Page 111 of Code 6
“I will. As long as your boyfriend tells me everything I need to know. If not,” he said, letting the glob of goo drop onto her thigh, “I’m going to ignite this hot mess and burn a hole right through your leg.”
Patrick spoke up. “There’s no need to hurt anyone.”
“You’re absolutely right. Let’s you and I talk. About Code Six.”
“Obviously, you’ve been listening to Javier’s phone conversations,” said Patrick.
“For quite some time. Started long before you mentioned Code Six.”
“What do you want to know about it?”
“I want to know if Code Six is what you left out the first time.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about. What ‘first time’?”
Liu walked around to the other side of the pole, spooned another glob of goo from the can, and let it fall on Patrick’s leg. It stung, even unlit.
“Keep playing dumb,” said Liu, “and this will end badly for both of you.”
Patrick wasn’t playing, but Liu’s perception of reality was the only reality that mattered. The sting on his leg intensified, and Olga was actually blowing on her thigh to cool the gel.
“Can you get that stuff off her, please?” asked Patrick.
“I’m okay,” she said, but she clearly wasn’t.
Liu didn’t care, his laser-like gaze locking onto Patrick. “Algorithms grow and evolve over time. We can agree on that much, right?”
“Sure,” said Patrick.
“In fact, an algorithm can make so many adaptations over time that the person who created it in the first place might eventually find his creation unrecognizable.”
Liu was touching on a complicated and controversial subject. Buck was on the cutting edge of the algorithmic process of evolution, a virtual Darwinism of sorts, in which existing code improves every generation with little human interaction, effectively training itself based solely on experience with vast amounts of data.
“It’s possible,” said Patrick.
“By the same token, an algorithm that fails to adapt, that stays completely the same as the virtual world changes around it, could eventually become worthless.”
“In some situations.”
“So, even if I paid ridiculous sums of money, the code would be worthless if someone at Buck Technologies tweaked the virtual DNA, so to speak, and robbed it of any ability to self-improve.”
“If you’re suggesting that I altered code that is proprietary to Buck, you’ve got the wrong hostage.”
“I don’t care if it wasyouwho altered it,” said Liu. “I want to know if Code Six is what was missing from the code I bought the first time.”
Liu’s question only raised more questions in Patrick’s mind.Bought from whom? What “first time”?But the sting of homemade napalm was making it hard for Patrick to think. Olga was in obvious pain, taking short, halting breaths.
“Are you okay?” he asked.
“Don’t worry about me,” she said, gritting it out.
Liu kicked back the tarp just enough to expose Javier’s arm, and another glob of gel fell from his stick. It landed on the lifeless forearm. “Ever seen the photo of the napalm girl from Vietnam?” asked Liu.
Patrick had. It was haunting—so horrific that when theNew York Timesprinted the chilling image of nine-year-old Phan Thi Kim Phúc screaming and running from a napalm attack, it was a turning point of public opinion against the war.
Liu put the can on the counter and pulled a pack of matches from his pocket. “Not a pretty sight, that napalm girl. Clothes burned off, running down the road naked, her burned flesh ready to fall from her body. This gel sticks to your skin, and you can’t get it off. It just keeps burning and burning, hotter and hotter.”
He struck a match, lighting it.