Brobots

  ‘The firm was due to supply the units to the US on a trial to replace human troops with sentient types in combat. However, the acceptance of these products was thrown into question recently when it was revealed that government should have discussed the deal and that industrial sabotage had been used to take contractor arrangements off US soil in connection with other political matters such as ‘hack Tuesday’ and the Switzerland affair. The video evidence of yesterday’s hack casts doubt on the firm’s competence to deliver on what was already becoming a dubious contract. An Italy-based terrorist cell behind the video was located and controlled this morning. Here’s Ted Redgood in Rome with more.’

  ‘The terrorist cell behind the so-called ‘camp attack’ video was quickly located in real time yesterday. We can now announce that the cell was the first of its kind being only staffed by sentients of unknown type or origin. One sentient was already destroyed when the cell was raided by Italian police; two others were destroyed by police on sight…’”

  Oh god, thought Jared. I’ve already gone in too deep. Then, try as he might to resist the thought, he still had it. At least… they weren’t human.

  “… ‘Ted Redgood reporting, Rome.’”

  Was that it? Nothing about a US citizen-conspirator? No FBI agents banging down his door? Free to go? Perhaps, since the Italian firm had not actually completed on contract delivery this was still a foreign matter? Perhaps international embarrassment would stop the Italian government pursuing it deeper? Perhaps Jared’s stealth measures had worked?

  He still felt sick and pale. In moments he was having a dream. In it there was a shark, and the shark had just found some food.

  A loud thud, followed by two like it shot their way to Jared’s bed-ridden ears. “Police! Open up!” Jared was too weak to move, but he started to shift into gear. By the time he’d found his slippers and a dressing gown they’d broken in and were moving around. He heard at least one officer ascending the stairs. He just sat on the end of his bed thinking well, here we go as two officers shoved open his bedroom door and began a process of arrest.

  Jared the Jailbird

  Jared was sat in a jail cell at the county HQ in town. There hadn’t been much explanation. But he took some solace in the fact that it was the police who had come; nothing heavier. At least there’d been police reform in his State.

  He wouldn’t have been able to call Byron or Alma even if he had wanted to. Alma would check on Artie in a few hours. Discovering him gone his contingency plan there would click into action.

  Here in this cell he had few rights. But they were still more, he realized, than Byron had. Byron lived every day knowing that he was not regarded a ‘person’; that he could be deactivated or destroyed at any moment and only Jared would care; possibly Alma, too; but only for Jared’s pain.

  The thought lingered with him and helped him reconcile his actions to himself. He’d done the right thing; he just hoped it would all work out. If it did, he’d be an inch closer to a freer life with Byron; and Byron an inch closer to a better life for all his brothers. If it didn’t, then they’d struggle to build a life together and all of the brothers would only have the farm for as long as it lasted. With more Sentients breaking free and with the farm dependent on one person, it was more like a time bomb than farm.

  A week passed. No questions. No information. He wasn’t moved elsewhere. He demanded, of course, to know what was happening; and reiterated his right to a fair trial. But doing so felt like escalating matters since he wasn’t even sure charges were being pressed. It was all highly irregular – even illegal.

  Then finally, the following Saturday, he was led to an interview room. After waiting twenty minutes, a woman in a fresh pink suit entered. She sat down opposite him and put a paper file on the table. This was indeed some kind of matrix right now, and Jared was likening himself to the Keanu character.

  ‘Well…’ the woman licked her lips.

  You have two lives…

  ‘…You’ll be pleased to hear no charges are being made. My name is Denise. I’m with the FBI. Hello Jared.’

  ‘Hello’, Jared’s voice was even more gruff than usual. ‘What would the charges have been?’ he added.

  ‘Hacking is illegal, Mr Thomas. You know that.’

  Jared just stared at her, so she continued. ‘We worked out that you were the one who identified a way to get into the control hub of MilitariMacch’s units.’

  ‘But I didn’t use that information myself.’

