Code of Pride

by Ryan Kirk

  He had lived many places in his life, never staying too long in any one location. He didn’t like sitting still, and living in the same place quickly became a professional liability. His possessions were meager, and when called, he packed everything up into a backpack and simply moved to the location for his next mission. If there was nothing requiring his physical presence, he traveled the United States, visiting cities for a few months at a time before moving on. Sometimes he elected to live in smaller towns and rural areas, but not often. Although his heart was called to the wilder places of the planet, his presence made more of a splash there, and he was often forced to move on quickly.

  From a glance, he didn’t think Minneapolis was going to become a place he loved. On their final approach, a few hundred feet in the air, Drake saw barren trees, brown grass, and patchy snow. The sun, which had shone on him his entire flight, was now obscured by a dense layer of clouds. He felt as though he had dropped into a frozen purgatory.

  He sighed softly. For the most part, one place was much the same as the next to his mind; but still, this didn’t seem like a place that welcomed newcomers. His feelings seemed mirrored by the other passengers. Once they landed and taxied to their gate, they all threw on heavy parkas and hats that obscured their features, hiding them from sight. As he stepped out of the airport, all he saw in either direction was people bundled up against the weather, scurrying from the sliding doors to waiting cars, from warmth to warmth. No one sat outside willing to talk to a stranger.

  Drake took the light rail to an apartment not far from downtown. The furnishings were bare and the pantry was stocked with canned goods. It was a safe house, ready for whomever might need it. For the next few days, or perhaps the next few weeks, that was Drake. He found a can of sardines and opened them eagerly, taking a few minutes to get his bearings and decide on his first steps.

  As he did, he went through the other supplies left for him. Besides food, there was little of note. There were a few weapons in the closet and a few clean credit cards, but other than that the space was empty.

  The very first chore, as detestable as it was to him, was to set up his lines of communication. Fortunately, instructions had been provided, and once he ran through his typical security setup, he was confident in his privacy. He loaded his communication program and checked for new messages.

  The first one caught his eye right away. The message had been sent from his local contact, complete with video attachments. The robot (or the person, Drake mentally reminded himself) had struck again last night. Fortunately, they had anticipated a trap, and those involved in the fight had set up a spotter far away from the scene of the action. They had video, which Drake dove into eagerly.

  His first reaction was one of disappointment. He’d hoped to see a robot, clearly visible, fighting against humans. If he had, his work would have been easy. They could release the video to the public and let public outcry take it from there. Unfortunately, the figure in the video wore a hooded sweatshirt and jeans, just as it had been described to Drake.

  As Drake watched, he found himself impressed. The robot was thinking like a specialist, making logical decisions that took advantage of its natural capabilities. From the second the robot dropped from the I-beams above the meeting place, Drake knew who the victor would be. The local arms dealers were simply outclassed.

  For the first time, Drake truly understood what the local organization had been up against. It was no surprise that Felix had been shot and apprehended. The man was a believer, but he didn’t have the skills or reasoning to fight against this machine. And there was no doubt it was a machine. No human could move like that.

  Once the video of the battle, if battle was really the right term, was over, Drake leaned back against a wall and considered how to move forward. Images of the robot scurrying around the tall grass burned through his thoughts as he tried to concentrate.

  As useful as the video was, it wasn’t enough. At best, it gave him an idea of how the robot approached combat situations. If he was going to outmaneuver the robot, he’d need more information. Much more. Until then, he wouldn’t dare reveal his presence.

  He could feel the blood pulsing faster through his veins. He believed, deep in his bones, that the way to better oneself was through constant challenge and struggle. Some days, challenges worthy of the name were hard to come by. But here he saw an opportunity to push himself harder than he had in some time.

  Drake also believed that humanity’s greatest gift was its creativity, its ability to make leaps of imagination that could never be made by logic alone. That intuition served him well today as an idea occurred to him.

  He smiled to himself as he thought of one approach. Sometimes the best way to the heart of your target was sideways.

  Drake studied the apartment complex. The building itself was newer, probably only built in the last ten years or so. Modern architecture tended to emphasize glass and the idea of transparency, a trend Drake found himself torn about.

  Yes, society needed to be more open. Honesty was an absolutely vital trait, and he believed a more honest society was superior in almost every way. But at the same time, this emphasis on glass everywhere went a step too far. Glass was good, but old-fashioned solid walls were just as necessary. Architects and people in general seemed to forget that sometimes.

  Honesty was vital. Knowing everything about everyone was not. It was the same reason he abhorred social media. The conversations focused on the mundane and the meaningless, driving large portions of society into a shallow hole of insanity. If they were ever going to crawl out of that hole, if they wanted to become more than the promise of AI, they needed to move past the shallow and work in the deep. Some parts of life simply needed to be private.

  Drake focused back on the moment as he walked towards the complex. Whether or not he agreed with the architecture was really of no matter. He had a job to do.

  He already knew the specific apartment where his target lived. Hacking through the rudimentary security system was the work of a moment.

  Drake hadn’t bothered to check to see if the man was home or not. Ultimately, it didn’t matter much to his plans. He knew the detective often worked late, but if he was home early tonight, Drake would still complete his task.

