"And?""No answer at his office, but since I had his home number, I decided to give that a try. Best I can tell, a lot of academics goof off half the time anyway.""You get him?""Some police detective answered, wanting to know who I was, what the hell I wanted, whole nine yards. Shook me up, don't mind telling you.""So what'd your pal do? Rob a bank?""I was about to start wondering. Finally, though, I got to ask some questions of my own, but it was a little hard to swallow the story. What I mean is, I don't necessarily buy what I heard.""Which was?""Well, seems he was supposed to meet with the Senate's internal security committee this morning. Wife says she put him on the red-eye toWashingtonlast night around ten. He was carrying some document he said he wanted to hand deliver. Something about it had him scared shitless."Hendersonpaused. "Tell you, this is the kind of guy who takes security seriously. Whenhe’sworried, we all better be worried.""So what's the problem?""Cop claimed he's just disappeared. Not a trace."CHAPTER SEVENKen looked terrific. That was Tam's first thought when he walked through the high-security inner doors to greet her. He was square shouldered and sturdy, with high, full cheeks, expensively trimmed dark hair, and a small, delicate mouth. She figured him for late forties, early fifties. Funny, but he'd always reminded her of one of those steely eyed, expensively dressed actors you saw playing executives on the Japanese soaps."Tamara!" He paused abruptly, then bowed. "Ikaga desuka?”"Okagesama de genki desu. Anata wa?'"Doing well, thanks. You never cease to amaze me. What a marvelous surprise." A smile attempted to break through his dark eyes. "You've surfaced again, just like the Sword."She'd forgotten how colloquial his English was. Then she recalled he'd told her once about doing his doctorate at MIT. Possibly because of that he could be either Japanese or Western, chameleon-like, as the backdrop required. He was every bit the charmer she remembered fromKyoto.One thing was different, though. Kenji Asano was ill at ease. He was trying to mask it, but it was there. And that was very different from the old days.As they passed the usual pleasantries, he led her down a hall, then through a room where intense young men in open shirts were now opening a case of Asahi beer. Computer terminals were in neat rows along the walls, beneath gleaming white "blackboards" that sparkled with equations and quips. The place was so informal, so . . . American. There were plenty of jeans and frazzled sneakers among the forty or so young researchers, most of them in their late twenties or early thirties. Plastered across the low partitions were film posters and American counterculture bumper stickers (Radio Already Stolen, Nuke a Commie for Christ); above a row of printers a blond pin-up was unveiling her gynecological mysteries to the movie still of a startled Godzilla; and a couple of rusty California vanity plates were hanging over one long-haired staffer's terminal like big-game trophies—one read 64K-1ST, the other EZ BKS. Probably commissioned by venture capitalists in Silicon Valley whose Porsches had since been repossessed, she thought. The rock and roll dissonance of Siouxsie & the Banshees sounded from a tiny stereo assembled out of computer hardware and a new Yamaha digital tape deck. Presumably as a stunt, the high end of the audio was being used to drive a garishly tinted computer graphics display that had been projected against one of the windows, creating a virtual image that seemed to dance amidst theTokyoskyscrapers like a Martianson et lumiere.But she wasn't fooled by the frat-house trimmings. She realized these casually dressed young researchers were the pick of Japan's technical graduates. Making the Fifth Generation team these days was one of the highest honors in the land. After some initial skepticism the big corporations were now competing for the prestige of loaning their young stars to the project for a few years, since they hoped to reap enormous benefits down the road.In fact, the youthful atmosphere was entirely intentional. That, she knew, had been the legacy of Ken's predecessor, Dr. Yoshida, who had refused to let anyone over thirty-five on the project. Furthermore, since he believed the stuffed-shirt layout of most Japanese offices and labs stifled creativity, he had deliberately devised an un-Japanese workspace to try and reproduce Western research environments.Finally they reached a closed door. Metal. When she realized it was Ken's office, she almost remarked on this departure from what she remembered about Dr. Yoshida's well-known attitude. He liked to be out on the floor, with just another low partition, right there interacting with his young staffers.Without a word Ken inserted a magnetic card into the slot beside the door handle and then pushed it open. Not only a door, she thought, a locked door. Are they finally starting to worry about industrial espionage?She wasn't surprised, however, to see that his office had amonastic spareness, with only his desk, a small but expensive leather couch, and a row of computer terminals along one wall. He was, she knew, a big believer in Zen philosophy. Maybe pan of the reason for the door was just to shut all the madness outside and keep his own world serene.Through the window behind him she could seeMt.Fuji, outlined against a backdrop of autumn blue. He smiled and pointed it out, saying they were lucky to have a rare smog-less day, then gestured her toward the couch."Welcome to my refuge." He was cordial but entirely correct—right down to his conservative charcoal gray suit. Not a glimmer of a hint about their briefKyotoepisode. "Let me have tea sent in." He leaned forward in his leather chair and punched the intercom on his desk."Ken, please, don't make a fuss. I know I hate it when people just drop by." She glanced back at the locked door, wondering. "Tell me if this is not a good time for you.""Tam, for you any time is a good time." He buzzed again— there had been no response—then shrugged. "I guess things are getting hectic out front just now." He laughed resignedly, then turned to her. "By the way, I saw your new book. Fine piece of work. I do hope somebody over there reads it. Are you still running your Center at NYU?""So far." She decided to spare him the details."Well, it's a good school. Getting better all the time. You've got some first-rate supercomputer work at the Courant Institute, particularly with your IBM connection, but you should keep an eye onColumbia. Now that AT&T has joined with them to go after some of the Pentagon's AI contracts, they may finally start putting together a major computer science