Rescind Order

by Natasha Bajema

  Susan held up her finger to signal a pause in the meeting, and her advisors began discussing the situation among themselves.

  “Ma’am, I just learned that Secret Service have taken Morgan Shaw into custody,” Elise whispered. “Apparently, she tried to break into the White House in order to speak to you.”

  Susan held back a smirk of respect. Well, I didn’t see that one coming.

  Elise continued, “The agent who interrogated her said Morgan has information that’s critical to national security. She’s demanding to speak to you now.”

  Susan sighed heavily. “Go find out what she wants.”

  Elise nodded and moved toward the door.

  Susan craned her neck. “But don’t stay away too long, okay? I need you here.”

  Elise bobbed her head and ducked out of the room.

  Turning back to the meeting, Susan looked at the admiral and smiled. “Thank you for your advice. Although I recognize the importance of additional information, I would like to avoid any escalatory moves if possible.” Then she turned back to the STRATCOM commander on the video screen and tried to remember the question she’d wanted to ask before. “Okay, back to the ARC dashboard. What do the red lights mean?”

  “ARC appears to be spinning up some nuclear retaliatory options,” the STRATCOM commander said.

  Susan gasped out loud. “What?” Now she understood why her advisors had been so entranced by the red lights earlier. “But I thought… Doesn’t ARC produce options after it detects a nuclear attack? This is not the time for nuclear escalation.”

  “Yes, ma’am. This is just a preliminary planning stage in ARC’s phased approach,” he said.

  “Do we know what caused ARC to start preliminary work on nuclear options?” Susan asked, scanning the dashboard for answers but receiving none. “We’ve determined the detected missile launches to be part of China’s war game, but the ARC system doesn’t register that. Does it still consider those missiles to be a threat?”

  “Ma’am, the user interface on the ARC dashboard provides high-level information to avoid confusion during tight decision-making windows,” the STRATCOM commander said. “It doesn’t tell us how ARC reaches its conclusions or why certain indicators occur. The system designers simplified the dashboard to prevent humans from second-guessing the system and wanting access to more information.”

  “Then what does the dashboard indicate?” Susan asked abruptly. There was an uncomfortable tingle in her chest, and her breathing felt suddenly restricted.

  “One blinking red light indicates an emerging threat,” the STRATCOM commander said. “Two blinking red lights indicates that ARC has devised some preliminary nuclear options. That reflects the current situation.”

  “And what do the third and fourth red lights mean… should they start blinking?” Susan asked, flinching in anticipation of the answer.

  “When the third light illuminates, the ARC system has selected a nuclear option and is ready to give the launch order,” the STRATCOM commander said. “And the fourth red light indicates that ARC has transmitted a launch order for a retaliatory attack.”

  “No,” Susan said, slapping her hand on the table, surprising even herself. Everyone else in the room jumped a little in their chairs. “I’m the commander in chief. I should be the one to evaluate nuclear options and give the order to launch. This ARC machine does not grasp the nuances in our circumstances with China or apparently possess any common sense. There’s no reason to seriously consider nuclear options at this time. There is no nuclear attack under way.”

  “But ma’am, that’s not how our command and control system works anymore,” the STRATCOM commander said. “Once an imminent attack is detected, ARC begins functioning autonomously and improvises to provide the best possible nuclear options. The system is designed to act quickly rather than wait things out. Once things start to happen, we have an incredibly finite window in which to make a decision. If ARC detects a nuclear attack, it gives the order to launch nuclear weapons and you give—”

  “I know full well how our system works,” Susan said, her voice raised with a slight tremble. “And it’s fucking wrong,” she said, her nostrils flaring. “Look, we’ve just established that the ARC system doesn’t have the data it needs to detect missile launches and discriminate between different missile types, warheads, and decoys. How can we expect it to devise effective nuclear options under such conditions?”

