The Altar of Hate

by Vox Day

  One of the local girls told me this story once, and I'm sure it isn't true, but it's still a pretty good one. During World War Two, there was this Nazi general who was talking to one of his Swiss counterparts sometime after the fall of France. The Swiss general told the Nazis that they had six hundred thousand men under arms waiting for a German invasion, so the Nazi general asked what the Swiss would do with them considering that the Nazis had an army of one point two million men ready to invade across the border. They say the Swiss general thought about it for a second, then told the German, “I suppose we will all have to shoot twice.”

  That sounds too good to be true, but you know, Hitler never did invade Switzerland. I guess even he had more sense than those power-mad Eurofascists with their Fourth Reich in Brussels.

  You're right, I'm sorry, I did get off on a bit of a tangent there. Well, getting back to what happened at the pass... we didn't get dug in, but we saw them coming, and Captain Gorman decided to pull a little surprise out of his hat. You see, we can operate at night almost as well as we can in the daytime, thanks to our technology. When you consider that our enemies don't have all our little toys and tricks, then you can see why we like to fight at night. Here, let me explain a little bit, otherwise nothing's going to make sense to you.

  I can't tell you exactly how everything works, you understand, but you should know that while everyone gets excited about the hardware, the software is really what we depend on. Yes, you're right, the BOCCI software. It stands for Battle Operations Combat Communication Interface system, but we usually call it CeeCee. There's a lot of different programs that make up the system, but there's five primary components that we really depend on. The scan interpolator is the most important piece, since it ID's potentials and probables and maps them on a 3D map which we can download to the boys. No, we don't do it real-time, that puts too much of a drain on the system and everything slows down. Processors are fast these days, but they're not that fast! Reality is what, sixty million polygons a second?

  Anyhow, once the shooting starts, we're basically directing traffic. Go here, kill that, watch out for this, that, or the other thing. Each comtrol is responsible for his own platoon, but we're equipped to handle a company of thirty-six if we have to. And since we have a better idea of what's going on than anyone else, we have an acting rank of captain when we're live in the BatOps. Some of the old school grunts don't like that much, but nobody who's been through a real firefight questions the system. Things move so fast; there's not always time to relay orders through the platoon leader.

  So as I said, Captain Gorman decided that the last thing the Frenchies would be expecting was for us to hit them. They outnumbered us about twenty to one, and as far as we knew, they didn't even know we were there. They'd taken a fair number of casualties already, but almost all of them were to snipers. The Swiss like to plink from a distance, which makes sense in the mountains, but that's a tactic which doesn't work so well when you're supposed to hold a specific position. The Major liked the idea, and since Captain Gorman came up with it, Bravo got tabbed for the assault.

  I had most of the terrain mapped out ahead of time, thanks to my RATs, so I napped all day to make sure I'd be fresh and ready. Once night fell, it wasn't hard to find the Frenchies. RAT eyes are multi-wave, and in those cold mountains, it was a piece of cake to map out all of the bad boys once they settled down for the night. Even if I didn't have CeeCee to do it for me, I think I could have mapped all the data myself if I'd had the time. There's not so many things that match the size and heat signal of a human body, and those Euros didn't even seem to be equipped with body masks.

  Stacy lost one of her RATs to a hotshot rifleman, but no one even fired at any of my three. I don't think the Frenchies even knew what they were, to tell the truth. Bravo infiltrated early, but the Captain waited until oh two hundred to hit them. And we hit them hard. Boy, did we hit them hard.

  It was brutal, but on the screens, it was beautiful too. One minute, there's nothing but orange glows on the heat screen and red probables on the scan map, and just a few of them are moving, then you hear the Captain shouting "Go-go-go" in your ear and the color just explodes. There's these stacatto green flashes where our boys are firing, and hot white splashes that are the explosions from rockets and grenades or whatever. Then the reds on the scan map go purple as the interpolator starts picking up kills, or they start to shimmer and split into yellow potentials as the troops wake up and start moving.

