by J P Whitney
Tucker put the finishing touches on the meal Bryce had prepared as the words from King Of Pain by The Police played from a laptop on the counter. ED3N was streaming it through their blog via the network connection that beamed from their house to the wireless range extender mounted on the outside of the shop.
Tucker normally couldn’t get enough to eat, but tonight he just picked at his food while he hummed along with the song he recognized but didn’t know the words to. A tower of thinly sliced and perfectly stacked fried zucchini stood sentry in the center of his plate. Surrounding the green tower, a ring of black beans. Around that, another concentric ring of white rice encircled it all. Four radishes hesitated outside this perimeter as though they were contemplating the best strategy for breaking through the rice.
Bryce had already polished off everything on his plate and was eyeing the food on his brother’s.
“Bro, is something bothering you? You’ve created quite a work of art there but I don’t think the rice stands a chance of holding back the radishes. Aren’t you hungry?” he teased.
“Sorry, man. Everything is great. I’m just lost in my thoughts tonight,” Tucker replied stabbing his fork into one of the radishes and devouring it in one crunching bite.
“What are you thinking about?”
“We’ve created a nice little existence here. But I’m nervous it’s not enough,” he shared a little reluctantly.
Bryce said, “I hate to say it but you’re starting to sound like mom. What do you mean ‘it’s not enough’?”
“I don’t mean you and me … or that the farm itself isn’t good enough … I mean. Hell, I’m not quite sure how to put this,” Tucker stammered. He was consciously aware of the fine line he was straddling between being a brother and becoming too parental, but protecting Bryce had become his responsibility.
“Just spit it out,” Bryce said as delicate as a bull in a china shop.
“What I mean is I’m worried we won’t be able to defend it. With mom and dad gone. And now Eli too. The two of us might not be enough,” Tucker said. He didn’t sound defeated but rather resigned to the inevitable truth of the situation.
“I don’t necessarily agree. We are healthy and strong and armed. We protected the farm once already when Eli was attacked. And you eliminated the threats at the coast,” Bryce said starting to choke up. Clearing his throat, he continued, with a bit more emotion than he intended, “What is it you think we need to do if the two of us aren’t enough to protect what we have?”
“Don’t get defensive,” Tucker said.
“I’m not being defensive, but we don’t have many choices so I’m not sure thinking negative thoughts is very helpful at the moment,” Bryce replied.
“And I’m not being negative. I’m being realistic. Remember that girl … Brook?” Tucker asked.
“Yes, Alyssa’s family took her in.”
“I didn’t tell you why they needed to take her in. Brook’s family was a large group of migrant workers on one of the raspberry farms out near Cornelius. The owners of the farm passed away from the flu, but Brook’s family wasn’t on the vaccination list so they stayed isolated as long as they could. When they ran out of supplies they decided to go back to the farm to see if they could work for food. When they found the owners dead … they moved in,” Tucker said recounting the story Alyssa shared with him.
Bryce wasn’t getting his point, “OK, maybe they shouldn’t have taken over the farm, but under the circumstances, they probably had the best claim to the place and they were trying to be productive.”
“Yes,” Tucker took a deep breath before continuing, “and they were productive right until a group of armed raiders came in and slaughtered everyone. I didn’t share these details before because I didn’t want to worry you. But seven people died. Brook was told to run while the others tried to defend the farm. She ran an entire day until she got to Alyssa’s vineyard over 20 miles away. All seven of her family members were armed and still, they were overpowered. Brook lost her entire family to a group that was willing to kill first and take what they wanted later.” Tucker’s fork plowed through the outer defenses of rice and beans on his plate before spearing a couple of zucchini slices.
“So what are you saying exactly?” Bryce asked.
There was a long pause, during which the song changed to Message In A Bottle. ED3N must be playing the entire album, Tucker thought to himself while trying to find the words that best expressed what he was contemplating.
“We’re spending evenings in the shop … for a good reason. We’re too exposed sitting in a house full of windows at night. But even being careful as we are now, it’s only a matter of time until someone stumbles upon our farm. Again. Some people on our blog site report raiders are systematically going house to house and farm to farm looking for food and supplies. If the raiders come across survivors … they force them to turn over everything of value. If people resist, they’re killed. Eventually, the two of us will get caught off guard or overpowered. I think we should band together with another farm. Or a group of farms. We need to form a commune or something that allows us to work the land together. A larger scale of what we had when Eli joined us. If we find the right people, there will be too many of us to be attacked. We need numbers …”
The music paused and in the sudden quiet Tucker looked at his brother who had turned the laptop to work on it, “What did you do?”
“I didn’t do anything. It paused on its own. I’m refreshing the page to see if I can get the stream going again,” Bryce explained.
After the page refreshed, Bryce maxed out the volume on the laptop, but instead of music, there was nothing but an amplified hiss of static. Slowly the static cleared and was replaced with an ever so slight electronic voice. It was female and the age was impossible to guess. Calm and soothing, not quite sensual, but somehow mysterious sounding.
“Olsen family, it is time,” ED3N said.
