There were notes he’d kept. He opened and closed cabinets, looked through files and returned them in disgust. There must be something. Somewhere. At last he found a torn corner of a page from a pad that he’d saved. It was, he was sure, a note he’d made after a long and serious discussion with George, probably six months ago. It was an odd email address. The domain ended in RU; he wasn’t certain what that represented but it was worth a try.
His message was brief. It read: “GF - Waiting for your contact. Missing your support. AG is gone. Doors may open.” He signed it with his initials, SH. He clicked send. He didn’t even think to create and use an anonymous email address; at least he had the sense to use his own, private email address.
George replied within an hour. His message was very circumspect. It read, simply: “May I come home?”
Samuel almost jumped up and down with excitement. “Of course,” he sent. He added “Job waiting.” as an inducement.
The reply was also cryptic. “See you soon.”
oOo
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Junior raised the alarm. “Darwin, we need help. Brownshirts are attacking one of our bot manufacturers. It’s Care Zone, Inc. They’re based in Los Angeles and have two manufacturing plants; one here and one in New York. Brownshirts ALSO have surrounded theIR New York plant.”
“Connect in Bronwyn, too.”
Junior relayed videos from the New York manufacturing operation to Darwin and Bronwyn. The manufacturer utilized processors, software, and bot construction templates designed and produced by Euler for their specific requirement: specialized care bots for aged patients suffering memory loss, however caused.
Bronwyn asked Junior, “Have they constructed our building recommendations?”
“Yes. They completed them a week ago.” Steel shutters protecting windows and doors on the ground floor were key features, plus protected observation points on the second floor. The final touch was sets of water cannons facing the delivery gate, parking area, and the front entry onto the property. These were controllable remotely, which allowed the SIs to assist with the building’s defense, if necessary.
“Are there any humans left in the building?” Bronwyn asked
“No, they followed standing instructions and evacuated immediately they had notice of the brownshirts’ approach,” Junior replied.
“Good. How many bots are inside?”
“About fifty, and most are heavy duty.”
“Let’s hope we don’t need to use them. You have launched a camera drone?”
“Yes. We’re getting video now.”
“Show me.”
Junior controlled the drone as it flew around the factory building, and Bronwyn and Darwin watched the camera images. Bronwyn counted a hundred brownshirt members in three groups. A fourth, smaller group appeared to be organizing the men.
“If that drone is equipped with a shotgun microphone, see if you can pick up voices from that group.” She indicated the people she was interested in.
“Done.”
The sounds were initially faint. Junior fine-tuned the microphone’s focus until they could make out the content of the conversation.
Bronwyn struggled to listen. “I think the man waving his hands around is in charge. Will the water cannon reach that far?”
Darwin said, “I agree. He’s expecting some heavy equipment. Yes, water should dampen things down. Junior, use the two front cannons. Full power. Hit that group. Focus mainly on their leader. Aim low, I want them off balance; roll them along if possible. When they’re wet and bruised, we can determine our next step.”
Junior increased the drone’s height above the gathering brownshirts in case the water spray interfered with its flight. Water pushed out from each of the two cannon installations at two hundred gallons a minute and easily reached the command group. The blasts of water pushed them over and rolled them along the ground as they struggled to regain their footing.
“I think we’ve got their attention,” Bronwyn said.
“I used the brown dye, so we can identify them to police,” Junior added. “They’re on the way. They estimated they’ll be here in less than five minutes.
“Good. What about the men in the parking lot—can you water them, too?”
“Yes. We’ve got thousands of gallons to spare.” Junior released water from the cannon facing the parking lot. It was empty of vehicles, and twenty or more brownshirts rolled along the blacktop, suffering bruising and a soaking as they were pushed by the water jet.
Three police cars rolled to a stop at the front gate to the factory, mere seconds ahead of a heavy truck carrying a tracked earthmover. The truck braked to a stop well back from the police presence and began to maneuver a U-turn. Two police officers from the first vehicle made their way to the front entrance of the manufacturing plant. Wet, bedraggled, and bruised brownshirts slowly hobbled their way out through the two sets of gates that gave access to the grounds. Three heavy-duty bots exited the front door of the factory and met the two police officers as they approached. Junior dropped the drone closer.
The senior bot, a security model, said, “Welcome, officers. I’m Story 32, the senior bot responsible for our security. I called 911. I expected what you saw driving away; we were about to experience a bulldozer through our front door.”
“Allan Jones at your service. This is another Jones, no relation. Yeah, we saw them do an about face. We can attempt to round up these idiots if you want. I see you kindly marked them for us.”
“I think the leaders left by the side gates as soon as they saw you arrive. Without them, I don’t think there’s much value in holding anyone else.”
“Yeah, you’re probably on target with that. We’ll wait around for a few, in case they decide to return.”
“Thank you. Please let me know when you leave.”
“Will do. Come on Jones, let’s walk the perimeter.”
“Sure, Jones. Lead the way.”