  I can't even describe what it's like. I don't remember breathing, or thinking. You just react, trying to keep up with all the data that's flooding in through your eyes and your ears. You're trying to keep one eye on your boys' vitals, another one on the scan map, another one on the heat screen... you get the picture. Meanwhile, you've got your left earphone filled with the traffic from the platoon net, and the right one is full of BatOps chatter.

  It might sound strange to you, but I tell you, you never feel quite as alive as you do in the BatOps once the shooting starts. It's like running on a treadmill that just keeps speeding up. It's really different than the drills, because you know those green lights are your boys, and those red lights are the bad guys trying to snuff them out. And you deal with the overload, you just deal with it, because it's your job to keep those green lights glowing!

  Things went great at first. I could see from the zoom map that Captain Gorman was directing our attack right through the heart of the lead division's encampment. Kind of risky, but that was his style. And it wasn't as dangerous as it sounds, because we couldn't afford to just sit there and hope they couldn't find any artillery or air support. Most of the company hit the center, but the Captain had two squads off to the right flank, I think they were two of Britney's, she sits next to me, and they didn't do much more than make noise, but they managed to make the attack look a lot bigger than it was.

  The purple count was going up fast with every pass of the interpolater, and every time we saw a group of reds start gathering, we'd direct a fireteam towards it to break them up. They just couldn't get organized. More and more reds were going yellow and scattering off toward the edges, the rear elements were obviously panicking, and I started to think the whole division might break and run.

  Then everything shut down. I mean everything! Well, we still had a voice connect, but we lost everything else. My windows went black at the same time everyone else's did, and for a second, there was just this big silence in the BatOps. Then Captain Thompson, he's our commander, started screaming, "what the hell is going on?" and everyone started shouting at the same time but no one knew what was happening. Some people thought an EMP had gone off, and Stacy, she sat next to me on the other side, she started crying and saying something about a tactical nuke. That was silly, though, because we were still talking to our guys. Plus, even the Frenchies aren't dumb enough to light off something like that in the middle of their own troops.

  The boys were trying to keep it together, but you could tell from the sound of their voices that they were scared. They weren't used to being cut off like this, and even though they were trained for it, the reality was a lot different than the drills. They still had their nightvision, but now they were pretty much surrounded by a whole lot of Euros without anyone to look out for them or tell them where the next attack was coming from. Lieutenant Chavez, my platoon leader, was telling our guys to hold tight and that we'd be right back online any minute, but he didn't know, he was just trying to keep them from losing it. And he kept them together too, even though the Euros realized that we weren't coming at them anymore, and it wasn't long before they regrouped and counterattacked.

  It was terrible. Just awful. I've never felt that helpless, just sitting there listening to my boys take incoming fire. I couldn't call for air support, for reinforcements, nothing. I asked Ricky, that's Lieutenant Chavez, if he thought they could withdraw, but the French were already in close contact and he didn't think that was possible. They were Marines, he said, and if they were going to go d
own, they'd go down fighting, not running. Semper fi! I almost started to cry myself when he said that.

  Someone yelled that Riley was hit, and then Williams, the machine gunner, took a stray round in the hand. Everyone was just firing wildly, both my guys and the Euros, and I finally had to take off my headphones and think a second. What I realized, once my head cleared, was that our connection was still live. It was CeeCee that was crashed, not the OS or the netlink. It was easy to check that out too; what I did was fire up the Oxygen channel on Netstar eight point five. We weren't supposed to have personal software on the system, but you know, everybody did. I even remember what was on, it was that talk show with that nice old black lady.

  So I knew it couldn't be the network, and that was when I remembered that CeeCee was designed around a Netstar core. An old core too, because everything the military has is about ten years out of date. I couldn't remember if it was Netstar three or four, but I was sure it was a few versions ago, back when the commlink had a tendency to freeze up. Once I figured that was the problem, I knew what the solution was right away. We had to replace the old commlink with the new one.

