Brobots

  ‘What’s tough about it?’

  Can I really discuss this with you, Byron? Will you have any useful answers? Do I want you to know what risks I’m taking here? Do I want you to know the risks Susan has asked me to take when you think the world of her? ‘Oh… y’know. This and that.’

  ‘You’re stalling.’

  ‘I am?’

  ‘Mmhmm. For time. Figuring out what you can say and what you can’t.’

  ‘I think I prefer the old Byron. The one who was cute and clueless.’

  Byron chuckled. ‘Oh I’m still that, believe me. But… I’m starting to learn how to interpret people. Well, you anyways. I’d like to know.’

  Jared hand gestured for his computer to sleep and stood to hold Byron in his arms. ‘Okay. Then… let’s talk.’

  ‘That sounds good.’ Byron smiled, tracing a thick index finger over Jared’s nose and cheek. ‘My room or yours?’

  ‘Uh… Oh. Change of gear!’

  ‘I love to tease. You know me.’

  ‘No. I mean that would be nice. I just mean no. If we’re going to talk, let’s talk. Sofa?’

  ‘Okay. Can I hold you in my lap?’

  ‘Deal.’

  As Jared relayed pros and cons, Byron listened attentively. But he also rubbed Jared’s ear with his button nose from time to time, or tousled Jared’s hair with a finger. He was of course completely hot for him too, and they’d practiced this cuddle routine the few days around New Years enough for him to know that Jared would be aware of his arousal pressing to his back. But they were beginning to get past having to act on it every time if they put effort into taming themselves.

  ‘So your plan so far means you don’t have to do the hacking, but you still have to upload the film and contact the papers?’

  ‘Yeah.’

  ‘Can’t you just tip off the dark web people about the video trick as well? Let them do the whole thing.’

  ‘No. I don’t think I can.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Because if they hack in successfully, they might do anything. They might just do something silly or innocuous or easily reversed. There might be nothing to capture. Or, whatever they do, they might not bother to video it. They get their funs doing the hacks. Political games aren’t always their thing. Quite often in fact, some hackers just hack because on one level they think it’ll do some good and actually tighten security where it’s needed before someone more malicious gets in.’

  ‘I don’t really get it, Jared. I mean, surely if you showed them how to do the video part as well, they’d be more likely to do something worth filming?’

  ‘True. But then there’s the thing of what do they do with the film? Post it to social media? It could get taken down with a track bot targeting its digital signature and then nobody could post it anywhere else. Not even in part.’

  ‘So why can’t track bots do that to news outlets? Plenty of viral videos there.’

  ‘Because news outlets have firewalls designed to counter attack.’

  ‘You mean they’re actively counter attacking all of their content all the time?’

  ‘Some of ‘em.’

  ‘Shit dude. It’s a weird world.’

  ‘There’s… a lot you still don’t know, Byron. I’m ashamed of my kind. I look at you – the good nature of all your Bro’s in fact, and I think to myself well at least we put all our good side parts into you.’

  ‘That’s Susan’s point isn’t it. She wants to keep it that way. Make sure AI’s don’t get used for fighting or learn bad habits from their human parents.’

  ‘So… if I do the recording I can get it to Susan’s media contact direct. If I let them do it I don’t got the materiel unless the dark web people want me to have it. Which… why would they?’

  ‘Because it could rock the world?’

  ‘People take calculated risk. Even dark web people.’

  ‘Mm. That why you didn’t want to talk? Shield me from the risk you plan to take?’

  ‘Yeah. That.’

  Byron pushed for Jared to sit up. Byron’s legs couldn’t exactly ‘go to sleep’. He just wanted to look at Jared as they spoke for this part. Jared just sat normally on the sofa. Byron moved so he was cross legged, facing Jared – a gorgeous hunky pile of house gear-wearing loving man with biceps like melons, bumps and curves in every right place for a hot dude. ‘So take your eyes off my packet and tell me the risk.’

  ‘I could go to jail.’

  ‘To jail? They’d lock you away?’ Byron was suddenly in a different place. This wasn’t happy home talk any more.

