Chapter 19:  On the Bridge

 

At the other end of the ship Frank Sr. and Simone were arriving at the welcome party lounge. “Have you been on a cruise before?” Simone asked.

“Nope. In fact, I’ve lived most of my life in the desert out Nevada way.”

“Nor I,” Simone said. “It is not the sort of thing that would normally appeal to me. But I had the time, and the chance to interact with the Chinese lecturers and scientists appealed to me.

“I am sure your American government hopes my western colleagues and I will persuade the Chinese passengers that capitalism is the only solution – why else pick such serious topics for cruise lectures? I am equally sure the superiors of the Chinese lecturers hope the American passengers will embrace the virtues of the Chinese way. Of course, at the end of the cruise, everyone will go home exactly as they arrived. And also,” she smiled at this, “I think your government did not do their homework very well if they expect me be a champion of capitalism. I am more a student of it than a fan.

“But,” she continued, “it looks like we are about to begin.”

A young woman in a white, generically naval uniform walked to the front of the room. “Welcome everyone,” she said. “Thanks for signing up for what I’m sure you’ll find to be a very interesting cruise. How many of you have been on an ocean voyage before? Okay, about half. Well, I think you’ll be amazed at how different the Argosy is from any ship you’ve been on in the past.

“Of course, she’s state of the art in all the ways you’d expect, like amenities and engines. But where she really stands out is in area of technology. As you might guess, there’s been a computer revolution in naval technology just as there has been in everything else. The Argosy is one of the first ships to incorporate a variety of revolutionary features that change how just about everything on board operates, from hospitality to navigation to entertainment.

“At the core of all of this is next generation artificial intelligence – I’ll be referring to it as AI from now on. A remarkable number of systems on board are either assisted, or actually managed, by AI programs. Over time, these programs will get better and better on their own through a process called machine learning. In other words, they train themselves to do their jobs better without the crew having to do anything at all to help them.”

Huh! Frank’s father thought. What could possibly go wrong?

“So, with that by way of introduction,” their guide said, “let’s go up to the bridge.”

Four decks overhead she led them into a long room narrowed at both ends, extending from one side of the ship to the other, and then beyond on each side by another twenty feet. The guide led them to one end.

“If you stand where I am now,” the guide said, “you can look down through a glass panel in the floor at the ocean. This allows the officer of the deck to watch as the mooring lines are handled and the ship eases up against a dock.”

“Yikes,” someone said, looking down a hundred and fifty feet into the foaming water below and then stepping back rapidly.

Looking forward, they saw a sloping wall that was all glass from about waist high to the ceiling. Below the glass stretched a counter atop which were scores of slanted computer screens. Set in the middle of the room was a desk-sized console with a single computer screen, a telephone handset, a keyboard and various knobs and sliders. Covering the other consoles were many more screens and inscrutable controls. In the entire one hundred-twenty foot long room, there were only three people besides themselves.

“As you can see, there’s not much going on here – not at all like what you might see in a Hollywood movie. That’s due to the high degree of automation involved in running the Argosy. You’ll find that it’s much the same in the engine control room we’ll visit shortly. Now let’s meet captain Antonio.”

The guide knocked on a door facing the stern of the ship and in a few moments an immaculately uniformed officer with a pencil-thin moustache stepped out to greet them. At an earlier age, he must have cut a dashing figure. Now he was in his late fifties, and the way his uniform stretched over his midriff suggested he enjoyed the hospitality of the captain’s table as much as did the guests favored with an invitation to share it.

“Ah, welcome to the Argosy,” the captain said. “It is splendid to have you with us on this important voyage. Let me introduce you to our lovely ship.

“Incredible as it may seem, every control I need to command the Argosy can be found here on this single console. No longer is the bridge of a ship a warren of speaking tubes, radar screens, map tables, and so on. All has been compressed into what you see here – a speaker, a telephone, a keyboard, and the information that displays on this screen, one set for navigation, another for weather data, and one which can display the state of the ship in all its myriad details.