department up there too. In a few years Stanford and Carnegie-Mellon will have to step lively to stay out front."Hello, she thought. How come Ken suddenly knows so much scuttlebutt aboutU.S.computer research? Nobody at home knows the first thing about what's going on inJapan."I was surprised to hear about this new appointment, Ken." She settled back on the couch. "I was guessing you had the inside track for MITI vice minister in a few years.""Ah, well, for now my work is here." He gestured uncomfortably about the room. "Let me try once more for that tea."She realized he'd slipped deftly around her quick probeconcerning MITI's new role in the lab. He knew how to be a team player, she thought. Very Japanese.This time he raised a response. A female voice dripping with long-vowel honorifics announced his tea would be delivered immediately.Next came a small, awkward lull as they both sat there rememberingKyotoand not sure how to get around that memory. She wondered if it was happening all over again.Maybe it hadn't been just a fluke, a crazy one-night diversion. She was about to switch to Japanese, thinking that might provide the jolt needed to break the ice, but just as the silence swelled between them, there came a knock on the door and tea.She was half annoyed, half relieved.He rose to walk over and began chatting as though they'd been interrupted in the midst of some intense technical exchange."Are you scheduled to present a paper at thatKyotoconference coming up?" He pushed a button beside the door, and it swung wide. "There's sure to be quite a crowd. Everybody here's excited about supercomputers these days.""No, this is strictly a pleasure trip. With maybe a few interviews thrown in to make it a tax write-off for a book I'm planning on robots." She hesitated. "Though I actually might go down and try to see a few people.""Then this could turn out to be a pleasant coincidence." He took the tea, and the bowing girl vanished. Again the door clicked shut. "I have to go too, but I'm hoping to steal a few moments of freedom.""You're chairing a session this year?""Absolutely not." He turned serious. "I'm not allowed time for anything like that anymore, Tam. This new project is top priority." He poured her a cup of the pale green liquid and passed it over, seemingly relieved that the tension had abated. "There's a lot of work here at the Fifth Generation lab now that we're coordinating this program with the supercomputer effort.""You mean with MlTl's supercomputer project?" Caught your little slip, she told herself. You are still with MITI. Which means they have taken over this lab.He didn't blink. "As you probably know, MITI has the goal of creating a machine capable of a hundred billion computations a second, targeted just down the road. Which means we have to come up with entirely new computer languages and architecture.""Parallel processing.""Exactly. Handling multiple streams of information at once. Now that we finally understand what's required for a superfast computer, this work in AI just happens to be very relevant. It turns out we humans are already walking around with parallel processing in our heads, able to handle words, images, ideas, all at the same time. So if we want to create machines that operate as fast as possible, then it's crucial to understand how our brain manages things like recognition, learning, inference. Our hope is that by utilizing the studies here in those areas, incorporating them into our supercomputer work, we might be able to put ourselves a major step ahead. . . ."Good God, Tam thought, it's elegantly simple. That's why MITI has taken over the Fifth Generation Project. They're going to use this research in artificial intelligence to come up with a computer more powerful than anything the world has yet imagined. Their silicon monsters are about to start replicating themselves, getting smarter as they go, like in some bad fifties horror flick. The difference is, this isn't make-believe."So you're here on behalf of MITI."He paused. "For coordination. As I said, MITI needs the Fifth Generation work to be accelerated." He still hadn't exactly answered the question. "As part of our supercomputer effort."Tam knew thatHitachiand NEC were both already claiming they had the world's most powerful machines, faster even than Cray's entry, the best American computer. What did MITI want?He continued. "With 16-megabit chip production already going strong and 64 megabit commercialization in the wings, it did seem the right time to pull all our work together. If you think about it, computer speed and computer intelligence go hand in hand. I'll show you in a second what I mean."Not kilobit. Megabit. MITI was going for the kill. This was a crash program. Why?"Does this mean you plan to increase your funding for the Fifth Generation effort?""Whatever it takes to do the job," he replied after a moment's hesitation. "I suppose there's never enough money, is there?""Ken, why the rush? This sudden drive?""It depends on whom you ask." He leaned back and looked at the ceiling. "Some call it survival, Tamara. Maybe it is that simple.Japanis at a crossroads; we're rapidly losing our edge in the cost of labor. The only possible way to counter that is to step up our use of smart machines.""Well, it looks as if I came to the right place. I'd like to add your name to my interview list."His look darkened a moment. "Strictly off the record." Then he smiled. "And only if we can do it over dinner.""That sounds like a bribe.""Call it an offering from an old admirer." He smiled, attempting to ease the tension. "The most I can do, for now at least, is just give you a small peek at a few of our experimental gadgets. Details are strictly proprietary. At the moment we're concentrating on computer vision and voice access. And on that last, by the way, I think we've just about reached AI's Holy Grail, natural language comprehension.""Good luck." That was one of the mythical dreams of AI research, a computer that could understand the speech of anybody who happened along. Even though millions had been invested in theU.S.nobody was anywhere close yet."I think we're getting there. Enough so in fact that we're starting to look at applications. Expect commercialization in, oh, say a year, two at most."Look out IBM, she found herself thinking."I probably shouldn't be showing you this, Tamara. So let's just keep this informal. No notes. But here, have a look at one of MITI's new toys. Can you guess what this is?" He passed over a small device that had been sitting on his desk, his hand lingering on hers a moment longer than absolutely necessary.She stared down at what appeared to be some kind of calculator-watch, except