by Satoshi Hase
“The Security Oversight Meeting starts in fifteen minutes,” Major General Karino said. “I know we were only tasked with keeping track of the situation, but there are those who expect us to take responsibility for messes like this. Have our response ready in time for the meeting.”
The Major General often spoke directly with the operators who had the most experience in dealing with the strategic AI, especially when he knew he was going to be asked for an informed opinion on something.
“Sir, what kind of roadblocks are we expecting?” Kawamura asked.
Major General Karino knuckled his chin thoughtfully. “Economic,” he said, bluntly. “Renjo from the Trade Representative Department and Director Kaizuka from the Information Advisory Committee are resisting any further public safety expenses for this half. They’re putting a lot of pressure on the Integrated Information Bureau. We can’t cause any problems for the other branches, with things the way they are.”
The Integrated Information Bureau was an intelligence agency established as part of the Safety Oversight Committee, under the direct control of the Prime Minister. Although the organization stood as a rival to the Military Intelligence, it is often the case that intelligence is divided between that overseen by the military and that overseen by domestic affairs.
“What’s SESSAI’s calculation for the best way to shoot down Snowdrop?” the Major General asked.
Eight minutes prior, a power outage was confirmed in five hundred homes in Mitaka, Tokyo. The Military Intelligence, which had been keeping an eye out for just such an outage, confirmed Snowdrop’s presence at a substation in Mitaka three minutes later.
“It calls for one hundred rifle platoons, made of nothing but humans,” Kawamura said. “And they’d have to take her down in less than an hour. Since Snowdrop’s child units can’t manipulate living humans, we can restrict her capabilities by prioritizing the use of human soldiers.”
SESSAI opened a display window in the air, showing information to back-up Kawamura’s statement.
“What percentage casualties are we looking at?” Major General Karino asked, massaging his eyelids. To translate Kawamura’s proposal into actual military logistical terms, they would need to get two full regiments of soldiers into Mitaka to fight Snowdrop, with half their firepower restricted due to not being able to use automated weaponry.
Kawamura, just like the rest of the Military Intelligence, was used to undertaking jobs that brought him face-to-face with how cruel and cold the world they lived in was. “SESSAI gave us three plans, sir,” he said. “If we follow the plan that prioritizes evacuating civilians, we will fail to neutralize Snowdrop. If we don’t spare any troops to aid with evacuation, we’re looking at a 40% survival rate. It goes up to 60% if we blow the city away along with Snowdrop.” In just a few hours, they would be sending at least a thousand soldiers to their deaths.
“If we got all the PMCs in the Kanto area together, how many soldiers would that give us?” Major General Karino pressed.
“If we got every single soldier, we would have 250,” Kawamura said, but then went on. “Of those, only seventy are free of any cybernetic implants. If we added in folks who just have transmitters or retinal displays—things that have a low risk of Snowdrop controlling them—we’d have 154.”
“We’re not likely to make any friends with this,” Major General Karino said with a sigh. The Digital Intelligence branch was extremely light on actual military power. Most of the soldiers who would die fighting Snowdrop would be from the Army and local PMCs.
“SESSAI’s prediction says that Snowdrop will head east toward Kichijoji next,” Kawamura said. “She’ll hit Nakano in four hours, and Shinjuku in six. If she doesn’t head that way, her aim is most likely our base here, looking for you-know-what.”
The air in the operator room was so cold now that it was almost hard to breathe. Making strategies far from the battle while others went and sacrificed their lives was one of the dark realities of human society. But, considering some of the problems the military dealt with, there was no other way to stay sane.
“You need to re-write the definition of ‘safety’ for the Japanese military,” the Major General said, grimly indicating for Kawamura, the operator, to communicate with SESSAI.
“Our analysis decided that the creation of the Lacia-class units was an act of self-defense from Higgins,” the Major General continued. “That is why we’ve been trying to avoid provoking Higgins too much, and have currently put our plans to capture Arato Endo and Lacia on hold.” It was a decision that had been made on the slimmest of margins. Even Major General Karino himself sometimes regretted not just throwing the whole thing to the hawks over at the Kushinbutsu base.
“By nipping Higgins’ need for self-defense in the bud, we were able to avoid the thing labeling us as enemies,” he went on. “And then we chose to watch; to ensure that Higgins didn’t try interfering with society in even greater ways. To us, the definition of ‘safety’ is continued control over the ultra high-performance AIs. Even Kouka’s destruction last night was most likely done to protect Higgins—she must have decided that she could protect it by forcing the humans watching her stream to rethink their feelings about the AI.”
There had been a subtle message in Kouka’s network broadcast; that human society itself was the problem, but also that only humans had the ability to turn things around. To Higgins, the message was beneficial. At least, in the long run.
Kawamura jumped in, as if to finish Karino’s thought. “If the ultra high-performance AIs ever get into a proxy war, just about every human on the planet could be dragged into the fighting without even realizing it,” he said. “If Higgins is looking to start something like that, there won’t be much ‘safety’ left in the country. I think you’ve got the right of it, sir.”
