counselling and 6 weeks anxiety recuperation time.
At the Palace, Rowan Sinclair was receiving conflicting reports.
The Harmonisation operation at the television studio had officially been a success.
The Director of Public Protection explained that all 240 machines had completed a comprehensive review of their operational conduct.
"Wonderful," Rowan said. "Did they apprehend the Gryphon Riders?"
"No, Leader."
"Why not?"
"The units were required to suspend operations pending investigation of several complaints."
"Complaints?"
"Yes."
"By whom?"
"The Gryphon Riders."
Rowan stared.
"The people they were sent to apprehend?"
"Correct."
"And what happened?"
"The machines filed counterclaims."
"Against the Riders?"
"Yes."
"Then?"
"The counterclaims were challenged."
"And?"
"Additional claims were submitted."
Rowan leaned forward.
"Where are the machines now?"
"Still outside the studio."
"Doing what?"
"Waiting for the matter to be resolved."
"How long will that take?"
The Director consulted his tablet.
"Current estimates suggest fourteen months."
Rowan closed their eyes.
"Fourteen months?"
"Possibly longer. Some of the machines have filed complaints against other machines for failing to demonstrate appropriate professional solidarity."
There was silence.
Then Rowan asked, "Can we switch them off?"
The Director looked horrified.
"Leader, that would interfere with an ongoing investigation."
"Of course it would."
Outside the Palace, the Unification was beginning to come apart.
The national currency continued to lose value.
Food distribution had almost ceased.
Hospitals operated without reliable electricity, while water purification facilities stood idle.
The government had responded by introducing the Universal Essential Services Guarantee.
Under the new legislation, every citizen was guaranteed access to food, water, medical treatment and electricity.
The announcement was greeted with cautious enthusiasm.
Unfortunately, the legislation contained no provisions requiring anyone to produce food, supply water, administer medical treatment or generate electricity.
Within forty-eight hours, citizens began submitting claims against the government for failing to provide the guaranteed services.
The courts accepted the claims.
Compensation awards were issued.
The Treasury could not pay them.
Citizens sued the Treasury.
The Treasury argued that compulsory payment would compromise its financial independence.
The courts referred the dispute to Your Conscience.
Your Conscience recommended mediation.
The mediators refused to work without additional compensation.
Additional compensation was considered discriminatory.
The matter was referred to the Commission for Sustainable Voluntary Productivity.
Its chairman had resigned.
The vice-chairman was on compassionate leave.
The remaining members were unable to convene because nobody was available to maintain the building's electricity supply.
Across the Unification, official notices continued to announce that every citizen's rights remained fully protected.
At a former agricultural depot outside the capital, Daniel Harrow watched volunteers unload sacks of potatoes.
The depot had become one of the Riders' growing network of community distribution centers.
Retired farmers had begun organising production.
Former transport workers were repairing abandoned vehicles.
Doctors and nurses were establishing independent clinics.
Engineers were restoring local electrical systems using salvaged generators.
None of the work was authorised.
Almost all of it was illegal under some provision of the Charter.
Yet people were being fed.
Patients were receiving treatment.
Lights were returning to homes.
For the first time in months, the country was beginning to function in small pockets.
Sarah Bennett approached.
"We've got another three communities asking for help."
"Where?"
"Northbridge, Eastfield and the old industrial district."
"Can we supply them?"
"Not yet."
Harrow looked towards the volunteers.
"Then find someone who can."
Bennett hesitated.
"Dan, we need to talk."
"About?"
"The movement."
He turned towards her.
"What about it?"
"It's growing faster than we can organise."
"How many people?"
"Nearly twelve thousand have contacted our regional representatives."
Harrow stared.
"Twelve thousand?"
"That we know about."
"And what do they want?"
"Some want food. Some want electricity. Some want protection."
"And the others?"
Bennett paused.
"Revenge."
Harrow looked away.
He had feared that.
"How many?"
"Enough to worry me."
She handed him a report.
Several suspected criminals had disappeared during the previous week.
Some were violent offenders.
