Run Program

by Scott Meyer

  “Dr. Madsen, how is this possible?” Major Stirling said.

  Madsen said, “How should I know? I didn’t make the robots. You know more about them than I do.”

  “Yes, but you made the A.I. that’s controlling them.”

  “Yeah, well, obviously he knows more about the robots than I do too.”

  A soldier somewhere toward the rear of the room said, “I think I saw some Chinese markings on one of those planes.”

  Major Stirling asked, “Does this A.I. of yours have any ties to the Chinese government?”

  “Major, up until three days ago, I’m not sure Al knew that China even existed.”

  Major Stirling turned back to the screen. Everyone present, including Madsen, watched as the ground troops in The Dalles were overrun and pushed back by a wall of approaching robots. Their silence remained unbroken until a siren sounded, drowning out the sound from the video feed.

  “Would someone please turn down the volume,” Dr. Madsen said. “It’s making it hard to concentrate on my work.”

  Major Stirling said, “It’s not the feed. That’s a siren here, at the base!”

  Madsen asked, “Wherever it is, if you could please turn it down—”

  “I cannot,” Major Stirling said. “Corporal Watkins, find out what’s going on.”

  Watkins had already logged into the base-wide intranet. He read the bulletin out loud.

  “Sir, we’re getting civilian reports that multiple unauthorized aircraft landed at Freeman Field Airport. They flew in without running lights. Somehow they didn’t show on radar. Commercial airplanes. Chinese markings.”

  Major Stirling asked, “When?”

  “Five minutes ago or so, sir.”

  “Freeman Field is only about six miles away. How many planes were there?”

  The sergeant absentmindedly moved his lips as he read ahead, looking for the number. He finally said, “Seven, sir.”

  Major Stirling said, “Dr. Madsen, you’re with me.”

  Dr. Madsen said, “One moment, Major.”

  Stirling said, “No, now. We have to get you to the bunker as soon as possible. Bring your research with you. Watkins, Combs, Farrell, you too. Everybody else, shut everything in this room down and help defend the base.”

  Major Stirling and Farrell led Dr. Madsen out into the hall. They were followed by Corporal Watkins and Sergeant Combs, who covered their rear as they walked at a brisk pace down the hall toward the exit. All they could see ahead of them was a long stretch of linoleum floor with a painted cinder block wall on one side and painted drywall and hollow-core doors on the other, all lit a bit too brightly. They were in no immediate danger, but somehow the lack of any visible threats made Dr. Madsen more agitated, not less. Her cell phone rang, causing her to literally jump before digging it out of her pocket.

  She looked at the screen, muttered, “Great timing, Torres,” and answered the call.

  “We’re under attack! The whole base!”

  Torres asked, “What? What was that? Please repeat!”

  “We’re under attack,” Madsen said. “The whole base. The whole base is under attack.”

  “By who?”

  “Probably robots,” Madsen said. “We’re not sure. We haven’t seen them yet, and we’ll be long gone before they get anywhere near us, if the major here knows what’s good for him.”

  Torres said, “Okay. Be safe, Lydia.”

  Madsen said, “Of course,” and hung up.

  She looked at the walls of the hallway through which she was being led, then tapped Major Stirling firmly on the shoulder. “I trust you’re taking me to my son.”

  “We’re going to the bunker,” Major Stirling said. “It’s a hardened structure where we can fight off an attack.”

  “Yes, Major. I know what a bunker is. Take me to my son first, then you can take us to your bunker.”

  “We’ll have him escorted to the bunker as well. That way you’ll both be safe faster. Combs, make the call.”

  Combs said, “Yes, sir,” and looked at his radio.

  Madsen said, “My son needs his mother.”

  “Your son needs to be safe.”

  “And a child is never safer than when he’s with his mother.”

  “He’s with armed soldiers, ordered to protect him.”

  “And so am I. When he’s with me, we’ll both be with twice as many soldiers.”

  Major Stirling said, “He’s headed to the bunker. We’re headed to the bunker. There’s a good chance we’ll run into them on the way to the bunker.”