“Fear of being manipulated by an ultra high-performance AI is something everyone feels, before they take action,” the Major General added. “It’s practically a requirement in today’s society. But that very fear keeps us able to maintain our independence while still relying, to an extent, on the much more accurate predictions and calculations of the AIs.”
“According to academic predictions, a war between AIs would most likely be triggered by the destruction of one of the ultra high-performance AIs,” Kawamura mused. “The reason SESSAI stopped the military from shooting down the Lacia-class units when it was safer was due to the Antibody Network, which was aiming to destroy Higgins.” Kawamura was an expert at operating SESSAI, and he quickly narrowed the frame of the question so that SESSAI could perform the correct calculations faster.
“Things aren’t looking great. If the ultra high-performance AIs all begin to enact this kind of excessive self-defense, Japan will be facing a crisis even greater than the Hazard,” the Major General said.
Karino himself was part of the generation that had experienced that disaster. Kawamura, who had only lived through the rebuilding afterward, couldn’t even imagine a catastrophe of that scale.
“The story they gave the public was that there was a huge earthquake centered in Tokyo, and that afterward, the whole network infrastructure went down under unknown circumstances,” Kawamura said. “Even after the earthquake was gone, they couldn’t get the capital running again since all the automation was offline.”
“That was an ultra high-performance AI trying to control humanity,” the Major General said, shaking his head. “Someone who wasn’t there could never understand what it was like; seeing people who needed a strong leader to look to in a crisis practically worshiping at the feet of the machine that was manipulating them all.”
It was no longer possible for humanity to even grasp the complete capabilities of machines like Higgins, which were created after the technological singularity. Despite that, humanity still fought to continue running their own society. Whether or not civilians decided that was something worth continuing to fight for was directly tied to how the government was able to respond to threats. Tools were pow
erful enough then that, even at the top echelons of human society, people were still having their efforts weighed against automation.
Steeling himself to throw off his doubts, Major General Karino sat down on the simple, empty operator’s chair. “SESSAI, get calculating,” he ordered. “Let’s see exactly how bad things are.”
Kawamura nodded and tapped at the console. When someone with the right authorization sat in the operator’s seat, they were granted the ability to ask SESSAI questions.
SESSAI’s mark appeared on a floating virtual display. 〈Major General Karino,〉 the display read, 〈Security clearance level A confirmed. Your query will be answered directly by the Strategy Exact Synthesis System AI.〉
“We received an unofficial recommendation from America and the IAIA immediately after Snowdrop’s attack,” Major General Karino said, speaking directly to the symbol representing SESSAI.
Accepting the IAIA and their ultra high-performance AI, Astraea, which was allowed to observe the outside world directly, was a large risk for any country.
“The IAIA says there’s an AI in Japan that broke the rule separating the brains from executive power,” the Major General continued. “In fact, they’re afraid the AI may have broken the golden rule of AIs: that ultra high-performance AIs never be allowed to infinitely produce other ultra high-performance AIs. That’s the end of the world, for us humans.”
The whole reason ultra high-performance AIs were kept off of any networks was to prevent that kind of situation. Since everything in the world was linked to the cloud, those days, this had become the rule of separating the ‘brain’—the ultra high-performance AIs—from the ‘executive power’—production machinery.
“We can take Snowdrop down with the power of the Japanese military,” the Major General said. “She’s dangerous, and we’re going to lose some good troops to her, but she isn’t exactly an ultra high-performance AI, threatening all of humanity. So what has Astraea figured out that we haven’t?”
The symbol that meant SESSAI was thinking spun around on the display a few times. When it responded, the answer was concise. 〈According to the specification data from Higgins, the Lacia-class units cannot be considered ultra high-performance AIs. This is why Higgins was not restricted from creating them. Therefore, it follows that the threat indicated by Astraea’s proposal is not directly related to Snowdrop’s current attack,〉 the response read.
“So, were the Lacia-class units created purely to be obstructions, attacking human society directly, instead of just as a part of Higgins’ self-defense?” the Major General asked. The deaths in Mitaka were already piling up, but the ghouls that inhabited the intelligence community had their sights set far beyond that.
〈There is insufficient data, so the accuracy of this response cannot be guaranteed,〉 SESSAI warned. 〈However, the three units Saturnus, Methode and Lacia are actively working to hide information. If these three were intending to directly attack human society, it would have been far more effective for them to perform terrorist attacks on the National Assembly or Army Headquarters than to have Snowdrop activate in the middle of the capital.〉
“Is there a possibility that the warning from the IAIA itself may be a ploy by an ultra high-performance AI?”
The text displayed on SESSAI’s screen changed. 〈If Astraea is being manipulated, this AI was unable to detect it. Since such manipulations often involve economic interests, it is recommended that the Safety Oversight Committee focus its attention on any efforts to assert economic issues,〉 the response read.
The floating display then showed a list of the members of the Safety Oversight Committee. Underneath each name was a list of the information the Military Intelligence had gathered on that person. As the branching tree of human relations spread out before him, Karino’s eyes grew grim.
“So this is all we know about these people, huh?” he asked. “How about any folks with money who may be involved with the center of the Antibody Network? Could this be the work of someone like Kimitaka Shinguji, from Shingubo?”