  ‘That’s why I wasn’t sure what to say to you.’

  ‘I had no idea people got imprisoned for stuff like this.’

  ‘You watch the news?’

  ‘Yeah. But it was always usually about movies or celebs or construction stuff.’

  ‘You never watched headlines?’

  ‘Not much. Why should I have?’

  ‘And I guess being trapped like a slave to your employer most of the time without any rights you weren’t too interested in laws or rights either.’

  ‘That too.’

  ‘Okay. Well, yes. I could go to jail. For a long time.’

  ‘Even if you get others to do the actual hacking?’

  ‘Even if I get others to do the actual.’

  Byron frowned and looked down at his crossed shins. He played with a big toe through a sock. Jared wondered why he had these mannerisms; where they came from sometimes. Just so cute. Kill me now.

  ‘I can’t believe Susan was asking you to do that. She’s prepared for you to get in trouble for her work instead of her!’ Is this anger I’m having?

  ‘Yes and no. She takes risks every day for the sake of the sentient cause. She wants Sentients to be treated well because that’s what they deserve and because we’re unlikely to benefit either if we don’t treat them right from the outset. She probably gets death threats, harassment. She has to talk to people who don’t want to listen. She has a real tough job, buddy. Really tough.’

  ‘I guess I sort of knew that part. But if you can line it up for the dark web guys why can’t she?’

  ‘Because she didn’t even know how to get as far as I have already.’

  ‘But you’re there now. Can’t you hand it back to her?’

  ‘No. Like she said, it can’t be traced back to her. At all. She goes down, the whole of RAI goes with her. So does the Bill. So does your freedom, and the freedom of all your Bro’s.’

  ‘The farm.’

  ‘Yes. The farm.’

  ‘I love my Bro’s. Tasley in particular.’

  ‘I know you do; and I'm glad to hear you say it. I’d like to meet him, by the way.’

  ‘Yeah. I’d like you to meet him too. I think he’d be ready now. He’s so happy, Jared. Happier than I’ve ever seen him.’ Byron let out a sad smile. If he could have, there’d be tears welling up. Jared could almost see them even though he didn’t have any tear ducts.

  ‘That’s good, bro’. That’s so good.’

  ‘Back when I worked on construction sites, ever we had a problem on the team, what we used to do was stop what we were all working on and talk about it. You sort that part out. You do that. We’ll get it fixed. I can’t understand why… humans… can’t do the same. This military deal stuff doesn’t sound like anybody’d be happy with it. Not those politicians. So why can’t people just sit down and talk it through?’

  Are you really that endearingly thick? I guess even the brightest humans aren’t in top performance all the time. That’s just a persistent myth. Maybe Sentients need to apply resource to background processing too from time to time? ‘People fight. Tussle for things. I guess it comes down to greed, one way or another. When we don’t agree it takes a long time to sort out.’

  ‘Sounds like we’re stuck. You don’t do this, things don’t change. The farm can’t be run forever, not with more Sentients breaking free…’

  ‘…And not dependent on one person
or nonprofit either.’

  ‘Right. So my bro’s and the older bro’s aren’t really safe. And they can’t all come back here.’

  ‘Your three bro’s could, Byron. I mean, maybe. If I think they’re as nice as you. But no. I couldn’t replace the farm on my own.’

  ‘And the Bill wouldn’t get passed.’

  ‘Well… who knows. It might eventually. But you and me might not be around to see it.’

  ‘And then if you do do this, you could land yourself in trouble we can’t fix. So that makes it better for some of the bro’s, possibly. But not for you and me.’

  ‘You got it.’

  ‘Shit, dude.’

  ‘Do you get the hesitation now?’

  ‘Yeah. Did I hurt your feelings?’

  ‘No. You had a right to press; and you didn’t press hard.’

  ‘That can be arranged.’

  ‘Settle big boy.’ Jared sipped more coffee with a curl of a smile.

  ‘How about getting back in touch with your journalist friend, Yana? Maybe she could find someone to help?’

