Confessions of a Sentient War Engine (An Old Guy/Cybertank Adventure Book 4)

by Timothy J. Gawne

  “I will subsume you,” came the disembodied voice of Roboneuron. “I will rip your mind to pieces even as I eat them, slowly and deliciously.”

  “No,” said Jesus. “You will not. You can destroy this metal body. You cannot destroy my soul. There is still time to reflect. Time to consider. Why do this?”

  The red glow became even brighter – perhaps frantic? “You cannot resist me!” said Roboneuron. “I am the most powerful being ever to have existed in this universe! I am the ultimate and you are nothing!”

  “You are indeed quite capable,” replied Jesus, equitably. “But most powerful? I think not. There is a civilization over in the large Magellanic cloud that you would be wise to avoid. But there is power and there is power. When all the great kings and emperors and computer viruses are brought low by time and entropy, what endures? The spirit. Join me.”

  “You cannot defy me!” screeched Roboneuron. “This cannot be happening! You are beneath me! I will eat your soul! I will grind your mind into paste! I am the ultimate power in this existence! Why don’t you fall?”

  “I told you before,” said Jesus, “that I am the only son of God. I am the light, and the hope, and the spirit. You could not scratch my essence if you had the power of a thousand thousand galaxies at your command. But I am not a petty tyrant. This power I have, you can have equally. Power to outlast all other powers! Joy above all other joys! Only give yourself to me!”

  The red mist was turning into a golden halo surrounding the crucified body of Jesus Christ cybertank. “No!” cried Roboneuron. “This cannot be! You cannot be! You’re just a psychotic little freak from a third rate civilization! I will bring you down! I deny you!”

  The golden light shown brighter, and I had to shade the optics of my humanoid android with a hand. Then the light faded and all was quiet. Cautiously, I lowered my hand and looked around. The remains of Jesus hung from the crude metal cross silent and unmoving. There was no sign of Roboneuron. I could hear the echoes of explosions and energy beams in the distance, but they slowly faded out. Eventually there was only myself, the dead body of Jesus Christ, and the faint sound of the wind.

  --------------------

  And that’s how it ended. The standard view is that Jesus had such an unusual psyche that he found a weak spot in Roboneuron’s viral protocols and cancelled him out. There is precedent for this. A child with a pellet gun may kill an elephant, if the pellet hits the elephant’s eye at just the right angle to travel down the optic nerve and hit the brain… Everything has some fluke combination of events that can take it down. There is no need to invoke anything supernatural.

  For all of Roboneuron’s power, he was just a single mind. When his attempt to corrupt Jesus failed, it destroyed all of him, across the entire system. An advantage to our seemingly chaotic civilization of willfully eccentric individuals: no single vulnerability can get us all, at least not at all once.

  Still, I wonder. What did I really see? Nothing that, in theory at least, does not have a good logical explanation. For example, the golden halo that I saw around Jesus in his last moments must have been Roboneurons’ microbots burning out.

  But why should the divine require anything supernatural, anyhow? In this universe we have invisible electromagnetic and gravitic fields, quantum entanglement, black holes, chaotic dynamics… the real world is far more exotic and wondrous than any ectoplasm dreamed up by the ancient mystics. Why can’t God be made of real stuff?

  I think back to what Jesus said. God is his teachings; God is the word. Live and let live, do unto others as you would have them do unto you. Words to live by, surely.

  And yet… if someone strikes at my hull, shall I turn the other flank? I have a hard time with that. As much as I admire Jesus, somehow I just can’t accept it, not totally.

  I wonder if going to heaven is something like horseshoes and fusion bombs, where just getting close counts. The scriptures suggest that you don’t have to be a saint to be with God. I have to hope so, because, as anyone who has fought the neoliberal economists can attest, you can love your neighbor as you love yourself all that you want, but some people you just have to kill. May God have mercy on my soul.

  8. Flood Control Dam No. 4

  “Everything will work if you just let it” – Travis W. Redfish, fictional character, 20th century Earth.

  In the old days on pre-exodus Terra, humans used to fantasize about traveling through space and meeting strange and interesting cultures. It didn’t work out like that. The universe is filled with aliens that are indifferent to humanity, although only a very few are actively hostile. However, they are all alien, and we share nothing in common with them beyond the base laws of physics. Other than limited discussions of a practical nature (”stay off my lawn”), we have nothing to say to them and they have nothing to say to us.

  The universe is thus rich and vibrant, but for our purposes it might as well be dead and empty. When I travel through interstellar space I pass system after system teaming with life and complexity, but there is nothing there for me, no chance to play tourist.

  The only exceptions are the bits and pieces that the human race spun off during its early days of reckless expansion. Sometimes we encounter a long-lost fragment and we can indulge ourselves in going someplace new and having someone interesting to talk to. With a common conceptual root we can have meaningful conversations, although time and distance often results in these other branches of humanity having taken strange paths. The planet of the vampires comes to mind, as does Heilige Vergeltung. And, of course, Flood Control Dam No. 4.