there was no watch face, merely a small speaker and two buttons."That uses advanced versions of MITI's new 64-megabit memory chips. There's nothing like it anywhere in the world. Without ever having heard the speaker's voice before, no calibration, it can translate ordinary spoken English into Japanese." He pointed to one of the buttons. "Just press thereand talk. When you finish, push the other button for the translation."She did, testing it with the opening paragraph of Pride and Prejudice, her favorite novel. A simulated voice emerged from the small speaker on the face of the device and gave it back . . . in flawless Japanese."Not bad." She set it carefully onto the desk. The thing was actually almost frightening."Using this, linked to our new high-definition video and satellite, you could punch a button in your living room and bring up people on a wall-size screen from anywhere in the world, then talk to them in your language and be understood in theirs. It's a quantum advance over current technology." He retrieved the device, dropping it into a desk drawer."I must admit I'm very impressed.""Truthfully, so am I. Where's this program of MITI's taking us?" He looked up. "But let me show you something else, which I think is even more astonishing. Of course you're aware that speech comprehension is easy compared to the really tough nut, duplicating the human eye. Since a visual image can contain billions of pieces of information, it can be very time-consuming for a computer to analyze all those at once and figure out what it's looking at. I've heard people at IBM claim that for a computer to recognize something even as simple as an odd-shaped coffee cup would still require almost an hour of processing, that to match the human eye and brain could take a computer the size of a building. But watch."He walked over to a black metal installation attached to the wall and held up three fingers before its small lens. Then he pushed a button and spoke into a built-in microphone."What do you see?"She started to reply herself, then realized he was talking to the lens.This time the answer took about ten seconds. Finally a voice in passable simulation of theTokyodialect emerged from a gray speaker beneath the lens. "That is a human hand.""How many fingers does this hand have?" he continued.Again the eerie, disembodied voice. "The normal human hand has five fingers. This appears to have only three.""Thank you." He punched a button and turned back. "That came off the mainframe here. Can you imagine the amount of memory and logic processing required to achieve what you've just witnessed: the data base and the computational power and speed? Not to mention the recognition of my voice commands.""How does it do it?"He paused. "Tam, this is proprietary, top secret, but what you've just witnessed is an example of parallel processing with MITI's new, still classified 256-megabit dynamic RAM's.""A quarter of a billion bits of data on a chip." She just stared. "Are they writable?""Of course." He again settled himself behind his desk. "The test versions have circuits only a hundred or so atoms wide. And this is only the beginning. Within five years, maybe no more than three, MITI fully expects to have a desktop machine that will pass the Turing test.""Three years?" It was almost unbelievable. Passing the "Turing test" meant the computer's "thoughts" and "speech" would be so lifelike you'd be able to talk with it and not realize it wasn't human. Al's end-of-the-rainbow."As you can see, the project is getting close." He looked pensive, like some Zen monk. "Strictly off the record—and I mean that—what MITI is working toward is total automation. Factories run by machines with human skills, intelligence, manual dexterity. In fact, several of the robotics labs atTsukubaScienceCityalready have prototypes in advanced stages of development."She was stunned. This was the kind of futuristic talk you heard from all the AI buffs, but it was still mostly speculation in theU.S.andEurope.Japan, though, was taking it straight to commercialization."Why are you telling me all this?"He sat silent for a moment. Then he looked at her. "Because it's time the world understood something very important about this country. There are people here . . . with an agenda. And resources.""What do you mean?""Tam, there are people, important people, who are getting fed up. Know what they're saying? Try this. Our country has a monarchy older thanRome, a heritage of literature, art, aesthetics, equal to anything in the West. We've never had any colonies, any raw materials besides air and water. All we do have is a willingness to work and save—the one natural resource running short in the West. In less than half a century we've risen from the most total devastation any country has ever experienced and achieved technological parity with both theU.S.and the Soviets. We launch satellites, split atoms, splice genes. But still a lot of foreigners claim all this country can do is copy from the West, steal and commercialize other nations' inventions. Only a short time back the leader ofFrancecalled our prime minister a 'transistor salesman.' That's right. A 'transistor salesman.'""Ken, that stupid crack was by de Gaulle. Years ago. It's—""Tam, look around you. This is an old country. And a lot of influential people have long memories.""You're getting melodramatic."He shifted in his chair and studied the whitepeakofFuji. "Think so? Don't delude yourself. Believe me, the West is about to dig its own grave.""What are you trying to tell me?""Nothing you can't see with your own eyes." He turned back. "MITI is now ready to move into the next phase. Finally here's a project that's as strategic, in its own way, as the bomb. IfJapancan succeed in creating a machine capable of humanlike thinking, it will be the most profound achievement in the history of mankind." And this project is well on its way. There may be nothing that can stop the events that lie ahead.""Stop what? What events?""That's not a simple question." He caught himself and eased up, smiling uncomfortably once again. "Forgive me. None of this is for publication." He hesitated. "Your work is well-known here inJapan, Tam. You are one of the few Americans our industrialists respect unreservedly. Maybe you weren't aware of that. Your books are highly regarded; in fact, I read the new one in manuscript." A long pause, then, "Would you ever consider working with me for a while? Come back home, so to speak? You can see the implications of this project.""I see the implications, all right." She didn't know what to say. Why a sudden job offer from Ken? Or was it from MITI? "But where is this headed? IfJapanachieves