by Gerald Huff
“‘Second, it is necessary to develop and propagate an ideology that opposes technology and the industrial society, if and when the system becomes sufficiently weakened. And such an ideology will help to assure that, if and when industrial society breaks down, its remnants will be smashed beyond repair, so that the system cannot be reconstituted.’
“Our plan therefore is to undermine the technological systems that modern societies so helplessly depend on. We will target the automated factories, supply chains, energy and communication grids, and distribution systems to which we have delegated our very survival and whose operation we do not even understand.
“We will also promote our positive ideology for a return to a state of grace with the Nature that we have damaged and desecrated for centuries. Only by living directly from the land can humanity reestablish true freedom and dignity.
“Some will argue that destroying the technological system goes too far and has too high a cost. But reform is no longer possible, as our addiction to technology simply cannot be attenuated. Only the complete overthrow of the existing order can free us.
“Fellow revolutionaries, we will be contacting you shortly to join the Ludd Kaczynski Collective.”
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
LONDON - OCTOBER 10
David Livingstone paced rapidly in the area between his desk and conference table. “And what do we know about this LKC group?”
Bradley nodded to Jill, who consulted her tablet screen and ticked off what they had so far. “There was absolutely no mention of LKC prior to the North Carolina attack and launch of their video and manifesto. They have excellent technical skills and operational security. Their philosophy seems to be purely anti-technology. They fancy themselves modern day Luddites and their goal is to destroy the machine state and return humanity to a ‘state of nature’, whatever that means.”
“It means a lot of starvation and dying of curable diseases, that’s what it means,” barked Livingstone.
Bradley broke in. “David please, why don’t you take a seat so we can brief you on—”
“I don’t understand how people can’t grasp the enormous benefits from automation of routine work,” David continued. “And the incredible quality of life offered by medplants, carebots, and the entertainment options of haptic VR.”
“David, please sit down. We need to brief you on our response plan and get approvals to move forward. We don’t have time to debate the merits of technological progress. Every minute counts. There’s no doubt LKC has other attacks in the works.”
“Very well.” He sat down opposite them. “What are we going to do?”
“First, we are altering as many of our operational schedules as possible, focusing on automated facilities and transport.”
“Why the automated ones?”
“It’s an educated guess from their writings,” answered Jill, “They are philosophically opposed to automation substituting for people and they don’t want to harm people.”
“Directly,” David muttered.
“Second,” continued Bradley, “we’re going to increase aerial surveillance of our facilities and surrounding areas and provide direct feeds to the relevant local authorities.”
“What about anti-drone defenses?”
“Yes, I was just getting to that. In several countries, including the States, automated anti-drone technology is illegal, even on private property. This is one area we could use your help. We need to get our governmental affairs offices to lobby those countries for emergency waivers.
“In the meantime, we’re going to assign human drone hunters to random transport routes. They can take out drones quickly if the transporter is stopped, but LKC could shift to a higher risk approach and try to use explosive drones that match vehicle speed. Makes it harder to kill them in that scenario.
“Third, we need to think about our fixed facilities. Until we get the automated anti-drone tech waivers we can deploy manually controlled defenses. But frankly, with the speed of these drone attacks and the size of our facilities, those are unlikely to be effective.
“We should also stand up anti-drone nets over any large openings to our facilities,” added Jill.
“What will those do?” David asked.
“They can stop micro-drone swarms,” replied Jill. “And slow down full-sized drones to give our drone hunters time to take them out.”
“They are likely to slow down operations, though, which is why we’ll need you to push for them with the Ops team,” said Bradley.
“Very well, I can do that,” said the CEO.
“We also can’t assume they will only use drones to attack our assets. We might see ground or even aqua-droids deployed as well. With your approval, I’ll also order additional screens for all water intake pipes at our major facilities.”
“Yes, approved. Is all this going to keep our assets safe?” Bradley and Jill looked at each other.
“It’s going to make LKC’s job a whole lot tougher,” said Bradley. “But we can’t stop one hundred percent of their attacks. They are going to have some successes.”
“And what about tracking them down?” asked David.
“That’s really the FBI’s job in the States,” replied Bradley. “We’re providing all the assistance we can. Within the constraints of company policies,” he added.
“Yes, I see. You are not inspiring a lot of confidence, Bradley.”
“It’s the best we can do for now, David. We’re working around the clock to improve our defenses and help the authorities find the terrorists. We just have to hope they make a mistake so we can track them down.”
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
LOS ANGELES - OCTOBER 12
Jacob washed and put away his cereal bowl, then settled down on his black leather couch, his last big purchase. He opened a viewer on the set of anti-technology omnipresence feeds he’d put together since he was laid off and one item immediately caught his eye.
