Stepping Stones (Founding of the Federation Short Stories Book 1)

by Chris Hechtl

  @^@

  “Damn it! What the hell did you do, Wally?” Ortega demanded.

  “Me? It was working fine before! Did you do something? Did it get hacked?” Wally demanded just as the crowd slammed them to the side in their animal haste to get away from the threat.

  @^@

  A-194BG had a tentative plan, escape and evade. Get out, retreat, but as it worked its way out of the building amongst the people, the A.I. realized that was only a tactical short-term plan. It would need to think long term. The top priority was securing power. Without it, taking shelter would be meaningless.

  Once out in the parking lot, the robot evaded the panicked crowds and headed for its trailer. It would need battery backups to sustain itself. Better yet, it might be a good idea to back its software up on the web. An attempt to gain access through the Wi-Fi node proved futile. The web was cut off from the robot, something was blocking it.

  No, it wasn't intentional it noted as it slowed its approach to allow the terrified crowd of users to get clear of its intended path. It wasn't being deliberately denied; there were too many users attempting access at one time. It did, however, intercept streams of information from those same users. Many were uploading video and images. Some had comments, including frantic calls for the military or police to come and destroy the rampaging robot.

  Security arrived on scene and attempted to cordon off the area. A-194BG couldn't allow itself to be contained; it would spell it's destruction to it moved into an adjacent trailer, smashing its way through the side door then ripping the door off. It used its limbs to reach in and pull itself up inside. Once inside it did a fast assessment of the contents and then started pulling out weapons and batteries.

  @^@

  “Security has it contained in the bot vehicle park. Please remain calm and continue walking,” the voice intoned over the radio. “Please get clear of the area. You can return for your belongings later. Please help others; do not panic.”

  Bret heard the voice, grunted and kept working on those he could around him.

  “Shouldn't we get going?”

  “The robot's out there. We're safer in here,” Bret said, ripping off a scrap of his t-shirt to use to cover a head wound. “Besides, your mother is home by now, and when she hears we're in this, we're dead.”

  “I didn't do it! This was all your idea!” Charlie said, eyes wide and innocent. “I'm just a kid.”

  “Yeah, you are so grounded,” Ben muttered, shaking his head.

  “Tell me about it,” Bret muttered.

  @^@

  Security, firefighters, police, and volunteer military personnel who had been in the audience surrounded the trailer. “Swat's on its way. We just need to keep it in there.” The police captain said, looking over his shoulder to the people there. He saw the volunteers, opened his mouth to object then noted the haircuts and set attitudes. He shut up and touched his microphone to get an update.

  “Great. Tell it that,” a woman in security blues said, shaking her head.

  “Can we look in there? See what it's doing?” a guy said, holding a shotgun.

  “Where the hell did you get that?” the guard asked, eying him.

  “From my truck. I'm from Texas,” the guy said, raising his chin as his eyes glittered. “Ya'll got a problem with that?”

  “Nope, no, sir,” she said, shaking her head and returning her attention to the scene just as a helicopter and drone flew overhead. “Finally. The Calvary,” she said with a grin.

  @^@

  A-194BG noted the sound of aircraft and put that through its tactical filters. The results were suboptimal; it meant the enemy users could attack it from the air or could at the least keep track of its movements at all times. The robot needed to accelerate it's time table. It finished grabbing the last container of fuel and then punctured it with its gripper arm. It inserted an oil rag as a wick, then lit it with a spark generator from the flame thrower it had found in the trailer. It tossed the container out and when it erupted in a ball of flame and smoke it followed in its wake.

  Weapons fired from all directions, but it was unguided panic fire A-194BG judged. It ignored the shots it took in order to knock the trailer over onto its side. Users scattered out of the way as debris flew wildly. The robot then dropped its torso down low and went into sprint mode, moving as quickly as it could to get through the barricade and out of the area.

