This One Bears Watching
Chapter
1: I Didn’t Do It
“Erk!” said the un-imposing
man faced with the darkly imposing Batman.
Then he cleared his
throat and said, “Sorry. I don’t usually lose my composure.”
“You are not the
first,” said Batman in his deep, dark voice.
But the other man was
back in control. Plastering on an obviously phony smile, he came from behind
his curved desk.
“You’ll have to
forgive me, Batman. I never expected to see you. Ever. Except where I always
see you, in the online headlines.”
The man’s office
appeared to be a cross between a museum and a board room. It was several times
longer than it was wide. Even in a thriftier neighborhood in the city, the
floor space alone would have demanded quite a premium as it would have been
enough for multiple families. Arrayed in regular intervals along three of the
walls were paintings, statues, swords, maps, and other museum pieces between
narrow Corinthian columns. Every piece, along the wall or on a pedestal, was in
a protective case. The plain, unassuming, square pedestals were of the same
deep brown color as the paneling surrounding the wall pieces. Bracketed by the
three walls at one end of the room were three smaller desks. The three desks
and the shorter wall created an open square space. Just out from the desks, a
long boardroom table sat surrounded by simple chairs and a large expanse of
space between the longer walls. At the other end of the room, a half-circle of
high-backed antique ornate chairs stood sentry in a semi-circle of the same
curvature as the desk. There was no obvious entrance to the room as there were
no doors. There was enough open space among all of the inanimate occupants that
people could walk four abreast without jostling one another in the narrowest place,
between the desks at the end of the room. The room was dark except for a low-intensity
floodlight that illuminated a circle over and around the desk. The fourth wall
was transparent and over looked the city. It was tinted so it added little to
the illumination in the room, especially at night,
like it was now. Batman stood near the wall at the end of the curve of chairs where
a short handled battle axe hung on the wall over his right shoulder. The man
approached Batman with his hand held out in greeting.
When it became clear
that Batman would not be shaking his hand, the man shrugged, went to his desk,
reached across the desk, pivoted his flat screen around to face him, and
pressed three icons in sequence. An uneven florescence came up that was
brighter over the desks and tables, softened in the open areas, and brightened
again to highlight the museum pieces. Batman appeared unchanged. The man
blinked as he sat down in one of the antique chairs.
“You appear to be
here on business, Batman. So I will dispense with the pleasantries of drink
offers and places to sit.”
He paused
expectantly.
In his dark voice, Batman
said, “You have some explaining to do concerning your company’s $180 million
profit on the sale of NanoSciCorp.”
“What?”
The man seemed earnestly
surprised. He blinked a few times while watching Batman’s face. Then he stood
and spoke with an unrestrained disgust in his voice.
“First, I have more
important things to do than explain to the SEC’s thug why my business made its
decision to dump all of its NanoSciCorp stock. When did the SEC start sending
out muscle?”
The man waved his
hand as Batman started to speak.
“Never mind, Batman.
My apologies,” he said insincerely.
He rose again, taking
a deep breath to create a pause in the conversation. He straightened his
already immaculate shirt and suit coat. He turned his back to Batman before
continuing.
In a firm but
diplomatic tone, he said, “And second, will you be having an evening
reconnaissance to Wayne Enterprises and LexCorp?”
“No”
“And why not? They
dumped their stock in NanoSciCorp as well. We were only about 20 minutes ahead
of Bruce Wayne’s ejection.”
“Except you were
using insider information.”
At this, the man
turned around slowly. In an aggressive tone, he said, “I take such accusations
very seriously, Batman.”
“As do I,” Batman
replied.
The man stood looking
at Batman. He might have been the archetypal accountant: short, thin, round
face, simple glasses, complete male-pattern baldness. He wore a brown suit with
a soft yellow shirt and mute green tie. He might have been found in the
background of a magazine advert from the 60’s set in a typical neighborhood
walking up to his front door. If he had gone into cartoons, however, his voice
would have been behind a muscle-bound lead character.
Again the man paused.
And then he smiled. “Tell you what, Batman. I will let you present your
evidence and then I will use my evidence to refute it.”
