Rogue Autonomous

by Rahul Bhagat

  “Now… now… Tory.” Martin felt awkward trying to console a faceless stranger. Luckily, Tory regained her composure quickly.

  “What is this thing you have for me?” Martin asked.

  “I don’t know if I should tell you. Aunt Julie bought it to give it to you on your birthday. It was supposed to be a surprise. She wanted me to gift wrap it for you. You know, I do gift wraps very well.” Tory giggled.

  Martin felt overwhelmed. “Thank you, Tory.”

  “Would you like me to give it to you this evening?” she asked.

  “Yes. Sure.”

  “Can you please come to the south industrial area? There is a boulevard that runs along the river, at the edge of the complex,” Tory said.

  “Why there?”

  “I’m doing a temp job at the Druid’s. Basically, babysitting robots.” Tory giggled again.

  “That sounds fine, but how will I recognize you?” Martin asked.

  “Wait for me at the bridge. There is a small bridge on the boulevard, by the Molten Salt Batteries plant,” Tory said.

  *

  Martin arrived at the bridge a little early. He looked around; the place was deserted. It was a bad idea to put a walkway next to an industrial complex. He put his hands on the railing and looked down at the stream gurgling toward the river. Ever since Julie’s passing, the ugly head of alcoholism had resurfaced. It hadn’t escaped Martin’s notice that he had started taking shots in the morning again.

  “Mr. Martin Stump?”

  “Yes.” Martin turned around. A plumpish girl stood there, her face marked with angry pimples. She looked very nervous.

  “Sorry it took me so long. Aunt Julie wanted you to have this.” She handed him a beautifully wrapped package with colorful paper birds and flowers. Then she turned around and left immediately.

  Martin wanted to say something, thank her perhaps, but she hurried away. Puzzled, he looked down at the package in his hands. Just then, a drone swooped down and snatched the package away from him.

  “Hey!” He ran after it.

  The drone headed straight for the cavernous Molten Salt Batteries plant, with Martin in hot pursuit.

  Inside, the plant was dark, and an eerie yellow-green glow emanated from somewhere. Martin heard the buzz of the drone and looked up. Its flashing blue-white light was visible over the two-story steel structure, which housed equipment and components. Martin climbed up the metal stairs and ran after the drone, which zoomed farther inside, toward the source of the glow.

  The glow became brighter and brighter as Martin approached the end of the walkway, where the platform took a sharp left and continued. Beyond was empty space where the drone hovered in midair, awash in a yellow-green glow. Martin looked down at the source of the light—a giant vat of molten salt. The gooey mixture moved slowly, with occasional bubbles appearing on the surface. Each bubble would grow slowly till it burst open and disappeared back into the viscous fluid.

  Behind him, Martin heard footsteps. Someone running. He turned around, and the next moment, the person had smashed into him and pushed him over the railing toward the boiling vat. Instinctively, Martin reached out for a grip, and luckily, his right hand caught the edge of the walkway. He looked up while dangling precariously. Lit by the glow of molten salt, he saw a human figure in a hoodie, face covered by a gorilla mask. Martin started swinging his body. The next moment, he felt excruciating pain in his right hand as the stranger’s foot came down heavily on his knuckles. Martin took a final swing under the walkway and let go.

  He fell down at an angle and landed just outside the walls of the vat. Something snapped in his midsection and sent waves of pain through his chest. He crawled toward the metal latticework that housed components and took refuge in the maze. He heard footsteps, then the drone appeared, buzzing near where he had fallen. It started scanning the area with a bright white light. Martin slowly pushed himself between two cabinet-sized metal boxes and sat down. He tried to take a deep breath, but excruciating pain shot through his chest. He wondered if it was a broken rib. Martin sat there a long time. Eventually, the footsteps and buzzing stopped.

  TWENTY-FIVE

  IT HURT EVERY time Martin tried to breathe. But the good news was that he was back home, in his own bed. He had spent a few days in the hospital, recuperating, and that was no fun. He’d hated the food and couldn’t get a drink. Not even a beer.