  The girl would have been better, but she was far more conscientious about hiding her tracks. Drake had tried to find her, but when his initial attempts failed, he decided to go for easier prey. The detective would do just as well.

  Drake knocked on the apartment door, and when there was no answer he let himself in. Digital locks were no more secure than their physical predecessors.

  He locked the door behind him and studied the room. There were a few decorations, a few halfhearted attempts at making the place look more like a home and less like just a place where the man slept at night. Drake’s eye was drawn to a picture on the wall of a younger man and woman. The young man was clearly the detective. He looked different, twenty years younger with a lot less gray hair. The woman must be his deceased wife.

  Of everything in the house, it was the only thing that had any hint of personality to it.

  Drake recognized a kinship with his target. Like him, the detective seemed to eschew material possessions. Drake imagined him as being a man of purpose, driven by something larger than the mere accumulation of material wealth. In a way, the knowledge saddened Drake. He wanted to hate the man, for it made his work easier, but it seemed as though they were just on two different sides of the upcoming conflict.

  With little else to do, Drake sat down in one of the two chairs and waited for him to arrive. While he waited, he closed his eyes and settled into a meditative state. He focused on his breath, but didn’t allow himself to fall too deeply into the practice. He needed to be aware when the man came home.

  He didn’t pay attention to time when meditating, and Drake didn’t know how late it was when he heard the soft sound of footsteps stopping just outside the door. His eyes came open and he was instant
ly aware, seeing the shadows of two feet break the light coming from underneath the door.

  Drake pulled out a gun and sat it next to him, barrel pointing towards the door. He hated guns, but people responded to them, and sometimes they were just the tool needed.

  The door opened and Detective Bryce Lewis stepped through. Drake studied the man in full for the first time. He was taller than average, with dark skin beginning to wrinkle with age. His hair was more gray than black now, but for all of that, he moved well. He kept himself in good shape, then. Drake approved, and that feeling of kinship passed over him again.

  Detective Lewis noticed him almost right away, and Drake watched the detective’s reactions to judge the character of the man. Surprise flashed across his eyes, followed by a moment of fear. All of that was to be expected. No one walked into their home prepared to face an intruder.

  Lewis went for the gun on his hip, but as his eyes adjusted to the light and he saw Drake’s own pistol sitting on the chair pointing towards him, he stopped his motion quickly. The whole sequence lasted less than a second. The detective, even caught off-guard, had been fast. Drake approved again.

  The older man finished hanging up his coat and turned to face the intruder. His eyes were now calm and clear, without even a hint of worry. The detective didn’t fear death, then, Drake noted. That would be good to know in the conversation moving forward. The younger man noticed that Detective Lewis didn’t attempt to take off his holster, and Drake didn’t ask him to. As fast as Lewis seemed to be, he was faster, and it would be his own fault if he let the detective get the drop on him.

  “Would you like a drink?” the detective asked.

  Drake almost laughed out loud at the man’s fortitude. Despite their disagreement, he liked the man.

  “No. Thank you, though. I don’t drink. Feel free to help yourself.”

  Detective Lewis nodded his appreciation and went over to his old-fashioned liquor cabinet, pouring himself a healthy pour of scotch. He then sat down on the chair opposite Drake and took a sip. The two men watched each other, each silently taking the measure of their opponent.

  Lewis spoke first. “I assume you’re with Sapiens First?”

  Drake gave him a thin smile. “Who I am isn’t very important right now. I’m much more interested in who you are, Detective Lewis.”

  “You can call me Bryce. I hate the title.”

  Drake had never come across a cop he’d liked as much. Bryce was smart, and even the way he interacted with Drake was designed to humanize him. He was operating under the belief that his life was in danger, and by becoming more than a name, more of a person, he made it harder for the shooter to pull the trigger. The strategy wouldn’t work on Drake, but he appreciated the effort. “Why did you let the robot go free?”

  The detective eyed him warily. Drake let the silence stretch between them, waiting for the answer to the question he was most curious about. Silence was a powerful tool, but the detective would know that.

  “Somedays that’s something I wonder about, too,” he eventually answered. Another few seconds of silence passed before he continued. “I think, at the end of the day, I did it because I thought it was the right thing to do. Simple as that.”

  Drake could tell the man was telling his truth, and that surprised the assassin. “The AI broke all protocols put in place to keep it under human control. It harmed humans and certainly seemed to have the ability to kill them. At the very least, it needed to be reported.”

  Bryce took another sip of scotch. “Perhaps, but at the time, my perspective was different. I had just seen your organization kill not one but two of its members and threaten the lives of people who didn’t deserve to have their lives threatened. When you put those two principles on a scale, it’s pretty obvious which one comes out on top, at least in my mind.”

  Drake believed in Sapiens First. He had dedicated his entire life to it, so that had never been in question. But his belief didn’t blind him like it did for so many others.

  Bryce was telling him the truth, and given what Drake knew of Felix, he could see how the detective might have come to his conclusion. How different would the situation be had someone more competent been in Felix’s place?

