by John Conroe
“Emm, that’s good,” I said, smiling at her own sly smile.
She glanced at my plate, eyebrows lifting in mock surprise. “As, apparently, so was your steak?”
My plate was almost spotless, hardly even a smudge of sauce, well cleaned by a fresh dinner roll. Her own plate had a mound of uneaten pasta, but the vegetables were gone and now, too, was the last of the scallops.
“Gotta watch my intake. Not all of us have the metabolism of a shrew, AJ,” she said. “Those cameras add kilos.”
“Please!” I said.
“No, you don’t have any idea how much attention I have to pay to my figure,” she said.
“Oh, I pay a lot of attention to your figure,” I said with a sly grin of my own.
“Easy there, Creeper. Let’s get back to this class of yours,” she said, laughing. I wasn’t lying, and based on the glances and stares she was getting from half the men in the restaurant, I wasn’t the only one eyeing her figure.
“It’s a joint service task force of high class special operators, with a high percentage of trained snipers. The idea is to train them to operate at clearing houses in the northern part of the Zone, then move portable barriers in and block those buildings from getting reinforced.”
The major hadn’t told me it was a secret and he knew the rest of my family knew about it, so I figured Astrid should too.
“Well, they’ve tried the whole clearing thing before, didn’t they?”
“Yes, early on and then again about five years ago. They had a lot of losses and couldn’t secure the new territory well enough.”
“So I can see that having you train them would increase the odds, but what’s changed with the barriers?”
“The first times, they tried hauling sections of fencing into place. But the drones always massed up to counterattack, which made it near impossible to set them, even using armored equipment. These new barriers are robotic, controlled by Zone D.”
She frowned, and it was really cute. “Robotic? Like, what’s the difference between that and the armored equipment?”
“Before, they used armored equipment to set barrier sections. This time, the barriers are the armored equipment. Special ground drones, armed, armored, and able to interlock with each other. Additional units will be right behind them as backups.”
“But won’t the Spiders catch on? Make it harder to keep clearing houses and buildings?”
“Absolutely. But it’s a multi-phase operation. Anytime we can get a massing of drones, we’ll bring in the Renders, the major’s armored troopers, plus use the firepower of the barrier units themselves to thin them out. Then we’ll either try it again or move to another part of the perimeter where there are fewer drones.”
“It sounds good in theory, but it’s going to take a long time, and people are going to die. Plus, I don’t see how it will work with high rises.”
“Agreed—on everything you just said, but there seems to be huge pressure to get the Zone cleared. Those armored suits are a big part. You can kill a shit ton of drones wearing one, but they run out of power too fast. Doing it this way plays to the strength of the suits and the robot barriers. At least that’s how the planners explain it.”
“And you’re just the trainer, right?”
“Yes, but Astrid, I still need to go into the Zone to fully train these people,” I said.
“I know, AJ. But that’s your strongest skill set. You’re an incredible shooter, but in computerized drone combat, the odds are always against even the best human operator. And you are not a trained armored soldier like your friend Kayla.”
“Kayla who hits on you every chance she gets?” I asked, grinning.
“Yeah, her,” she admitted, rolling her eyes.
“Like you don’t find it flattering? But yes. I’m teaching the sneak, peek, shoot, and scoot class. Although the major has me also observing his strike force when it trains. Says he’s interested in any ideas that occur to me. I don’t know why, because as you pointed out, I know nothing about fighting in armored suits.”
“Because he’s smart enough to use every resource, and you, my friend, have more time and knowledge of the Zone and the drones, including Spiders, than anyone,” she said.
Anyone but Harper, I thought, but I kept that to myself. Astrid didn’t like Harper and always bristled when I brought up her name. So I didn’t… bring up her name. I’m not an idiot; I realized that Astrid was insecure about Harper, but that made no sense to me because, well, she’s Astrid and I’m just me.
The waiter, a guy, appeared at the table, his attention focused on Astrid. “Can I interest you in any dessert?” he asked her, only glancing at me once.
“No, thanks. Just the bill,” she said, not matching his smile. I had discovered that Astrid really didn’t like all the attention that being a Zone War celebrity brought her. She liked being on the show and loved being an inspiration for girls everywhere, but the negative aspects of being in the public eye bothered her a great deal. Everything from the critical naysayers on social media to aggressive men who couldn’t see anything past her looks and had trouble with the word no. Most people assumed she was a star first and a skilled combat driver second or third. Like it was an alien concept that a girl raised in a military family whose job was to drive a multi-ton armored combat vehicle might actually find self-actualization in that. They always talked about JJ’s—her brother—bravery and skill, her father’s tactical prowess, even stupid middle brother Martin’s gunnery ability, but with her, the comments eventually always circled back to her movie star looks.