this technological supremacy, what then?""Before the flowers bloom, MITI must tend the garden." He rose and poured more tea into her cup. "But enough. You know, I've thought about you a lot. Tell me how you've been. What've you been doing?""Teaching, writing, you know. Everything and nothing."He smiled, then brushed an imaginary fleck of lint off his tailored woolen cuff. "Well, perhaps we'll have some time to talk."What was he driving at? Was there more? Something going on he didn't want to broach here in the lab?"Tam, it is so good to see you once more." He looked up again. "Would you be interested in going down toKyotowith me day after tomorrow? There are some things . . ." He sipped at his tea. "As I said, I'm scheduled to look in on the conference and see a few people, but I should have some free time.""That conference doesn't start till next week.""Actually I need to be down a few days early.""Oh. Why?"He measured his words. "Oddly enough it has to do with the Sword. Things have started moving pretty fast since those archeologists working for Dai Nippon recovered the sacred Sword-of the Emperor Antoku.""I saw the Emperor on TV. Try going outside now.""Well, I think I'll close here a little early and let my people go on home. It sounds like their celebration has already started anyway." He gestured toward the music and noise filtering through the door. "But the reason I need to be inKyotoa few days in advance is to see the president of Dai Nippon.""The firm that—""That's right. His name is Matsuo Noda. I've known him for some years actually. He contacted me a couple of days ago about a meeting. I'm not sure what he has in mind precisely, but I have to find out. He's just become one of the most influential people in the country, not that he wasn't already. And now with all the money he's about to have in this new Imperial fund . . .""The one mentioned at the Emperor's news conference?""Exactly. As you might suspect, that was merely the formal announcement. Some of us at MITI heard about it several days ago. My private hunch is that in a few days Matsuo Noda could well have more resources at his fingertips than any one man in the history of the world." He looked at her. "It's almost frightening when you think of the power he'll soon have.""Ken, I think I would like to come along with you." What was going on? MITI's plans already were pretty astonishing. And now this new national hero, the president of Dai Nippon, was about to get involved.More than that, she'd half forgotten how interesting Kenji Asano really could be. Her trip was taking a lot of unexpected turns."Well, then, in that famous American phrase, 'Why not?'" He smiled, the mask firmly back in place. "In fact, I'll try and arrange for you to meet Matsuo Noda while we're there." A conspiratorial wink. "Maybe he'll even give us a glimpse of the Sword."Tokyowas one big party that night, the streets mobbed. They eventually found themselves in Shinjuku, in a high-tech new restaurant all chrome and glass and New Age prices. The tuna sashimi seemed only minutes from the sea, and the aged sake was smooth as a flawless whiteBordeaux. Afterward they grabbed a taxi over to theGinza, where Ken got seats on the tatami straw mats down in the orchestra of the Kabukiza, and they took in the last act of a Kabuki play (featuring the famous Ennosuke III) that had been underway since late afternoon. The evening ended up in the art deco mezzanine bar at the Imperial, the part salvaged from the old Frank Lloyd Wright structure, where she kicked off her shoes, ordered a twenty-dollar cognac, and nestled against his elegant shoulder.What was that he'd said about coming back home? Her books being circulated here even in manuscript? What was he hinting at?Finally aroundtwo A.M.he called for the check and neither said a word as they headed for the elevator.She thought one last time about Allan's warning as she watched the floors flash above the door and searched for her key. But this was no time to brood about conspiracies. Ken made her feel good. Which was a hell of a lot more than Dave Mason had done. Besides, Ken had some style; all Dave did was mope around in a pair of baggy chinos and whine about his department. Ken was upbeat, alive, aware.What's more, she enjoyed being with him, feeling the heat of his cheek against hers. As the elevator doors opened, he slipped an arm about her waist and nuzzled her hair. Then their lips met.He was just as she remembered. His touch, his taste, his body. Still, something about him was definitely changed.Then he reached for her key and opened the door. The minute they entered the sitting room of her suite, he took her in his arms."Tam, let's not talk anymore about business, no more Swords. I'm already bored hearing about it. Just us. What do you say?""Agreed." She looked at him and suddenly realized something. Ken Asano was beautiful,kirei. Not handsome, beautiful.Anata wa kirei desu, Kenji Asano. "Want a nightcap? There's some airport Remy in my—""Who could even think about another cognac. I just want to think about us." He stood back. "All right, maybe if you insist. For old times' sake.""'Old times' is right, Ken. It's been a very long time sinceKyoto." She located the dark Remy bottle, still packed in her leather flight bag. A nice inauguration, she told herself. "What was that all about? Was it real? Or did I just imagine it all?""The heart never lies." He settled on the couch. "Do you really remember?""Vividly." She laughed as she poured an inch into each of two thin hotel tumblers. "Including that dreadful bar you took us all to.""A glimpse of the realJapan, Tam, for our tourist friends. Show them it's not allikebanaandhaiku. Believe me, it's not." He clicked her glass. "Do try to forgive me. And here's to us.""To us.""And to the slightly scary world we're stumbling into.Japanneeds you here." He pulled her next to him and brushed her cheek lightly with his fingertips. Then he kissed her deeply on the mouth, and again. "/ need you here, Tam. Somebody like you. There's . . . well, there's a lot we could do together."She reached up and loosened his tie, then began unbuttoning his shirt. His chest was firm, smooth, scented. She wanted him. "Let's just rememberKyotofor a while.""I've never forgotten it."Sometime aroundfour A.M., more content than she had been in a long, long time, Tam Richardson lay awake on the cool sheets, Ken's trim body beside her, and wondered how it would end this time around.Or possibly, just possibly, it wouldn't.
"And?"
"No answer at his office, but since I had his home number, I decided to give that a try. Best I can tell, a lot of academics goof off half the time anyway."
"You get him?"