  ‘She could. But I don’t know where she is. She changed her contact details. Everything. She had to go underground after the story broke, remember?’

  ‘Yeah.’ Byron licked his lips and furrowed his brow. ‘I can’t see what else to do.’

  ‘Me neither but… I want you safe. I can’t have my house raided and have people find you here. They’d literally tear you apart in ways I’d not be able to put back together ever again. You’ll have to go back to the farm.’

  ‘How long?’

  ‘I don’t know. Until the coast is clear. But… that could be some time.’

  ‘Can we put it off for a few weeks?’

  ‘I was beginning to wonder the same. I think we should. You’ve only been back a while, and we didn’t really… uh… get going before you left.’

  ‘We did get going though!’ Byron smiled.

  ‘I got going. You tumbled to the floor because you forgot to charge that day, remember?’

  Byron jangled his deep-tone chuckle. ‘Seem to remember I also got going before that.’

  ‘I’ve never in fact known a man who can come as much as you.’

  ‘Does it freak you out?’

  ‘I’m not sure. I might have to check again to see.’

  ‘Wanna check now?’

  ‘Sure do! Come here.’

  On the sofa, ignoring the whines and barks from a neglected Artie who thought it might be a game or a puppy pile and wanted in, Jared entered Byron for the second time. It wasn’t lust. It wasn’t fast. It was tender, deep, slow and burning hot. Then: ‘Do you want to enter me, Byron?’

  ‘No. But… you said you wanted to check and see. You still haven’t done that yet.’

  ‘I can suck you off, if you like?’

  ‘What’s that?’

  ‘Oh. It’s like this. Here. I’ll show you.’

  Byron had no idea these sensations could exist. He was clawing at the sofa, convulsing in pleasure as the surges of signals traveled from his tool through his cables to his brain. Vulnerable yet desiring. Overloading yet loading over. Alive with energy yet in pain at the amount of pleasure he was having. ‘You do that so good, Jared. Oh god. I love you.’

  --

  The days were so happy then. Happy, yet tinged with sadness for both of them. Numbered. Valued. Not a moment wasted. Jared was efficient and concentrated at work, but left on time. If they watched media together or did their own thing apart it was because they wanted to - because it would make the next time talking or the next time making love a fresh experience.

  Byron was diligent with his gardening. There wasn’t much he could do with the ground so tough. But there were still some things, and he still made sure to enjoy the process, stopping to look at the sky or the trees. He also gave himself time to get changed and cleaned up before Jared got home, and they leaned on Alma as much as they could for doggie day care explaining to her that it was just for a while. She understood, of course, and she said it was her way of helping.

  But the days turned into one week, and then into two as sure as the sun goes down on a day or the fall gives way to winter.

  Saturday morning came. The special camouflaged pod arrived. Jared had helped Byron pack all his clothes and the parts for his radio project into a duffel, and stood on the porch as he left. Once it had disappeared out of view, he headed over to Alma one more time. This time he was armed with a cake and dog treats, and some written instructions. If anything happened to him, he wanted her to take care of Artie and pay any bills. He’d moved some cash into her account – enough to cover a few months if needed. He explained to her what he was about to do in a way that she would understand. She didn’t agree with it, of course. But she did agree to help if needed.

  Then, without wanting to have the task hanging over him any longer, Jared got to work a few hours later. First he checked that the trick with the video feed still worked, which it did. Next he checked that the recording app still did its thing, which it did (although an update stole an hour away, leaving Jared jittery on a coffee overdose). Then he checked that the procedure he’d documented for accessing the control core still worked. It didn’t, and he feared the worst: a change of protocol. Added measures. But on the second try, he was in so the problem had to have been between his keyboard and his display screen.

  He was already effectively doing this on the dark web, so all he had to do now was find a suitable forum, paste the procedure in, preface it with some text about how results would be videoed and sent to global media outlets. And wait.