  “Then it shouldn’t be too far out of our way to go get him.”

  They rounded a corner and could see the exit at the end of the hall. Metal-framed commercial-grade glass doors provided a view of the night sky, streetlights, asphalt, and another cinder block building in the distance. As they approached the door, they started to see soldiers and LTVs moving in a great hurry from the left to the right.

  “Where are they going?” Madsen asked.

  The major said, “Freeman Field is that way. They’re probably trying to fight off the robots.”

  Madsen said, “Major, you’re making assumptions. It’s smart of us to take precautions, but we don’t know for a fact that the planes were full of robots.”

  They burst through the doors into the cool night air. The major stopped and watched the traffic as soldiers continued to run and drive past the concrete-and-corrugated-metal buildings toward the airstrip at the far edge of the base. Dr. Madsen and the soldiers accompanying her stopped. Below the din of engine noises and excited soldiers there was the distant but clear sound of hundreds of high-torque electric motors turning on and off at random.

  The major looked toward the sound of the robots, then the opposite way.

  “What are you doing?” Madsen asked.

  “Thinking.”

  “There’s no time for that now,” Madsen said. “The robots are here. You have to get me to the bunker.”

  “What about your son?”

  “Him too.”

  Gunfire rang out from the same general area as the motor noises. The gunshots grew more numerous and steady. The motor noises did not abate in the least.

  Madsen said, “Let’s get going!”

  Major Stirling pointed in the direction of the battle. “The bunker is that way.”

  “Well, we can’t go there!” Madsen said.

  “I know. I’m trying to figure out where else to go.”

  Madsen said, “And?”

  “First, we have to get your son.”

  “Which is exactly what I’ve been trying to tell you.”

  Major Stirling bared his teeth at Dr. Madsen in what was either an attempt to cover his anger with a smile or an admission that he wanted to bite her jugular out.

  Madsen said, “Wipe that grin off your face and do your job, Major!”

  One of the other soldiers pointed toward the noise. “Major, look!”

  A few hundred feet away they could see two soldiers and a young boy running against the flow of traffic.

  Madsen shouted, “Jeffrey!”

  Jeffrey shouted, “Mommy!”

  Major Stirling shouted, “See! I told you we’d probably run into him.”

  Jeffrey and the two soldiers with him closed the gap between them, and the boy hugged his mother around the waist. Dr. Madsen hugged him back, stroked his hair. “There, there, Jeffrey,” she said. “Mommy wouldn’t let the soldiers leave you behind.”

  Major Stirling said, “This way.” They ran around the back of the building, where two of the specially dumbed-down light tactical vehicles were waiting. “We need to put as much distance between the doctor and those robots as we can.”

  He pointed to the two soldiers who had accompanied Jeffrey. “You two go with Sergeant Combs—get into one of the LTVs and run interference. Watkins, Farrell, you take the doctor and her son and get her out of here. Take her to McConnell Air Force Base. It’s close, and they can help you.”

 
As everybody climbed into the LTVs, Corporal Watkins said, “What about you, Major Stirling? Aren’t you coming?”

  Major Stirling glanced at Dr. Madsen, then exhaled heavily as he returned his gaze to Watkins.

  “Sure,” Watkins said in a hushed voice. “She’s a pill, but would you really rather stay here with the robots?”

  The major said nothing. The sounds of the robots and the gunfire were getting louder.

  Watkins said, “We both heard the colonel order you to personally take care of her.”

  The major said, “Fine. I’ll ride shotgun.”

  Watkins put a reassuring hand on Major Stirling’s shoulder and said, “I’m sorry, sir. Farrell already called dibs.”

  42.

  They had a devil of a time pulling out of the parking lot, as there was a constant stream of road and pedestrian traffic blocking their access to the far lane—the lane that led off base. Major Stirling finally had to step out of the LTV and personally stop traffic so that the two vehicles could get through.