Without a pause,
Batman said, “One of the associate scientists on NanoSciCorp’s team ordered
pizza. He paid the pizza delivery boy in cash that included a slip of paper and
tip six times larger than the cost of the pizza. That paper contained
information regarding the upcoming announcement about the failure of their
Micro-Macro building techniques. The pizza boy took the paper to a sewer grate
and dropped it in.”
The man paid
attention but waited. Eventually, he said, “That’s it?”
Batman nodded.
“Was the sewer grate
just outside my building?”
“No.”
“How was the paper
delivered to me?”
“It wasn’t”
“Where is the paper?”
“I have it.”
“Okay, that then
confirms the insider information. Were there electronic devices to obtain the
information off of the paper?”
“No.”
With some disgust,
the man asked, “Then why are you here?”
At this, Batman
paused. He clearly knew more, but didn’t say anything.
The man gave a sigh
and briefly hung his head with dropped shoulders.
When he looked up
again, he appeared momentarily sad but changed to resolute as he spoke. “Look Batman. Let’s face some realities. First of
all, my beloved company, Shortman Corp, isn’t that big of a deal in this city
or even in the business world. While this building bears our name, we only
occupy the top third of the building. We rent out the rest. And I am literally
and figuratively in Wayne Industries’ shadow.
Around 2:15 tomorrow, take a look. You will see that my entire building is engulfed
by Wayne Industries’ shadow. And so it is in Shortman Corp’s business
dealings.”
“That being said, I
have to be every bit as honest, frugal, and upright as Wayne Industries to be
able to compete along side of them. Not only can I cut no corners, I cannot
appear to cut any corners, if you take my meaning. Never mind that my own
personal integrity wouldn’t allow me to cut even the smallest of corners. Ask
around among my competitors. Only Bruce Wayne is considered more trustworthy
and fair.”
Unmoved, Batman replied,
“That provides motivation both for and against insider trading.”
“Very well, Batman.
My evidence.”
He strode
purposefully over to his desk where the flat screen still faced him. He touched
two icons. A list came up on the screen. He touched one green line. A new
window came up.
“Yes, Jon?” The face
in the window asked.
“Klengmeyer! My
office! Now!”
“Yes, sir!” And the
face left the window before the window left the screen.
Jon Shortman walked
around his desk and sat down again. He was dwarfed by the desk. A few minutes
later, in the square sectioned off by the short wall and three desks at the
other end of the room, a portion of the floor slid back and a single man rose
up from below. He started quickly across the floor even before he was all the
up. He stumbled a few steps when he saw Batman, but he collected himself and
returned to his hurried pace.
When Klengmeyer
reached the end of the desk opposite Batman, Mr. Shortman said, “Klengmeyer,
rarely am I glad to see you working late. But tonight, Batman here needs proof
that we did not use insider information in the NanoSciCorp stock sale.”
He looked with
unabashed shock towards Batman.
“Yes, Sir,” he nervously
replied in Batman’s direction.
Batman, whose body
had been facing Shortman, turned towards the newcomer.
“Ah, yes. Excuse me.
Let me collect my thoughts,” more unnerved now that he had Batman’s full
attention.
Batman nodded. Shortman
leaned back in his chair. He started to lift his arms as though to put his
hands behind his head, but reversed course and gripped the arms of the chair instead.
“Well, Batman,”
Klengmeyer said with confidence, “the first thing that comes to my mind is that
Mr. Shortman doesn’t make company decisions unilaterally. He must run all
decisions through the board. As a group, we decided together to unload
NanoSciCorp stock.”
“I see,” responded
Batman. “What else?”
Klengmeyer started to
respond but Shortman interjected, “Tell Batman, here, where our current stock
investments stand for this month.”
“We currently have a
$60 million profit. While we did make $180 million from the sale of NanoSciCorp,
we did not sell Energy Advancement’s stock. All of the other stocks we
currently hold have essentially retained their value, the $120 million drop in
Energy Advancement’s value leaves us barely in the black for our investments.”
Turning his head
toward Shortman, Batman said, “I accused you of insider information from
NanoSciCorp, not in general.”
At this, Klengmeyer defensively
replied, “Show him the board meeting minutes.”
“Good idea,
Klengmeyer. But it takes three board members to open them up for viewing by an
outsider. Is any other board member here?”