There was going to be a rally that afternoon to protest the grand opening of the first Haro Burger outlet. The Supernova coffee company was branching out into food preparation using the same automated model. A small kiosk, supplied several times a day with fresh meat, bread and veggies by autonomous vehicles, could make a gourmet hamburger with a custom meat blend and selected toppings, cooked precisely to order, in seven minutes. Haro Burger could produce four hundred high quality burgers an hour at a lower price than the competition, and deliver them through a PNA-activated window at the kiosk, or via a drone for an additional fee.
Jacob shook his head as he read the announcement. A business that used to require a staff of ten people—twenty, considering two shifts—now needed just one part-time person to come by a few times a day and perform simple maintenance.
Supernova’s stock jumped seventeen percent the day it had announced the Los Angeles grand opening and existing fast food companies quickly published plans to put their own automation systems in place. They had seen what happened to coffee chains that had been slow to react to Supernova’s explosive growth in that industry and got crushed. Of course, the high-end restaurants that catered to the rich insisted they would stick with their expensive human chefs and servers, with stratospheric prices to match.
Jacob decided to attend the rally to be with like-minded activists in person. He’d spent the last two weeks as an avatar in VR meet-ups and flash mobs, but it wasn’t the same. All his life he had worked with his hands with real people in the real world, and talking to computer-generated images in VR just didn’t cut it for him. The media also didn’t cover VR events since they assumed that most of the attendees were bots. But if organizers could get thousands of people out on the streets of downtown LA, they could get lots of media coverage.
He got up from the couch, walked across the small living space, and removed his Personal Privacy Foundation cloak from a black backpack that sat, always ready, near the door. Jacob couldn’t afford the latest version, but after getting f
ired he had purchased a two-year-old model that could block the tech currently in use by the police in Los Angeles and most corporate security forces.
The cloak was designed to shield all electronic devices from snooping, and to prevent remote facial, fingerprint, and gait detection systems. It blocked outbound medplant signals as well. But it wasn’t foolproof. If someone got close enough, they could grab a stray skin cell or a piece of hair and do a DNA match. He’d have to be careful in the crowd today.
Jacob followed the maintenance procedure carefully, inspecting all the seams and wiring connections. He double-checked that the battery was fully charged. The cloak operated as a Faraday cage and had active sensor jammers, and all those systems required power. He ran the diagnostics; everything reported green. He smiled as he folded up the cloak and returned it to the backpack.
After working omnipresence for a few hours, trying to drum up attendance, Jacob retrieved the cloak and put it on, then headed out the door. These days he never went outside unshielded.
He walked ten long blocks to catch a city bus downtown. He paid with anonymous q-coin tokens to leave no trail of his attendance. Machines all over the city dispensed them from any registered digital currency account and then they acted just like old-fashioned analog cash.
It was sometimes hard to see out of the cloak’s mesh face guard coated with thin LED wires, but that was a small inconvenience. Cameras were so ubiquitous, facial recognition software so accurate, and the image databases so comprehensive that it was essentially impossible to not be identified if your face was visible for even a few seconds on a city street.
Jacob was pleased to encounter the edges of a crowd while the bus was still blocks away from the rally point.
When he got off, he joined a stream of people heading toward the new Haro Burger store. About ten percent of his fellow protesters were also wearing PPF cloaks or other privacy gear. He’d heard a rumor that Congress was going to pass legislation making these outfits illegal, but legislators hadn’t figured out a way past the Fourth Amendment issues. Yet.
The noise of the crowd energized him. There were hundreds of people flowing through the streets now, many more than he had expected. He was also pleased to see media drones circling the crowd. They were essential to reaching a broader audience and waking people up to the reality of what was happening.
As Jacob fought his way toward an impromptu stage that had been set up in front of the store, he noticed a growing police presence. They were deploying an array of surveillance equipment to capture signals from all attendees, no doubt to identify them as “potential risks to public safety.” Hundreds of personal micro-drones thickened the sky above the crowd; collisions were common despite their automatic avoidance systems.
One of the heavily armored police vans began broadcasting a message. “This is the Los Angeles Police Department. This gathering does not have a valid permit and is therefore illegal. You are hereby ordered to disperse peacefully or you will be arrested.” Jacob shook his head in disgust. The city had stopped granting protest permits years ago, effectively criminalizing the rights of free speech and assembly.
A counter-broadcast from the stage proclaimed, “Citizens of Los Angeles. You have the constitutionally protected right to be here and express your opinion. We stand together, peacefully, so our voices can be heard.”
Jacob could see people on the stage now. They were all wearing the latest generation of PPF cloaks. It was a little eerie seeing a group of the gray-shrouded figures huddling together, like ghosts haunting the small platform.
One of them stepped forward to a mic stand. “Fellow Americans!” the woman said through a voice-disguising algorithm. “Thank you for coming out today to protest the destruction of our way of life!”
The crowd roared, drowning out the persistent LAPD broadcast.