  He decided to try a different approach. “Do you feel comfortable having that thing out on the streets at night, beating up people?”

  Bryce didn’t even flinch. “No, but he’s helping keep the streets safer for mods.”

  Drake sighed. He always hoped that others could be reasoned with. Bryce was intelligent, but he was only looking short-term. He didn’t see the dangers that the robot presented to the future of humanity. He decided to get straight to the point of his visit. This had never been a social call.

  “I want you to set up a meeting with the robot. Just you and it, in a park.” Drake named a park that was close to downtown, one he had scouted on the way to Lewis’ apartment.

  Bryce’s wary look returned. “Why would you want me to do a thing like that?”

  Drake didn’t respond. The answer was obvious, and they both knew it.

  Bryce glanced down at Drake’s gun. “And if I don’t?”

  Drake replied honestly. The cop had earned that much, at least. “I have no desire to hurt others. This is only to make sure that we are able to speak without interruption. If you do not, I will seek out the girl, and when I find her I won’t be so reasonable.”

  “That doesn’t sound much like a man who doesn’t like to hurt people.”

  Drake shook his head. “Don’t misunderstand me. I don’t enjoy it. But what is happening now is bigger than you or me. My colleagues were foolish to kill Kleon and Clive, but I have killed in service of the cause, and will do so again. It pains me, but I will do it because I believe it to be necessary.”

  Drake could see the detective wrestling with the problem. Even if the older man didn’t care about his own life, he wouldn’t be willing to sacrifice others. Drake had read him correctly.

  Drake knew the detective’s answer before he spoke.

  “I’m going to reach down into my pocket and grab my phone. It’s near my weapon.”

  Drake gestured, the very face of unconcern.

  Bryce moved slowly, but his hand never went for his weapon. He knew when he was beaten. He pulled out his phone and dialed a number.

  It had been years since Drake had visited the Midwest during winter, and despite training himself to be immune to temperature fluctuations, he still shivered occasionally. The night was clear, and a few dozen of the brightest stars and planets twinkled overhead. But because of the clear sky, whatever small amount of heat the planet had built up during the day drifted away without a cloud to insulate it.

  The air was crisp, and although Drake was no stranger to subzero temperatures, it added another level of complexity to his life. Bullets traveled differently through freezing air, and he knew he’d have to take a few practice shots to make sure his rifle was appropriately sighted.

  After Bryce made his call, the two of them took a car to Loring Park, the location Drake felt was best suited to his ambush.

  Drake’s attention was split between the detective beside him and the environment outside. He mapped egress points and dark corners, learning as much as he could about the surroundings, getting a feel for the place.

  The other part of his attention made sure Bryce didn’t suffer from a sudden bout of courage. Any action would be wasted, and fortunately the detective seemed to understand that. Bryce sat quietly, not saying anything until they pulled to a stop. “It’s still hours before the meeting,” he said.

  “Yes, and if I know your friend, it’s going to show up quite early. I need to be in place first.”

  “He doesn’t freeze.” Bryce gave a knowing glance at the snow-covered park beyond the window.

  “Neither do I.”

  The detective looked like he wanted to make a comment but decided against it.

  Drake knew what the detective had been about to say. Compared to him
, Drake wore little. He had thrown on a heavy sweatshirt and dark sweatpants, both made of a semi-waterproof fabric. Both were designed for cold weather, but compared to Bryce’s parka, heavy hat, boots, and mittens, Drake might as well have been naked. Bryce, like so many others, didn’t know what the human body was capable of. Not only was Drake certain he’d be fine, he was confident he would feel more comfortable sitting and waiting than the detective would with all his cold weather gear.

  He dropped Bryce off at the park with a final warning. “Remember, we’re watching. If you do anything to interfere, it’s not only your life that you’re forfeiting.”

  The detective waved him away. “Yeah, I get it.”

  After dropping him off, Drake gave the car a new command. It wasn’t his destination, but he still wasn’t going to let anyone come close to tracking him. Grabbing a backpack out of the trunk, he walked about a mile to a building he had scouted earlier.

  The apartment building was three stories tall. Not the tallest in the area, but high enough for him to have a clear line of sight to the meeting ground. There were a number of egress routes in case he was spotted or pursued.

  Drake worked his way to the roof via fire escape ladders and set up his perch for the next few hours. He found a place near the edge of the roof where vents expelled heat behind him and he had a clear view of the park and Bryce sitting on his bench. From his backpack came the parts for a rifle, one of his personal favorites. It was custom made, shooting subsonic bullets that made almost no sound at all. But it wasn’t the most accurate piece of weaponry ever made; the physics of making a silent weapon were such that its accuracy topped out at about 150 yards.

  Today’s work would be at the edge of that range, so Drake spent a few minutes sighting in the rifle. The attached scope took weather and atmosphere into account, but Drake wouldn’t trust any piece of technology that he hadn’t tried for himself first. Feeling confident in his security, Drake used an empty bench in the park as target practice. Three shots later, he was confident in his aim. Bryce, sitting only a few dozen feet away, never even suspected the target practice occurring nearby.