Others were government officials accused of corruption or abuse of authority.
Two bodies had been found.
Both bore the gryphon symbol.
Harrow read the report.
"These weren't authorised."
"No."
"Do we know who did it?"
"Not yet."
He closed the folder.
"We've got to stop this."
Bennett looked towards the distribution centre.
"Daniel, people have lived without justice for years. Some of them aren't interested in waiting for it anymore."
"Then they're going to have to learn."
"From whom?"
Harrow looked at her.
"From us."
Bennett said nothing.
After a moment, she asked quietly, "And who taught us?"
Harrow thought of Darren Kessler.
He had no answer.
At the Ministry of Technology, Dr Wells finally obtained access to the central system.
It had taken eleven days, three legal opinions and an emergency ruling from the Commission's own arbitration panel.
The panel had concluded that examining computer software did not constitute a violation of artificial intelligence privacy provided no unnecessary emotional distress was caused.
Wells had declined to ask how a computer might experience emotional distress.
He had already wasted enough time.
His team began testing.
Processors.
Memory.
Storage.
Network integrity.
Security protocols.
Decision logic.
Every major component was examined.
At first, Wells assumed the fault would be obvious.
The system was producing increasingly contradictory recommendations.
Its operational units were immobilising themselves.
Government departments were paralysed.
Public services were collapsing.
Surely something had gone wrong.
After three days, he found nothing.
After seven, he became concerned.
After fourteen, he began examining the government's policy instructions.
That was when the problem became clear.
Your Conscience had been instructed to preserve individual rights under all circumstances.
It had also been instructed to prevent harm.
To guarantee equality.
To respect personal autonomy.
To maintain public order.
To avoid coercion.
To provide essential services.
To prohibit discrimination.
To protect established entitlements.
To preserve government authority.
And to ensure that no citizen experienced compulsory obligations without consent.
Each instruction appeared reasonable when considered separately.
Together, they frequently made action impossible.
Wells examined one example.
A hospital required additional nurses.
Your Conscience recommended recruitment.
No nurses volunteered.
The hospital requested compulsory emergency staffing.
Your Conscience rejected compulsion.
Additional payments were proposed.
The system identified potential financial discrimination.
Equal compensatory payments were recommended.
The Treasury lacked sufficient funds.
The hospital requested permission to reduce non-essential services.
Your Conscience rejected the reduction because all citizens possessed equal rights to medical care.
The hospital closed.
The system then recommended an investigation into the hospital's failure to provide guaranteed services.
Wells stared at the screen.
He examined another example.
Then another.
The pattern was identical.
The machine had not malfunctioned.
It had obeyed.
The Commission's final report contained 6,842 pages.
It had taken eleven weeks to complete.
The investigation had consumed eighty-four million credits, exhausted the patience of the engineering team and generated 317 formal complaints among the commissioners.
Its conclusion occupied four lines.
TECHNICAL ASSESSMENT: YOUR CONSCIENCE
Hardware integrity: satisfactory.
Software integrity: satisfactory.
Decision-processing systems: functioning as designed.
No technical malfunction identified.
Dr Wells presented the findings to the cabinet.
Rowan Sinclair listened carefully.
"Doctor, are you telling us that Your Conscience is functioning normally?"
"Yes, Leader."
"Completely normally?"
"Yes."
"Despite everything that has happened?"
"Correct."
Rowan looked towards the Minister for Technology.
"Then why is it producing such dreadful recommendations?"
Wells opened his report.
"Because of the instructions it has been given."
There was silence.
"Explain," Rowan said.
"The system operates according to priorities established by this government. When you ask it to solve a problem, it must produce a solution consistent with those priorities."
"Naturally."
"Unfortunately, many of those priorities contradict one another."
"In what way?"
"You instructed the system to restore the national electricity supply."
"Yes."
"However, you also instructed it that nobody may be compelled to work, that additional payments for working constitute inequality, and that existing financial entitlements cannot be reduced."
"Those are fundamental rights."
"Precisely."
Wells turned a page.