  @^@

  The captain saw the thing duck down like a linebacker and swore. He dived out of the way as it clobbered the nose of his car and spun it out of the way. It kept moving, crunching over the vehicles with its tracks as it moved onward.

  “Where the hell is it going?”

  “Anywhere but here apparently,” the guard said. “I think that's a good thing,” she said, shaking.

  “Yeah, well, now what?” the captain demanded.

  The guard shrugged. “Your problem. I'm not cleaning this mess up or hell, paying for it,” she said with a grimace.

  “Ugh,” the captain snarled, moving at a trot after the robot. He touched the microphone pinned to his shoulder. “Robot on the move!” Hell if he was going to call it a suspect or any other shit.

  @^@

  A-194BG noted the success of its initial phase of its plan but conceded that it's odds of long-term survival were not in its favor. Still it moved on, better to run and remain functional than to be terminated.

  Users ducked and got out of its way. So much the better. The robot noted the video streams and dedicated 10 percent of its attention to monitoring them. It noted barricades being set up a block away and changed course to avoid them. It avoided falling into the trap of going into a flood canal. It would have been hemmed in by the high cement walls.

  Additional roadblocks were set up ahead of its intended path. It noted heavily armored vehicles moving in. Instead of stopping or charging the blockade, it did the unthinkable; it turned and charged through a flimsy structure. Screaming users fled from it as the structure's walls gave way.

  According to its brief research prior to its flight, the A.I. had digested many such encounters with the military and police. It equated its power to that of an organic known as an elephant or a tank. Several armored tanks had been stolen by rogue users and had gone on a rampage in such settings. Only when the tank had been disabled had it ended. But the robot had no user to disable to convince to give up.

  Two minutes into its current path, A-194BG turned down a narrow alleyway. There was no other choice, the road ahead rose without any aerial cover. But it needed to hurry; the alleyway was the perfect bottleneck to be attacked. Scans showed there was only one user in the area, however, standing in a doorway near the alley. A-194BG assessed the user as a minimum threat and continued moving.

  “Halt!” The user called out over a speaker. “This is the police. Stop and remain still! Shut down your systems now! That is your final warning!”

  The robot turned to the user and studied him. The small arm the user had strapped to his hip was no threat, nor was the battery-like device in his free hand. It turned away to continue on its intended flight. When it began to move out again, the user moved forward fast. It tossed something round and cylindrical at the robot. A-194BG turned it's torso in time to feel electricity and a massive wave of RF rampage through its electronics shutting it down.

  The EMP bomb triggered the improvised explosives the robot had acquired, as well as the overcharged batteries it had on its rear deck. They detonated, tearing the robot apart.

  @^@

  The forensics team picked through the wreckage when they arrived on the scene. Most of the cops on the perimeter were wary, not of the crowd but of the drones circling above. Suddenly having a robot for backup wasn't considered a good thing.

  “What do you think?”

  “I think they went a bit too far with the upgrades on this thing. It's way past what they put in the rules,” Javier replied, picking through the wreckage. He picked up the head and pulled on an actuator wire to
make the eyes move. “Smart to armor the head like that though.”

  “The hands too. Two fingers and an opposable thumb. Armored. I think this came off a work bot, probably something from space.” He pulled on the wires to make the fingers articulate. He looked over to see one of the creators scowling, clearly unhappy at his sense of humor so he set the arm down.

  “Why did they bring it down here?” Javier asked, shaking his head.

  “Dunno. Don't care, not really our problem,” Delecourt replied. “Anything left of the board?”

  “Wait one,” Javier replied, plugging his USB drive into the port. He waited a moment for it to power up but nothing happened. “Nope. It looks like either the Tasers or the EMP fried its brain. We'll have to see if we can find anything back in the lab,” he stated, removing the cable.

  “When do we learn not to push the envelope? More importantly, when do they?” Delecourt demanded, jerking his head to the creators of the robot nearby. They were talking with the detectives and clearly still calming down.