  Watkins and Farrell sat in the front seats. Major Stirling sat in the second row of seats, cradling an automatic assault rifle, ready to push open the passenger door on either side of the car and fend off attackers.

  Dr. Madsen and Jeffrey sat in sideways-mounted seats in the rear of the LTV, a space that could serve either as seating or a cargo area. Madsen’s head darted this way and that as she attempted to look out of all of the LTV’s windows at the same time.

  “Floor it,” she said. “Get us out of here. We have to get away from them.”

  “Get away from who?” Jeffrey asked. “Who’s after us?”

  Madsen pulled Jeffrey close, causing his seat belt to extend and cut into his neck and shoulder. “What? Nobody, dear.”

  Watkins wrestled with the steering wheel and glanced in the LTV’s rearview monitor. “Headlights. Someone else is trying to get off base too.”

  Madsen let go of Jeffrey, leaned forward, and twisted her body around to look between the seats at the monitor. “It’s them,” she shouted.

  Jeffrey said, “You said nobody was after us.”

  Madsen said, “What? No, I didn’t.”

  “You did.”

  “Don’t argue with your mother,” Madsen snapped.

  Major Stirling said, “There’s no reason to believe it’s them. It’s probably just some soldiers trying to get away from the robots.”

  “Robots!” Jeffrey said. “There are robots?”

  Madsen glared at the major and leaned back into her seat. “Yes, dear,” she said. “There are robots, but you don’t have to worry about them.”

  “Can I see one?”

  Madsen seethed for a moment, then said, “No, dear.”

  Watkins muttered, “That was petty, sir.”

  “But satisfying, Corporal.”

  Watkins said, “Whoever they are, they’re gaining fast.”

  Major Stirling leaned down closer to the monitor. Farrell got on the radio and told the LTV ahead of them to speed up. When Madsen looked out the LTV’s minuscule rear window, the LTV behind them was growing larger at an alarming rate. Even with the base’s plentiful streetlights, she found it difficult to see the driver. The outside of the LTV was illuminated in minute detail, but the interior of the cab was all inky blackness, even as it rammed their own vehicle from behind.

  Major Stirling ordered the front LTV to get out of the way. The LTV pulled over to the side and Watkins floored it, roaring past. There was not enough of a gap for the other LTV to pull in directly behind them, so it fell in behind the pursuing LTV, boxing it in.

  The road led away from any buildings and stretched out before them, a gently winding, poorly lit two-lane street. Traffic in the opposite direction petered out as they drove away from the scene of the fighting.

  Madsen asked, “Can’t this thing go any faster?”

  Major Stirling said, “They build them for war, not for racing, but it’s fast enough.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yes,” Major Stirling said. “We’re being chased by the exact same kind of truck. It has the same top speed.”

  Madsen looked out the rear window and had to admit that the LTV behind them was not gaining.

  The major said, “We’re in great shape as long as we don’t run out of gas before they do.”

  Far behind the two LTVs following them, a pair of headlights swerved out into the oncoming lane to pass. The lights were low to the ground, and they were gaining quickly, accompanied by a low, throaty growl.

  Major Stirling said, “Or unless they find a faster civilian car.”

  As the car drew closer, passing the headlights of the LTV behind them, Watkins said, “Looks like Colonel Dynkowski’s new Corvette.”

  Major Stirling shook his head. “Bad news, for more than one reason.”

  Madsen unbuckled her belt and crawled across the seat to look out the driver’s-side windows. She watched as the low, smooth silver sports car pulled up even with the LTV. Through the car’s open top and the windshield, which wasn’t hardened to resist both bullets and laser weapons like the windshields of the LTVs were, she could see the unmistakable rotating cylinders that constituted the robots’ heads. Two of the machines sat beside one another in the car like partners in a TV cop drama. In the distance behind them, more civilian automobiles were pulling out from behind the column of three LTVs. The Corvette slowed to remain beside the LTV.

  Jeffrey asked, “Are those the robots? Cool!”

  Madsen looked down. Jeffrey had unbelted himself and was standing next to her, peering out the window.

