The Sacred Vault_ A Novel - Andy McDermott [66]
‘That’s hardly news, if you’ll excuse the pun.’
More commands. ‘When people want information about a subject, they turn to a search engine. Like Qexia. Now, these are the results a Hindu living in India would see when they searched for information about the bombing.’
A ‘cloud’ of results appeared, the ones Qexia deemed most relevant dominating the centre, others smaller on the periphery. Nina examined the central cluster; they blamed Pakistani-backed Islamic militants for the attack. ‘Okay, but apart from looking prettier, I don’t see how that’s any different from what you’d get on Google.’
‘Then see what the same search would give to a Muslim in Pakistan.’ He typed again. The search cloud reloaded . . . with considerably different results.
‘These . . . these are all accusing the Indian government of lying,’ Nina saw. ‘Blaming the Pakistanis for something they weren’t involved in.’ The larger implications struck her. ‘This is stirring up tensions between India and Pakistan.’
Khoil nodded. ‘As I told you, Qexia learns about its users. As they provide it with more information, it builds up a better picture of their beliefs. It was designed to target advertising more precisely . . . but it has other uses.’
‘You’re fixing the search results,’ said Nina accusingly. ‘You’re lying to them.’
‘Not at all. It gives them what they expect to find - feeding their biases. Inflaming their passions. All sources of information throughout history have filtered their results to favour a particular point of view. I am doing the same, for the most noble of reasons.’
‘Noble?’ Nina snapped. ‘You think bringing down modern society and causing God knows how many millions of deaths is noble?’
‘If it is for a greater purpose, then yes.’
‘And how were you planning on doing this?’ She waved a hand at the screens. ‘Inflaming passions, starting a war, yeah . . . but between who?’ As soon as she spoke, she realised that Khoil might have already answered the question: he had chosen the subject of his demonstration without hesitation, as if it had already been on his mind. India and Pakistan were nuclear-armed enemies, on the edge of open conflict for decades. Had his urge to show off his technology, his intellectual superiority, tipped his hand?
However, he proved unwilling to elaborate. ‘You will find out soon. As will the rest of the world. But that is not why I brought you to me. Come this way.’ Khoil exited the dome, Tandon pushing her after him.
He rounded the framework supporting the screens and led her to one side of the room. A desk held several pieces of high-tech equipment, but Nina’s attention was caught by something obsolete. A glass display case contained a small computer of a type she didn’t recognise, but from its styling - and time-scuffed condition - it appeared to be of 1980s vintage.
Khoil noticed her looking at it. ‘My first computer,’ he said. ‘A Spectrum Plus. Everything I have achieved with Qexia began with that.’ Something approaching warmth entered his voice. ‘As a boy, I made money for my family by repairing and selling broken devices we found on the dump - radios, tape players, and so on. I could not believe that somebody had thrown away a computer! The only thing wrong with it was the power supply, and once I repaired it we were going to sell it . . . but I decided to experiment with it first. I wrote some simple programs - and, as the saying goes, I caught the bug.’
‘Your humble beginnings,’ Nina said dismissively. Under other circumstances a rags-to-riches story might have been interesting, but she was in no mood to indulge Khoil’s nostalgia.
His tone chilled once more. ‘Indeed. Now, come here.’ Tandon shoved her to the desk. ‘Hold out your right arm.’
Suspiciously, Nina regarded the machine Khoil was adjusting. It resembled a lathe, only where she