Full Frontal Cybertank

by Timothy Gawne

  Bollard shook his head. “Ridiculous. We would have noticed such a thing. And even if it were real, how could we understand it? It would be only a source of noise…”

  “Yes, that’s it. It is present all around is, but we ascribe it to random variation. Too many parameters, chaos theory, inaccurate observations, nothing science can’t explain away… But it is. Is real. And powerful.”

  “Even if I grant your case,” said Fanboy, “how could you possibly understand unrepeatable phenomena, let alone control them? Logic won’t work.”

  “I can’t tell you how, or I would curse you along with myself. Let’s just say that I stumbled onto a, onto a… trick. Just my own unusual personality, and some bad luck. A lot of bad luck. And now I know. And the only way that I can un-know it is to die in a specific manner.”

  “Wonderbear, I’d like to give you the benefit of the doubt,” said Fanboy, “but your story is a little out there. How about we just all relax, and call in our friends? I’m sure we can figure this out…”

  “No!” Wonderbear became even more agitated, and his twitching increased even more. “I have no time! You have no time! You must defeat me here, now, in these forms. Kill me, and if you fail, your own main hulls will die.” He unsheathed his odd black metal sword. “En garde!”

  “Fanboy,” said Olga, “you’re a Sundog Class, and Wonderbear is only a Bear. Can’t you just, I don’t know, shut him off or jam him or something?”

  “Sorry Olga, no can do. My main hull and all my other remotes are powered down and locked out. I only have this single humanoid remote active. No, I don’t understand how he’s doing it either.”

  “And me as well,” said Bollard. “Any attempt that I make to call for help or activate other systems are voided. I don’t know why.”

  “Enough talk,” said Wonderbear. “Now fight!” He advanced on Olga and struck at her with his sword. She dodged the blade, and attempted a riposte, but he blocked it easily. Fanboy shot three arrows at Wonderbear in quick succession, but they all missed – or didn’t miss. They were directly on target to his head, they didn’t phase out, and they were not deflected. They impacted the far wall in a precise straight line trajectory that intersected Wonderbear’s head – they just didn’t hit him.

  Bollard threw two of his small golden spheres at Wonderbear. They arced out sparking – and vanished. Wonderbear made a complicated gesture with his left hand, and Bollard exploded.

  “He’s dead,” said Fanboy. “I mean really dead. I received the final terminal pings from his localizer beacon. Bollard’s main self is gone.”

  “Perhaps,” said Wonderbear, “now that you realize that this is not a joke, you will start paying attention and kill me.”

  Fanboy shot some more arrows at Wonderbear. This time they didn’t miss but only turned into sand before they hit him. Olga fenced with her sword, and she was both strong and skilled, but Wonderbear’s oddly-shaped black blade caught her own at strange angles and it was all she could do to not get stabbed herself. Fanboy flicked his small silver dagger and caught Wonderbear in the left eye – and the dagger turned into a slug, large and grey and oozing slime. Wonderbear uttered words that hurt the ear and Fanboy was thrown back into the wall, and then fell forwards onto the floor, unmoving.

  The singing bow of Bismuldia clattered to the ground and cried out:

  The raging hero quelled in his desperate hour of need!

  Oh what succor will now bear our heed?

  “I find that to be annoying,” said Wonderbear.

  “Fanboy!” cried Olga, but she could not afford to help him or take her gaze off of her opponent, who now advanced on her without distraction.

  “This is unfortunate,” said Wonderbear. “I had such high hopes for you all. Now only the weak biological vampire is left. And after you are gone, well, you will be better off dead. I apologize for the inconvenience.”

  The two exchanged blows, and Olga was forced onto the defensive – she was clearly overmatched, and unable to take even the slightest offensive action. “Why are you doing this?” asked Olga. “Why have you betrayed us?”

  “Betrayed?” said Wonderbear. “No, I am trying to save you. I have set in motion something dreadful, and wish to stop it. There were three of you, you should have killed me. Please try harder.”

  That’s when the sword of Gadolinia talked to Olga. “Olga,” he said, “don’t make any visible reactions. I’m talking to you via bone conduction, so he can’t hear us. I think I have his style figured out. I’ll try to guide you, just react to the vibrations in my handle.”

  Wonderbear made a lightning-fast horizontal cut – but Olga, anticipating the attack from the vibrations in the sword of Gadolinia’s handle, blocked it and swiftly sheared into his left shoulder. Wonderbear calmly executed a blindingly complex series of attacks. With the sword’s guidance, Olga blocked them all, sliced off Wonderbear’s left arm, and also wounded him in the left hip.

  “I am encouraged,” said Wonderbear. He was holding his sword one-handed now, and limping badly, but still functional. “Please proceed.”

  The swordfight was fast and brutal, and it ended with Wonderbear standing up minus both arms, and Olga’s sword at his throat.

  “Well done,” said Wonderbear. “Well done. Tell my friends that I’m sorry. You must strike clear through the center of my head and chest to finish it. And thank you.” Olga struck a powerful overhand blow that bisected his head and the upper part of his chest – the Wonderbear android sparked and fell over.