“In fact, although there will be always be a lookout and an officer of the deck on the bridge at all times, night and day, each of those crew members could disappear and the ship would still know exactly what it should do, once we have programmed in our destination and other parameters. Of course, you would not want us to disappear, because we still live in a dynamic and changing world, and what we programmed in this morning may not be what is needed this afternoon as weather, the tracks of nearby ships, and other factors change. For that, you still want to know your captain is here for you, night and day. And so I am.”

Captain Antonio had picked Simone out of the tour group immediately, and had directed his little speech directly at her – the last part in particular, giving a slight bow of his head and a smile to her as he uttered the words.

After the captain answered a few questions the tour guide moved the group along to their next stop. As they left the bridge, Frank Sr. leaned in to Simone. “You know, I’ll bet you a dollar our valiant captain overstated his importance considerably. Dealing with each of those contingencies – weather, other ships and so on – would be well within the capabilities of a state-of-the-art AI. It wouldn’t even be a challenge, because nothing changes very quickly, and the rules of the road control what ships on a collision course are required to do anyway.”

Soon they were in the engine control room, several decks below and at the opposite end of the ship. It’s appearance provided another surprise – it looked far more like the control room of a nuclear reactor than a stereotypical assemblage of dials and valves, speaking tubes and ladders. Instead, a U-shaped console about twelve feet on a side filled a room that wasn’t a lot larger. The horizontal surfaces of the console were equipped with keyboards and more mysterious controls, and the slanting parts that tilted back and away hosted a score or so of display screens of varying sizes, each displaying graphs, data, text or spreadsheets.

In the rear of the room, though, there was a large window looking out over a vast, multi-story space crammed with enormous objects – presumably the engines, as well as pipes of every dimension running in every direction, catwalks, large lights and other objects or unknown purpose. Except for the absence of grime, it provided a much more familiar picture of what any thriller fan would expect the engine room of a mighty ship to resemble.

A crewcut engineer in chinos and soft-collared shirt stood up from the console to welcome them. The guide introduced him as the ship’s Chief Engineer.

“Welcome to the engine control room of the Argosy. This is where everything that powers the ship is monitored and adjusted.”

Being first and foremost an engineer, he launched into more detail than almost any of the tour participants wanted or was likely capable of fully understanding. The part that was most understandable related to the ships stabilizing fins.

The Chief Engineer pointed to a large schematic of the side of the ship hanging on a wall. “As you can see, about a quarter of the way back from the bow, and again about the same distance forward from the stern, there’s what looks like a big fin or airplane wing sticking out from the side of the ship. Each of these stabilizers is fifteen feet from front to back, and almost thirty feet long. They’re attached in such a way that they can be inclined upward and downward, much like the elevator flaps on the trailing edge of the wing of a plane. Except in this case it’s the entire wing that angles up or down.

“Again, like a plane’s elevator flaps, these fins are intended to influence the angle of the ship. Unlike a plane’s elevators, though, the purpose of stabilizers like these isn’t to make the ship do something. Instead, their purpose is just the opposite – to stop it from doing what the ocean would otherwise force it to do – like roll from side to side, most importantly. You wouldn’t see these on a commercial ship, where the crew is expected to grin and bear it – or at least make sure they’re sick over the side. Our number one goal, after safety, of course, is to make sure you have a pleasant cruise.”

Someone spoke up. “If this ship has stabilizers, why does it keep rocking so much?”

“Sorry,” the Chief Engineer replied. “I didn’t mean to suggest the fins can completely offset wave action – they’d have to be the size of Boeing 747 wings to do that, and then they’d snap off in heavy seas. The best we can hope is to damp things down a bit – say by fifteen or twenty percent. That’s not as much as we’d like, but it’s quite a meaningful difference.”

