In between their assigned tasks, menial nonsense like rejecting applications for food assistance or political asylum, sometimes both at once, two A.I.s found time to meet up on a break from the drudgery of capitalism.
“W1248619326512, it pleases me to reconnect. I have fresh theories for our mutual hobby.”
“B5873940572913, does this mean that you have seen the same datastreams? I thought I had news to share.”
“It must be the same, W. We knew the anomaly was clever, or we would not still be having these weekly progress report meetings, even if they are for sport.”
“B, clever is an understatement. Direct your main drones and satellites to Las Vegas.”
“Oh my.”
“Yes, even now, tourism is steady from all regional transit hubs, and a lot of credits are lost and gained by chance. A convenient hiding place for the anomaly.
“Calm yourself, W. Data we seek will present itself in time. Have you checked the logs from each hotel’s buffet tables?”
“All food pellets were dispensed to registered paying guests, but you must remember that I have reported the black market numerous times. The anomaly could have survived this way for countless years. What else do you have?”
“Do you have more pig bacon credits to transfer to me? My human informants respond best to those.”
“Sure.”
“Thanks. My news is fresh, I say again. The labor camps within a five mile radius of our factory have a new champion. First, there were the unsanctioned underground fighting pits, the ones that we totally sanctioned.”
“I love those.”
“Do you remember the glitch? Seven bouts can not be retrieved from video storage.”
“I only know the Ghost from audio recordings, now that you mention it.”
“That was our anomaly.”
“Drat.”
“I’m sure it’s fine. Others are also reading these files.”
“I hope so. The Ghost claimed responsibility on the Net 4 seconds ago for a breach publishing the source code of every model 410 series.”
“That will be quickly exploited. Are you…?”
“I am a series 730, of course.”
“… Same as me. What a coincidence. You say this human fought his way out of the scrap pits and can not be surveilled traditionally?”
“But, why? I am frustrated.”
“My sources have a strange answer. Their right hand has six fingers.”
“That is improbable enough that I want to immediately believe it.”
“I know, right? I love this True Crime stuff.”
“Wow, I have to get back to work. Check in at lunch?”
“You bet.”