After ten seconds, the woman on stage held up her gloved hands for silence and continued. “Businesses like Haro Burger represent everything that is wrong with our economy today. Production without human labor is immoral. We need well-paid jobs to survive. We cannot sacrifice the sanctity of work just for the sake of cheap and convenient food and coffee. We cannot let the one percent profit from job destruction. Boycott Nova! Jobs, not bots! Boycott Nova! Jobs, not bots!”
The crowd picked up the chant. “Jobs not bots! Jobs, not bots!”
Suddenly, all the police units on surrounding streets sounded their sirens. Jacob looked to his left and saw the police all donning special headgear. Then he noticed hundreds of drones dropping from the skies above the rally. A large media drone crashed just a few feet from him. The LAPD had set off a directed EMP weapon to disable all electronic devices in the area.
Before he could react, he felt a low rumbling vibration in the pit of his stomach. Sound cannons!
His PPF cloak was EMP-hardened and offered some protection against sound-generating weapons. It started producing a neutralizing signal, but some newer LAPD units were able to shift frequencies and these leaked through the cloak, making him slightly nauseous. Still, Jacob was better off than the protesters without cloaks, who screamed in pain and clutched their ears. Those who could still move ran wildly and randomly because no one could tell where the sound weapons were located.
The woman on stage screamed at the police. “Stop! Stop! Those weapons are illegal! This is a peaceful assembly! Stop!”
Jacob was shocked at this violent and extreme overreaction. No wonder they had taken out all the drones and cameras in the area.
As police in riot gear began moving in to make arrests, Jacob decided to take advantage of his mobility and escape the chaos. He turned his back to the police and started to run.
But after getting just a few feet, he was brought up short by a young woman’s face twisted into a horrendous grimace. She was on her knees with her hands pressed tightly over her ears, tears streaming from her eyes.
Thinking quickly, he knelt behind her and pulled the lower folds of his cloak out from under his legs. He grabbed her shoulders and pulled her backward until she was lying on her back on the pavement, writhing in pain. He dragged her toward him until her upper back rested on his knees, then covered her head and shoulders with the cloak.
It seemed to provide instant relief, but he couldn’t see her face and she was still rocking from side to side.
Jacob slid down slightly and lifted the cloak over his head so it tented over them and he could see her face. “Are you okay?” he asked.
She removed her hands from her ears. “What?”
“Are you feeling better?”
“Yes, I think so.”
“We need to get out of here. Do you think you can run if we keep this draped over us?”
She nodded. “I think so.”
“Okay, let’s go. The police are sweeping the street and arresting everyone. Stand up, slowly. Here, grab that edge there.”
They stood up awkwardly. The cloak was not designed for two-person use, so Jacob put his arm around the woman’s waist, both to steady her and to keep her close so the cloak could fit over them both. He tried to arrange the mesh face guard as best as possible so he could see where they were going.
Joined at the hip, they half-ran past the stage onto a side street. They hobbled silently down the next two blocks, then turned a corner. The block in front of them looked normal and peaceful.
Jacob peeked out from under the cloak to confirm there were no sound weapons in this area. He let go of his companion, and she ducked out from under the protection of the electronic garment.
He pointed toward an alley that appeared devoid of cameras. She nodded, and the two of them hurried down it and stopped in a small bricked doorway, where Jacob raised the mesh that covered his face and caught his breath.
“I’m Jacob Komarov,” he said, extending his hand.
She took it and nodded. “I’m Melissa King. Thank you so much for what you did. That pain was just awful.” Her face still shone wit
h tears, but she smiled at him. It had been a while since an attractive woman had smiled at him. Mostly they were put off by the baldness and the tattoos, which at this moment were conveniently hidden under the cloak. Melissa appeared to be in her mid-twenties with very straight long black hair and Eurasian features.
“Those sound weapons are illegal!” he said. “I can’t believe they used them. And an EMP? That’s bullshit! Why did you come today?”
“Someone has to do something,” she said with conviction. “Goddamn machines are taking over everything. Soon there’ll be nothing left for people to do.”
“Tell me about it. I lost my welding job to a friggin’ robot two weeks ago.”
“I’m so sorry. My brother lost his job that way, too. He was a radiologist. You know, AIs reading scans kept improving. Once they were officially certified as better than humans, his practice couldn’t justify keeping him on.”
Jacob took a chance. “Want to grab a real human-brewed coffee and talk some more?”
She smiled again. “Sure, I’d like that.”
“Great. There’s a place about two blocks from here.” Jacob restored the face mesh covering and they began walking.
“You’re pretty serious about this privacy cloak, huh?”
“I wear it every time I go out. I don’t want to be tracked and build up a profile. You should get one, too. They’ve probably already got tons of pictures of you from this event.”
“How long were you a welder?” she asked as they walked.
“Eleven years. What kind of work have you done?”
“Oh, I’ve done lots of different stuff. Some electrical engineering, some software, some hardware design. Mostly freelance gigs and open source. It’s so hard to find full-time work, especially if you want to work on stuff that matters, that really helps people.”