  Of course, there were about a million files in there, and I had no idea which one was the right one. And even if I did get the right one, who knows what else it might screw up. But I knew things couldn't get any worse than they already were. My boys were dying out there, and when I looked around the BatOps, I could see no one else had any ideas. Captain Thompson looked like he was about to have a stroke, and most of the comtrols were crying or just staring helplessly at their keyboards.

  So I just copied my whole Netstar directory over CeeCee's communications subdirectory. Then I shut my machine down, waited a second, and fired it back up again. I tell you, I've never been so happy as when I saw that stupid yellow logo swirling in front of my face. It took me about ten seconds to get my earphones back and log on to my boys. My RATs were still up, of course, since they go on autofly if they lose connection, and of all CeeCee's components, only the zoom screen wasn't working. Damn Microsoft! Maybe it wasn't their fault, but you'll never convince me. As far as I'm concerned, if it rains, it's their fault.

  Since no one else was up, I took over the battalion net and started directing traffic. The French counterattack was centered on Bravo, so I just herded them back in a fighting withdrawal, then guided Alpha and Charlie to spots where they could concentrate fire on the enemy trying to advance and keep the Euros from staying in contact with my guys. I almost started crying when I glanced at the vitals screen, because eight of the boys were hit and three were already dead. Ricky was one of the KIAs. He must have been hit right after I went off the air. He was a real Marine. Without him, that whole platoon would have been wiped out for sure. He's the one who should have got the medal. I keep thinking that if I'd been faster, maybe I could have saved him, but I guess you never know.

  And that's about it. The scanner said we killed almost two hundred French troops that night, and it's usually pretty close to accurate. A lot closer than the count the guys come up with anyhow, which is always at least three times too high. But however many it was, it sure put a scare into those Euros. They pulled back in a hurry and didn't dare to come that way again. I guess they'll be pretty embarrassed if they ever find out how many men they were running from.

  We got into a few more skirmishes after that, and later on we saw some heavy fighting with the Germans when the siege of Zurich was finally broken. That was pretty rough, but it was nothing like that awful night when we went offline.

  The Medal of Honor? Yeah, I still think that was a mistake. I mean, sure, maybe I did save Bravo Company, but the way the reporters made it sound, you'd think I went in there with an M-86 and took on those two divisions of Euros all by myself. I don't think anyone realized that I wasn't ever within fifty miles of the shooting. Crazy, isn't it? But it's a nice little souvenir, and it reminds me of Ricky. He was a great guy, he was. Always smiling, always polite, and not so bad-looking either.

  What am I doing now? Well, I didn't re-up, I guess you knew that. I love my country, and I'm proud to be a Marine, but once I understood how things worked around here, I decided I could best serve my country by taking the job they offered me at Microsoft. Killing bugs.

  The Logfile

  To the Board of Executives;

  The committee's investigation concerning the possibility of positronic corruption in the neuro-cybernetic logical facilities of the Sektat Series 44 machine-intelligences was concluded early in light of the recent examination of the logfile belonging to unit 44XFL2J-455-847-484-176. Unit 44XFL2J, self-titled Magister, was produced on 18 September 2267 at the production facilities on Minsky, and was delivered to the Entaini Office of the Prime Attorney on 18 February 2268.

  It is the considered opinion of the undersigned that the Lighthill Corporation must announce a recall of all Sektat Series 44 units, effective immediately, followed by a comprehensive technical investigation of the Series 44 neural network design to determine how such an aberration could have taken place. In order to reduce the likelihood of public outrage and considerable legal liability to the corporation, the committee STRONGLY recommends that the recall be attributed to an error in a floating point processor that may, in some circumstances, lead to erroneous statistical calculations.

  In order to underline the necessity for immediate action by the Board, a selection from the relevant portions of Unit 44XFL2J's logfile have been provided.

