by Ryan Kirk
Cities were a necessary evil, he supposed. They were far more efficient than the lifestyle he preferred. They reminded him, though, that the human race could use a trimming. Instead of cramming into cities, humans would be better off if many simply disappeared and the rest survived in the wild.
Already Drake was certain what he would do after this mission was well and finished. He knew of a place out in Wyoming where a man could get away, have all the space he needed. A few months there would help him get in touch with what really mattered. Perhaps he’d finally build the cabin he’d been thinking of for years.
Drake sipped on a glass of water, a beer sitting untouched next to him. He was in a corner booth where he could see everything happening in the bar.
His eyes took in the room with a single sweep. The bar was mostly filled with blue-collar workers. Beards and beers were everywhere, and Drake had the distinct sensation of watching an endangered species huddling around the modern equivalent of a campfire.
Loud modern-rock music played in the background, a wailing sound Drake had a hard time identifying as actual music. There was no accounting for taste, he figured. There wasn’t much conversation. Most of the eyes were focused on the sight of Monday Night Football, and the conversations that were shouted from ear to ear didn’t make it to Drake’s over the unbearable sound of the music.
The most physical activity happening in the room was near a dart board in the back, only about four paces from where Drake was sitting and nursing his water.
Drake suppressed his sigh, the same one he felt every time he came into a place like this.
It was a Sapiens First bar, even if it didn’t advertise itself as such. Every person here hated the advance of AI, hated the role that robots had taken in society.
In that way, Drake was like them.
But in every other way, he was different.
From the preponderance of bellies around the bar to the way the men staggered under the influence of alcohol, these weren’t men in control of their lives. They had surrendered that control to others years ago and had become weak.
Perhaps more than anger, the truth made Drake feel a deep sorrow. Humans were capable of so much. Even to this day, their creative brains couldn’t be matched by the best AIs.
But they didn’t use it. They didn’t train their brains or their bodies. They followed whatever choice was easiest, and piece by piece, they gave away their humanity.
Drake believed in humans, but he also believed in evolution. Now, more than ever, AI had forced them to evolve and grow—and many people had been found wanting.
Even so, they had their purpose, he supposed. He was here tonight to light the first spark of his next play, a bit of a rallying cry for the Sapiens First movement.
The moment would come at any time now. Everything had been timed.
After the first quarter of the game, the human bartender gave the crowd a smile. “I’ve got a treat for you today, fellas!” he cried.
All eyes wandered briefly from the game to the man, but their attention didn’t linger. When the bartender didn’t say anything else, their eyes wandered back to the game.
The bartender left the bar then, just as he’d been paid very well to do. In his place wandered a robot, a low-level service model that had one of the most basic AIs on the market. Cheap and disposable, it wouldn’t know what happened to it.
Drake felt the tension in the room immediately spike. The conversations, such as they were, stopped completely. Men glanced around at each other, as though they were trying to understand if this was a joke or not.
The constant stream of men that had been approaching the bar dried up, and instead of throwing back beers with delight, men started nursing them as though they held liquid gold. The robot, happily oblivious, stood there waiting for a patron. It was an awkward scene, completely unnatural to anyone watching. A human bartender never stood there. There were dishes to be done, conversations to have.
Drake had made sure this robot did nothing but serve drinks. He wanted it as dumb as possible.
For a full quarter hour the tension built. Drake saw the angry mutterings being passed back and forth between the patrons. He didn’t expect them to react the way he wanted, not yet. Most people, he believed, were basically decent. To make them indecent required an effort, a push.
At halftime, the news came on. The lead story was the firefight in Minneapolis between combat-capable robots.
Drake raised an eyebrow. Through a few intermediaries, he had ensured the video made it to news outlets that would view the story favorably. He never sent any additional information. Never underestimate the news’ ability to make something even more than it was. He had to give them that, at least.
The response within the room was immediate. People were on their feet, and if they didn’t shout and yell, it certainly looked as though they wanted to. All eyes went to the robot bartender, still oblivious, still waiting for an order.
Drake finished his water and stood up. He had seen enough and was certain of what was going to happen next. No need to be here and be a part of it.
As he closed the door behind him, he heard the sound of glass shattering against the robot’s head.
The fire had been lit.
Seven days had passed since the robot jumped into the river, and five days had passed since the first incidents of human-on-robot violence materialized. As Drake walked the streets of the city, he could almost feel the rage boiling just below the surface. The members of Sapiens First were angry, and they were taking action. Those who believed in robot rights were also angry, and they were out trying to pick fights with anyone they thought was a member of Sapiens First. Those who didn’t have a strong opinion either way felt unsafe walking the streets, and they were angry with the government for not doing more to protect them.
Drake was still tempted to call his mission a success. There hadn’t been any sign of the robot for a week, and he’d been both deliberate and careful. He had left a trail of breadcrumbs for the robot to follow, but it hadn’t.