  ‘No. Instead you dropped it on the dark web for a terrorist cell to find!’ Denise had quieted her voice – much more harrowing than raising it. But now she sat back, flicking her hair and examining her nails. ‘Still. This has become a complex matter. We know that RAI is based not far from you. We also know you’re not a member of RAI or any other such group, and that so far you’ve lead a clean if slightly tragic life. So tell me. What were your motives?’

  They clearly weren’t on to Byron, Susan or the farm. Or perhaps they were, but not in relation to him. What would be a logical answer without those parts to the equation? Thinking quickly he bluffed the best innocent angle he could. ‘My job…I’m a programmer. I take an interest…’

  ‘Yeah. We figured that. Well. The fact is, Mr Thomas, that the Italian government is washing their hands of MilitariMacch’s troubles. As is the US government. Unfulfilled contracts happen all the time. If you were ever to face trial it would be in Italy, not here. It’s an international matter now.’

  ‘Am I free to go?’

  ‘You’ll be under our surveillance. But yes. I’m just here to give you a warning. You do any further hacking – outside the US or not – and you’ll be facing State legal. Perhaps even Federal. You join any sentient rights group or line up any more robot stories for newspapers or video tubes and you’ll be facing me. Personally.’

  ‘Understood, ma’am.’

  Denise gave Jared one final look, and then walked out the room as sternly as she’d entered. It took a moment for what she’d said to sink in. He was going to be watched. Closely. They might even be releasing him so they could use him to locate other troublemakers. People like Susan, Yana, or even free-roaming Sentients. But he was also free to go. The knowledge went from his head to his heart. Waves of exhaustion and pressed-down emotion hit him. He lifted his hands to his head, put his palms to his eyes, and sobbed alone.

  Jared and the Bro’s

  One never knows a full story. Big stories involving many characters are always, in fact, several stories; one for each character involved. Then there are the add-ons. Versions partly fabricated by anyone who gets to hear about it. No one agent holds the truth, but the truth of matters is nevertheless out there. Moreover, each big story has a ripple effect. It changes attitudes; perhaps for things as mediocre as someone’s understanding of the place they live. But it also changes minds. Even the facts of a story – if they were entities with their own consciousness - are never party to the ripples they make on the surface of society.

  It was a full three weeks after the ‘camp attack video’ went viral. Two weeks after Jared’s release. Vibes had already shifted in public minds; conversations here, or social media memes there. Before the story broke, many hadn’t known that the military Sentients were ready to go. Now they did. They also now knew they were dressed as US troops. The rumors and allegations were suddenly truer. Such matters rarely come to light, and the public was relishing their moment of democracy.

  A bigger, international, combined military felt like a diminishing of accountability and freedom to most everyone, and that raised more questions than it answered about how things were run. Conspiracy theorists were having their day with warnings of world government; speculation and conspiracy was sending the cooling fans of servers running social media sites into near burnout.

  People were getting scared of those high-powered officials who theoretically worked for them as citizens, and all eyes were on Capitol Hill and how good it was they’d all found out. T
here wasn’t a word of anger about the hacking. Nobody cared who had done it or why. A few papers tried that angle, but it didn’t wash or sell news. People were simply glad the information had come to light.

  The terrorist cell filled only with Sentients was an intrigue. For some it made Sentients seem like a forgotten minority fighting for their rights. This is what they were, of course, to people like Jared or Susan. But with no rights in law that description was far from point in fact.

  Jared was at Alma’s. He’d insisted on returning some favors to her once he was back and she’d brought him up to speed on a few bills and letters. Today he’d taken Nico and Casey out, and brought her groceries. Alma was out in the kitchen. Jared was sitting in an armchair pretending to read a book. But really he was reflecting; brooding.

  No charges. Was someone waiting for the tides of public opinion to change again? Waiting perhaps for politicians to muster their party lines and throw the public’s questions in another direction? Waiting for the searchlights to shift off from them and onto a scapegoat: a tiny man. Someone disposable. Him?