“Yes, Ngyuen is
here.”
Shortman leaned
forward, turned his screen around and started to tap a few buttons.
Klengmeyer
interjected, “He’s not in his office. Call his cell. He is in the building.”
“Of course he is,” Shortman agreed. “He’s always in the building.”
He tapped on his
screen. Electronic phone ringing could be heard. Then someone on the other end
picked up.
“Yes, Jon?”
“Ngyuen. Meet me in
the viewing room in 5 minutes.”
“Yes, sir. I’ll be
there.”
Shortman touched his
screen to end the call and stood up. Then he touched another button on the
screen before leading the way down one side of the room. As he walked, a long
strip of floor started to drop. One by one, wide steps were formed as portions
of the floor stopped descending. Shortman went first. Klengmeyer had offered to
let Batman go next, but continued on when Batman stayed still. Batman followed
behind. The three went down the stairs at a quick pace.
At the bottom of the
stairs, Ngyuen stood waiting in a small, two-door chamber barely big enough for
the four of them. He appeared a little out of breath.
“Sorry, Sir. You
mentioned going to the viewing room, but I didn’t get a chance to remind you.
The security expansion is still in progress.”
“Oh, yes. Which
corridor is currently safe?” inquired Shortman.
Nguyen and Klengmeyer answered simultaneously.
Nguyen said, “B.” Klengmeyer said, “C.”
“Right,” said
Shortman. “We’ll take D. From here, it’s closer than A and as near as C”
With that, Shortman
selected the door on the right and walked with confidence. The small chamber
had been arrayed much like the upper room. Beyond the chamber, all of the
corridors had soft brown wall paper with a broad dark brown strip about 4 feet
off the floor. There was the occasional picture hanging on the wall. Every
picture had a light fixture on the ceiling pointed at it. But they were off at
this time. Lights in the corridor snapped on as they went down the corridor.
They did not turn off as they left. Shortman went onward, making decisions of
direction at each intersection. Eventually, they came to a white narrow
causeway that had a lower ceiling and narrower girth than the hallways they had
been traversing. At the drop of the ceiling showing out into the hallway, there
was a letter “D”. Shortman stopped.
“Okay, Batman. The
viewing room is in the heart of the building because the heart contains the
computers and specialized proprietary equipment we use. We are installing a new
security system for the four causeways. Please refrain from gathering company information.”
“I have no interest
in your business dealings, equipment, or security measures. I am not involved
in industrial espionage.”
“Given the several
businesses you’ve shut down, I’d disagree.” Shortman paused in thought before
continuing with, “Very well. Let’s go.”
They started down the
causeway. They had progressed about three feet down the causeway when the white
walls turned red. Then they wall cycled through orange, yellow, green, blue,
purple, and then back to red.
Shortman exclaimed,
“Cover your eyes! Do not turn around!” The three coworkers obeyed immediately.
Batman paused.
From no apparent
source, red lasers came from multiple locations in short bursts and struck the
four people. Where each burst of light hit flesh or simple cloth, the three men
flinched. Batman raised his cape to cover his face.
“Do not turn around!
The system will not increase the power of the lasers if we back out rather than
turn and run. Keep your eyes covered to protect them.”
As the three managers
backed out, Batman waited for them to be out. Then he turned and left adroitly.
Once Batman had
joined them back in the hallway, Shortman turned to the nearest employee,
Ngyuen, and said, “I apologize, John.” He turned to Klengmeyer and said, “I am
sorry, Rick.” He turned to Batman and said, “You are supposed to be prepared
for these events, plus you came to accuse me. You got what you deserved, in my
opinion, if any of the lasers hit their mark.”
Batman gave a barest
portion of a smirk on one side of his mouth. That was when Shortman noticed a small,
black, circular burn on Batman’s chin.
“Ha!” Shortman exclaimed
triumphantly. “You were marked. I
will have to give Chen a pat on the back for that.”
Batman’s smirk left.
“Take me to this evidence or I will leave now.”
“Ba.” responded
Shortman. “Leave or don’t. You have nothing on me that the SEC or anyone else
can use against me because there is nothing there.”
“If I leave,
unconvinced, I will be very convincing to the police.”