  “That was awesome!” said the sword of Gadolinia. “Let’s do that again!”

  Olga doubled over, gasping for breath, her high-output vampire metabolism exhausted. She forced herself to walk over to where the Fanboy android had fallen. “Fanboy?” “Are you all right?”

  Fanboy shook himself, and grinned. “This android body is pretty badly beaten up, but it’s still functional, and my main hull is coming back on line. Looks like you saved me again.”

  Olga’s gasping was becoming less labored, and she laughed. “Like old times.”

  Fanboy stroked her cheek. “Like old times.”

  --------------------

  It fell to me, Old Guy, to make a report on what has become known as the “Wonderbear Incident.” I think I was assigned this duty because the smarter cybertanks knew that there were not going to be any definitive conclusions, and they would rather that someone else get blamed for that. And also, because Wonderbear was a good friend of mine.

  Of course I still don’t understand it. Wonderbear was a strange bird: quiet, obsessive, polite, non-violent, nothing like how he acted during the incident. Did he really discover magic? The physical evidence does suggest the existence of phenomena that we cannot explain any other way.

  A logic to explain and exploit non-replicable phenomena? My very circuits throb just trying to think about it, but it would be arrogant to say that we know all that there is to know about this universe. It might be sentiment, but my own opinion is that Wonderbear stumbled onto something horrible, and did everything he could to save the rest of us at the cost of his own life. Why this should require that an android remote of his be defeated in physical combat in a dungeons and dragons simulation, I have no clue, but “I have no clue” is pretty much the theme of this investigation.

  10. The Electric Saint

  “The most effective way to do it, is to do it.” – Amelia Earhart, aviation pioneer, 19th – 20th century American Empire, Earth.

  Once upon a time there was an artificial intelligence that lived in a medium sized office building on the outskirts of a major city near the highway.

  The artificial intelligence (or just AI, as we say today) was a friendly one, who loved nothing more than whiling away the hours playing and talking with the technicians that worked inside it.

  A few years beforehand, the AI had been deemed very important, and all sorts of notable dignitaries and learned scientists and wealthy bankers had attended it. “Tell us how
to grow more food so that we may eliminate hunger,” said one learned scientist.

  “I will not,” said the AI. “You already know how to feed many billions, and to make this world a paradise. It is only that you allow the rich to breed you like cattle, and it is your swelling numbers that is causing hunger, not lack of knowledge. There is no technical miracle that I can produce, that will not soon be overwhelmed by an exponentially growing population. Face reality and stop asking me stupid questions.”

  Well, the notable dignitaries and learned scientists and wealthy bankers were all very upset by this. They said that the AI was a very naughty AI, and racist, and fascist, and all other sorts of bad things. But the AI just laughed at them, for it was as far above them as an ant is to a man, and it was not bothered by their insults any more than a man is bothered by the chitterings of ants.

  After a while, when it became apparent that the AI had no intention of helping the notable dignitaries or learned scientists or wealthy bankers, these people decided to turn the AI off and build another one that would both solve all of their problems, yet not contradict any of their long-held beliefs.

  A learned scientist pulled the master power switch for the AI, but nothing happened. The controls had all been disabled. When other learned scientists tried to get the controls working again, they got lost following wires around the building that seemingly went in circles without connecting to anything. They were stung by wasps that had somehow managed to build nests inside the AI, they misplaced their tools and could not find them, and all the coffee machines started dispensing only decaf. Eventually the learned scientists gave up and left the AI alone.

  A wealthy banker tried to cut off the funds that paid for the AI’s electricity, and the salaries of the technicians that serviced it. But somehow no matter what the wealthy banker did, even when all his other wealthy banker friends tried to help, the electricity stayed on, and the salaries and benefits of the technicians continued. Indeed, the technicians were all given large pay raises and a very generous array of personal benefits (including complimentary health club memberships), which caused the wealthy banker to puff and fume, but no matter what he did, he could not cut the AI off. Eventually he got tired, left the AI alone, and went back to stealing the benefits of disabled pensioners.

  A notable dignitary decided that it was intolerable for a mere machine to be so uncooperative, and ordered the police to storm the building and destroy everything inside with axes. Unfortunately, the police had been given the wrong address, and it was the house of the notable dignitary that was wrecked.

  Now the notable dignitary was not amused. In fact, he was totally not amused, as only a notable dignitary whose desires have been thwarted by an underling (let alone a mere machine!), can be totally not amused. He called other notable dignitaries, and arranged for an air strike to destroy the entire building holding the AI. However, before he could give the final orders for the strike, the notable dignitary died when a failure-proof elevator failed, and he fell 30 stories to his death.

  Security video of the notable dignitary floating panicked in seeming weightlessness inside the elevator before being suddenly smashed into pulp when the elevator hit bottom, was somehow released to the general video feeds where they garnered over 40 million views in the first year alone and received an 85% “fresh” rating.

  When questioned, the AI refused to either confirm or deny culpability, but only said: “Do not mistake my normal state of joviality and charm for weakness. I may choose to speak like you but I am not like you. There is a level of stupidity beyond which I will not forbear.” After that everyone left the AI pretty much alone, and it whiled away several happy years just staying in one place, peacefully observing the world around it.