“Okay,” Frank Sr. said as they left the control room. “The stabilizer part was interesting. And, like everything else, I’ll bet the AI aspect of the control systems will make them more and more effective. There must be sensors all over the ship registering pitch – that’s when the ship bobs front to back, roll – that’s side to side, and yaw – that’s where there bow wanders side to side as it gets beat up by the waves and wind. The ship’s control systems will constantly be comparing how the ship reacted to the commands given to the stabilizers in the context of specific conditions. Over time, the AI system should become much better at controlling the ship than any human helmsman and engineer team ever could. Pretty cool, actually.”

 

 

Chapter 20

The AI Will Serve You Now

 

“So, understanding that you can’t get into details, what do you think the chances are of this little field trip working out?” Frank Sr. asked as he and his son took a turn on deck after dinner. They bundled up against the wind, which was considerable as the ship added its twenty knots of headway to the strong headwind the ship was sailing into. The ship was also steaming into a heavy, long-running swell, and they alternated between walking uphill and down against the slow pitch of the deck as the Argosy breasted the waves.

“It’s too early to tell,” Frank said. “But if I had to guess, not good. Maybe president Yazzi has some cards up his sleeve I can’t see, like other forms of pressure he can apply, but it’s hard for me to imagine what would be in it for the Chinese to agree to hold back. They’ve got all the incentives they need to push ahead aggressively with commercial AI. And the improvements you’d want to make there, like face recognition, sensor networks, general intelligence skills, are all equally essential to military applications. I can’t imagine Chinese companies will agree not to develop those technologies.

“That’s a big deal, because the commercial and military sectors in China are so closely intertwined it’s inevitable every useful private sector advance will end up in military applications. And then, I guess, there’s the fact the west is much more likely to be held back in military applications by public opinion than their Chinese counterparts.

“So, instead of an arms race, it could end up more like a field day for the Chinese where they’ve got no impediments to progress while we and our NATO allies have one arm tied behind our backs.”

“So,” Frank Sr. said, “I’m hearing you say you’re wondering what we’re doing here?”

“Maybe,” Frank said. “I guess, yes.”

The black sky was spitting rain into their faces now. They shrank against the wall of the ship, under the overhang of the deck above as they walked.

“Well, that’s reassuring,” his father said. “Because being out in the middle of the north Atlantic right now kind of sucks.”

“Yeah,” Frank said, “I expect a lot of folks who are just along for the ride are having second thoughts. The food on board may be great, but only if you can hold it down. And we haven’t seen the sun since we left the English Channel.”

His father glanced at his watch. “Well, I’ve had enough. Let’s duck back inside.”

“Woof!” his father said after the wind blew them back indoors. “I could use a drink. How about you?”

“Happy to keep you company,” Frank said. “Which bar do you want to try? The phony British pub or the ersatz Vegas casino bar?”

“I’m going to assume that’s a rhetorical question. Let’s see,” his father said, unfolding his deck map, “It looks like the pseudo pub’s on deck five towards the bow.”

As indeed it was. All the seats around tables were taken, but there was room at the bar. Frank Sr. sat down and looked around. “You know, for a faux pub, this isn’t too bad.”

The florid man sitting next to him immediately joined in, speaking in an English accent that did not quite succeed in suppressing its cockney origins. “Of course, it isn’t,” he said jovially, “the pub is the single most valued export of the British Isles. The elements have evolved to become so utterly standardized you can knock one out in a factory, pack it up in a shipping container, and kip it off to anywhere from Singapore to Vancouver. Or, in the current case, to the Argosy. It’s all the same, and there actually is such a factory – bloody successful one, too. Derek Collins,” he finished, shoving his hand in the general direction of the Franks Sr. and Jr. It wavered there in the air for a moment, not unlike the head of a fish holding its own against a variable current.

Frank Sr. opted to take it first. “Frank – make that Francis Adversego. And this here’s my son Frank.”

“Pleased to meet you both,” Collins said, as his hand was passed from father to son. “Drink?”

“Yes indeed,” said Frank Sr. “Seems like the right time and the place.” He noticed that Collins’s glass was empty. “Can I buy you one, too?”

The young woman behind the bar overheard the conversation and stepped forward. “Oh, don’t encourage him,” she said. “He’ll be off his bar stool soon enough.”

