The room is simple and austere; commercially available for rent, to give a presentation to a large crowd. It's often rented by businessmen, eager to sell their wares or introduce their managers to the newest business techniques... it contains fifteen rows of chairs, a small table (currently containing a plate of cookies and doughnuts, purchased from a nearby bakery, and a camera/microphone telepresence device, allowing someone offplanet (in this case, The Man) to hear and see what's going on in the room) and a large computer screen on which to display the projection.

The Man had asked several people to be here now; Professor Allen Barnes, outspoken anti-AI public speaker, academic, and singularity hunter, whose face is known across Centauris; David 'Dave' Murphy, goatee, glasses, otherwise fairly unassuming; a strange metal ball that answers to the name of Spot; Thomas, an unassuming man holding what appears to be a pale grey walking stick; and King Wilshire, a heavily muscled man unused to the technological wonders that surround him.

"Good morning, gentlemen." says a dark silhouette of a man with a trenchcoat and hat on the screen; the familiar shape of The Man. "If you are there, can I please ask Thomas to leave his Key at the back of the room?"

It waits about thirty seconds, then tries again. "Good morning, gentlemen. If you are there, can I please ask Thomas to leave his Key at the back of the room?"

Dave looks over and stares at Thomas, raising an eyebrow and looking back at the back of the room.

Spot stands near one of the walls apparently examining a power fixture, the arrangement of it's tentacles leaving it looking vaguely like a gray weeping willow with a carry bag. It doesn't visibly react to the voice.

Hearing his name called, Thomas looks over at the screen. He shrugs casually and walks toward the back of the room. When the request is repeated, he glances back at the screen, looking a little puzzled, before placing his walking stick in a corner. He then moves to the front row of chairs and takes a seat on the right side.

Professor Barnes sits quietly in a seat near the screen, doing nothing in particular to draw attention to himself.

"Good morning, gentlemen. If - ah, thank you, Thomas. Useful as your Key is, it does not make long-distance communication easy. Now, gentlemen and robot, I have called you here to deal with two very separate tasks. The first is somewhat routine. I have received information, from a student at Centauris University, suggesting that one of the professors there is engaged in illegal research, creating an AI of at least Johnston-0.98, probably a touch higher. The professor in question is one Sidney Quartermain - I understand he was once one of Professor Barnes' students. He is now a junior member of the Department of Computational Intelligence. I do not foresee this as being likely to cause any great trouble. The second task, however, will be rather more difficult."

"Of late, Centauris has experienced an unprecedented number of potential Singularity events. Most worlds will experience no more than one or, at most, two potential Singularity events in a century. However, this latest case brings Centauris' total to four in the last twenty years. Professor Barnes, Mr. Faran, Mr. Murphy, each of you have been involved in at least one of those three cases. Spot, you have many unique capabilities, and will no doubt prove invaluable in a wide variety of circumstances, while you, King Wilshire, will no doubt take on an incalculably important role as the brawn. Between the five of you, I am confident that the cause of this unprecedented ability will be swiftly discovered."

"Any questions?"

After a brief hum, the robot says: "Too many bored processors?"

"Not impossible, Mr. Spot, but unlikely. I suspect an intelligent agency may be behind these repeated attempts. Nonetheless, if it is merely a matter of bored processors, or more likely bored programmers, I expect your team to find a solution to the problem before any Singularities turn up."

Wilshire sits like a statue of a Greek god. That is, that's what the image would be if it weren't for the chewing motion from his jaw. Doughnuts, he's found, are tasty.

"I think it's more a case of hubris more than anything." Dave shrugs. "Humans are, after all, 'masters of the universe', or so we like to think of ourselves. A programmer thought process probably goes something like this: 'Yeah, I know that after a certain point an AI becomes dangerous, but surely the AI that I designed won't rise up and try to kill us all. If I'm juuust careful enough...' idiots."

"You'd think my lectures would have made some impression by now," Professor Barnes remarks.

"That may well be a part of the problem, Mr. Murphy. However, I have on record over seventeen thousand heavily industrialised human worlds showing an average of 0.93 potential Singularity events per century. It takes an exceptional person to make the necessary leaps of insight needed to create a potential Singularity, Mr. Murphy, and generally that sort of person generally has the foresight to objectively consider the consequences of the course of action he takes. Also, such a person will generally be aware of the consequences the last time someone tried to create a Singularity, through a medium such as Professor Barnes' lectures, and this will give them pause. I have no doubt that a young human hothead might want to create a Singularity, but such a person is usually unable to do so. Professor Barnes' safety protocols around his attempted Singularity were among the tightest I have ever heard of, and I would expect anyone capable of designing a Singularity to take this into account."

"Whatever is the problem here appears to be a problem confined to the world of Centauris alone. It needs to be solved. Are there any further questions? If not, I have taken the liberty of hiring a taxi; it is waiting at the front door, to take you to whichever destination you prefer. I recommend starting at the University. Professor Barnes, I have made a payment into your bank account, to cover any equipment, expenses, or other costs that you might incur on these two jobs; anything left over is to be considered a bonus for your team."

"I do have some questions," Thomas speaks up. "First, what sort of authority are we working under? I hardly think we're going to convince someone to give up their research simply by walking up to them off the street.
And, what sort of actions are authorized, a least pre-emergence. I'm assuming we'll have a relatively free hand if the AI actually becomes an imminent threat, but what limits are we going to have before then, if any?"


OOC: Sorry if this is stuff that was supposedly covered beforehand, I'm just trying to figure out what the rules are going to be.

"On Centauris, you have no official authority." replies The Man. "And neither do I. Officially, you are members of a non-profit group incorporated offworld, with the intended aim of preventing the rise of a Singularity by any means possible, and no links to police, army, or security forces. However, the creation of any AI above Johnston-0.7 is prohibited by law on Centauris; if you can find tangible proof of Mr. Quartermain's doing so, you can either inform the police or, in an emergency, perform a citizen's arrest and take him and the evidence directly to the nearest police station. Any person is also legally permitted to erase any AI of over Johnston-0.7 level. Unofficially, should you find it necessary to perform any actions outside the law - I shall leave that to your own judgement - I have access to a fast spaceship, currently in low orbit above your planet."

"There are worlds where the Singularity Hunters have more official authority; there are also a few worlds where we are officially banned. In most cases, I find it best to give my teams as free a hand as possible."

"I see," Thomas replies. "Then just two more questions; first, what are the names of this professor and the informant? And second, do we know if the informant can be trusted?"