  There was no question of Byron coming back to visit. Not one. The question now was whether Jared could afford to get away to the farm for a visit without raising a connection putting the whole farm at risk; and Byron; and all the brothers. Was that it? Was that what the curious ‘Denise’ wanted? To wait for him to collapse under the weight of his love and lust and lead them to a ‘strategic hazard’?

  He had to go. He needed to. If that was Denise’s plan, it was working. The pain of missing Byron was too much to bear; and he knew Byron would be feeling the same. He would go. Camouflage here. Detour rail ride there. RAI pod here, car swap there. But if his sleuthing was anything to go by, he couldn’t plan this himself.

  Thankfully Susan was expecting his call. Not only that, but she was expecting the no charges outcome too. Like Jared, she’d already calculated the level of risk. Jared was now bait. She couldn’t afford to be hooked to the same fishing line as him. A connection would seem obvious to draw given their residence in the same city. But it had to be proved; and Susan would avoid that at all costs.

  ‘I can arrange what I’m expecting you want to ask me to do.’

  ‘Oh god! Thank you!’

  ‘But you’ll have to wait four more weeks.’

  ‘Uh…. What did you say?!’

  ‘We need to cool you off. Machines do the watching, but it’s humans that use the machines; at least, just about. Humans lose interest over time. Fact. That reduces the risks by a notable margin. Call again. Four weeks.’

  Six weeks out from the jail incident Jared did at least feel safe asking his employer for a week of annual leave. They didn’t know why he’d been taken into custody. Local police wouldn’t say. It enabled Jared to return to a semblance of normal life (albeit without Byron, Yana, Jason or the usual party crowd).

  He marveled at the plan Susan had created for getting him to the farm.

  Like a dream he was finally there. The day had come. He was heading down a dusty road in bright mid-day sunlight. Inside the pod was still clean and urban. Outside was wild, hot and free. His dream was cut short when the pod slowed to a halt.

  What was this? A power failure? A broken down pod was the last thing Jared needed. He had no idea where he was and no way to get back home. Jared’s wrist felt a buzz. ‘Start walking’, the message read.

  He kicked open the door with a leather boot as he flicked the handle. Stretching out into the clear air the warmth of the day boomed on him like a sub woofer dropping a heavy bass. The pod door closed and the pod reversed back the way it had come, leaving Jared standing scratching his already-perspiring forehead. He walked the direction the pod had been taking him. Brush and cacti punctuated the sandy soil. Other than that, and this place was near desert.

  Half a mile into the walk, Jared had moved past frustration to reflection. In his mind the walk and the journey he’d taken to reach this day became one thing. The dusty road and six weeks. Hot sun and time in a prison cell. Cactus plants and a curious FBI agent. A disappearing pod and loose legal ends with foreign officials.

  Another quarter mile Jared spotted a dust track leading off from the pretend road he was on. Just as he began to wonder if he should take it, his wrist buzzed again. ‘Turn left now.’

  Just ten minutes from the intersection a wooden house came into view. Susan was standing on the porch. She wore khaki clothing and a Stetson. ‘Hey!’ Jared stated with a warm smile he was too hot to want to give.

  ‘Jared.’

  ‘It’s… good to see you.’

  ‘Yeah. You’ve gone up in my estimation. Lots. It’s good to see you too. How are you? Were you followed?’

  ‘I don’t believe so, no.’

  ‘Were you injected with anything when you were in custody? Or since?’

  ‘No, ma’am.’

  ‘I’ll need to run a bio scan in any case, just to be sure. I’m not sure what kind of surveillance they put you under. Probably fewer measures than I have access to myself. But they’re the professionals, so we can’t take risks.’

  ‘Sure, I get that.’

  ‘Come in.’ She opened the front door and led Jared into the humble wooden dwelling. ‘Did the plans work out?’

  ‘Yeah, I think so. Far as anyone should know I’m in Hawaii getting some much needed down time. It’s a beautiful place! I wish I’d seen more of it.’