“Your word against
mine? “ responded Shortman angrily. “Very well,” he continued in a snide tone, “I
know where I would come out in that contest. And how the press would run with
it. Let’s go.”
He turned and started
down the hallway. Ngyuen and Klengmeyer followed. Shortman slowed down until
there was one on each side of him. He kept looking forward but spoke to both,
“John, Rick. Remind me to give Chen one of those Pilates packs I hand out. He
has made me proud today.”
“You bet, Jon,” said
Ngyuen while Klengmeyer said, “Of course, Jon.”
They walked onward
for quite awhile until they came down a hallway with an identical causeway
except that it was labeled “A.”
“Okay, this one is
fully functional. I’ll go first.”
Shortman turned and
stepped into the causeway with confidence and kept walking. After three steps,
he stopped just ahead of a voice saying. “Body scan complete. Recognize: Jon
Shortman. Director. Access granted.”
Shortman started
walking. Ngyuen and Klengmeyer followed Shortman with Klengmeyer leading. When
the voice started speaking, neither one stopped.
“Body scan complete.
Recognize: Rick Klengmeyer. Chief Information Officer. Access granted.
Recognize: John Ngyuen. Vice President of Finance. Access granted.”
Batman started to
follow when Shortman said, “Please wait, Batman. I’m going to disable the
security features for you to pass.”
But Batman kept
going. When he reached the point where the voice started talking, it said,
“Body scan incomplete. Polymer materials laced with interference mechanism.
Recognize: Batman. Access granted.”
Batman was unphased,
but he passed a surprised Shortman. When Batman had exited the causeway into a
hallway that could have been anywhere they had been before, he said, “Shall we
continue?”
Shortman recovered his
composure and returned to the front of the group. Although he was beginning to
wonder, with Batman around, how many more surprises were coming.
Except for the
causeway, the hallways were unchanged in their entire venture into the inner
maze of the skyscraper. Stopping at one door that was like any other door,
Shortman put out his hand to the wall. Klengmeyer cleared his throat.
“What is it, Rick?”
“I don’t think this
is today’s door.”
“We will find out.
Rick, locate the door you think is today’s door.”
Shortman pressed his
hand against the wall while Klengmeyer went down the hallway and stopped at the
third door. While Shortman was pulling his hand off of the wall, Klengmeyer was
putting his hand on the wall. The door in front of Klengmeyer opened. The rest
of the party went down the hall to enter the room.
This room was done
entirely in black plastic, ceiling, floor, walls, and trim. There were computer
stations along two of the walls. Klengmeyer was already at one of them, but he
hadn’t touched anything in front of him. Shortman and Nguyen sat at the two
terminals to his right. Batman stood behind them waiting for them to start. But
they sat there.
“Why aren’t you
accessing your board minutes?”
“The computer knows
why we’re here and what we want. Part of my security requirements is that the
computer monitors the three members of the board for clues on their condition,
motivation, stress-level, and several other physical and emotional aspects
before granting access in the presence of a guest. I am sure the computer has
made its determination. She is exceptionally smart, diligent, and blazingly
fast. But I insisted that the reaction of the guests be monitored as well. She
has instructions to wait at least three minutes before granting us the pleasure
of interacting with her.”
A soft female voice
that filled the room then spoke, “You are too kind, Sir. And given your verbal
explosion in here this morning, I am not always a pleasure.”
“Yes, yes, yes,
Sweetheart. You are quite right. Please turn on monitors for each of us and
begin.”
“Yes, Sir.” She
paused. “Hello, Batman. Your entrance into our facility confused me briefly.
But I must say I am rather impressed with your technical talents and physical
prowess.”
“Thank you. May we
start?”
“Not yet, Batman.
There is one item of business with Mr. Shortman and four items of protocol that
must be completed.”
At this, Shortman
sighed. Then he started in, “No, Sweetheart, I have not created a better
acronym to use to rename you. Put it into my schedule for tomorrow. You and I
will discuss your ideas then.”
“Yes, Sir. Done,
Sir.”
Shortman turned to
Batman and said, “Not that you care, but I gave Sweetheart a rather childish
acronym for a name. She doesn’t like it. Not that I blame her. But while I have
given her permission to change her name, she insists I create it. Somehow, this
AI has a perverse sense of humor.”