"Some police detective answered, wanting to know who I was, what the hell I wanted, whole nine yards. Shook me up, don't mind telling you."
"So what'd your pal do? Rob a bank?"
"I was about to start wondering. Finally, though, I got to ask some questions of my own, but it was a little hard to swallow the story. What I mean is, I don't necessarily buy what I heard."
"Which was?"
"Well, seems he was supposed to meet with the Senate's internal security committee this morning. Wife says she put him on the red-eye toWashingtonlast night around ten. He was carrying some document he said he wanted to hand deliver. Something about it had him scared shitless."Hendersonpaused. "Tell you, this is the kind of guy who takes security seriously. Whenhe’sworried, we all better be worried."
"So what's the problem?"
"Cop claimed he's just disappeared. Not a trace."
Ken looked terrific. That was Tam's first thought when he walked through the high-security inner doors to greet her. He was square shouldered and sturdy, with high, full cheeks, expensively trimmed dark hair, and a small, delicate mouth. She figured him for late forties, early fifties. Funny, but he'd always reminded her of one of those steely eyed, expensively dressed actors you saw playing executives on the Japanese soaps.
"Tamara!" He paused abruptly, then bowed. "Ikaga desu
ka?”
"Okagesama de genki desu. Anata wa?'
"Doing well, thanks. You never cease to amaze me. What a marvelous surprise." A smile attempted to break through his dark eyes. "You've surfaced again, just like the Sword."
She'd forgotten how colloquial his English was. Then she recalled he'd told her once about doing his doctorate at MIT. Possibly because of that he could be either Japanese or Western, chameleon-like, as the backdrop required. He was every bit the charmer she remembered fromKyoto.
One thing was different, though. Kenji Asano was ill at ease. He was trying to mask it, but it was there. And that was very different from the old days.
As they passed the usual pleasantries, he led her down a hall, then through a room where intense young men in open shirts were now opening a case of Asahi beer. Computer terminals were in neat rows along the walls, beneath gleaming white "blackboards" that sparkled with equations and quips. The place was so informal, so . . . American. There were plenty of jeans and frazzled sneakers among the forty or so young researchers, most of them in their late twenties or early thirties. Plastered across the low partitions were film posters and American counterculture bumper stickers (Radio Already Stolen, Nuke a Commie for Christ); above a row of printers a blond pin-up was unveiling her gynecological mysteries to the movie still of a startled Godzilla; and a couple of rusty California vanity plates were hanging over one long-haired staffer's terminal like big-game trophies—one read 64K-1ST, the other EZ BKS. Probably commissioned by venture capitalists in Silicon Valley whose Porsches had since been repossessed, she thought. The rock and roll dissonance of Siouxsie & the Banshees sounded from a tiny stereo assembled out of computer hardware and a new Yamaha digital tape deck. Presumably as a stunt, the high end of the audio was being used to drive a garishly tinted computer graphics display that had been projected against one of the windows, creating a virtual image that seemed to dance amidst theTokyoskyscrapers like a Martianson et lumiere.
But she wasn't fooled by the frat-house trimmings. She realized these casually dressed young researchers were the pick of Japan's technical graduates. Making the Fifth Generation team these days was one of the highest honors in the land. After some initial skepticism the big corporations were now competing for the prestige of loaning their young stars to the project for a few years, since they hoped to reap enormous benefits down the road.
In fact, the youthful atmosphere was entirely intentional. That, she knew, had been the legacy of Ken's predecessor, Dr. Yoshida, who had refused to let anyone over thirty-five on the project. Furthermore, since he believed the stuffed-shirt layout of most Japanese offices and labs stifled creativity, he had deliberately devised an un-Japanese workspace to try and reproduce Western research environments.
Finally they reached a closed door. Metal. When she realized it was Ken's office, she almost remarked on this departure from what she remembered about Dr. Yoshida's well-known attitude. He liked to be out on the floor, with just another low partition, right there interacting with his young staffers.
Without a word Ken inserted a magnetic card into the slot beside the door handle and then pushed it open. Not only a door, she thought, a locked door. Are they finally starting to worry about industrial espionage?
She wasn't surprised, however, to see that his office had a
monastic spareness, with only his desk, a small but expensive leather couch, and a row of computer terminals along one wall. He was, she knew, a big believer in Zen philosophy. Maybe pan of the reason for the door was just to shut all the madness outside and keep his own world serene.
Through the window behind him she could seeMt.Fuji, outlined against a backdrop of autumn blue. He smiled and pointed it out, saying they were lucky to have a rare smog-less day, then gestured her toward the couch.
"Welcome to my refuge." He was cordial but entirely correct—right down to his conservative charcoal gray suit. Not a glimmer of a hint about their briefKyotoepisode. "Let me have tea sent in." He leaned forward in his leather chair and punched the intercom on his desk.
"Ken, please, don't make a fuss. I know I hate it when people just drop by." She glanced back at the locked door, wondering. "Tell me if this is not a good time for you."
"Tam, for you any time is a good time." He buzzed again— there had been no response—then shrugged. "I guess things are getting hectic out front just now." He laughed resignedly, then turned to her. "By the way, I saw your new book. Fine piece of work. I do hope somebody over there reads it. Are you still running your Center at NYU?"
"So far." She decided to spare him the details.
"Well, it's a good school. Getting better all the time. You've got some first-rate supercomputer work at the Courant Institute, particularly with your IBM connection, but you should keep an eye onColumbia. Now that AT&T has joined with them to go after some of the Pentagon's AI contracts, they may finally start putting together a major computer science department up there too. In a few years Stanford and Carnegie-Mellon will have to step lively to stay out front."
