been acting as if he owned the place, let him help), then led everybody
back into the living room. In the park below the weather was perfect,
and marijuana sales were in overdrive. A couple of joints also appeared
around the room, accompanied by withering glares from Allan. Then,
while Ed Wallace was chatting up Shirin and everybody else was drinking
and smoking, Allan picked up his cognac and motioned her in the
direction of the study.
Finally, she thought. This must be some story.
She was right.
It wasn't her book he wanted to discuss. Instead, he wanted to tell her
about what he'd just seen, and not seen, in Tokyo.
"Loved dinner." He settled into a leather chair, the one next to her
long bookcase, and drained his snifter. "I was afraid I was turning
into a fish over there." He laughed, but only briefly. Social hour was
over. "Tam, I wanted to ask you if you could maybe help me out with
something."
"What do you have in mind?"
"Well, you know I've always thought I was on top of what Tokyo is
doing, but now I'm not so sure anymore. I'm afraid things are starting
to get away from me."
"Such as?"
"Okay. Now, it's no secret I've been to Japan a lot. I've got my share
of friends over there, people I respect and admire very much. But this
trip started to get very strange. It's as though I'm suddenly an
outsider. Just another _gaijin_. I'm puzzled, and I wonder if maybe I
ought to be worried."
_Gaijin_. That sounds familiar, she thought. But it wasn't something
that usually bothered Allan. She brushed her brown hair back out of her
eyes and studied him. He'd never been more serious.
"What happened?"
He paused. "You know about their big artificial intelligence effort,
called the Fifth Generation Project. If it goes the way they're saying,
before too much longer they'll have programs, software, to design the
next generation of computer technology. "
This was supposed to be news? Come on, Allan. Everybody knew. It was
the talk of the industry. Japan's goal was computer logic capable of
replicating human thought processes, a monumental, maybe impossible,
undertaking.
"Allan, don't you remember we discussed doing a chapter on it in the
robotics book? And if you--"
"Tamara, bear with me. You also know very well that project is Japan's
attempt to leapfrog American technology. Added together with all their
R&D on chip technology. In my opinion, by the way, our response is
definitely too little, too late. More and more we're having to buy
essential components for missile guidance systems from Japan. The
Department of Defense is already nervous, but not nervous enough. We
may have dug our own grave. And now I think our worst fears may be
about to come true. Something funny seems to be happening, only I'm not
sure what."
"What do you mean?"
"Let me close that door." He got up and did so, then turned back.
"Maybe first I ought to tell you about the odd experience I had last
week."
"Go on." She heard somebody in the living room put on one of her old
Beatles albums--still the middle-ager's idea of hip.
"Well, as always, I scheduled a stop at the Fifth Generation lab to get
up to speed on how their effort's doing. But all of a sudden it seems
I'm too darned famous to be bothered with the shirtsleeve stuff. I
tried to get in there for three days running. It was always the
honorable Stern-san this and the celebrated Stern-san that and you must
meet the head of every damned ministry and we have to set up this
formal dinner and blah, blah, blah."
"Allan, you're the Grand Old Man these days." She laughed. "Get used to
it."
"Wash out your mouth, Tamara Richardson. I'm not grand and I'm most
decidedly not old." He sniffed. "No, it's as if they were very politely
cutting me out. Okay, they didn't exactly say the project was off-
limits now or anything, but there never seemed to be a convenient time
to drop by the lab."
"Who knows? Maybe they just didn't want some American partisan poking
about the place anymore."
"Could be. But why? I'm scarcely a spy for DOD, or the CIA. They know I
only do pure science. Okay, maybe I'm old- fashioned, but Dr. Yoshida
at least has always claimed to respect me for that. I used to spend
hours with him going over his work there and vice versa. We swapped
ideas all the time.
Now all of a sudden there's this smokescreen." He paused, sipped at his
brandy, and then leaned back. "Which brings me to that favor I need."
"What?'
"Well, I was wondering if maybe you could try and get into the Fifth
Generation lab yourself, check around a bit. See if you can find out
what's cooking."
"Go to Tokyo?"
"I realize it's a lot to ask, but who else can I turn to? Tam, you're
the only person I know who could pull this off. You know the
technology, and they respect you. Also, you understand the language.
Maybe you can cut through all the politeness and the translated PR. If
you'd like a little per diem, I'll see if I can't shake loose the money
from somewhere."
"Allan, really, don't you think you're maybe going overboard just a
little. What if Dr. Yoshida was just tied up? The last time I visited
the lab, he showed me everything, completely open."
"Ho, ho." He set down his brandy, and his eyes hardened. "I still
haven't told you the clincher. There's some new guy in charge now."
"That's hard to believe. Yoshida practically invented the Fifth
Generation Project. He's the director--"
"That's just it. Kaput. All of a sudden he's not around anymore. They
said he's now 'technical adviser.' But you know what that really means.
Removed. _Sayonara_. Promoted upstairs or downstairs or some damn
thing. That in itself is mystifying. He's one of the most competent . .
. oh, hell, the man is a genius. Why would they do that?"
"Very strange."
"Exactly. But now he's out. Couldn't even see me. 'On vacation.' The
new director is some bureaucrat by the name of Asano. I spent a little
time with the man, and I can testify he's a smoothie. Lots of pious
generalities about 'technical cooperation.' But I got the distinct
feeling he didn't want to talk details with me. Actually, I wondered if
maybe he wasn't even a bit afraid to say anything."