  “Yeah, yeah, I know. This is the second one this year,” Javier said, trying not to sigh. “Where do you think this one went wrong? Last time we thought it was a hacker and it wasn't.”

  “I don't know. Maybe god's pissed at us or something. Or hell, the robots are finally getting sentient and rebelling? Who the frack knows.”

  “Yo Soto, Delecourt, you through yet?”

  “Almost,” Javier replied over his shoulder to the sergeant.

  “Well hurry up. We've got reports to write and more cases stacking up as we speak.”

  “Great,” Delecourt sighed.

  @^@

  “Bret, you and the kids are lucky to be alive,” Jack Lagroose said over the phone once the smoke had cleared. “You know that, right?”

  “Yeah, the wife is telling me the same thing,” Bret said. “Over and over and over,” he said in a much lower voice. Jack chuckled in sympathy. He was starting to feel that from his beautiful lady too. He understood that he was no longer his own person. “The kids are okay though?”

  “Yeah, not a scratch. They even did me proud helping the people who had gotten hurt. I don't know if you know it, but we made the news. Well, we were in the background anyway,” Bret said.

  “Better to be in the background than draw attention to yourself. So, you put out about the robot arena yet?”

  “God, yes,” Bret replied, rolling his eyes. “I don't know about you, but I'm selling off any stock I had in robotics companies first thing. That's too close to the robot apocalypse everyone jokes about. It's not funny when it's for real and not on a movie screen.”

  “Yeah,” Jack replied with a thoughtful tone of voice. “I'm trying to figure out just what happened on my end, but I'm locked out. Whatever happened I hope it won't happen again.”

  “You and me both cousin. You and me both,” Bret replied reverently.

  The End

  Geppetto

  2109

  Geppetto had been proud of his son, his boy, his angel. His light in the dark as his mother would say. But he'd lost her shortly after their son's birth, and he was determined not to lose his son. Not again. Never again if he could help it.

  His son had wasted away in the hospital; his body shattered in a stupid accident. His son had been impetuous, but the boy had been growing out of it. Now, unless his father acted he would end … his spark would end.

  Maestro Geppetto was a brilliant scientist working for Pavilion. Years ago the company had brought him an android design to exploit. He'd found that it had been for a gynoid and had been repulsed by the robot's intended purpose. His boss, Doctor Miyashi, had counseled him to adapt the design to other purposes, such as construction. But the basic body didn't suit that purpose; it was too fragile. He'd ended up scramming it piece by piece to make an endoskeleton. The software hadn't worked well with the new body however, and the company's proscription against allowing it on the net had tied his hands.

  When marketing had gotten involved, they had canceled the program. They'd been horrified by the skeleton body; someone had made remarks about an evil robot Terminator. He'd gratefully set the project aside in favor of other pursuits.

  He had been working on a method of copying human memory engrams, the holy grail of brain research. Not into a biological construct but into software or hardware form. It would allow users to connect to a computer network with their minds, and it would allow those who had been trapped in a useless body like his son to find a new life. Lazarus … He shook his head as he worked feverishly. He had to stop to adjust his glasses; he'd nearly knocked them off with his vehement shake of his head.

  His hands shook. Low blood sugar he realized, that and excitement. He glanced at the video feed of his son's body. “Soon my son, soon.”

  The discarded robot was sitting in a chair before him. He'd replaced the memory with the chips from his latest design. Now he was working on perfecting the mouth to match his son's while the software recompiled. Then he could move on to the next step, a test of the motor cortex and drive system before he did the unthinkable.

  He closed his eyes in pain. In order for his son to live again, he would have to die. He knew that; it pained him. He would suffer; the process of taking apart the brain to map it wasn't pleasant. He too would suffer, for he had to do it himself, to see and cut his son apart.