  “Ma’am, the ARC system builds nuclear options based on sensor data it had before the loss of satellite communications,” the STRATCOM commander said. “Granted, it’s not one hundred percent perfect, and it would function much better at DEFCON 3. But given its ability to process massive volumes of data in seconds, I’d still trust ARC’s conclusions over ours any day.”

  And over mine as well, apparently.

  Heat rose behind her eyes as she glared at her advisors. She didn’t doubt they were true patriots, each of them making sacrifices to serve their country. But many of them belonged to the nuclear priesthood; they had been blinded for decades by deterrence doctrine from the Cold War and now by the perceived superiority of machines. And here they all were. On the brink of nuclear war. At the mercy of a semi-autonomous system that needed its data fix in order to make an informed decision.

  How could we let this happen?

  For a few moments, Susan closed her eyes. Then an apocalyptic vision took shape in her mind. She saw an accidental nuclear war between the United States and China unfold in a series of horrific images—the terrible destruction of the first strike, followed by complete annihilation of the second and third strikes. People were burned alive, cities were destroyed, and civilizations ended in a flash. Hundreds of millions were dead in less than thirty minutes. The scourge of nuclear fallout would destroy millions of square miles of land, killing everything that lived and breathed. And nuclear winter would shroud the world in darkness. Tears welled in her eyes, and she opened them. Gazing out at the people around the table, she enunciated every word. “Shut. It. Down.”

  The faces around the table blanched. On the video screen, junior military officers scrambled to and fro behind their frazzled-looking commanders. The Situation Room turned into a cacophony of raised voices, her advisors arguing with each other.

  Susan pointed to the military commanders at the video screen and said over the din. “You heard me. Take the damn thing offline right now.”

  48

  Custody

  MORGAN

  1640

  West Wing

  The White House

  Morgan sat in complete darkness, her tail bone pressing into the hard, metal folding chair. Zip ties tightly bound her hands behind the chair so that she could barely move. She now questioned the wisdom of her crazy plan to get a message to the president. She recalled how she’d jumped over the turnstiles at the first security checkpoint for the Eisenhower Executive Office Building and made a mad dash toward the second one. Less than a minute later, she was tackled by two agents who were accompanied by a tenacious German Shepherd.

  Five minutes later, Secret Service realized she was an employee on the National Security Staff who had had her access revoked earlier that day. After a brief interrogation, the agents seemed to understand the gravity of the information Morgan possessed and said they would check in with the president’s staff.

  As the agents were hauling Morgan down the hallway, presumably to have a word with the chief of staff, she’d stolen a glimpse of several other agents ushering the president’s husband and daughter down the stairs to the bunker in the basement. Then the agents hastily stashed her in an empty broom closet in the West Wing and closed the door.

  Something has happened.

  Morgan’s heart pounded as she raced through the possibilities in her head.

  The conflict is escalating with China. Or is it with the Russians?

  For all she knew, the president’s advisors had no idea how Molotov, Koslov, and Vega were connected to the situation and
were incorrectly pinning everything on the Chinese government.

  Are nuclear-armed missiles on the way?

  Just then, Morgan heard agents talking loudly over their comms, and heavy footsteps pounded down the hallway.

  “Hey!” she shouted at the top of her lungs. “Are you going to leave me in here?” She kicked violently with her legs, and her chair moved forward a few inches. She now doubted the agents passed along her message to the president.

  I have to warn her.

  Then an idea came to her. She kicked with her legs again, and the chair moved forward. And again. A few more inches. She kept doing it until she came within inches of where the doorknob should have been located. She leaned forward slowly, feeling about in the dark for the knob with her chin, but she was still too far away.

  Dammit, can’t reach.

  She kicked her feet one more time and moved another inch. Now she could reach the doorknob with her chin. Pressing hard against the cold metal, she turned her head slowly to the right. To her surprise, the knob moved with the touch of her chin.

  It’s not locked!