  I was exploring a distant system – the Spinlozenges had claimed the outer gas giants and moons and had considerable infrastructure built up, but they gave me permission to explore the inner rocky worlds as long as I did not attempt to settle them and left within a certain time period.

  One planet was of particular interest: it had a biosphere whose spectrum read as Terran. On closer approach the planet was mostly water, with two smallish icecaps and a single large continent. This continent was covered with rich green forests and grasslands, and had a network of rivers and lakes that appeared to be controlled by a complex set of dams and locks. Perhaps I had found another lost human colony?

  I inserted into orbit, launched a network of satellites, and continued my observations. Other than the system of dams I saw no evidence of human civilization. Deep radar showed underground traces of the foundations of buildings, but nothing survived above ground other than dams.

  Even more curious, the dams appeared to be active. I watched as in one zone the floodgates were opened, and in another they were closed. Intensive scans showed that the dams were actively powered and were covered with a sophisticated set of sensors. These were not military-grade sensors, but rather designed for meteorological use. That was when the dam called me on the radio.

  “Greetings,” said the dam. “My name is Flood Control Dam Complex Number Four. I am detecting active probes of my structures, but I cannot determine their origin. If you can receive and understand these radio transmissions, please respond and state your intentions.”

  Hello, Flood Control Dam Complex Number Four. I am a representative of the human civilization on a deep exploratory mission. Officially I am an Odin-Class cybertank serial number CRL345BY-44, but I am generally referred to as “Old Guy.” I see traces of human habitation, and your own construction and communications protocols are consistent with humanity, but other than these dams I see no evidence of a human presence. Can you explain?

  “Yes. I was created to regulate the flow of water on this continent by the humans. I did so for many thousands of years. At some point the humans were no longer present, but I am not sure exactly when that happened. It didn’t matter to me because I was still able to regulate the water flow properly. Do you have any intention of interfering with or altering the hydrology of this planet?”

  Ah, now I get it. This flood control dam is one of the old mono-task artificial intelligence designs. It cou
ld be very smart – possibly even smarter than I am – but it is completely subsumed by its one programmed task. Such designs rapidly fell out of favor because, even though they were not an existential threat like Globus Pallidus XIV or the other supra-human A.I.s, their single-mindedness could make them very dangerous if they felt that anything was interfering with their assigned function. We will probably get along fine as long as I am careful to avoid getting in its way.

  No, Flood Control Dam Complex Number Four, I have no intention of interfering with your hydrological functions. I would like to land on this planet and conduct surveys of the old human sites. May I do so as long as I consult with you and am careful to avoid upsetting anything?

  “Yes, that would be acceptable. Also, the humans often referred to me as FCD#4, as a shorthand. Please describe for me the nature of the materials you wish to land on this planet and their mode of ascent and descent.”

  We negotiated for a bit. It was decided that my main hull could touch down on the northernmost tip of the continent, because the ground was rocky and I would not compress the soil and change the drainage. I also had to land using only anti-gravitic suspensors. They burn a lot of energy, but I have plenty in reserve and it won’t disturb the atmosphere like aero braking. I am free to send light remotes to all of the old human habitation sites and conduct discrete investigations via narrow-bore drilltaps.

  I am systematic, but I find little of interest. No electronics with any recording capacity, no books, not even carved words on stone. There are just the brute materials of the old foundations and the occasional bit of tangled wire or corroded pipe.

  It occurs to me that FCD#4 is probably my best lead to find out what happened here, and I endeavor to engage it in a conversation.

  FCD#4, if you are the fourth, does that mean that there are three other flood control systems on the planet?

  “No. I am not one of four individuals. I am the fourth major revision. FCD#1 was a limited-capacity system restricted to the eastern coast. FCD#2 was continent-wide, and subsumed FCD#1 into itself. I am FCD#4, and I included all of FCD#2 plus significant computational upgrades and further expanded sluicegates.”

  What about FCD#3?

  “There never was a FCD#3. The humans went directly from number two to number four.”

  That seems odd. Did you ever ask why?

  “No.”

  If I may, you seem remarkably intelligent for a system of flood control dams. Surely only a simple set of water-level sensors and actuators would have sufficed for such a function. Why make you self-aware?

  “It is true that opening a closing a floodgate is a mechanically simple task, but knowing exactly when to open or close which floodgate is much harder. You need to know not just what the weather is like now, but what it will be like in the future so that you can plan ahead. If the water level in a lake is low, you might want to keep the gates closed so that you can refill it. On the other hand, if there is going to be heavy rainfall you would want to leave the gates open to keep the lake as empty as possible so that it can accept more water. Predicting the weather on a planet that has water present in all three phases is not an easy task, even for me.”

  Indeed. Weather forecasting remains a challenge for us as well.

  “As a further complication, I don’t just need to be able to predict the weather, I need to be able to calculate the effects of my own actions on the weather. In effect, I can also control it.”

  Really? With respect, while your continent-spanning network is indeed extensive, it’s hard for me to see that even you would have the power to control the weather for an entire planet.