  ‘Beautiful in parts. Personally I think some parts are completely run down.’

  ‘Right. Like that pink British colonial hotel on the beach.’

  ‘Yeah, and all those crummy high-rises juxtaposed with trumpet flower trees.’

  ‘Ha! Yeah! Hey… um, I’m really keen to see Byron?’

  ‘You’ll see him tomorrow. This isn’t the farm.’

  ‘Then where are we?’

  ‘Somewhere. But don’t worry. I’ll take you there tomorrow in my car.’

  Jared felt sad to have to wait yet one more day. But being here felt closer, and he respected Susan’s ability to master the art of twenty first century undercover. He was also deeply impressed with all the equipment Susan had with her here. She was able to x-ray him, blood test him, brain scan him. She was even able to scan his home devices: the AI, his computer, his wifi line, his mail. In all of the scanning she was merely looking for patterns; things out of place. He didn’t mind the intrusion, and (he realized) he trusted her completely.

  There were taps on Jared’s wifi and phone of course. An ARV anti-gravity cloaked drone also seemed to be posted extremely high above his house with a laser pointed at it so as to catch and record any conversations. Other than that and the FBI efforts appeared to be low key; even a little half-hearted. He couldn’t help feeling strangely disappointed in a way. It was like he was too small a consideration. ‘I can guarantee they just wanted to connect you with me.’ Susan reassured him, adding: ‘But that won’t happen.’

  As the sun began to set they sat together on the porch watching cactus shadows grow ever longer. Jared wasn’t much of a philosopher, but he let Susan’s musings about artificial life wash over him, rocking back in his chair and sipping his chilled drink; thinking about tomorrow.

  ‘We don’t get cactus in Scrinton. It’s nice to look at.’ He breathed out. ‘Three Sentients died because of my work. I feel bad about that.’

  ‘Me too. But let’s not pretend here. They were already in a so-called terrorist cell. You didn’t put them there or train them up. They knew the risks they were taking.’

  ‘Did you?’

  ‘Calculating risk goes with my work. Don’t always get it right. But I often do. But… don’t think you’re safe yet. It’s still very early days in quite a big story all about the future of humanity.’

  ‘And Sentients.’

  ‘No. They’ll either get a future or they won’t. The real story is about us. Who we think we are. Where we want to go. People have tried for millennia to locate the source of consciousness. When it finally happ
ened that we could harness it artificially, we still didn’t really know the answers. The conditions were right and bingo.’

  Jared sipped and mused for a moment. ‘Do you think those spiritual evolution people are right?’

  ‘Those West Coast hippies? The ones who think consciousness and the universe are the same thing?’

  ‘Yeah.’

  ‘You’re asking the wrong person. I’m a scientist, not a guru. I sometimes think they might be.’

  ‘But like… Do you think things will work out in the bigger picture?’

  Susan thought for a moment about her Bill proposal; phone conversations with politicians. A discussion with Yana Daltry that she still didn’t want to tell Jared about. ‘Who knows? Maybe. Things already have changed if you think about it. The reason firms like Brobotics tried out Sentients in the construction industry first was because they thought pretend humans needed to be a little invisible at first. Turns out they were wrong. Most people couldn’t care less. They have AI in the home, in their taxi, in their office, on their consoles. They have robots selling papers on the street. They have telepresence automata at meetings. Tech surrounds us and has done for a long while. We no longer feel insecure about that. What they really worry about is selfish things. A loss of jobs. Your efforts have already changed things, though.’

  ‘They have?’

  ‘Mmhmm.’ Susan nodded.

  ‘How do you know? You got tech for that too?’

  ‘Of course. Some people even feel sorry for Sentients right now. Blowing them up when they’re doing a freedom fight or conscripting them into an army is just plain unfair: especially when that army is meant to be ours but strangely isn’t. Not to mention illegal as it probably turns out. All eyes are on our great and good.’