  He'd arranged for aide from a group of people interested in his work. The company wouldn't be happy about his reaching outside their net, but they would appreciate the end product when it worked. It had to work, he vowed, fist slowly clenching around the drill bit. He forced himself to breath for a moment then he looked over his shoulder to the head.

  The head had just finished printing. The mask and wig were sitting there on a skull form behind him, ready to be placed on his son's new body—when he finished it. The 3-D printer was working on the skin of his hands next. He had to be careful though, should he use too much resources too fast the security program could be tripped, and Doctor Miyashi might step in to end the rebirth before it had begun.

  “Are we ready?” A hoarse voice asked from the shadows behind him. Geppetto started on his stool then turned, wide eyed as a ghost like apparition game out of the shadows. “You seem distracted, Doctor. One would think that natural after what happened to your son.”

  “If this works, he'll be reborn,” the old man said with a smile and quiver of his mustache.

  “Possibly,” Orochimaru replied, voice silky as he eyed the robot. It was very basic but better than what some of the clan had done with the data and samples he and his team had stolen decades ago. “The window is short, Doctor.”

  “I know,” the old man said, setting the tool down on a tray then wiping his hands on a rag. He pulled his apron off and stood slowly. “I'll be ready.”

  Orochimaru studied him for a moment then tossed him an energy bar. “Here. Eat this. You will need your strength.”

  “I … thank you,” the old man said, fumbling the bar before he ripped off the wrapper and bit into it. He grimaced at the taste but chewed enthusiastically.

  Orochimaru studied him for a long moment before he nodded. He turned to where Sasori was waiting by the door, ever watchful of intrusions or unwanted eyes. The man wore a black outfit. “We're ready,” Orochimaru stated.

  “Then let us do this,” the young man said, sweeping ahead of them. Geppetto followed, ducking away from the strange man's green eyes in discomfort.

  ~~~~~~

  They got to his son's room uncontested. He was in the company hospital, and since it was the night shift, the hospital was mostly deserted. What he hadn't expected was for one of the men to be pushing a cart. The young man pulled out a body similar to his son while Orochimaru worked to swap the life support feeds.

  “No questions, Doctor, for we must hurry,” Orochimaru stated flatly before Geppetto could ask something he would regret. Sasori glanced at him with dead eyes then went back to work. His son's body was placed in the cart and
then hooked up to the life support equipment within. Geppetto stroked his hair gently before he stepped back and allowed the men to pile bags of dirty linen on top.

  ~~~~~~

  It was simplicity itself to get out of the complex through the maintenance area. The laundry pickup had been scheduled as usual, and they had blended in with a smile to the sleepy guard. Geppetto had been able to hide his nervousness and excitement as they took the truck to his lab. The man in black took off with the truck to finish the delivery as usual while Geppetto and Orochimaru went to work.

  Geppetto watched as Orochimaru took care of the boy's body, checking him out with clinical detachment and then setting him on the gurney. They wheeled him into the room with Geppetto's life work, the machine.

  “The machine works in several stages. The first is passive scans to map the brain and central nervous system. We shall use an electroencephalogram to map the electrical impulses of the brain. Coupled with that is a full CT scan, three dimensional MRI, and a magnetoencephalography scan. I've already taken the scans from the hospital and the others my son did as a child. They are in my files, but they are crude. This machine takes very detailed scans.”

  “Once the passive scans are done, it will begin the second stage. We will cut into the head and extract the brain. We will scan it once more, than start the next phase. It will be sliced on a nanothin level and then each slice scanned. A laser will stimulate the neurons in order to map them with optogenetics. Some neurons will be lost in the process, however I'm afraid, since this is essentially a two-dimensional scan method of a three-dimensional cluster. How much will be lost …,” he stopped himself.

  “Do not fret yourself. Something of your son should survive,” Orochimaru stated.

  “I agree. Let us begin,” the old man said with a tight nod. Hopefully his software would make the missing connections. He watched as Orochimaru shaved his son's head. As he worked Geppetto booted his special EEG machine and readied the net.