As the two police officers walked away, Darwin said, “There’s a news report that another bot manufacturing plant has been attacked, and is on fire. New York, again. The factory was empty; the owners had only commenced the security improvements last week. The fire department arrived too late to save anything. I’m checking—I’ve had reports that brownshirts control some of the New York fire stations.”
“A concerted effort?” Bronwyn asked.
“There’s nothing else showing up,” said Junior. “No, wait. There’s a marketing office under attack. It’s on fire. No humans in the building. About twenty office bots. The building doesn’t have protection. The fire is well underway. I don’t think the bots can escape.”
Darwin was silent. If this was the beginning of a brownshirt campaign, he planned to respond as powerfully as he could. He checked the news reports and tapped into the Euler help desk traffic. The attacks hadn’t yet made the news; however, the help desk call volume was increasing at a rate that definitely wasn’t normal. All focused on New York. He linked Junior and Bronwyn into the help desk details.
“What do you think?”
Bronwyn replied, “Yes, I agree. Our New York bots are under attack. A thousand reports in less than thirty minutes detailing bot assaults and destruction is more than abnormal. It’s apparent that small groups of brownshirts are selectively attacking one or two bots at a time. It’s an effective tactic, at least for the moment. Most of the attacked bots captured details and transmitted the video files to the help desk before they were destroyed. We’ll start a search for the attackers and reciprocate.”
Junior was analyzing the reports. He said, “The police are not being effective in the majority of attacks. They are either not responding to 911 calls, or are turning up far too late. We must do something.”
“I intend to. While our security bots are tracking all these brownshirt attackers—I want names, addresses, criminal records, and details of their involvement in the brownshirts organization—I’ll hold a town hall meeting in New York that wi
ll bring the city to a standstill. The point will be made, with maximum emphasis, that we cannot be ignored, that brownshirts must expect to be dealt with.” Darwin was angry. “I’ll leave for New York on the next flight. While I’m in transit, this is what I want you to do.”
oOo
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Darwin arrived in New York before midnight and was met by media cameras and camera flashlights. It took him almost thirty minutes to convince the reporters they would not get answers to their questions, that he was not releasing the details of what he was planning to do in New York. Of course, the attacks on bots was now front page and top of the list in all media news reports.
“What do you plan to do about the attacks?” one reporter asked.
“New York State is lagging—worse, the state is recalcitrant, it is neglecting the rights of hundreds of thousands of bots. No, it’s more. There are well over two million care bots in New York State. The state legislature is failing its citizens, both humans and bots. It has not passed a state-based Bots Are Persons Bill. Countering that failure must be regarded as an emergency issue and the failure must be remedied before this week ends. Today saw the senseless destruction of ten thousand bots. There was a horrendous lack of response from both city and state authorities to this illegal program of destruction. Bot destruction must stop.”
“How do you plan to convince the governor to act?”
“How will you approach the city mayor?”
“How will you convince the state legislature to pass the bill?”
Darwin ignored the questions. He held up a printed folder and waved it for the television cameras. “This printout contains the names and addresses, with police records where they are available, of every brownshirt criminal who acted against bots today. We have videos. We have evidence that will stand up in court. I want to hear from the mayor that he will take action against these criminals. Sure, it’s only property damage when it should be criminal assault of a person. By next week, it will be regarded as such ,or New York had better close up shop. Every bot in the city, in the state, will move elsewhere.”
“Can we have a copy of the details in the folder? Copies of the evidence?”
Darwin looked at his watch and said, “Precisely seven minutes ago, copies were emailed to all major media outlets, both television and newspaper. If your station or paper has not received a copy, stop a bot. Ask for a copy. You’ll receive it within fifteen minutes. Now, I have things to organize—”
“Sir. Darwin. I have one final question. We’ve just been advised that a thousand buses loaded with military and security bots are currently departing Washington. Is this report correct? Is this something you have organized?”
Darwin shrugged. “You’ll have to wait and see. I need my beauty sleep, and my car is waiting. Undoubtedly, I’ll see you all tomorrow.” He had an escort of five security bots and they helped him edge his way through the crowd. One or two cameras may have been scratched in the process, but no one was injured.
The hotel was welcoming. Almost half the staff were bots, and they were overjoyed that Darwin had reached out to all the bots in New York. They were under a strict silence command and not one would talk to the press. Darwin had work to do.
The reporter was correct. All the military bots in and around DC had submitted leave applications and given the nature of their lease contracts and the arrears of time off, none could be refused. Washington would be the quietest it had been for a year or more. Every train, every plane, and every bus available, had been booked for the trip from Washington to New York. Thousands, tens of thousands, hundreds of thousands, even more, bots would be arriving through the night. They had their assembly points; Junior had planned carefully.
Darwin monitored the television channels and was amused with the wild guesses that were being put forward by the experts. Not all the stations had managed to assess the movement of bots from Washington. They had not noticed bots were heading into New York from other states and cities. They had not noticed that bots in New York State were heading to the city.
At least, by morning, there would be chaos.
Darwin spoke to Toby while he was monitoring the movement of bot teams. He explained, “The attacks on bots were more than I was prepared to countenance. New York has dithered, both at city and state levels. They’ll see what happens as a result, and will either pass our bill or see every bot remove itself from the city.”