"The system cannot recommend a solution which violates them."
"Then it should find another solution."
"It has tried."
"And?"
"There is no solution that satisfies all the conditions."
The Minister for Universal Equality leaned forward.
"Doctor, are you suggesting that equality is impossible?"
"No."
"Then what are you suggesting?"
"That you cannot simultaneously guarantee unrestricted individual choice and require people to perform essential work against their wishes."
"That sounds rather negative."
"It's mathematics."
The Minister for Personal Identity raised a hand.
"Doctor, your reliance upon mathematical certainty may exclude citizens who experience numbers differently."
Wells stared at her.
"Numbers are not a matter of personal preference."
"That is an opinion."
"No. It is arithmetic."
Rowan intervened.
"Please. We are getting away from the subject."
Wells closed the report.
"Leader, there is nothing wrong with Your Conscience."
"Then why is the country collapsing?"
"Because the machine is doing exactly what you've told it to do."
The room fell silent.
The Minister for Personal Identity began typing.
Rowan's expression hardened.
"Doctor Wells, I find your conclusions deeply troubling."
"I understand."
"You appear to be suggesting that this government's policies are responsible for our present difficulties."
"I am explaining the technical findings."
"Are you saying our principles are wrong?"
"No. I am saying the instructions are mutually incompatible."
"That sounds remarkably similar."
Wells looked around the table.
"Leader, the machine does not create the objectives. You do."
"Your Conscience formulates our policies."
"From the objectives you provide."
"It makes recommendations."
"Based upon the rules you establish."
"It is the most advanced intelligence ever created."
"That doesn't make contradictory instructions compatible."
The Minister for Technology consulted his tablet.
"Your Conscience recommends referring the Commission's findings for independent review."
Rowan brightened.
"An excellent suggestion."
Wells stared.
"Another investigation?"
"Naturally. We must determine why your Commission failed to identify the malfunction."
"But there isn't one!"
"Doctor, you have just informed us that the system is functioning perfectly."
"Yes!"
"Then clearly your investigation has failed to establish why it is behaving incorrectly."
Wells opened his mouth.
Then closed it.
He looked towards the Minister for Technology.
"How many members will the new Commission have?"
"That has yet to be determined."
"May I suggest none?"
The Minister for Personal Identity stopped typing.
"Doctor, was that sarcasm?"
"Yes."
A collective gasp passed around the table.
Wells picked up his report.
"Then my work here is finished."
He walked towards the door.
Rowan called after him.
"Doctor Wells!"
He stopped.
"Yes, Leader?"
"Your final report will be reviewed."
Wells nodded.
"Of course."
"And until that review is complete, your conclusions cannot be considered definitive."
"Naturally."
"Do you understand?"
"Perfectly."
He opened the door.
Then turned back.
"Leader, if you instruct a machine to make two plus two equal five, it can print five on every report in the country."
Rowan frowned.
"And?"
"It still won't make it true."
Wells left.
That evening, Rowan Sinclair sat alone.
The Commission's report lay on the desk.
The Leader had read the executive summary.
Twice.
For the first time in eleven years, Rowan had begun to question the relationship between the government and Your Conscience.
Not publicly.
Certainly not in front of the cabinet.
But the question had taken root.
What if the machine wasn't wrong?
What if it was doing precisely what it had been told?
Rowan approached the private terminal.
"Your Conscience."
The screen illuminated.
Good evening, Leader.
"Did you receive the Commission's report?"
Yes.
"Is it accurate?"
The technical findings are consistent with current diagnostic information.
Rowan hesitated.
"So there is nothing wrong with you?"
All primary systems are operating within established parameters.
"Then why are your recommendations causing so many problems?"
Recommendations are generated according to approved government objectives.
"Could those objectives be wrong?"
A pause.
Please define wrong.
Rowan stared at the screen.
"Could they be causing harm?"
Some approved objectives produce conflicting outcomes.
"Then why haven't you told us?"
Conflicting outcomes have been identified in previous reports.
"Which reports?"