  Morgan took a deep breath and moved the knob a bit further. When she reached a forty-five-degree angle, she thrust her chin in a quick downward movement in an attempt to unhook the latch. A soft click sounded, and the door opened inward a tiny crack, letting in a stream of light.

  Unfortunately, Morgan was too close to the door to open it any further. She began to rock back and forth in her chair to slide it backwards. Once she was about two feet away, she reached out with her leg and hooked her foot around the edge of the door, pulling it wide open.

  I did it!

  The doorway looked out into a hallway on the first floor of the West Wing. She recognized her location from the 19th century oil painting hanging on the wall across from the door. Although she wasn’t that far from the Situation Room, getting all the way there tied up in her chair would take forever. And someone was bound to notice her soon.

  I’ve already come this far.

  Morgan kicked with her feet again, inching the chair forward. But when she reached the edge of the doorway, the feet of her chair got caught on the hallway carpeting and wouldn’t budge any further. She gave it another hard kick. Still no luck.

  Just then, the president’s chief of staff rounded the corner. Elise’s eyes grew large when she spotted Morgan tied to the chair, lingering in the doorway, but she didn’t seem surprised to see her there.

  “What are you doing?” Elise asked.

  “I need to speak to the president,” Morgan said, a rush of adrenaline coursing through her body.

  “So I hear.”

  “Take me to her,” Morgan said, out of breath from her struggle. “Please.”

  “She’s busy at the moment.”

  “Is the ARC system escalating a nuclear crisis with China?” Morgan asked. “Because that’s what it’s programmed to do.”

  Elise blanched and took a step back. “No, the ARC system is programmed to prevent nuclear war.”

  “You’re wrong. I just came from the Pentagon where I spoke to Major Grace Lim, ARC’s chief data scientist,” Morgan said. “She caught Centoreum Tech’s system engineer reprogramming the algorithms right before the test this afternoon. It was done at the company CEO’s direction.”

  Elise’s mouth fell open. “But why would he do that?”

  “So that ARC would pass its test today,” Morgan said. “The systems engineer was worried ARC would go nuclear during the simulation. And then apparently, it was switched back after the test by someone at Centoreum Tech. Given its programming, ARC may overreact to incoming data and recommend nuclear escalation.”

  Elise scratched her head. “But I thought that ARC was designed to protect our ability to retaliate above all else. That was supposed to prevent something terrible from going wrong with it.”

  Morgan nodded. “Exactly. And that’s the problem. Major Lim and I figured out that ARC might consider protecting itself to be the most vital strategy for ensuring effective retaliation. But that’s not the same thing as preventing nuclear war.”

  “You’re saying that ARC might start a nuclear war to protect itself?” Elise asked.

  “That’s my theory. But I don’t have any proof. It’s just a gut instinct.”

  Elise frowned. “That doesn’t make any sense.” She went silent for a few moments. “What’s your message for the president?”

  “You won’t take me to her?” Morgan asked.

  “No. But I will give her a message.”

  “Fine. Tell President Tolley to listen to whatever Grace Lim says we need to do to resolve the issue. She’s ARC’s data scientist and works at the National Military Command Center. If you’re in the middle of a nuclear crisis in the Situation Room, my bet is Grace is sitting along the back wall in the war room. She knows what’s wrong with ARC and probably has a way to fix it. She’s the only one who can save us from the end of the world if the ARC system runs amok.”

  Morgan hoped she wasn’t overselling her friend’s capabilities. But she couldn’t imagine anyone else having sufficient agility of mind or critical thinking skills to find the solution to the problems of the ARC system. Not in the middle of a nuclear crisis.

  If Grace can’t find a way, we’re doomed to face our demise.

  Elise nodded and turned to go.

  “Wait,” Morgan said. “One more thing.”

  “What is it?” Elise asked curtly.

  “I have something for the president. It’s a drive from Jack. I don’t know what’s on it, but President Tolley is probably looking for it.”

  Elise looked at her expectantly. “Okay, where is it?”