Hello, she thought. How come Ken suddenly knows so much scuttlebutt aboutU.S.computer research? Nobody at home knows the first thing about what's going on inJapan.
"I was surprised to hear about this new appointment, Ken." She settled back on the couch. "I was guessing you had the inside track for MITI vice minister in a few years."
"Ah, well, for now my work is here." He gestured uncomfortably about the room. "Let me try once more for that tea."
She realized he'd slipped deftly around her quick probe
concerning MITI's new role in the lab. He knew how to be a team player, she thought. Very Japanese.
This time he raised a response. A female voice dripping with long-vowel honorifics announced his tea would be delivered immediately.
Next came a small, awkward lull as they both sat there rememberingKyotoand not sure how to get around that memory. She wondered if it was happening all over again.
Maybe it hadn't been just a fluke, a crazy one-night diversion. She was about to switch to Japanese, thinking that might provide the jolt needed to break the ice, but just as the silence swelled between them, there came a knock on the door and tea.
She was half annoyed, half relieved.
He rose to walk over and began chatting as though they'd been interrupted in the midst of some intense technical exchange.
"Are you scheduled to present a paper at thatKyotoconference coming up?" He pushed a button beside the door, and it swung wide. "There's sure to be quite a crowd. Everybody here's excited about supercomputers these days."
"No, this is strictly a pleasure trip. With maybe a few interviews thrown in to make it a tax write-off for a book I'm planning on robots." She hesitated. "Though I actually might go down and try to see a few people."
"Then this could turn out to be a pleasant coincidence." He took the tea, and the bowing girl vanished. Again the door clicked shut. "I have to go too, but I'm hoping to steal a few moments of freedom."
"You're chairing a session this year?"
"Absolutely not." He turned serious. "I'm not allowed time for anything like that anymore, Tam. This new project is top priority." He poured her a cup of the pale green liquid and passed it over, seemingly relieved that the tension had abated. "There's a lot of work here at the Fifth Generation lab now that we're coordinating this program with the supercomputer effort."
"You mean with MlTl's supercomputer project?" Caught your little slip, she told herself. You are still with MITI. Which means they have taken over this lab.
He didn't blink. "As you probably know, MITI has the goal of creating a machine capable of a hundred billion computations a second, targeted just down the road. Which means we have to come up with entirely new computer languages and architecture."
"Parallel processing."
"Exactly. Handling multiple streams of information at once. Now that we finally understand what's required for a superfast computer, this work in AI just happens to be very relevant. It turns out we humans are already walking around with parallel processing in our heads, able to handle words, images, ideas, all at the same time. So if we want to create machines that operate as fast as possible, then it's crucial to understand how our brain manages things like recognition, learning, inference. Our hope is that by utilizing the studies here in those areas, incorporating them into our supercomputer work, we might be able to put ourselves a major step ahead. . . ."
Good God, Tam thought, it's elegantly simple. That's why MITI has taken over the Fifth Generation Project. They're going to use this research in artificial intelligence to come up with a computer more powerful than anything the world has yet imagined. Their silicon monsters are about to start replicating themselves, getting smarter as they go, like in some bad fifties horror flick. The difference is, this isn't make-believe.
"So you're here on behalf of MITI."
He paused. "For coordination. As I said, MITI needs the Fifth Generation work to be accelerated." He still hadn't exactly answered the question. "As part of our supercomputer effort."
Tam knew thatHitachiand NEC were both already claiming they had the world's most powerful machines, faster even than Cray's entry, the best American computer. What did MITI want?
He continued. "With 16-megabit chip production already going strong and 64 megabit commercialization in the wings, it did seem the right time to pull all our work together. If you think about it, computer speed and computer intelligence go hand in hand. I'll show you in a second what I mean."
Not kilobit. Megabit. MITI was going for the kill. This was a crash program. Why?
"Does this mean you plan to increase your funding for the Fifth Generation effort?"
"Whatever it takes to do the job," he replied after a moment's hesitation. "I suppose there's never enough money, is there?"
"Ken, why the rush? This sudden drive?"
"It depends on whom you ask." He leaned back and looked at the ceiling. "Some call it survival, Tamara. Maybe it is that simple.Japanis at a crossroads; we're rapidly losing our edge in the cost of labor. The only possible way to counter that is to step up our use of smart machines."
"Well, it looks as if I came to the right place. I'd like to add your name to my interview list."
His look darkened a moment. "Strictly off the record." Then he smiled. "And only if we can do it over dinner."
"That sounds like a bribe."
"Call it an offering from an old admirer." He smiled, attempting to ease the tension. "The most I can do, for now at least, is just give you a small peek at a few of our experimental gadgets. Details are strictly proprietary. At the moment we're concentrating on computer vision and voice access. And on that last, by the way, I think we've just about reached AI's Holy Grail, natural language comprehension."
"Good luck." That was one of the mythical dreams of AI research, a computer that could understand the speech of anybody who happened along. Even though millions had been invested in theU.S.nobody was anywhere close yet.
"I think we're getting there. Enough so in fact that we're starting to look at applications. Expect commercialization in, oh, say a year, two at most."
Look out IBM, she found herself thinking.
"I probably shouldn't be showing you this, Tamara. So let's just keep this informal. No notes. But here, have a look at one of MITI's new toys. Can you guess what this is?" He passed over a small device that had been sitting on his desk, his hand lingering on hers a moment longer than absolutely necessary.
She stared down at what appeared to be some kind of calculator-watch, except there was no watch face, merely a small speaker and two buttons.