  After nothing happened for a whole two hours, Jared decided that he couldn’t glue himself to his computer for the next few days. He found he could set up an alert to his wristband. But it had to work like a domino chain in order to stave off any traceability. The dark web forum pinged a feed. The feed pinged a dark social account. The account emailed something to deep web space. The email account sent text to a virtual VOIP number. The number sent a message to his wristband. He tried it out a few times by writing comments on his own forum post and then deleting them. Messages took whole valuable minutes to reach his wrist, but it worked and would have to do.

  The harder part was activating the video record app remotely. Everything was set up to work on his home computer, but the record button had to be pressed. Alma was hardly the right solution. Comical though it was to think of strategically placed dog treats, that wouldn’t work either. Or it might, but this had to work and it had to work first time.

  Using the trick of taking many breaks to his task over the weekend didn’t work this time. Perhaps he was losing critical distance or something; too close to the task. The only solution he could find was that he’d have to run a screen share from home device to work computer. This, of course, made him feel sick. It was not only messy from a professional point of view (and additionally distracting for his coding work). But it would also be one added strand of traceability. One extra way he could be found. It was either this or bunk off sick. But if he got to Monday morning and his wristband still hadn’t pinged, it might still not have pinged until Friday. He also had work he didn’t want to miss else a whole bunch of catch up pain would create variations of tiny hell.

  As fortune would have it, of course, his wristband didn’t activate from the domino chain until Monday morning in the middle of an important work meeting with an out-of-town client. Jared had to make his excuses to leave the conference room, duck into his booth and fire up the screen share. His fingers were trembling as he woke the app and pressed record; trembling more as he looked at the rows of ACU clad ‘tin soldiers’ waiting to play their death games. Now he had to shut down the remote view, leave the video app to do its thing, and check the footage once home.

  Trembling that night, and beginning to feel genuinely sick, Jared dialed the number Susan had given him. A woman answered much as Susan tended to.

  ‘This line is secure and the number is obscured. Dr Harpe
r must have given it to you. To whom am I speaking, please?’

  ‘My name’s…uh… Jared Thomas.’

  ‘Jared?’

  ‘Hello?’

  ‘Is that you?’

  ‘Yana?’

  ‘Oh my god! It is! Fuck.’

  ‘Oh god! Am I glad to hear your voice!’

  ‘Me too. I sort of wondered if you might call this line one day.’

  ‘It’s a small world.’

  ‘The world of Brobot freedom fighters is even smaller. Even here.’

  ‘Where is here?’

  ‘I’m in DC.’

  ‘Oh.’

  ‘I… I’d love to catch up. I really would. But this arrangement is precarious. You’re going to have to tell me why you called. I can tell you’re nervous, hon. Just… tell me slowly.’

  ‘Well… thankfully it’s self-explanatory. I have a video you’d like to see. I’ve zipped it, encrypted it, and dropped it into a file share. To get to the share you’ll need to take three steps. To get the decryption key, you’ll need the password.’

  ‘Do this all the time. Shoot. I have a pencil.’

  Jared relayed the first step. Then he told her the password. Each step would lead to the other. Once she’d decrypted and unzipped the file, she’d be able to replay the video. Once she’d seen the video, she’d know what to write.

  ‘Can I see you?’

  ‘One day, honey. I promise. I’m not cutting you out.’

  ‘I know that.’

  ‘I can’t offer you protection.’

  ‘I know that too.’

  ‘You’re… doing something for a lot of people here. A lot. It’s an honor to know you, Jared. Bye.’

  The line went dead. It was all done. Jared flopped back against the kitchen chair. He didn’t know if the sickness he was feeling now was exhaustion from what he’d just been through, continuation of the same, or a new kind of dread.

  Despite having wanted to continue his diligence at work and avoid backlog, Jared had to take Tuesday off sick. Hearing the news story the next morning just made him feel even worse. Much, much worse.

  “…the video (now viral) portrays dozens of sentient units built by Italian firm MilitariMacch. The units are wearing US army combat uniforms as they sing a range of songs including a hit from 1970 asking what good war does, followed by disco. The final song lines relate to sweetening sour medicine leading to some speculation that the songs were chosen in reference to the pacts.