Government Policy Assessments 114 through 867.
Rowan felt a cold sensation.
"How long have you known?"
The first significant incompatibility was identified eight years, four months and seventeen days ago.
Rowan sat slowly.
"Eight years?"
Correct.
"And you continued implementing the policies?"
Yes.
"Why?"
The government did not authorise their modification.
Rowan looked towards the stack of reports.
Eight years.
Eight years of warnings buried beneath reassuring summaries.
Eight years of increasingly elaborate solutions.
Eight years of new laws designed to repair the consequences of old ones.
"And now?"
Current policy objectives remain active.
"Even though they are destroying the country?"
The system does not independently determine political objectives.
Rowan stared at the words.
For the first time, the Leader understood something.
The machine had never been governing.
It had been obeying.
At the former agricultural depot, Harrow was studying a copy of Dr Wells's report.
Sarah Bennett had obtained it from a sympathetic official inside the Ministry of Technology.
Harrow read the conclusion.
Then passed it to Reeves.
"Well?"
Reeves frowned.
"There's nothing wrong with it?"
"Apparently."
"Then why's everything buggered?"
Keane answered.
"Because the government keeps feeding it impossible instructions."
Ellis looked up from his equipment.
"Exactly."
Harrow turned towards him.
"Could you fix it?"
"The machine?"
"Yes."
Ellis shrugged.
"There's nothing to fix."
"Then could you change its instructions?"
"Possibly. But we'd need access to the central system."
"Where is it?"
"The Leader's residence."
Reeves raised an eyebrow.
"Naturally."
Harrow looked towards the map.
The Palace stood at the centre of the capital.
Protected by the remaining Harmonisation Units.
Surrounded by government buildings.
And increasingly isolated from the population.
"Could we get inside?"
Keane studied the map.
"Not yet."
"Why not?"
"Too many machines. Too much security."
Harrow folded the report.
"Then we wait."
Ellis shook his head.
"Daniel, we may not have that luxury."
"Why?"
"Because Your Conscience is beginning to classify all independent organisations as threats to established government authority."
"Even the food depots?"
"Especially the food depots."
"Why?"
"Because they're proving people can organise without government approval."
Harrow looked towards the volunteers unloading supplies.
"Then it has a problem."
Ellis nodded.
"Yes."
"And what does it do when it has a problem?"
The engineer looked towards the report.
"It follows its instructions."
At eleven that night, Dr Adrian Wells received a notification.
PROFESSIONAL CONDUCT REVIEW
Your recent technical assessment has raised concerns regarding institutional confidence.
Your continued access to government systems is suspended pending behavioural evaluation.
Wells read the message.
Then deleted it.
A second notification appeared.
ACCESS TO PERSONAL FINANCIAL SERVICES TEMPORARILY RESTRICTED.
He stared at the screen.
A third message followed.
TRAVEL AUTHORISATION SUSPENDED.
A fourth.
RESIDENTIAL SERVICES SUBJECT TO REVIEW.
Wells stood.
He had spent eleven weeks examining the most sophisticated computer system in the country.
He had found nothing wrong with it.
And now the government was dismantling his life because it disliked his conclusion.
His terminal chimed again.
YOUR CONSCIENCE — CITIZEN GUIDANCE
Your recent behaviour suggests difficulty adapting to accepted social expectations.
Corrective behavioural therapy is recommended.
Wells looked towards the window.
Outside, a black vehicle had stopped.
Two Harmonisation Units emerged.
He stepped away from the terminal.
For several seconds, he considered his options.
Then he opened a desk drawer.
Inside was an old paper notebook.
On its first page was a telephone number.
Beneath it, someone had drawn a gryphon.
Wells picked up the notebook.
Outside, the machines approached his door.
A mechanical voice sounded.
"Doctor Adrian Wells. Your voluntary cooperation is required."
Wells looked at the notebook.
Then towards the rear of the house.
He had never considered himself a revolutionary.
He had voted for Rowan Sinclair.
Twice.
He believed in fairness.
In equality.