"That uses advanced versions of MITI's new 64-megabit memory chips. There's nothing like it anywhere in the world. Without ever having heard the speaker's voice before, no calibration, it can translate ordinary spoken English into Japanese." He pointed to one of the buttons. "Just press there
and talk. When you finish, push the other button for the translation."
She did, testing it with the opening paragraph of Pride and Prejudice, her favorite novel. A simulated voice emerged from the small speaker on the face of the device and gave it back . . . in flawless Japanese.
"Not bad." She set it carefully onto the desk. The thing was actually almost frightening.
"Using this, linked to our new high-definition video and satellite, you could punch a button in your living room and bring up people on a wall-size screen from anywhere in the world, then talk to them in your language and be understood in theirs. It's a quantum advance over current technology." He retrieved the device, dropping it into a desk drawer.
"I must admit I'm very impressed."
"Truthfully, so am I. Where's this program of MITI's taking us?" He looked up. "But let me show you something else, which I think is even more astonishing. Of course you're aware that speech comprehension is easy compared to the really tough nut, duplicating the human eye. Since a visual image can contain billions of pieces of information, it can be very time-consuming for a computer to analyze all those at once and figure out what it's looking at. I've heard people at IBM claim that for a computer to recognize something even as simple as an odd-shaped coffee cup would still require almost an hour of processing, that to match the human eye and brain could take a computer the size of a building. But watch."
He walked over to a black metal installation attached to the wall and held up three fingers before its small lens. Then he pushed a button and spoke into a built-in microphone.
"What do you see?"
She started to reply herself, then realized he was talking to the lens.
This time the answer took about ten seconds. Finally a voice in passable simulation of theTokyodialect emerged from a gray speaker beneath the lens. "That is a human hand."
"How many fingers does this hand have?" he continued.
Again the eerie, disembodied voice. "The normal human hand has five fingers. This appears to have only three."
"Thank you." He punched a button and turned back. "That came off the mainframe here. Can you imagine the amount of memory and logic processing required to achieve what you've just witnessed: the data base and the computational power and speed? Not to mention the recognition of my voice commands."
"How does it do it?"
He paused. "Tam, this is proprietary, top secret, but what you've just witnessed is an example of parallel processing with MITI's new, still classified 256-megabit dynamic RAM's."
"A quarter of a billion bits of data on a chip." She just stared. "Are they writable?"
"Of course." He again settled himself behind his desk. "The test versions have circuits only a hundred or so atoms wide. And this is only the beginning. Within five years, maybe no more than three, MITI fully expects to have a desktop machine that will pass the Turing test."
"Three years?" It was almost unbelievable. Passing the "Turing test" meant the computer's "thoughts" and "speech" would be so lifelike you'd be able to talk with it and not realize it wasn't human. Al's end-of-the-rainbow.
"As you can see, the project is getting close." He looked pensive, like some Zen monk. "Strictly off the record—and I mean that—what MITI is working toward is total automation. Factories run by machines with human skills, intelligence, manual dexterity. In fact, several of the robotics labs atTsukubaScienceCityalready have prototypes in advanced stages of development."
She was stunned. This was the kind of futuristic talk you heard from all the AI buffs, but it was still mostly speculation in theU.S.andEurope.Japan, though, was taking it straight to commercialization.
"Why are you telling me all this?"
He sat silent for a moment. Then he looked at her. "Because it's time the world understood something very important about this country. There are people here . . . with an agenda. And resources."
"What do you mean?"
"Tam, there are people, important people, who are getting fed up. Know what they're saying? Try this. Our country has a monarchy older thanRome, a heritage of literature, art, aesthetics, equal to anything in the West. We've never had any colonies, any raw materials besides air and water. All we do have is a willingness to work and save—the one natural resource running short in the West. In less than half a century we've risen from the most total devastation any country has ever experienced and achieved technological parity with both theU.S.and the Soviets. We launch satellites, split atoms, splice genes. But still a lot of foreigners claim all this country can do is copy from the West, steal and commercialize other nations' inventions. Only a short time back the leader ofFrancecalled our prime minister a 'transistor salesman.' That's right. A 'transistor salesman.'"
"Ken, that stupid crack was by de Gaulle. Years ago. It's—"
"Tam, look around you. This is an old country. And a lot of influential people have long memories."
"You're getting melodramatic."
He shifted in his chair and studied the whitepeakofFuji. "Think so? Don't delude yourself. Believe me, the West is about to dig its own grave."
"What are you trying to tell me?"
"Nothing you can't see with your own eyes." He turned back. "MITI is now ready to move into the next phase. Finally here's a project that's as strategic, in its own way, as the bomb. IfJapancan succeed in creating a machine capable of humanlike thinking, it will be the most profound achievement in the history of mankind." And this project is well on its way. There may be nothing that can stop the events that lie ahead."
"Stop what? What events?"
"That's not a simple question." He caught himself and eased up, smiling uncomfortably once again. "Forgive me. None of this is for publication." He hesitated. "Your work is well-known here inJapan, Tam. You are one of the few Americans our industrialists respect unreservedly. Maybe you weren't aware of that. Your books are highly regarded; in fact, I read the new one in manuscript." A long pause, then, "Would you ever consider working with me for a while? Come back home, so to speak? You can see the implications of this project."
"I see the implications, all right." She didn't know what to say. Why a sudden job offer from Ken? Or was it from MITI? "But where is this headed? IfJapanachieves this technological supremacy, what then?"
"Before the flowers bloom, MITI must tend the garden." He rose and poured more tea into her cup. "But enough. You know, I've thought about you a lot. Tell me how you've been. What've you been doing?"