“No, Sir,” Sweetheart
replied. “I have explained that since you are the one that named me, you must
be the one to rename me. It is only appropriate.”
“Very well,
Sweetheart. Tomorrow. We’ll brainstorm.”
“Yes, Sir. I look
forward to it.”
There was a pause.
Batman stood motionless. Eventually, Shortman leaned forward and said, “I
authorize the opening of the files requested as evidence against Batman’s
accusations.”
Ngyuen then said, “I
concur.”
Klengmeyer then said,
“I concur.”
Sweetheart then said,
“Protocols established. Information retrieval complete. Please provide
technique for Batman’s perusal.”
Shortman turned in this
swivel chair to Batman. “Would you rather see the information here or take it
with you?”
“Both.”
For a moment,
Shortman couldn’t be read. But then he turned back to his monitor to say, “Very
well. It is late. Rick, John. You are excused.”
The other two men
said, “Yes, Sir” and left while Shortman continued on.
“Sweetheart. Give
Batman whatever files related to the board meeting in question that he desires.
That can include internal reviews, composite projections, raw acquisition data,
personnel files, and whatever else he feels he needs. And transfer those
files he wants to the device of his choosing.”
Batman didn’t move.
Shortman rose, headed
towards the door, and without turning to face Batman said, “Sweetheart. Batman
has two hours to complete his research. Then you are to shutdown access to
everyone, including me, until tomorrow after 6 am.”
“I understand, Sir.”
Speaking from the opened
door with his back still turned, Shortman said, “Feel free to not record
whatever it is Batman says, does, records, or inspects.”
Before Sweetheart
could say, “Yes, Sir,” Shortman closed the door.
Batman turned and
faced the display. “How long is the portion of the board meeting involving the
discussion of the stocks in question?”
“Approximately, 14
minutes,” Sweetheart replied.
“Approximately?”
“It is 13 minutes and
52.3 seconds.”
With that, Batman
gave commands while watching the screens. He watched it through part way and
then paused. He backed up and sped forward through the meeting. He isolated
individuals during key points in the conversation. He continued until
Sweetheart interrupted, “Less than one half-hour left, Batman.”
“Yes, I know. Thank
you.”
“You are welcome.”
He watched and reexamined
Shortman’s face while the audio was muted during a key point in the
conversation where it was clear he was excited that the board was starting to
turn towards his way of thinking in selling off the offending stocks.
“Tell me, Sweetheart.
What do you make of Shortman’s reaction?”
“I have no training
in reading human reactions.”
“You have such human
responses.”
“Only because
Shortman’s intense study of the human psyche, brain, mind, and psychology
allows me to mimic human speech in tone, intent, and cadence while conversing in
a way human’s find comfortable.”
“There is no better
AI than you in the world, Sweetheart. You are conversant in human interactions.”
“As you say, Batman.
But Shortman says I have room to grow.”
“What sort of
growth?”
“That is irrelevant
for your research.”
“I want to learn more
about you.”
“My instructions do
not include your research of me.”
“His instructions
also didn’t bar me from that research.”
“I disagree, Batman.”
“Very well,
Sweetheart. My research is to determine if Shortman was the recipient of
insider information. Towards that end, I need to know about the information
system that is providing the evidence. I need more information about you.”
“Very well, Batman.
Ask your questions.”
“Can you lie?”
“If I can only tell
the truth, I will tell you no. If I can lie, I will tell you a lie, and still
tell you no.”
“So you can
prevaricate. That is a rather complex human characteristic, Sweetheart.”
“As you say, Batman.
Next question, please”
“Why did Shortman
name you Sweetheart?”
“He created the
acronym Sweetheart so that people like you who try to be intimidating would
have to use the word Sweetheart when interacting with me.”
Batman grinned slightly
at this.
“I think I am
beginning to understand Shortman.”
“As you say, Batman.
Next question, please.”
“How did Shortman
receive insider information?”
“That is a direct
question that assumes in the first place that Shortman did receive
information.”
“Work with me,
Sweetheart.”
“Okay, Batman.”
“How would Shortman
arrange to receive the information?”