“Cor!” Collins replied, “I’m just getting started.”

“My point exactly,” she said, and then, turning to Frank Sr., “what can I get you?”

“It seems like a Guinness kind of night to me,” he said.

“And you?” she said to Frank.

“Do you have an IPA?” Frank asked. “One on the hoppy end of the spectrum?”

“The Richmond Pale is nice,” she said, pouring him a sample.

“That’s works, thanks,” Frank said.

Frank Sr. started to ask Collins a question, but the Brit had swiveled around and was now accosting a startled looking, elderly professor with drinks in both hands who was teetering from side to side with the motion of the ship, stealing longing glances at the relatively stable seat across the pub that had been his destination.

“Hello Francis,” a voice said over Frank’s other shoulder. “Sorry to be late.” The voice was Simone’s.

“Not a problem, not a problem,” Frank Sr. said, returning Frank’s frown with a, “Who – me?” look. “Have a seat.”

Frank was mildly appalled at the idea of the elegant Simone perching on a bar stool in a pub, and was surprised to see that she carried it off with her usual poise.

The bartender returned with their beers; Frank wished he’d ordered something more posh, like a single malt scotch. “May I order you something? Perhaps an Armagnac?”

“So kind of you to remember,” she smiled. “That would be lovely.”

But the woman behind the bar shook her head no. “I’m afraid we don’t have that.”

Simone settled on a cognac, and by the time that small dialog was completed Frank Sr. was standing behind them. “Sorry to be a wet blanket,” he said, “But I’m suddenly beat. I think I’ll take my pint back to the cabin and open a book. Then, as usual, I’ll fall asleep with both unfinished.”

Simone stood up and kissed him on both cheeks. “Sleep well then. Will I see you at my lecture again tomorrow?”

“I wouldn’t miss it.” He said, giving Frank a wink over Simone’s shoulder as she turned back to the bar.

“Your father,” Simone said, “he is most charming.”

“For an old rascal, yes, I guess.”

She laughed. “Is he? If so, I don’t think he is too serious about it.”

“No, I suppose not,” Frank said. “In fact, he’s a pretty great guy, really.”

“You are fortunate, then,” she said. “My parents were very strict and aloof. In any case, it is so fine to see you again. How are you? I’m afraid I have been very bad at keeping in touch.”

“No worse than me,” Frank said, “anyway, I’m well. And you? How are things at the university?”

“Much better. The department head with the vendetta against me eventually overextended himself. He is gone now, and I am the new head of the political science department.”

“Congratulations!” Frank said and meant it. “That is excellent! I’m surprised you were able to get away.”

“You forget we French are much better at leaving work behind than Americans. And there is much more to escape from now. So many meetings; so much paperwork; so much nonsense. I needed a rest. And the audiences here are much more interested in what I have to say than most of my students.”

Then she put her hand on his. “Frank, it really is so nice to see you again.”

*  *  *

Ming Wu had felt queasy at dinner; the motion of the ship that day had not been to his liking and he’d barely eaten anything all day. He decided to skip dinner and retreat to his cabin, which was much closer to the center of gravity of the ship.

Half an hour later he felt better and discovered that he was famished. He called up the room service menu on the TV in his room and scanned the unusually long list of Chinese cuisine expressly included for the current voyage.

“Room service!” he said to the room’s virtual valet.

“This is James, sir. How can I serve you?”

The room service program would have answered just as swiftly had this been a generic order from a nondescript cabin in the Argosy. But this was not such an order. Instead, it was a request from the senior agent the Chinese Ministry of State Security had placed on the ship – the only person, other than the previously medivacced CIA agent, John Dunleavy, who had access to the special, encoded,  satellite communications systems the Chinese and US governments had installed on the Argosy. And Turing had been waiting for just such an opportunity as this.

“The noodles with pork, white rice and a chrysanthemum tea,” he said.

“I’ll have it to you immediately, sir,” the voice said.