Most of Astrid’s public appearances were in schools, talking to kids, particularly girls, about their value to society beyond fashion and looks. Certainly things have changed a lot over the last ten to fifteen years, but overcoming centuries-old societal bias requires constant reinforcement.
The waiter came back, putting the bill in the center of the table, which was smarter than I would have thought him. We usually split the tabs, except for special occasions like birthdays or celebratory events where one of us might treat the other. I had no doubt that my girlfriend made more money than I did, but it didn’t really matter to me, as my family was doing alright now and I had enough to do what I mostly wanted. In fact, because of the two drone caches that we shared with the Johnson family, the twins’ educations were set, and our family FU fund was in the best shape ever.
Astrid’s AI figured out the split along with tip and my AI sent hers my share so that it could pay the bill. Funny, but I still remember my parents using credit cards, and I still find them lying around on the ground inside the Zone, but they’re a thing of the past. Now a person’s credit lines are tied right to their AIs. It’s funny, but cash is still around and plastic cards are long gone. Go figure. Must be something about physical currency that still strikes a chord with the human animal.
As she finished the transaction, I had my AI call a car. Seconds later, we were stepping outside the restaurant, slipping past all the eyes that followed her famous self and into the semi-darkness of Brooklyn at night.
“There’s our car,” I said, spotting the car number that my AI had reported. I took a step toward the vehicle, then sensed that Astrid wasn’t beside me. I turned back to see her kneeling down, autographing a napkin for a little girl who must have followed us out, the girl’s mother standing, smiling, in the restaurant doorway.
A sudden squeal of tires brought me around in time to see a heavy driverless delivery truck smash into our Ublyft car, crushing it like a beer can as it jammed the passenger vehicle right over a fire hydrant.
Then I was just suddenly standing back in the doorway of the restaurant, my body between Astrid and the street as she cradled the little girl protectively in her arms.
The cops arrived within a pretty respectably short time and we had to give statements supported by our personal AIs’ records of the events. Two news crews and about fifteen paparazzi drones showed up within minutes of the cops identifying us, all eager
to get vid and news bites. Not to mention all the restaurant staff and patrons, plus the odd dozen passersby.
Astrid handled it all very smoothly while I just kept my wiseass mouth shut. She’d dealt with this stuff for years, while it was all new to me. And let’s be honest here… interviewing a drop-dead gorgeous girl is generally better news than a not-so-stunning guy. Fine by me.
They got her quotes, which were basically just our complete surprise by the accident, and then I called a new car, this one a taxi, manned by a human. When it pulled up, I let Astrid climb in first, noting that one of the reporters was already interviewing the young girl’s mother.
“—their reactions were so quick. I guess that makes sense, seeing as who they are, but really, the crash was still happening and they were already in the door, holding my Sella, safe and sound,” the mom was saying as I climbed in after Trid and let the door close itself. The taxi pulled away immediately. Astrid must have already given the driver our destination. But I was surprised when he pulled up to a small neighborhood hotel still two blocks short from where the Johnson family residence was.
Astrid took my hand and led me into the hotel, ignoring the front desk and taking us right to the elevator. “I keep a room here,” she said. “Sometimes I need my space from the rest of them.”
Like my family, the Johnsons all lived in the same home. Unlike us, it was almost a mansion. But I could understand the need to get away; after all, I didn’t always hate my overnights in the Zone. Some of my safe hides were pretty cozy and all of them were very, very quiet.
“You’re really upset,” I said, a little surprised. Both of us faced violent death on a regular basis, so the crash wasn’t, to my way of thinking, a huge deal. I mean, yeah it was scary, and it had set my adrenaline flowing, but it was nothing like facing a Leopard or Tiger.
“Do you know how lucky we just got? If that little girl hadn’t asked for an autograph, we’d have been climbing into that car when it got crushed,” she said.
She’d been very quiet on the taxi ride.
“Yeah, maybe. I guess,” I said.
She looked me in the eyes and shivered. Immediately I wrapped her in a hug. “Hey, but we’re okay. Not even a scratch, right?”
“And then there’s that… the odds. Self-drivers never crash, at least not in the city where the NYC Traffic AI is running things. So what is the probability that the car we were about to get into gets hit by a rogue truck? And by a truck big enough to crush it?”
The elevator doors opened as her words hit me like a brick between the eyes. “Yeah. When you say it like that, it’s like infinitesimal,” I said.