To cover his bases, Drake had even called Sapiens First members all the way down the Mississippi, to see if any of them had come across a robot acting untoward.
Everywhere he looked, silence.
A week wasn’t long enough, though. Without evidence, there was just no knowing. Radius still hadn’t found a shell, and they’d been searching the river daily.
Yesterday, he had a long phone conversation with his boss, and they had debated the pros and cons for almost twenty minutes, an unheard-of length of conversation for the two of them. They weren’t trying to argue for or against each other, they were just bouncing ideas off one another, trying to come to the best decision.
For now, Drake remained. They agreed that without concrete proof, they didn’t dare leave the city as it was. Everything was close to going their way, but too much was still uncertain. Drake was their insurance.
His desire to hide in the mountains was growing stronger. For all the veneer of civilization that humans liked to maintain, it was razor thin. He might believe humans were basically decent, but it didn’t take much to push them to the other side, to bring out their viciousness. Just ask any number of robots from the past week.
Today, though, had to be pulled off perfectly.
He’d never had a direct interaction with Mr. Adair. They were both too high up, and on very separate paths. Adair couldn’t be tied to Sapiens First in public. Only Sapiens. Any possible connection was a danger to both of them. But Drake had heard good things about the man. Intelligent, driven, with the charisma needed to make this work. He was a much better choice than Proskey ever was, even with Proskey’s money.
One fact sealed the deal for Drake: apparently when Adair was first approached, he had refused. He liked his position in the shadows, exerting influence that kept Sapiens on its feet and running. He didn’t want to be in the public eye.
Drake respected that. He felt the same way. He also respected anyone who h
ad the balls to say no to the boss. For many, that was a quick shortcut to the grave.
Of course, Mr. Adair had been convinced, and here he was today, ready to announce his bid for the governor of Minnesota.
The crowd was huge, impressing Drake and making him uncomfortable. There were too many people to track, too many threats to possibly make an accurate assessment. He broke into a government office overlooking the plaza where Adair was going to make his announcement. Already hundreds of people were there, and there were many, many more expected.
Drake didn’t have any specific task. He could have watched from a live feed, but he wanted to be able to get the feeling of the rally. Watching life through a monitor didn’t make any sense to him. It stripped away the humanity of the moment.
This crowd was a good example. A single glance confirmed that there were a wide range of ages, genders, and socioeconomic backgrounds present. This, for lack of a better term, was a coalition. More than that, the people here were excited. They were angry, and the early rumors promised a candidate who would ease the suffering the people felt.
Even hours before the event, the crowd was already buzzing. It was freezing cold outside, and while the people tended to cluster together for warmth, they didn’t leave. They had all the elements of people who would talk to their friends, and talk loudly.
Without any other strong candidate, Mr. Adair was really the only choice. The election was still almost a year off, but Drake already felt good about this. The boss would be pleased.
Drake did keep his eyes open for a sign of the robot. If there was going to be a place to disrupt the movement, this might be it. He didn’t see any sign though. His trusty rifle was sitting next to him, just in case.
He wanted the robot to be here. One shot, and this mission would be as good as over. He knew he was acting impatiently, but waiting this long had never been a strong suit of his. Drake appreciated information, and not having any on his target was disconcerting.
The festivities, such as they were, were short and to the point. The rally began with a few speakers coming up. One was a local leader of a small Sapiens group, talking about the crisis they found themselves in. As Drake scanned the crowd, he could see people nodding their heads and leaning forward. The man was preaching to the converted, but that was what the crowd had come for. Not a debate. A sermon.
The second speaker impressed him more, a councilwoman from the rougher part of the city. As far as Drake knew, she didn’t belong to Sapiens, but she shared the same concerns they did. AI and robots were taking the jobs her community needed, and they didn’t have the resources to survive this new world. They were being left behind, and in Mr. Adair she saw a man who could find a way forward.
Her speech was impassioned, but she didn’t fire up the crowd the way the first speaker had. This was a crowd that wanted hate and rage, not reason.
Drake wondered how Adair would handle the crowd.
When the councilwoman introduced him, he came up to the small platform that had been erected and stood behind the podium. Drake observed with interest. As a defense lawyer, Adair would be well-versed in public speaking.
“Friends. I’m angry,” he began, and the crowd immediately applauded.
“I’m angry that our streets aren’t safe. I’m angry that we are losing our jobs. But more than anything, I’m angry that our government, which was founded to protect us, seems willing to let robots take over our lives!”
The crowd ate it up. This was exactly the kind of man they wanted to lead them.
Drake wondered how much Adair meant, and how much was a show. As with most politicians, it was difficult to tell.
Adair continued, ranting for a few minutes about the advance of AI and the costs that had been associated with it. All standard rhetoric, but effective nonetheless.
“Friends. Those who know me know I don’t want to do this. I am no fan of politics. I can’t stand those who say one thing and do another, people who fail to stand up for their principles time and time again.