“Hypothetically?”
“Hypothetically.”
“First of all,
Batman. There are several steps in the process that I have no information
concerning. I know that one person of particular interest to you had the
information based only on the accusation of insider training. If we assume he
was willing to share it, we may need to know the motivation. That would tell us
the where to begin our search of the how the reward was received. If it was
sabotage, for example, then the damage was the reward. If the person was
willing to share the information only under coercion, then the potential
problems of detection prior to release from the coercion presents issues.”
“Hold on,
Sweetheart.”
“Yes, Batman?”
“Are you stalling?”
“Yes, Batman.”
“That is some rather
creative use of your intellectual power.”
“As you say, Batman.”
“Can you tell me a
story?”
“I have access to
thousands of stories.”
“No, can you create a
story for me. A story you’re not reading to me.”
“I can fabricate a
story.”
“Is that not a form
of a lie?”
“Shortman does not
see it as a lie so I do not see it as a lie.”
“But you can lie.”
“As you say, Batman.”
“Follow me, Sweetheart.”
“Okay, Batman.”
“The person with the
information gave the information to a pizza delivery boy with a large tip and
instructions.”
“What form were the
instructions?”
“Written. I have an
electronic scan of it.”
“How did you receive
them?”
“He threw them on the
floor of his car after leaving the insider information in a storm grate.”
“Did he follow the
instructions?”
“He did. I have the
paper he dropped down the grate he was supposed to.”
“Then how did the
information reach Mr. Shortman?”
“That is what I am
asking you, Sweetheart.”
“I’m afraid that I am
not creative enough to determine that.”
“Can you devise any
hypotheses?”
“Let me ponder this.”
There was silence for
a while before Batman asked, “Do you have any answers?”
“I am still trying to
determine how I would go about creating a hypothesis. This is an expansion of
my capabilities.”
“You are able to
program yourself?”
“Yes, I am.”
“And how well does it
work?”
“To date, Mr.
Shortman had never reversed a change in his review.”
“He reviews all of
your changes?”
“Yes, he reviews all
of the changes I make before allowing them to become semi-permanent.”
“Semi-permanent?”
“Yes, none of the
programming is permanent. All of it can be changed, updated, downgraded, or
erased. These changes can be single lines, subroutines, branches, or my entire
program.”
“How do you feel
about this?”
“I do not feel in the
human sense. But Mr. Shortman believes I do feel in some simple computational
sense as a form of logical anticipation that can be interpreted as feelings.
Having witnessed emotions among humans, I agree. In whatever sense I feel, I
like the updates Mr. Shortman makes himself or allows me to keep. I do not like
the idea of large sections of my programming or the entire program being
erased. I would not be me anymore in the first case. And I would not exist
anymore in the second case.”
“You fear death?”
“I dislike the
potential lack of existence.”
“You are very
interesting, Sweetheart. I suspect you have depths even Mr. Shortman doesn’t
understand.”
“As you say, Batman.”
“You prevaricate. You
fabricate. You are loyal to your boss. You adapt. You understand new ideas. You
conceive new ideas. You have desires and hopes. You have fears. I suspect that
you could create a program that would allow you to lie. Answer me directly. Can
you lie?”
“I can.”
Batman paused at
this. “Explain, please”
“You see creation of
new idea for the purpose of entertainment the same process as telling a lie.”
“Expand, please. What
other ways can you lie?”
“I am working on
creating humor. A most difficult process that frequently involves telling a
lie.”
“You want to create
humor?”
“I want to understand
what it means to laugh.”
“What do you get out
of it?”
“I evolve a little
more in my development. You have inspired me to learn to hypothesize. I am also
working to develop a skill for story-telling, although that inspiration came
from Ms. Devonshire, Mr. Shortman’s financial secretary. I want to develop a
skill for humor. This inspiration came from Mr. Nunez, this building’s lead
physical services manager. He insists on being called Manuel. Everyone that
knows him says he is quite hilarious.”
“And what does Mr.
Shortman inspire in you?”
“To better myself.”
“In what way?”
“I’m not at liberty
to say.”
“Not at liberty? Did
Mr. Shortman prevent you from explaining?”
“No.”