She led me out onto the second floor, to the right and into room 217, which unlocked itself as she reached for the handle.
“In fact, I should have my AI look into it,”I said, realizing it was too unlikely to actually be an accident.
She shook her head, blonde hair swinging free, blue eyes locked on me. “No. Later.” She shut the door, bolted it, and turned around. “We almost died tonight, AJ. Yeah, I know we face death all the time, but that’s when we’re expecting it, geared for it. This was out of nowhere. One or both of us could be dead right now or irreparably injured. It reminded me of Mom. None of us know how much time we have. So we can’t waste it,” she said, and then she was on me, her lips hot against mine.
Chapter 11
Sometime between waking up early in Astrid’s room, saying goodbye for the day, stopping home for clean clothes, and finally getting to Zone D headquarters, a theory had taken strong root in my mind. I know what you’re thinking. Ajaya, you and Astrid have finally taken that step in your relationship and all you can think about is a stupid theory regarding the possible demise of the human species? Dude, really?
I’ll tell you it wasn’t by any means the only thing I thought about, but it was in the mix. After all, we had almost gotten smucked out by a big truck. That, plus the list of drone accidents, and add in the new list my AI had put together, albeit a short one, and you have yourself a theory. And I dumped that theory right in Yoshida’s lap. Found him in the control room to the simulator, watching the new class go through one at a time.
“So there have been three vehicle accidents in the last two months and you think that’s important?” he asked as we watched an Army Ranger get tagged in the back of the head by a computer-fired paint pellet fifteen minutes into his attempt.
“There haven’t been any accidents since the city-wide AI took over seven years ago, Major,” Maya said. She was ostensibly running the simulator, but since that was mostly handled by artificial intelligence, she was really just watching the operators get killed and listening in on our conversation.
Yoshida shot her a look that might have been annoyance at her interjection.
“You know that how?” he asked.
“Because my boss pays me to learn about all the most successful AI programs out there. The NYC Traffic AI is at the top of that list. Or at least it was. This is disturbing stuff,” she said, then waved a hand over the holo desk to activate audio. “Sorry Sergeant Perry, but you’re dead.”
“You really going to get through all twenty-four today?” I asked, looking at the clock. It was ten after eight in the morning.
Both the major and Maya turned and looked at me, surprised.
“Have you paid any attention to what they’re doing wrong? I only ask because Sergeant Perry was the third one in forty minutes. At this rate, we’ll be done before lunch,” Yoshida said, frowning.
An advantage of darker skin is that when your face flushes in embarrassment, you aren’t as obvious about it. Not like the fair-skinned Johnson clan. “Ah, yeah. That one moved too slow. The drones had time to register the heat differential between his stealth suit and the ground. The first one went too fast and got tagged for motion detection. And the middle one…” I trailed off, trying to remember. “Oh yeah, you can’t outrun a flechette. Should have taken cover and tried to kill off the drone with a grenade.”
He stared at me for a moment, then looked at Maya, who was busy typing on her virtual holo keypad. “Yeah, yeah, I’m noting all that on their individual evaluations,” she said without looking up.
He nodded, then turned back to me. “So… you think that the remaining Spiders are planning to attack us through commercial drones and self-drivers?”
“What I think is that Spider Peony is doing exactly that. Plum Blossom is focused on planning worldwide attacks. Listen, we saw the log on Lotus that it had been hopping commercial websites on the internet, and Maya and the others thought it was trying to plant software bots and viruses to gain access to those corporate networks. Suddenly, the commercial drones are having statistically crazy numbers of potentially lethal accidents and now a proven traffic AI has had three listed accidents after years of none. Two different insurance companies have contacted me so far today and it seemed like none of them really even know how to go about investigating the claims because there hasn’t been any in years. So yes, I think it’s significant. Not to mention that Rikki noted that I’m a high priority target for the Spiders.”
“Were you not in the room when Agents Black and White told us to leave Spiders alone?” he asked, arching one eyebrow.
“Yes and then, after they left, I heard you instruct the team to pretty much ignore anything that came out of their mouths,” I said.
Maya was nodding as she flicked her fingers over the holographically projected controls to reset the simulator for the next contender.
Yoshida was staring off into space, the wheels clearly turning behind his blank expression.
“All right. I agree. It’s significant. So, here’s what we do. I will have Maya, Eric, and Aaron do some real careful forensic work on both the accident statistics and the Spider internet activity. You will clear your AI of any and all such searches right this minute. Clear?”
“You think I’ll trigger a watchdog program?”