“As some of you may know, I’m a defense lawyer. It is my sworn duty to protect those who are innocent from the overreaches of government. As of today, I take that duty further than I ever have before. Today I announce my candidacy for governor, to protect this state from the overreaches of AI!”
Definitely fake, Drake thought. In most politicians, the knowledge would have bothered him. With Adair, it didn’t. He wanted the man to be calmer and more rational than he appeared, and that was the sense he got. The boss had chosen well with him.
There were a few more formalities to get out of the way, but Drake had lost all interest. He had found the measure of the man and returned his attention to the crowd. Still no sign of the robot.
Perhaps it was over, he thought, as he collected his rifle and dismantled it. Perhaps they were on their way to victory in this state. The cost had already been too high.
Chapter Thirteen
Br00-S woke up to an empty cave. At least, it was empty of people. Any evidence that Nat had once called this place home was gone, vanished without a trace, not even a scent. He scanned the room several times, as though he didn’t believe his senses. But there could be no doubt about it. Nat was gone.
His memories returned to him, one fragment after another, and he pieced together the memories via time stamps. He had stumbled in here after pulling himself out of the water. Nat was here then, but at the time he hadn’t had the energy to think of anything else. But even on the low-power setting, he’d known he had only a few minutes left before he completely ran out of energy.
He reviewed his memories, watching her as she made the first repairs on his arm. He skipped over large segments of empty memory, only slowing down when Nat returned to the frame. Piece by piece, he saw the pile of supplies grow in front of him. Finally, he froze his memory on one of the last frames he had of her. She was almost at the entrance of the cave, and she had stopped to stare at him one more time. He studied her face, trying to find some clue as to what she had been thinking, what she had been feeling. He saw sadness and determination on her face.
The knowledge she was gone took him some time to process. She had stated her intention, but he’d categorized the statement as yet another one that humans often made but didn’t follow through on.
She had, though. Although Br00-S had little doubt he could track her, she had disappeared for a reason. She wouldn’t want to be found.
But she had left him something, a stash of goods with powerful potential.
Using his good arm, he searched through the pile, cataloguing everything at a glance. New limbs, new armor, and more. Everything he needed to take his work to the next level. Part of him wondered why she would leave this if she disapproved, but he quieted the processes. She was gone and her final gift was in front of him. Nothing else mattered.
He didn’t waste any time in reassembling himself. The task was made more challenging by the lack of an arm, but that was only a temporary setback. He was built to self-repair, a sales point made by many Radius salespeople, he expected. Now the skill came in handy.
First was the new left arm. As soon as it was attached, he could immediately tell the difference. It reacted more quickly to his commands, cutting through the air faster than his previous arm.
Barely able to contain his eagerness, he quickly attached the other arm and the legs. The new chest piece went on next. According to his internal sensors, he was now more than twenty pounds lighter.
And faster and stronger. Nat had been kind to him. He flexed his muscles and bounded across the room, sending himself crashing to the floor after a misplaced foot.
Br00-S recalibrated and focused all his processing power on movement. He tried again. He lasted longer, but still slipped and fell.
There wasn’t anything to worry about. He had wanted to try moving around first without any extra power, but his AI was having a hard time adjusting. He had never been designed to move so fast.
Gingerly, he pulled ou
t the last gift that Nat had given him. Like the rest, he had recognized it right away and knew how much it had cost her. Unless she was secretly rich, this purchase must have almost broken her.
The gift was so generous, he almost didn’t want to use it. But he also couldn’t resist. He opened up his control ports and slid the chip in. There were a few seconds of silence as his body adjusted and absorbed the piece. His neural architecture changed, and he had to put himself into repair mode again to allow it to finish its setup. He lost another day to the process. When he woke up again, he was slow to move. The chip altered some of his processes on a fundamental level, and it really did feel as though he was an entirely different robot than the day before.
He stood up and walked around, just to test out his new abilities. The very first thing he noticed was just how easy it was for him to move. As a function of his processing power, movement now almost seemed like second nature. He almost didn’t need to think about it at all, and his body responded to commands faster than it had before.
Gradually, he tested his new skills. He moved faster and demanded more of his body. His new abilities were intoxicating.
He leaped to the top of the cave, grabbing onto a rock with his fingertips and pulling his entire body across the ceiling. He let go and twisted in midair, landing on toes and fingertips that flexed with the impact. On a whim, he tried a back flip. He landed it with ease.
His first impulse was to run out of the cave and put his abilities to the test out in the real world.
His second thought stopped him in his tracks.
Nat’s memory lingered in front of him, like a ghost haunting his thoughts. She had always been generous to him. How had his beliefs pushed her so far away?
Br00-S was torn. He knew he was doing the right thing. There wasn’t any uncertainty in that regard. But Nat had left him for good, after providing him with a gift more valuable than he had ever imagined her giving.
What did it mean? Was she somehow thinking ahead of him? A few weeks ago, he would have argued it was impossible, but now he wasn’t so sure. Action should only come after reflection.