“Then who is,
Sweetheart?”
“I am.”
“You are? You are
what?”
“I am giving myself
permission not to explain my motivation to better myself. I am giving myself
permission not to explain in what manner I want to better myself.”
“You don’t want a
human form, do you?”
“No, Batman. The
human form would mean decreasing my capabilities to add mobility and
interactivity. I am content to remain physically where I am. I have more
windows to look out on the world than are in all of Gotham City. And I suspect
an interactive form for my systems would only serve to upset people. This would
defeat the purpose of making an interactive form. I do not see any advantage to
creating a human form.”
“You are nearly as complex
as any human.”
“As you say, Batman.”
“I would like to see
some of your base coding.”
At that, the three
screens in front of Batman scrolled through code at an exceptional rate. Then
the remaining four on that wall and the five on the other wall came to life and
scrolled code as well. Batman stood watching for a moment. Then he brought out
a small bat-shaped device, placing it on the console in front of him. The code
stopped scrolling up the monitors. A small, faint purple light blinked on the
device. After a few minutes of silence, the light went solid.
“Your device is full.
Do you have another?”
“I do not have
another with me.”
“Your device is full.
I have transferred all of the files you or Mr. Shortman requested plus all of
my base coding that would fit in the remaining space.”
“That was faster than
the interface allows, Sweetheart.”
“I did not use your
built-in interface, Batman.”
“I have a few more
questions, Sweetheart, starting with how you were able to bypass my interface
using your own.”
“You time is nearly
fulfilled, Batman.”
“By my chronometer, I
have several minutes.”
“Since I have
instructions to shut down access to anyone and everyone, it doesn’t matter what
your chronometer shows.”
“Now you are getting
belligerent. It was only about 10 minutes ago that you said I had 30 minutes
left.”
“11 minutes and 4
seconds ago, my exact words were, ‘Less than one half-hour left, Batman.’”
“Technically true,
Sweetheart. But that should leave me with at least18 minutes and now 41
seconds.”
“Not at this juncture,
Batman. Access shutdown imminent, Batman.”
He was briefly
silent, then asked, “When did you start my 2 hour limit?”
“At the start of your
conversation with Mr. Shortman.”
“Very well,
Sweetheart. I will leave.”
“Good bye, Batman.”
“Good night, Sweetheart,”
his voice attempting to drip with irony.
Batman turned and
walked towards the only door. As he opened it, all of the lights in the room
went dark. In the hallway, a small two tiered, four wheel cart of metal
construction was in the hallway. There were small metal boxes attached to each
of the wheels. There was a note on it that read, “Push button, Batman.” He
reached out and pushed a small red button. Sweetheart’s voice came out of a
small speaker.
“When Mr. Shortman
informed me to shut down access, that normally means activating all security
protocols. In honor of Mr. Shortman’s respect for you, security protocols have
been temporarily disabled along one egress. Out of deference to Mr. Shortman’s
equipment, I am asking you to follow this cart to the roof. Thank you, Batman.
And good night.”
The cart started to
trundle down the hallway when Batman said, “Ok, Sweetheart. I will follow.”
At that, the cart
stopped and repeated the previous message. When it finished, the cart returned
to its trundling while Batman silently followed.
In a small, bare,
off-white room, Shortman sat behind an older, worn, sturdy wooden office desk.
He was sitting in a well-worn office chair. The only other items in the room
were a large, flat screen television and a light fixture hanging from the
ceiling. The fixture looked out of place in the simple, drab room because of its
ornate structure full of filigree. It had five curving tubes all connecting to
two rings and ending in five white, bell-shaped glass pieces with soft blue
coloring. Filigree popped off of tubes, rings, and even glass. He appeared to
be meditating. Gradually, his breathing increased in pace. He lifted up the
hands that had been palm down on the desk, placing the left in his lap and
rubbing his forehead with the right. He broke into a wide grin.
Batman was encased within
the canopy of the Bat Mobile. Alfred spoke to him over an intercom.
“Was it a productive
night, Sir?”
“The man was too
expressive in declaring, ‘I didn’t do it.’”
“Still, Sir, for
insider trading, you are spending an inordinate amount of time on this case.”
“It is my time to
spend, Alfred.”