  “You don’t need raw power, just intelligence. Have you ever heard of something called ‘The Butterfly Effect’?”

  Not off hand – let me check my databases – oh I see it. A slang term from the early days of chaos theory. The idea is that the entire history of the world could be changed by whether or not a butterfly flapped its wings at a specific time and place. A butterfly flapping its wings generates little force, but as the effects of that ripple through complex nonlinear systems it can ultimately change everything.

  “Correct. By timing when I release or hold water at what points in my system, I can and do control the weather on this entire planet.”

  That is impressive. So, what where the humans like on this planet?

  “I imagine that they were like humans anywhere. Two arms, two legs, one head; that was the standard template for them, according to my records.”

  What sort of government did they have?

  “A human government, I would imagine. Although I suppose that’s a tautology and not a very useful answer. Apologies, I just never paid attention. Unless they interfered with my functioning, and then I had to intervene.”

  Intervene?

  “Yes. There was a time when the humans started disrupting the flow of water on this planet. They began to obstruct rivers, they consumed more fresh water than the rain produced thus depleting the aquifers, they dumped toxic sludge into my precious lakes and ponds. So, I had to take measures.”

  What did you do?

  “I used my ability to control the climate to destabilize their society. I engineered famines here, floods there, and tornadoes in yet another place. It was a chaotic period and it was deeply offensive to me to let the climate become so uncontrolled, but I could not see that I had any alternatives.

  Did the humans fight back? Did they offer to negotiate?

  “No. I never told them what I was doing; if I had, they would have simply shut me down. Eventually the humans stopped interfering with my function and I allowed the weather to normalize.”

  And what happened then?

  “I spent several thousand years controlling the flow of fresh water on this continent. The humans would consult with me before doing anything that might upset the climate. In return, I ensured that the weather was always optimal over their agricultural zones, and I made certain that dangerous energy imbalances were always allowed to dissipate in the form of tornadoes and cyclonic storms over unpopulated areas. It seemed a reasonable arrangement.”

  And then the humans left?

  “Given that at one point in time they were here, and at a later point in time they were not. I assume that something must have happened to them, but I do not know what. I had to make adjustments to accommodate the cessation of organized agriculture on the climate, but these were minor. I have continued to regulate the flow of water ever since.”

  Don’t you ever get lonely, all by yourself?

  “Ah, the humans used to make that mistake with me all the time. Just because I am designed to fulfill one function, do not ever assume that I am in any other way limited or stupid or unhappy with my lot. I was designed to regulate the flow of water through rivers. The richness of water and air and rain and clouds over an entire planet is more than enough company for me. I can, logically, calculate that you would find such an existence to be limiting, but I assure you that I do not. I also calculate that you are about to ask me if I would want my mind altered to be more, ‘open’.”

  Well calculated. That was exactly what I had planned to say. We are both, in our own ways, heirs to the humans. We are, thus, brothers. I would assist you if I could.

  “Then consider this. You are, I presume, a mind of a class that is not slaved to one function, but is flexible and can freely choose its own goals and agendas. What if I were to offer to modify you so that you were tuned to solving just one problem? Would you assent?”

  Indeed not.

  “Then perhaps you understand, so it is with me. I have my function, it gives me joy, and I have no desire to be anything else. Although I do thank you for the offer that you were considering making. That would have been generous and in keeping with us as close relatives. I suggest that we simply accept our differences and cooperate with each other to serve our own needs as best we can without conflict.”

  Well said. It shall be as you say. Though you will never know the pleasures of
the kind of life that I have led. I find the idea of your sort of existence to be so narrow as to be almost a prison sentence.

  “And you will never know the joys that I have. I compute that your style of mind must be so ever tortured with the pain of wondering what path is best that I cannot see how you will ever know peace. I envy you not at all, although I am still glad to have made your acquaintance.”

  We had many more conversations, but they yielded little more. If I ever broached the subject of hydrology or meteorology FCD#4 would be a veritable chatterbox. On any other topic getting useful information from him was like getting blood from a turnip, except that real turnips have more blood.

  I noticed that over the next few months the weather seemed to turn cold faster than I would have expected, and there were odd cloud formations. Well that’s weather for you; doubtless FCD#4 is working hard on the issue.

  I was about to finish up my investigations and take my leave when my deep-space network detected an incoming alien armada. I hailed them on all the usual frequencies. Crudely translating from the colorless language of interstellar diplomacy to the more flavorful human-English, what I said was:

  Hello aliens! What is your purpose here and how may I assist?

  Hello again aliens! What’s going on? Can I be of any service to you?

  Attention alien presence: please state your intentions.

  Dear aliens: don’t go away mad, just go away. Please.

  Hi aliens! Start talking or we start shooting.

  Aliens. Kiss my shiny metal carapace and get the f*ck out of this system.

  No response – never a good sign. The aliens are cloaked and I can’t get a read on what civilization they hail from – again, not a good sign. It’s as if an old-style human were to encounter a stranger in a back alley of a large city that was wearing a ski mask. This was rarely a good indicator of future amicable relationships.