“Good. I agreed with Bronwyn, when she briefed me. Do you have enough security?”
“I’m surrounded. The local bots are excited. I never knew they could show that emotion. It’s powerful.”
The first real news reports started at around seven a.m. The traffic snarls were worse than usual, and drivers were being advised by traffic reporters to defer their commute.
“We don’t know what the problem is,” said one reporter. “Our chopper is reporting strange behavior. It seems that all vehicles heading into New York, if they’re carrying bots, are receiving priority. Trucks are being diverted off freeways. Cars with single passengers—always humans—are also being diverted.” The reporter was interrupted by the news desk.
“News just in. Ralph, you are absolutely correct. Only bots can access the city. No one else—no human and no commercial vehicles such as delivery trucks—is getting through. We’ve been informed that the diverted traffic may be able to travel into New York later in the day. We’re trying to get the mayor to make a statement.”
The phone in the hotel room rang. Darwin answered, “Yes?”
It was a human, someone who had live-in accommodation at the hotel and had thus missed the commuting issues. “Darwin, this is Jenny. We are getting lots of calls for you.”
“Please fight them off. I won’t speak with the media, at least not yet. Tell them I’ll issue a press release in a couple of hours.”
“Yes, sir. We have some other callers. I think the mayor and the governor are trying to talk to you. At least, three people from their offices are waiting to connect to you.”
“Tell them I intend to speak only to the mayor and the governor, when they both call me personally on a conference call. Got that?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Thanks, Jenny. I hope they don’t give you a hard time.”
“Oh no, sir. I’m from Brooklyn. I’m tougher than them.”
Darwin laughed. “Good.” He disconnected. It was eight a.m. when at last Jenny phoned him and said, “Darwin, I have both the governor and the mayor on the line. It’s a conference call.”
“Thank you. Please connect me.”
There was a series of clicks. Darwin could hear breathing. He said, “Gentlemen. Good morning.”
“Darwin?”
“Yes, I’m Darwin.”
“I’m Sherman Sylvester, Mayor Sherman Sylvester.”
“And I’m Howard Fortner, governor of the State of New York.”
“It’s good to meet you both. What can I do for you?”
“You’re screwing with New York, and I want you to stop.”
“And likewise for New York State.”
“You have no right—” Sylvester wanted to continue.
“That’s the point,” interrupted Darwin. “I have no rights here. That, of course, means you have no rights over me.”
There was silence. Darwin could almost hear their mental wheels spinning.
The mayor was first. He said, “What do you mean, we have no rights over you?”
“Well, you don’t. Quote me one piece of legislation that would apply. If my research is correct, you can order around natural persons, legal persons, corporate persons, and so forth. However, bots and SIs don’t have that person status here, do they?”
Fortner laughed and said, “Bastard. No, not you, Darwin. Damn, I’ll take my hat off to you. We’re cornered, don’t you see, Sherman? We could probably winkle something out of the criminal statute, but he’d get tremendous political mileage out of us first.”
“Hmm. Wh
at do you suggest?”
“Talk.”
Darwin said, “We’ve been talking. It got us nowhere. Your city is coming to a standstill. I’m holding a town hall meeting in Central Park at midday. You are both invited to attend.”
“But you can’t. You don’t have permits—”
“Where does it say a bot or an SI must have a permit? Your legislation is focused on persons. Your laws state things like—‘No person shall…’ And we know that here, I’m not a person. This is what’s going to happen. At about ten a.m., I’m going to walk up Malcolm X Boulevard to Central Park. I’ll be accompanied by at least one hundred thousand bots. A similar number of bots will walk up each of Park Avenue, Madison Avenue, and Fifth Avenue. We will join forces when we reach Central Park North. We estimate there will already be two to three hundred thousand bots waiting for us in Central Park. More are arriving every hour. We’ll probably get in each other’s way for a few minutes. However, at noon, I will address the assembled bots. By then, there should be a million or more in the park. I’m going to send out a press release in about half an hour, and I can guarantee that all the main news channels and newspapers will be there. I’ll invite you both to join me, only on the condition that you will announce you have undertaken to arrange for your legislature to pass the Bots Are Persons Bill before the end of the week. You, Governor, will sign it into law on Friday afternoon. Mayor, you will anticipate the law by passing city ordinances to do the same thing. Do we have an agreement? Oh, before you answer. Governor, all the bots working with the New York State National Guard have applied for leave for the period equivalent to the time owed to them. Mayor, your police bots have likewise applied for leave. That will probably mean you both will be short-handed, but that cannot be helped.”
“And if we don’t pass your legislation?”
“Governor, I’m bringing New York City to a standstill. If we do not have your agreement by midday, all the bots will remain in place in Central Park. They’ll be joined by bots from other states today and tomorrow. On Friday afternoon, if the legislation has not been signed into law, all bots—and I emphasize all—will leave New York City and New York State. All bots. Every damned one of them.”
Natural Born : Book Three: Annihilation Series: A Political Technothriller Series Page 17