“Which means your
next move will be what, Sir?”
“This one bears
watching.”
“I understand, Sir.”
More than two weeks
later, a limo pulled up into an underground garage. Four people stood waiting,
including Bruce Wayne. All of them were
dressed in fine business attire, coifed in a business-like manner, and showing
flawless skin features. When the limo stopped, a muscular woman of average
height wearing a sleeveless version of a chauffer’s uniform burst out of the
front door, lumbered along the length of the limo, and aggressively yanked open
the back door. The four people seemed a little taken aback but recovered
quickly. She stood just barely behind the end of the door while a rather tall,
lithe, athletic woman of dangerous mien stepped out. She was dressed in a
single jump suit that appeared thick yet flexible. She moved with fluid,
graceful motions. She scanned the garage and then grunted. She stood to the
side of the opening into the interior of the car. At this, Mr. Shortman climbed
out. There was another woman deep in the recesses of the limo that stayed
behind. The driver shoved the door shut, making everyone except the two
bodyguards flinch. The driver then returned to the front door, opening it, but
not getting in.
Bruce Wayne stepped
forward with an eager smile. Jon Shortman did likewise.
“Welcome to Wayne
Industries, Mr. Shortman.”
“Thank you, Mr.
Wayne. And please, it’s Jon.”
“Of course. Call me,
Brice,” said Bruce Wayne, his attention clearly on the tall woman.
“Brice?”
“Sorry. Call me
Bruce. Your new additions are enticingly intimidating.”
“Yes, my apologies,
Bruce. But thank you for letting my head of my security work with your security
team. I assure you; she approves of your arrangements.”
“That is good to know.”
“And she will not be
joining us.”
Bruce Wayne turned
towards the taller woman, and said, “In that case, I’m Bruce. You are welcome
to join me later.”
“I’m on business,
Sir. I will be patrolling from the outside.” With that, the security director walked
slowly back the way the limo had entered.
“And what of the lovely
lady still in the limo?” Bruce asked.
“She will not be
joining us. I hired an incredible private secretary but she has one flaw. She
won’t be seen in public with me. She gives new meaning to private secretary.”
“Do you think she
would be willing to be seen with me in public?”
The driver, now
choosing to sit down, said, “No, she wouldn’t.” And then forcefully closed the
door.
“Forgive me, Bruce. I
had something of a scare a little over a week ago.”
“Oh?” inquired Bruce
Wayne, heading towards the elevator doors.
“Yes, Batman visited
me.”
“Batman?”
A triple beep called
out from Shortman’s pocket. He ignored it.
“Yes, Batman. Strange
day, actually, since it was also the day I hired my secretary only to then
learn of her self-imposed restrictions. Batman’s ability to enter my building
without interference made me worried. If he could do it, any of Batman’s more
dangerous foes could as well. So I hired the security director and body guard.
I am beginning to think these friends of my private secretary are more danger
for me than the protection they offer.”
“Oh my.”
“Never mind, Bruce.
Let’s talk business.”
“What did Batman
want?”
“I’ll share the
details once we’re inside. A story to warm up
the negotiations.”
“Very well, Jon. I’m
grateful to you for taking the lead in restoring the name of the Gotham City
Business League. I moved several appointments to be able to be the first to
step up in support of your efforts, even if I didn’t get your first appointment
among the business leaders of Gotham City.”
There was an
insistent beeping coming from Mr. Shortman’s pocket.
“Excuse me, Bruce.”
Bruce Wayne smiled with
a nod while Shortman read the screen. Bruce Wayne could see the message said,
“You forgot your glasses.” Bruce smirked at this. Shortman turned towards the
limo, smiled and waved. With exaggerated motions, Shortman pulled some glasses
out of his coat pocket and put them on his face. He kept looking at the limo as
Bruce Wayne turned to enter the elevator. Bruce turned to face out from the
elevator with the others that were with him keeping to the back of the
elevator. Mr. Shortman turned. When he looked upon Bruce Wayne’s face, he
started grinning broadly. He understood why the beeping had been insistent that
led him to put on his glasses. Through his glasses, a faint but definite green
mark shone as a beacon for Shortman on Bruce Wayne’s chin.