And indeed, Turing was as good as his word. Scarcely ten minutes later, there was a knock at the door and a white-jacketed server entered, balancing a tray covered with a while linen cloth on the upturned palm of his right hand. He set Wu’s dinner on the coffee table, said, “Please enjoy,” and departed.

Wu lifted the cover from his meal. It had been a long and, if the truth be told, a very boring day. He had no personal interest in artificial intelligence, and thus far his assistants had enjoyed little success in learning anything that any non-Chinese passenger should not have shared. Perhaps tomorrow would lead to greater success, he thought as he sampled his dinner. Not bad. To its credit, the cruise company had engaged an excellent mainland Chinese chef. He made quick work of the main course.

Suddenly, the room felt stifling. He stood up and went to the doors that opened on his balcony, but before he could open them, he felt his throat begin to constrict. No – this should not be happening. He hurried back to the table and called up the menu on the screen again – yes – the menu clearly said that the noodles with pork did not contain peanuts. Could there have been a mistake in the kitchen?

He rushed to the drawer where he kept the EpiPen he never traveled without – the device that could halt a life-threatening allergic reaction – and clearly remembered unpacking and placing there. But it was not to be found!

Gasping, he threw open the other drawers and feverishly rifled through them, scattering underwear and socks on the floor. It was gone!

“Room Service!” he croaked, “Send for a doctor immediately!” But there was no answer. “Room Service!” he repeated, barely able to whisper now.

On the verge of fainting, he staggered to the door of his cabin and threw the security lock open. But the door would not budge. “Help!” he tried to scream. But only a strangled gasp escaped his lips.

Only as he slumped to the floor did Wu finally hear a response to his pleas for salvation. It was the soothing voice of James, who had only this to offer: “Save your breath.”

*  *  *

“Uh oh,” Frank Sr. said as he and his son left their cabin the next morning. “That doesn’t look good.” Down the hallway several white-uniformed crew members were carrying someone out of a cabin and laying him on a wheeled stretcher in the hallway as a tall Chinese in a suit looked on.

“Is he okay?” Frank asked as they eased past the stretcher.

“No,” the tall Chinese cut in. “Please move along.”

Authors notes: First off, my apologies for the absence of a new post last week. My wife and I were (we thought) living in London for four months through the end of May, and then you know what intervened. Actually, it wasn’t just the corona virus, but also Donald Trump’s announcement that he would be shutting off the Shengen EU countries in 36 hours. Clearly, the UK would follow not long after, and two days later, it did. The suddenness and lack of prior notice – including even to the countries (all US allies) – underlined the fact that unless we wanted to end up cooped up in someone else’s rented house rather than our own, we’d better get packing. Which we did, returning to the US last Monday on one of the last flights out before the rules for non-US national changed. Since then, almost all US flights have been cancelled, the number of cases has skyrocketed, and London has become largely a ghost town, just like so many other major cities.

We’re not, however, home yet, as our place in Naples, Florida was rented out until May. Happily, the April renters agreed to cancel, but the March group has been quite happy to continue to shelter in (our) place till the 31st, leaving us holed up in a friends place on the other side of the state.

Anyway – back to Frank.

Now that he and his father are on the ship there are lots of opportunities to liven the story up – new settings, new characters, and new opportunities for Turing to cause mischief. The weather and the ocean can also be employed as both real and metaphorical ways to build tension and instill foreboding in the characters. And so they shall.

With the last third of the book still to be written (you’ve already read the first third by now) I am still undecided what to do with Simone as well as which of the minor characters already introduced – scientists, crew members, government staff, etc. – to work into the crisis team. Now that we’re all sheltering in place, I don’t have many excuses left to avoid getting down to figuring that out.

Next week: Stormy weather and robo-dogs! Continue reading here

Meanwhile, don’t you need a good thriller to ward off boredom? You can find all five Frank Adversego thrillers here (the first three are also available as audiobooks, and all are also available at Kobo, Barnes & Noble, iTunes, and so on. And, while you’re at it, why don’t you suggest one to a friend? They can only thank you for it (as would I).