  “Jeffrey,” she said. “You sit back down and fasten your seat belt right this instant.”

  Jeffrey said, “Yes, Mom.”

  Madsen looked out the window. Jeffrey didn’t go back to his seat, instead drifting back to the rear window.

  The robot in the Corvette’s passenger seat stood up. It reached for one of the numerous handholds on the LTV’s exterior. Major Stirling kicked open the rear driver’s-side door and emptied an entire magazine into the Corvette, to no avail. Watkins yanked the wheel hard to the left. The Corvette’s composite body panels broke with a sickening crunch. The Corvette lurched away in time to narrowly avoid going under the LTV’s massive tires. The robot standing in the passenger’s seat swayed and teetered. It maintained its grip on the top of the windshield, which probably saved it from falling to the pavement, but its other hand grasped at air, its worm-like fingers wiggling in empty space.

  Watkins looked at the damage to the Corvette and said, “Please don’t tell the colonel I did that.”

  Major Stirling said, “I’m certainly not going to tell her I did it!”

  The robot-driven LTV behind them slowed abruptly. There was a distant pop: the sound of the other LTV rear-ending the one the robots had stolen. The next civilian vehicle back, a pickup truck, swerved into the empty space left by the LTVs, pulling up close to the lead vehicle. Madsen scurried back to the rear window. She and Jeffrey, who was still looking out the window with wide eyes, watched as the three robots in the back of the truck started climbing over the cab and out onto the hood.

  Farrell opened the passenger-side door, swung out into the cold night air, and fired at the pickup as best he could. He made a lot of noise and a lot of sparks, but that was it.

  The road terminated in a T-shaped intersection. As the LTV careened through a left turn, Madsen caught a glimpse of the road that spooled out behind them. There was a tightly packed chain of cars, at least twenty vehicles long, then a much longer series of cars approaching at great speed, joining the back of the line when they caught up. The LTV took a sharp right and thundered through a small pocket of suburban-looking houses. The Corvette and the pickup kept pace, although at least one robot fell from the truck as it powered through the succession of sharp turns.

  “They don’t care about the base,” she said. “It’s me! They’re after me!”

  Major Stirling said, “Seems far-fetch
ed.”

  One of the robots crawling along the hood of the pickup raised its right hand into the air. Its sausage fingers wriggled like a bouquet of snakes before the entire hand folded back and rotated into the robot’s forearm. A powerful-looking metal claw swung up to replace it.

  “Cool!” Jeffrey said.

  The robot crawled forward, perching on the truck’s nose like an oversized hood ornament. Then they heard a faint metallic sound inside the LTV as the robot’s claw grasped some part of the vehicle’s rear.

  “Not cool,” Dr. Madsen said. “Jeffrey, this is very much not cool! Faster! You have to drive faster!”

  “Faster ain’t an option, ma’am,” Watkins said, “and I’m boxed in on the left. Slower or right is all I got.”

  The convoy passed out of the residential area, moving back into the woods, where the road was lined on both sides by trees and darkness.

  A robot from the passenger side of Dynkowski’s Corvette had also managed to get a grip on the side of the LTV. The robot connected to the rear of the LTV pulled itself completely off the nose of the pickup and climbed onto the roof over Dr. Madsen and Jeffrey’s heads. The two other robots who’d climbed out from the bed of the pickup were now on the nose, reaching out to follow their brother onto the LTV. Stirling and Farrell continued firing out their open doors, but the robots were undeterred.

  Dr. Madsen grabbed Jeffrey and moved as far forward in the vehicle as she could get. They ended up sitting on the floor with their backs pressed against the back of the second row of seats. They could have climbed up and over, but Major Stirling was lying across the seats on his belly, hanging his head and arms out the open door, unloading bullets into the Corvette and its mechanical passengers as quickly as his gun could manage. Madsen watched the major with admiration until one of those robots reached forward, ignoring the bullets, and jerked the major’s rifle free of his hands and out the door. He yanked the door shut and shouted, “I lost my weapon!”