  He adjusted to a more comfortable position in the bed and looked at Natalie, who was busy arranging sunflowers in a tall clear vase. She visited him every day. Martin hadn’t bothered telling his own daughter, Melodia, about the incident. They barely ever talked, and he didn’t feel the need to contact her. Natalie was more like his daughter.

  “That makes the room a lot more cheerful,” Natalie said and took a moment to evaluate her decorator skills. Then she came over and sat down next to Martin.

  “Who wanted you dead, Martin? Rebekah?” she asked.

  “I don’t know. Maybe,” Martin said with a puzzled expression on his face.

  “Hard to believe it could be someone like her, hormonally frozen in a teenage body.”

  “I know. She’s a bird-brained cartoon. But Dean is dead; I almost died. It could all be a show, a facade.”

  “But why? Why would she do that?”

  “Money. Greed.”

  “Kill her own daughter?”

  “I don’t know,” Martin said fretfully. “I can’t think of any plausible reason.”

  “Charlie tried to warn you?” Natalie looked intently at Martin.

  “Yes.” Martin had a distant look in his eyes. “He’s involved somehow.”

  “What do you think is going on here?”

  “I don’t know, but I strongly believe that Julie didn’t die in an accident. It was deliberate.”

  “We can’t let this happen,” Natalie said impulsively.

  Martin’s eyes lit up. He tried to pull himself into a sitting position but fell back, groaning with pain. Natalie reached out to help.

  After the pain subsided, he said, “I need your help, Natalie. We can’t let Julie’s murderers get away.”

  Natalie looked at him seriously and nodded. She looked out of the window, and neither of them spoke for a while. Wheels were turning in Natalie’s head; Martin could tell.

  She finally broke her silence. “What about the interviews?”

  “I’ve sent a request to Rebekah, but it looks as if I’ll need to subpoena her.”

  “Haven’t you already interviewed some people?”

  “Oh yes. That red mobile home guy and the kid in the white van.”

  “Nothing there?”

  Martin thought for a moment. “Not really. That family had no idea, and the other guy was just a nervous kid.”

  “What about the video footage?”

  “That crappy tunnel video. It was useless.”

  “And no other videos?”

  “Nope.”

  “What about the Gorgon Eye?”

  “What Gorgon Eye?”

  “You don’t know about the Eye?” Natalie asked. “I thought they had unclassified it. The Eastern Seaboard is one of the most heavily populated areas in the United States, and the government is literally watching every move we make, twenty-four seven.”

  “I’m not sure I understand.”

  “There is a network of drones keeping an eye on all heavily populated areas of the United States. They are called the Gorgon Eye. It was first developed by the US army to combat terrorism in Afghanistan. Basically, it’s a drone with hundreds of cameras packed tightly together, like the compound eye of an insect. The drone sits stationary in the sky, and each individual camera focuses on a single hundred-by-hundred-feet patch of the ground. It records everything that’s going on there.”

  “Are you serious?” Martin asked. “Haven’t we already peppered our cities with surveillance cameras? Why this now?”

  “It’s far easier to station a Gorgon Eye over a city and watch everything that goes
on. They complement cameras on the ground.”

  “We really do live in a police state.”

  “Umm… kind of.” Natalie smiled.

  “I had no idea about this Eye thing. Can you get the footage?”

  “There’s just one issue.” Natalie made a face. “It’s run by the NSA, and I’ll need authorization to view old records.”

  “Is that a problem? Getting authorization?”

  “I think I can manage it,” Natalie said playfully. “Let me see what I can do.”

  TWENTY-SIX

  MARTIN EMERGED FROM the toilet. Although the wounds had healed, it still hurt when he tried to take a deep breath. Worse, he now had to use a walking cane to move around.

  “Looking good, Martin,” Natalie said from the lounge. She was fiddling with multiple screens on the Living Wall.