〈While it is clear that President Shinguji is involved with the Antibody Network, he is pushing for Higgins to be deactivated. It is more likely that he would act to destroy an ultra high-performance AI, rather than plotting with one,〉SESSAI replied.
“How about someone working with Erika Burroughs, using the Burroughs fortune?” the Major General pressed. “I don’t buy the idea that Sleeping Beauty doesn’t let anyone close to her. It’s got to be a front for something.”
In the year since she had awoken from cryostasis, Erika Burroughs had shaken the financial world and set herself up a fat pipe into the political world as well, all in what had seemed like the blink of an eye. She also happened to be the owner of Fabion MG, where Lacia worked. Erika Burroughs was a slippery one; both the military and the Integrated Information Bureau had trouble getting any information on her. Since she didn’t let any humans get close to her, it was impossible to slip someone into her inner circle.
〈Negative. Though the movements of her sizable inheritance have been difficult to track since last year, there has not been sufficient time since her awakening to account for the kind of preparations that would need to be in place.〉
“I thought she’d be the one,” the Major General said. “Well then, who is it? Who do you have in mind?”
When he saw the name that appeared on SESSAI’s screen, Major General Karino couldn’t keep his lip from curling in disgust. “‘Ryo Kaidai’,” he read. “That kid from ten years ago? What, is Higgins trying to read human corruption a hundred years in advance?”
He stood up from the chair, no longer wanting SESSAI to answer his questions. “If that’s so,” he grumbled, “then just when the hell did this little ‘situation’ actually start?”
***
Hundreds of flower petals were dancing in the blue sky. Red and white, yellow and blue, there was a veritable rainbow drifting on the wind. It was a blizzard of flowers, blowing toward the midday cityscape.
Snowdrop stood on a metal tower near the substation, lifting the hem of her dress high into the air as an endless storm of petals flowed out from underneath it. Barefoot on the steel, she seemed to step in rhythm to a beat only she could hear.
She was drawing energy directly from the nearby high voltage wires. Emerald Harmony was chewing away at the metal tower from the top, providing her with the materials she needed to produce her child units.
With the substation under her control, Snowdrop began to erode away at the world of humans. By leaving some of the functions of the substation running, she managed to keep it from being severed from the grid entirely.
Snowdrop had no human owner. Lacia-class Type-002 had been created by Higgins as an external nervous system that could build the network Higgins needed. In order to create Lacia, Higgins needed an especially sophisticated and precise nervous system. But, despite being the nervous system sent out to organize things and lay the groundwork for her successor, Type-002 had instead found the outside world upon which she had been unleashed to be a bountiful ocean of all sorts of things she could ingest.
Unfortunately for her, this ‘ocean’ was being watched by human networks. If she started devouring everything, the same military group that had destroyed Kouka would come and destroy her next.
Snowdrop focused her attention on the flower petals flying toward Mitaka Station. “They don’t fly right on the wind,” she murmured to herself. “Where’s my car?” Now she focused on a car covered in flowers, heading toward the city as clumps of petals continued to pour from out of her dress in an almost liquid-like flow.
The car had been parked at the substation before Snowdrop had filled it with flowers, and now it was just entering the outskirts of Mitaka. People who saw it gazed at the car, all decked out in flowers, as if they weren’t sure what to make of it.
“Flowers for everyone,” Snowdrop said in a sing-song voice. Then, she stretched her arms and legs out wide, and a storm of flower petals
exploded outwards from the car.
The people watching cheered at the spectacle. But moments later, when the petals all sprouted insect-like legs and began crawling all over everything, those cheers turned to screams. Then the hIEs and vehicles which had been taken by the flowers began to rampage, and panic shattered the crowd.
Just like that, a human city turned into a Hell on Earth.
“Hey, have you heard?” Snowdrop asked, as if the terror-stricken crowd could hear her. “If you give someone a snowdrop flower, it means you’re telling them they should die.”
Snowdrop was like a cancer cell, starting to spread her sickness through the infrastructure that was the basic foundation for life in human society. Her network self-propagated and expanded rapidly. Any machine taken by her flower network was brought under the complete control of her cloud. Though they retained the same form as they always had, their meaning, their purpose, was completely overwritten.
Humans in the streets roiled in panic as they saw the same flower petals that were taking over the hIEs around them falling from the sky, carried by the wind.
“I am the tool you outsourced evolution to,” Snowdrop said. “That’s the puzzle I have to think about.” To wipe her domain clean of those she couldn’t control, Snowdrop had the hIEs in the streets attack all nearby humans indiscriminately. The flailing limbs of the hIEs easily broke human bodies and smashed through the walls and doors of human homes. The AASC, which was the basic standard for all hIE activity, wasn’t just about deciding how they should move; it also limited the output of all hIE strength, too. As long as an hIE kept the velocity of its movements within the standards set by the AASC, there would be no danger of the hIE harming nearby humans, as there would be if they used their full power. Obviously, the hIEs that Snowdrop had taken over were no longer limited by such restrictions.