Page 110 of Lone Wolf

And so you had one of the world’s leading AI experts killed, Evan thought. To slow it down a little.

“What sin?” Evan asked. “What do you mean by ‘sin’?”

“Just the stuff I’ve done,” Friedhoff said vaguely. “To people.”

He grabbed at his hair, made a fist atop his forehead. A man barely holding it together.

“How do we stop it?” Evan asked. “The freight train?”

“They have too much power, man. We. We have too much power. And the laws can’t catch up. We need, dunno. An overthrow. A revolution. A coup. Something … drastic.”

Were these really the pioneers at the helm of our uncertain future? In Allman, an ambulatory left prefrontal cortex? And a third-rate Peter Pan philosopher in Friedhoff?

“It’s your belief that we need to halt AI at any cost?” Evan asked carefully. “Even violence?”

Friedhoff’s eyes jerked from his empty glass to Evan and then quickly away. “Who knows,” he said softly. “Who knows.”

He was sufficiently muddled with guilt and booze that Evan decided to take a more direct run at the object of his curiosity.

“Solventry,” Evan said, “they’re one of your competitors, right?”

“Sure,” Friedhoff said. “They’re everyone’s competitor.”

“I interviewed a man named Dr. Benjamin Hill for this study. Are you familiar with his work?”

“What is this? Why are you asking me about Hill?” The words came faster, a staccato beat of paranoia.

“The genius study,” Evan said.

Friedhoff’s daughter drifted in from the back hall. She wore a flowing white dress with a gauzy wrap across her shoulders. Straight blond hair parted in the center, 1970s long, round pale face with light freckles. Her phone cradled expertly in the palm of her hand, the light shining up at her pale green eyes. “Dad? Dad?” Her gaze didn’t lift from the screen. “The Wi-Fi’s out. I’m streaming a thing and I can’t … It keeps glitching.” She moved forward, bumped into the couch, readjusted course without lifting her eyes.

“I’m busy, June,” Friedhoff said. “I told you I’m in a meeting.”

“Daddy?” The younger daughter floated in from the kitchen. Dark curly hair, crop top showing a pierced belly button. She held an iPad before her, thumbs tapping away. “Can you reboot the server? I’m Snapping with Peyton and it just went out. Can you—” She stumbled over the edge of the rug, kept her footing.

The girls stood there, swaying, eyes locked on their screens, a bizarre walking-dead effect.

“I taught you how to reboot the router,” Friedhoff said. His face had darkened, brows heavying over his eyes. He watched Evan differently now, with suspicion.

“Yeah,” the daughters said in unison, “but you’re better at it.”

Friedhoff reached out and grabbed Evan’s forearm, not gently, his words delivered on a current of alcohol. “I don’t understand why we’re discussing Solventry.”

Evan said, “My subject pool includes—”

“Oh wait,” June said, dreamily. “It’s—hang on—it’s coming back online…”

“I got it,” the younger daughter intoned. “I quit out and then reloaded…”

The teenage girls stared at their screens, swaying slightly on their feet like anchored kelp. “We’re good,” they said in a single voice. “We’re good now.”

June stood mesmerized by her phone. Her little sister didn’t so much withdraw as rewind out of the room.

Evan looked down at Friedhoff’s hand clamped on his arm. Friedhoff followed the stare, noticed what he was doing, and let go. He covered with a nervous laugh.

“That’s it,” he said. “I think you should leave now.”

“Thank you for your time.” Evan rose.