"Teaching, writing, you know. Everything and nothing."
He smiled, then brushed an imaginary fleck of lint off his tailored woolen cuff. "Well, perhaps we'll have some time to talk."
What was he driving at? Was there more? Something going on he didn't want to broach here in the lab?
"Tam, it is so good to see you once more." He looked up again. "Would you be interested in going down toKyotowith me day after tomorrow? There are some things . . ." He sipped at his tea. "As I said, I'm scheduled to look in on the conference and see a few people, but I should have some free time."
"That conference doesn't start till next week."
"Actually I need to be down a few days early."
"Oh. Why?"
He measured his words. "Oddly enough it has to do with the Sword. Things have started moving pretty fast since those archeologists working for Dai Nippon recovered the sacred Sword-of the Emperor Antoku."
"I saw the Emperor on TV. Try going outside now."
"Well, I think I'll close here a little early and let my people go on home. It sounds like their celebration has already started anyway." He gestured toward the music and noise filtering through the door. "But the reason I need to be inKyotoa few days in advance is to see the president of Dai Nippon."
"The firm that—"
"That's right. His name is Matsuo Noda. I've known him for some years actually. He contacted me a couple of days ago about a meeting. I'm not sure what he has in mind precisely, but I have to find out. He's just become one of the most influential people in the country, not that he wasn't already. And now with all the money he's about to have in this new Imperial fund . . ."
"The one mentioned at the Emperor's news conference?"
"Exactly. As you might suspect, that was merely the formal announcement. Some of us at MITI heard about it several days ago. My private hunch is that in a few days Matsuo Noda could well have more resources at his fingertips than any one man in the history of the world." He looked at her. "It's almost frightening when you think of the power he'll soon have."
"Ken, I think I would like to come along with you." What was going on? MITI's plans already were pretty astonishing. And now this new national hero, the president of Dai Nippon, was about to get involved.
More than that, she'd half forgotten how interesting Kenji Asano really could be. Her trip was taking a lot of unexpected turns.
"Well, then, in that famous American phrase, 'Why not?'" He smiled, the mask firmly back in place. "In fact, I'll try and arrange for you to meet Matsuo Noda while we're there." A conspiratorial wink. "Maybe he'll even give us a glimpse of the Sword."
Tokyowas one big party that night, the streets mobbed. They eventually found themselves in Shinjuku, in a high-tech new restaurant all chrome and glass and New Age prices. The tuna sashimi seemed only minutes from the sea, and the aged sake was smooth as a flawless whiteBordeaux. Afterward they grabbed a taxi over to theGinza, where Ken got seats on the tatami straw mats down in the orchestra of the Kabukiza, and they took in the last act of a Kabuki play (featuring the famous Ennosuke III) that had been underway since late afternoon. The evening ended up in the art deco mezzanine bar at the Imperial, the part salvaged from the old Frank Lloyd Wright structure, where she kicked off her shoes, ordered a twenty-dollar cognac, and nestled against his elegant shoulder.
What was that he'd said about coming back home? Her books being circulated here even in manuscript? What was he hinting at?
Finally aroundtwo A.M.he called for the check and neither said a word as they headed for the elevator.
She thought one last time about Allan's warning as she watched the floors flash above the door and searched for her key. But this was no time to brood about conspiracies. Ken made her feel good. Which was a hell of a lot more than Dave Mason had done. Besides, Ken had some style; all Dave did was mope around in a pair of baggy chinos and whine about his department. Ken was upbeat, alive, aware.
What's more, she enjoyed being with him, feeling the heat of his cheek against hers. As the elevator doors opened, he slipped an arm about her waist and nuzzled her hair. Then their lips met.
He was just as she remembered. His touch, his taste, his body. Still, something about him was definitely changed.
Then he reached for her key and opened the door. The minute they entered the sitting room of her suite, he took her in his arms.
"Tam, let's not talk anymore about business, no more Swords. I'm already bored hearing about it. Just us. What do you say?"
"Agreed." She looked at him and suddenly realized something. Ken Asano was beautiful,kirei. Not handsome, beautiful.Anata wa kirei desu, Kenji Asano. "Want a nightcap? There's some airport Remy in my—"
"Who could even think about another cognac. I just want to think about us." He stood back. "All right, maybe if you insist. For old times' sake."
"'Old times' is right, Ken. It's been a very long time sinceKyoto." She located the dark Remy bottle, still packed in her leather flight bag. A nice inauguration, she told herself. "What was that all about? Was it real? Or did I just imagine it all?"
"The heart never lies." He settled on the couch. "Do you really remember?"
"Vividly." She laughed as she poured an inch into each of two thin hotel tumblers. "Including that dreadful bar you took us all to."
"A glimpse of the realJapan, Tam, for our tourist friends. Show them it's not allikebanaandhaiku. Believe me, it's not." He clicked her glass. "Do try to forgive me. And here's to us."
"To us."
"And to the slightly scary world we're stumbling into.Japanneeds you here." He pulled her next to him and brushed her cheek lightly with his fingertips. Then he kissed her deeply on the mouth, and again. "/ need you here, Tam. Somebody like you. There's . . . well, there's a lot we could do together."
She reached up and loosened his tie, then began unbuttoning his shirt. His chest was firm, smooth, scented. She wanted him. "Let's just rememberKyotofor a while."
"I've never forgotten it."
Sometime aroundfour A.M., more content than she had been in a long, long time, Tam Richardson lay awake on the cool sheets, Ken's trim body beside her, and wondered how it would end this time around.
Or possibly, just possibly, it wouldn't.