  “It’s finally getting better,” Martin said dryly. “It’s only a crack, but the doctor says two more months.”

  “That’s not too bad. Two months for back to normal seems like a good deal to me.”

  “Don’t forget the hip. That could take longer.” Martin sighed and carefully sat down on a chair. “I might have to use this stupid cane for a while. Anyways, I want to see the footage from the Gorgon Eye, and how the hell did you convince NSA to share?”

  Natalie laughed. “Took me some time figuring that out. Since I’m a researcher with RBAM, I have research-level access to NSA databases. I tabled a research topic that justified my access to the recordings for that day in that region.”

  “What did you do?” Martin asked, intrigued.

  Natalie chuckled. “I scanned the news for that day, for incidents involving autonomous machines. Sure enough, there was a collision between two delivery drones. I’m almost certain it was because of air currents, but it’s perfectly legitimate for me to investigate the incidence for black swan events.”

  “Oh, I’ve heard that one before,” Martin said.

  “It’s just a term for rare anomalies,” Natalie said and shrugged. “Let me show you what I’ve found.”

  She started running a video clip from the Gorgon Eye. It was an aerial view of a big house with two vehicles parked in a circular driveway. The video quality was not very good since it was late evening and getting dark.

  “That’s Dean’s house in Washington, DC,” Natalie said.

  A moment later, a girl emerged from the house. Natalie froze the video and zoomed in. The girl was Paige Callaghan.

  “Now watch this,” Natalie said and restarted the video.

  Paige first moved toward the AV to her right, stopped, then whirled left toward the black luxury vehicle and disappeared inside. A moment later, Julie showed up. They had a brief conversation. Then Julie went to the other AV, picked up a couple of bags, and joined Paige in the black vehicle.

  “That was a spur-of-the-moment decision,” Natalie said.

  “She was not supposed to be in there,” Martin said in a low voice. His voice quivered as he fought back tears that had started to well.

  “The target was probably Dean,” Natalie said, “and watch what the van does now.”

  She started another video. It was an aerial shot of the highway. The black AV was traveling alone in the outer lane as the highway twisted and turned through the mountains. A white van appeared next to it. It sped past the black AV, switched lanes, and placed itself in front of it. The tunnel where the accident had taken place was fast approaching.

  “Did you see that?” Natalie said.

  “Wait… wait,” Martin said. He had noticed something. He got up and, using his cane, slowly walked over to the Living Wall.

  “What’s that?” He pointed at a birdlike object in the air.

  Natalie came over, and her eyes went wide. “It’s a spy bird. A camouflaged drone. Supposed to blend with the surroundings.”

  “Can we follow it back to where it came from?”

  “Sure, we can.” Natalie immediately got down to work, stitching footage from different Gorgon Eyes and moving back in time. She ended up back at Dean’s house, where the spy drone perched on the wall by the entrance. It had followed the black AV all the way from the house.

  “They were being followed,” Martin said.

  “Yep.” Natalie nodded. “Now let me show you some more crazy stuff.” She rolled a new tape.

  “I’ve seen it.” Martin recalled the video from the NTSB boardroom.

  “Just watch. I’ll play it in slow motion,” Natalie said.

  The video started. It was dark and spotted with grime. The vehicles sped through the tunnel. All appeared normal, then suddenly, the black AV braked lightly and shuddered. The van continued at the standard highway speed. As a result, the distance between the two vehicles increased.

  “Did you notice something?” Natalie asked.

  “Yes, the black AV braked. Could’ve been something on the road,” Martin said.

  “But it never closed the gap,” Natalie said.

  “With the van?”

  “That shouldn’t happen,” Natalie said. “AVs are designed to maintain optimum distance between them to reduce air drag. There was no attempt by the black AV to achieve that optimum distance after braking.”

  “What are you implying?”

  “I’m wondering if the van had something to do with it. Did it start a domino effect that ultimately led to the crash?” Natalie asked.

  “You think so?”

  “Maybe.”