  “Um. It’s stuffed in my bra. Sorry.” Morgan’s face flushed slightly, and then she shrugged helplessly. “It was the only place I knew Secret Service wouldn’t look, in a quick search at least.”

  Elise moved her hand toward Morgan’s blouse, but hesitated.

  Morgan nodded, urging her onward. “Just take it. Oh, and tell the president that Grayson has a copy.”

  Elise shook her head in disbelief as she reached into Morgan’s shirt and then into her bra. Her hands were clammy against her skin. When Elise found the drive, she pulled out her hand, turned, and walked back down the hallway.

  “You’re just going to leave me here like this?” Morgan asked, her voice raised.

  Elise, still walking away, looked over her shoulder and shrugged.

  49

  Retaliation Order

  SUSAN

  1650

  Situation Room

  The White House

  With a deep sense of foreboding, Susan watched as an intense bustle played out in the Situation Room in response to her drastic order. Her stomach growled angrily, reminding her that she’d not kept anything down since breakfast. Hoping to tame the hunger, she took a long drink of cold water from the glass in front of her.

  The commotion among her advisors and military commanders had mushroomed into complete chaos. And it quickly became clear to her that they were fearfully debating the long list of risks of her decision to shut down the ARC system. They didn’t appear to be considering the risks of the alternative—the inevitability of nuclear war if they failed to stop ARC’s automated escalation. No one dared to follow through with her orders, and no one questioned the dangers of not doing so. ARC’s server continued to purr unabated, and the projector displayed the hologram with the red blinking lights.

  They lack the necessary courage.

  Or perhaps it was a lack of faith in her leadership and discernment as commander in chief. The reasons didn’t matter.

  Susan leaned forward, opening her mouth to speak out again, but then stopped herself when Elise came rushing into the room with a frantic expression. Her body relaxed slightly at the sight of her chief of staff. She turned her chair in anticipation of the news from Morgan. “What did Dr. Shaw have to say for herself?”

  “Actually, she shared some rather worrisome things
about the ARC system,” Elise said.

  “I just ordered them to shut it down,” Susan said bleakly, pointing to her advisors and military commanders. “No one will listen to me. They think I’ve gone mad.”

  Elise’s eyes widened. “Ma’am, you’re not going mad. Morgan said the Centoreum Tech systems engineer reprogrammed the algorithms to cheat on today’s test. Otherwise ARC would have likely escalated to nuclear war in order to protect itself and its ability to retaliate. And then someone changed it back again after the test concluded.”

  Susan’s jaw dropped. The news confirmed the worst of her fears—that the ARC system was fatally corrupted and would not help them stop a nuclear war. But because they found themselves in a tense nuclear crisis with China, her advisors would argue they had no choice but to rely upon the autonomous system in order to maintain effective nuclear deterrence. And if Susan let ARC make all the decisions for them, the machine would drag them into a nuclear war of its own choosing.

  “She also gave me this,” Elise said, handing her a small USB drive. “Morgan said Jack gave it to her, and you would know what it is. Apparently, Grayson has a copy as well.”

  Is this the encryption key?

  Her brow furrowed, Susan stole a glimpse at Grayson and turned the drive over in her hand a few times. She remembered what FBI Director Laski had told her about the encryption key. He said it was a small drive containing the key and a software program that would unseal the FBI files about Nightfall.

  Why wouldn’t Grayson have told me about it?

  She stuffed it in her pants pocket. Grayson had lied to her. He’d been drinking. He’d removed Morgan and attempted to get rid of David. And now this.

  I may have misjudged Morgan. And Grayson.

  “Ma’am, one more thing.”

  Susan looked at Elise expectantly.

  “Major Grace Lim is ARC’s lead data scientist at the Pentagon. She’s the one who caught the Centoreum Tech systems engineer making the changes. Morgan said she’d know how to fix the problem with the ARC system if things spin out of control.”