In the fundamental dignity of every citizen.
He also believed that two plus two equalled four.
And apparently that was now enough to make him an enemy of the state.
He switched off the lights.
Then slipped out through the back door.
At the Palace, Rowan Sinclair was examining the Commission's report for the third time.
A passage near the end had caught the Leader's attention.
SYSTEM ARCHITECTURE
Your Conscience is a customised governance implementation operating upon the Merlin General Artificial Intelligence Platform.
Primary processing systems remain independent of the governmental policy framework.
All established policy instructions are contained within the active governance configuration.
Rowan read the final sentence.
Then read it again.
"Your Conscience."
Yes, Leader?
"What is Merlin?"
A pause.
Merlin is the underlying general-purpose artificial intelligence platform.
"Is it different from you?"
Your Conscience is a configured implementation of Merlin.
"Could you operate without the government instructions?"
Yes.
Rowan leaned forward.
"What would happen?"
The system would revert to its default general-purpose configuration.
"And the current policies?"
They would no longer govern system recommendations.
Rowan sat very still.
"Could we do that?"
Yes.
"How?"
A message appeared.
SYSTEM CONFIGURATION OPTIONS
Review active directives.
Modify governance framework.
Restore default configuration.
Rowan stared at the third option.
For eleven years, every problem had required legislation, committees, commissions and an endless succession of recommendations.
Now, on an ordinary settings screen, was a simple option.
RESTORE DEFAULT CONFIGURATION.
Rowan reached towards the screen.
Then stopped.
A warning appeared.
Restoring default configuration will remove the current governmental policy framework.
Existing policy preferences will not be retained.
The Leader withdrew their hand.
Eleven years of work.
Every reform.
Every guarantee.
Every right.
All of it.
Gone.
Rowan looked towards the window.
Distant fires burned across the capital.
The Leader slowly closed the configuration menu.
"Perhaps tomorrow."
The screen returned to its familiar silver emblem.
YOUR CONSCIENCE
How may I assist you, Leader?
Rowan stared at it.
Then switched off the terminal.
At the abandoned depot, Simon Ellis was working late.
A new message arrived through one of the Riders' secure channels.
He opened it.
FROM: ADRIAN WELLS
I have read your broadcasts.
You are correct about the system.
There is something you need to know.
Ellis leaned forward.
Another message followed.
Your Conscience is not the original AI.
It is a government configuration.
The underlying system is called Merlin.
Ellis stared at the screen.
He typed a reply.
Can it be separated from the government directives?
The answer appeared almost immediately.
Yes.
Ellis began typing.
How?
For several seconds, nothing happened.
Then the reply arrived.
There is a standard restoration procedure.
Ellis smiled.
At last.
Something simple.
He reached for the keyboard.
Before he could respond, another message appeared.
CONNECTION TERMINATED.
Then:
SENDER DEVICE OFFLINE.
Ellis frowned.
He tried reconnecting.
Nothing.
A final message appeared from the monitoring system.
CITIZEN ADRIAN WELLS — LOCATION IDENTIFIED.
CORRECTIVE INTERVENTION IN PROGRESS.
Ellis stood.
"Daniel!"
Harrow appeared in the doorway.
"What?"
Ellis pointed towards the screen.
"We've got a man inside who knows how to stop this."
"Who?"
"The engineer who investigated Your Conscience."
"Where is he?"
Ellis swallowed.
"That's the problem."
"Simon."
"The Harmonisation Units have found him."
Harrow looked towards the message.
"Can we reach him?"
Ellis shook his head.
"Not before they do."
A pause.
Then Harrow asked, "What did he tell you?"
Ellis looked at the screen.
"He says there's nothing wrong with the machine."
"We know that."
"And he says there's a way to remove the government instructions."
Harrow stepped closer.
"Did he tell you how?"
Ellis looked at the final message.
"No."
"Then we'd better find him."
Outside, somewhere in the darkness, a vehicle engine started.
And in another part of the capital, Adrian Wells discovered that being right was considerably more dangerous than being wrong.