  Martin thought for a moment. He recalled mount marks on the back of the van and started to get up. “I need to find that guy.”

  “Wait,” Natalie said. “Let’s think through this first. What do you think is going on?”

  “Rebekah tried to murder Dean but killed her own daughter by mistake?”

  “That’s one possibility,” Natalie said.

  “And Charlie is there to cover it up.”

  “But why did he try to warn you? Why did he dig up Dean’s connection with Hidalgo?”

  “To throw me off the trail, I guess,” Martin said. “Should we test him? I’ll ask him why the AV didn’t close the gap.”

  “Sure. His reaction might give us some clue,” Natalie said.

  TWENTY-SEVEN

  WHEN MARTIN SHOWED up at the NTSB office, Charlie had his feet up on the table and was leafing through some report. When he saw Martin, he got up and came around the desk to shake hands with him.

  “Looking good with that cane, Martin,” Charlie said. He had visited Martin at the hospital, but this was the first time they were meeting after Martin was discharged.

  “Yes, a necessary evil.” Martin waved the stick in his hand.

  “Did they find out who was behind the attack?” Charlie asked as he went back to his seat.

  Martin carefully lowered himself into a visitor’s chair. “Not yet. But they were able to track down the girl. She ain’t no Tory Avery. Her real name is Marlene Kelly, a student at the North York collegiate. A stranger offered her money for the job.”

  “And what about the voice on the phone?”

  “Probably an AI. We are investigating, but I don’t see much hope in it.”

  “Maybe it’s time for you to hang up your hat, Martin.” Charlie laughed. “You should give your old bones some rest.”

  “These bones have a lot of juice left, Charlie.” Martin knocked on his chest. “By the way, I was watching that video again, and I had a question for you,” Martin said.

  “Which video are you talking about?” Charlie asked suspiciously.

  “The one in the tunnel. Did you notice that the black AV braked? And then it didn’t fill the gap with the van.”

  “Oh that!” Charlie laughed hard. “That’s clearly because of prior map reset.”

  “But shouldn’t it fill the gap, to reduce air drag?” Martin insisted.

  “The vehicle had to first recalibrate its position before it undertook secondary tasks like drag optimization,” Charlie explained.

  If Charlie was lying, h
e was lying very well. Martin didn’t detect any signs of nervousness. He felt like a fool to have assumed that Charlie would easily reveal anything. Besides, his explanation seemed very reasonable.

  “Any word from the lab?” Martin changed the topic.

  “Yes. They’re convinced it’s a software glitch. They found multiple missing data points in the prior map. Too much interference. They’ve already started working on an emergency patch.”

  “Really? Even before the report is out?”

  “Like I said, they’re convinced. It’s just a matter of connecting dots. The moment they saw interference in prior maps, they knew it. The controller was never trained on interference; it was conditioned to expect pristine prior maps. I’m not surprised it malfunctioned.”

  “So the cause is a malfunction?” Martin stared at Charlie.

  “Hundred percent,” Charlie said without batting an eyelid.

  Next, Martin went to the run-down part of the town, back to that shabby house with tall grass and crumbling sidewalks. The van was missing from the front yard. He knocked on the door, but there was no response. So he went around the house and found all the doors and windows closed; the place looked deserted. Martin became worried. He didn’t have that kid’s name or a photo, and he didn’t want to ask Charlie about it.

  Then he noticed someone watching from next door. It was a woman, looking through a crack in her window. Martin went over to her house and knocked on the door.

  “Do you know where your neighbor is?” Martin asked her. “The kid with droopy eyes.”

  “He’s gone. They all left at the end of the month,” the woman said.

  “Gone where? Any ideas?”

  The woman shook her head. She gave him contact details of Mr. Wong, the owner of the place, who didn’t live too far away. But he was no help, either. He had rented out the place to another kid, who was currently backpacking in Japan and had a couple of roommates. Mr. Wong did remember meeting the kid with droopy eyes; he had come over to borrow some tools. He couldn’t recall the kid’s name, though.