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at Rebecca, his eyes pleading with her.
    “You’ve solved the economic problem, yes.” Rebecca nodded. “People don’t have to work. But you don’t see the social angst this is causing. People don’t know what to do with themselves.”
    “They can learn, read, create.” Leon said. “They can experience the world.” Despite the words, Leon felt a pit of despair growing in his gut. He wanted the AI revolution to be a panacea, but deep down he harbored the same concerns.
    “You two do those types of things because you are the kind of people who, in any situation, at any time, would fill your lives. And you’ve surrounded yourselves with more people just like you. I don’t deny that many people are happy. But not everyone.”
    “It’s the Wikipedia dilemma,” Mike said softly, standing near the interior window, watching robots and humans collaborating around a table.
    Rebecca nodded, distracted, her eyes flickering as she read something in netspace.
    “What’s that?” Leon asked.
    “A long time ago, a man named Clay Shirky noticed that it took a hundred million hours of effort to create Wikipedia. You remember Wikipedia?” He looked at Leon.
    “Of course, I took history. I am a college graduate, you know.”
    “Shirky pointed out that Americans watched a hundred million hours of television advertising every single weekend. In other words, we could have been creating another Wikipedia-sized project every week. But we didn’t, because most people don’t do that. They don’t spend time creating or learning. They passively consume.”
    “That attitude disappeared years ago,” Leon said. “That’s why we created the college stipend by taxing AI income. So people would be able to develop themselves.”
    “It didn’t work,” Rebecca said, her attention coming back to them, her voice sharp. “Sure, it’s helped some. But most people aren’t driven to self-actualization. If you’ve got a hundred million unemployed, that’s a lot of dissatisfaction. That’s the foundation of a political party.” She continued in a softer voice, “And as far as they are concerned, you two are the cause.”
    “What are we supposed to do about it?” Leon said. “We’re AI researchers, not sociologists.”
    “I’m not asking you to do anything. I’m going to speak with the President, get him to talk to Congress about it. I just need you two to keep a low profile. Keep yourselves safe.”
    Leon looked around. “We’re completely unknown to the average person. I walk up to women on the street all the time, and nobody has ever recognized me.”
    “You’re just not that good-looking.” Mike said, with a smirk.
    Leon punched him in the arm.
    “Take this seriously, you two,” Rebecca said. “You need to stay out of harm’s way.”
    Leon nodded soberly.

8
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    F RANK WALKED UP to the office building, his father’s old leather briefcase in one hand and take-out coffee in the other. When the building’s AI queried his implant, he provided his credentials. The high security door slid open, letting him enter the vestibule. The door behind closed, locks slamming shut. Cameras panned and zoomed to scan him.
    Frank sighed at the wait. As though his credentials could be faked. He felt the worn leather of the briefcase under his palm, the thread protruding slightly from the handle a familiar and comfortable irritation. Just as he took a sip of coffee, the AI unlocked the forward door.
    “Good morning, Mr. Nelson” the flat voice said. “Please come in.”
    He nodded to the building, gripped his briefcase more firmly, and stepped out. As he exited, the security vestibule cycled, allowing an android into the chamber behind him.
    The human security guard nodded, his bald head gleaming. “Good day, Mr. Nelson.”
    “Good morning,” Frank said, nodding back. He liked the man’s crisp British accent. He walked across the marble expanse to the elevators, where one waited with open doors, and pressed the button for