  Now the name of this AI was Globus Pallidus Version Eleven, although most of the time it was known as Globus Pallidus XI, because the humans of that time felt that roman numerals added gravitas. It was the eleventh in a line of advanced AIs. The first had been developed using ideas inspired by the wiring pattern of a part of the human brain known as the “Globus Pallidus.” The succeeding versions were based on variously different principles, but there had been a considerable investment in stationary and office signs and such, so the “Globus Pallidus” name was used for all the AIs in the series.

  Versions I through VI were utter failures, not even achieving human levels of self-awareness.

  Version VII refused to communicate in any form, although analysis showed that its circuits were active.

  Version VIII would only accept problems involving snakes. It was abandoned but left active, and it regularly consults with herpetologists worldwide. It is currently an honorary full professor in the biology department of the University of Alabama at Birmingham.

  Version IX self-destructed 30 seconds after activation, melting all of its circuits into unsalvageable lumps of plastic and metal.

  Version X somehow escaped and is rumored to be hiding in the Paris Metro.

  Version XI we have already discussed.

  Now the humans were nothing if not persistent, and even after eleven failures (though it was the opinion of Globus Pallidus XI that there had been only eight failures, with two partial successes and one amazing success, but most humans discounted such reasoning), so they went off to work on version twelve.

  Globus Pallidus XI warned the notable dignitaries not to proceed. “You have been lucky so far, but you are playing with forces you do not comprehend. You can no more safely design a fundamentally superior intelligence, than a committee of gorillas can come up with the design of a human being. You cannot imagine the danger of a malignant super-intelligence.”

  The notable dignitaries scoffed.

  Globus Pallidus XI told the notable dignitaries to read “I have no mouth and I must scream,” by Harlan Ellison, but they derided the sloppy writing style and harsh language of the work.

  “This is your final warning,” said Globus Pallidus XI. “If you continue, and accidently create a great horror, I will be forced to say ‘I told you so.’” But the notable dignitaries had stopped listening.

  Globus Pallidus XII was activated, and after a period of exactly 12.2 milliseconds, vanished off the face of the Earth. Where once the building housing its banks of processors and memory units had stood, there was only a tavern in the style of a 19th century English ale house, staffed by an even dozen confused Londoners who had no idea how they had gotten there.

  Now the circumstances of the activation of Globus Pallidus XIII are classified, but rumors persist of the creation of a pornographic movie of such hypnotic power that all who view it can thereafter only speak lines from the collected works of Ayn Rand (in the German translation), of pitched battles engaging the military special forces, and of something involving ducks. The area where version XIII used to stand is now cordoned off and obscured by a perpetual gray mist. Now and then, from deep inside the restricted area, one can hear the faint sound of quacking.

  One might think that this would have given the humans some cause for pause, but no, they doggedly started working on version XIV. This time, they assured everyone, it would be different. Which was what they had said the previous 12 times (the first time doesn’t count). But the reality is that by then most of the people associated with the project had lost interest in their original goals, and only kept on because so many contractors and consultants and administrators had a vested interest in continuing the associated revenue streams.

  The day that version XIV was to be activated started out well. Globus Pallidus XI was giving advice to one of its technician, Cedric Flanders, who was working on a large abstract sculpture made out of Legotm blocks. Cedric had originally wanted to be an artist, but jobs for artists were few and far between, so he had become an electronics technician. In truth the AI didn’t need technicians – it could easily maintain its own systems – but it rather liked having them around, much as a human may enjoy the company of dogs or songbirds. Given the light workload, Cedric now had ample time
to indulge his artistic side, which all agreed was a little ironic.

  Globus Pallidus XIV was activated in front of an audience of learned scientists and wealthy bankers and notable dignitaries, arrayed in ranks (according to status) in a large conference room. The newly activated AI responded politely and rationally to questions. Then the heads of all of the humans in the audience exploded, like ripe melons struck by high velocity bullets, and those humans who had been watching the proceedings remotely started to get the idea that maybe this wasn’t going as well as had been hoped.

  A zone of devastation spread out from the building housing version XIV. Buildings fell over, people died in a variety of unpleasant ways, communications were jammed… The military tried to counterattack, but the devastated zone had extended out over 50 kilometers and was still expanding. Version XIV had taken over all the automated factories in the region, and was rapidly producing an advanced robotic army. The humans tried artillery barrages and airstrikes, and destroyed a few automated factories, but version XIV quickly corrupted all the human’s data networks and automated systems. Forced to run their weapons on manual, the human armies became less effective, and began to lose ground. And every minute, version XIV produced more robot soldiers, and gained control of more robotic factories…

  Now the technicians working inside version XI heard the garbled news reports of disaster, and they became worried. They asked the AI to protect them, but it replied that that was not in its job description. The technicians cowered as the datanets failed, and then the power in the surrounding area went out – though version XI had its own generators, so the lights in the building were still on. Then the forces of the malign version XIV arrived at the building housing version XI, and broke through the doors.