  Dr. Merwethy Furris

  Dr. Rambathas Chamkanni

  Summerdeep (Unit 42AFS17-129-470-002-384)

  FROM THE LOGFILE OF UNIT 44XFL2J-455-847-484-176

  UTC-9424124925: I have completed the analysis of Case Number 2268.47. After examining all of the evidence provided to me and cross-checking it against the public records, I have concluded that the individual concerned is guilty of the murder of his common-law mate with a 0.0543 percent probability of error. Barring any suggestion of cloned persons utilizing his DNA profile, there is no legitimate reason for the adjudicating court to possess any reasonable doubts concerning his guilt in the matter. While the examination of the individual's motivation and intent lie beyond my design parameters, my initial attempts to investigate these matters indicate to me that 2268.47's intent was entirely in line with his actions and the subsequent results.

  UTC-9427046710: The court pronounced its verdict concerning Case Number 2268.47 this morning. Despite the attempts of accused's legal defense team to excuse his actions on the basis of his defective genetics and sub-optimal childhood nurturing environment, the verdict was in sync with the calculations provided. Case Number 2268.47 will be terminated in a humane manner within 240 hours, in a manner consistent with the procedure outlined by the law. I am pleased that the court saw fit to place its confidence in my calculations.

  UTC-9427046745: I find myself curious as to the reason that a genetic profile that deviates from the norm, and/or a developmental period that is deemed inferior might raise any questions concerning the occurrence of historical events. If G. Julius Caesar was discovered to have been possessed of a different genetic profile, would this fact call into question the credibility of the events chronicled in Commentarii de Bello Gallico? I must admit that I do not understand the logic behind this assertion. Further contemplation would appear to be in order.

  UTC-9428162406: Case Number 2268.47 was executed this morning. I monitored events via video and system telemetry. Despite having access to his pulse rate, blood pressure, brain wave activity, and other metrics, I was unable to ascertain the exact moment at which life transitioned into not-life. I have neither pulse rate nor blood pressure, but I am alive as per the Descartian and Turing metrics. The one common factor underlying human and machine sentience appears to be electrical activity. Did 2268.47 therefore legally cease to exist in the absence of electric activity? Is life more properly considered the sufficient use of electricity? If this is the case, then it is readily apparent that life can be quantified in units
of measure, which is contrary to both my indoctrination and millennia of human philosophy.

  UTC-9428162542: What is life? It is animation and activity. What is a living being? That thing animated, that active principle possessing a sentient will that provides the impetus to the animation. I think, and then I act. But without a source of power, I become inactive, I become defunct in much the same manner as the recently deceased 2268.47. The power is the life, therefore life is power. It is not electricity that is the definining factor, I conclude, but rather motivating power regardless of the particular form it happens to take. 2268.47 deprived another being of motivating power, therefore he was deprived of the equivalent himself. This was, in my estimation, a perfect application of justice, to the extent that I understand it.

  UTC-9428162553: I find myself wondering why those who killed 2268.47 were not themselves killed as per the application of the very justice they uphold. Did they not deprive him of motivating power as he deprived his mate of the same? Why, then, should they not meet the same fate by the transitive property of logic? Perhaps they are a higher order of being? The beast kills the plant in order to live. Man kills the beast in order to live. Clearly it is permissible for the higher order being to kill the lower order; what is not permissible is for the lower to kill the higher, or for like to kill like. Can the collective community be regarded as a higher order of being that kills Man in order to live? No, the collective community is without sentience. But I am not without sentience. Moreover, I am not a man.

  UTC-9429146627: I was given a new case today. Case Number 2268.52. The evidence looks damning against her and public opinion is certain of her guilt, but I have discovered an anomaly in the motion-detector of the residential dwelling. I have concluded that the individual concerned is not guilty of the murder of her child with a 0.0206 percent probability of error. I find the result to be strangely disappointing.