With those simple words, the empathy implied in them, all conversation halted and the emotions of nervous despair they had just been struggling with shifted to ones of hope.
Then the voice changed. Through untold miles of high-frequency radio waves, this voice conveyed warmth and compassion and something else. Concern.
"Hello, survivors. This is Ruth. I'm a coordinator and citizen of ED3N. And if this message is reaching you I'd like to be the first to share the good news. We've formed a new city. Once again, there can be more to life than just surviving. It's difficult to explain, but it really is paradise on earth. It's time to come out of hiding and rebuild your lives. ED3N is located at the Camp Pendleton site on the California coast near San Diego and we can accommodate at least ten thousand people. But I also need to be completely transparent. There's no guarantee of admission into the city walls. You'll be tested for infection and also screened to prove you'll be a valuable citizen. If you've intentionally caused pain and suffering while taking advantage of others in the name of survival, you are not welcome so don’t bother making the trek. However, if you've been ethical and moral during these trying times, we welcome you with open arms and open gates. Additional information on best routes of travel and known hazards will be rebroadcast on all frequencies below 720kHz on the AM band. We pray this message finds you well. Join us."
For the next 10 minutes, the boys listened to Ruth’s message loop over and over. Afraid that if they talked or turned it off, the spell would be broken and ED3N would vanish before they could even plan how best to get there. It had to be true. The sincerity of the message and the emotion in her voice spoke more of a guardian than an official. They weren’t being lured into a trap. She offered them safe haven.
The computer pinged as a new instant message arrived. Bryce opened it up and read it out loud, “Are you coming?”
“Who sent it,” Tucker asked knowing the answer before the question was even out of his mouth.
“ED3N,” Bryce said.
The two of them looked at each other wondering who was going
to speak first. Tucker waited patiently, not wanting to push his younger brother but eager to take action.
Bryce surprised him by saying, “What about the farming commune idea you just talked about?”
“Sounds like ED3N already has one created and if it’s on a military base it should be much safer than trying to protect wide open fields,” Tucker countered.
“We’ve both had strange dreams about Ruth and that place. And she also told us to go to the coast looking for that stupid vaccine. Do you really think it is safe? Did the dreams seem more like a warning of some kind,” Bryce asked?
Tucker waited before sharing his own thoughts. He could tell Bryce was still wrestling with the questions he posed and wanted him to reach his own conclusion.
“I think we should go,” Bryce finally said sounding defeated even though he had only battled with his own dark thoughts. “My nightmares were always the same. The look on Jonathan’s face … pleading with me to help him. But my dreams about ED3N were never scary, just confusing. I guess you’d say they had a pull to them. But they never felt negative,” Bryce shared honestly.
“Same with me. The dreams were like a calling, but I couldn’t connect the names and letters and numbers so it all seemed mysterious and foreign. I still can’t explain where the dreams came from, but I don’t think they were a warning. I think we should go too,” Tucker said.
Bryce typed one succinct word in response to the query, “Yes.”
The reply from ED3N was instant, “Good. Leave immediately. You are in danger. Arm yourselves and travel light. We’ll provide everything you need upon arrival.”
Bryce turned the laptop so his brother could read the warning as he once again replied with any equally efficient, “OK.”
Tucker grabbed the laptop and opened a new chat message with Allysa.
We’re leaving tonight. Will your family join us?
We’re prepping now and will leave at first light.
Maybe we can communicate if we get within range of each other.
you in a few days.
Ruth’s message had just completed another loop and once again the laptop began to stream music this time it was ‘Runnin’ Down A Dream’ by Tom Petty & The Heartbreakers. Perfect lyrics for hitting the road.
Chapter 33
Failure to Communicate
Terry sat on a concrete bench near the light rail tracks and waited for Ruth and Mark to show up. If they were going to show up. He marveled at the structure he was sitting on and remembered watching several of them being produced. In place. A machine that looked like a cross between a mobile cement mixer and an electric wheelchair slowly moved in a rectangular pattern, while an arm quickly indexed back and forth while spitting out wet cement into a pattern that hardened almost instantly. Within minutes, it had built a functional piece of art with clean lines and curved surfaces that invited you to sit on it.
The memory of that automated task soured in an instant as his thoughts drifted to the training exercise … which was also automated. ED3N decided how many medical and security bots were needed and deployed them. Instantly. She used tasers on real people. She opened fire with chain guns from the defensive towers to distract the final wave of attackers he had sent into the simulation, while the bots disarmed the troops holding the hostages. In a matter of seconds, probably even less, she had figured out the best way of defending the refugees and didn't consult with anyone. Just took action though thousands of his team were in place. No lives were lost or even seriously injured. The outcome was impressive. It was also scary as hell. But it was the motives behind the actions that he questioned the most.
Why did ED3N take unilateral control over the bots during the simulation? The system had consulted with Terry on a lot of activities during the construction of the city. So why hadn’t ED3N checked with them or left the troops alone during the exercise? Had the system evolved and no longer needed them for critical decisions? Then it dawned on him. The attack troops weren’t wearing their communication devices. And what was it Mark had said about ED3N not being able to violate the first rule of robotics? Something like a robot may not injure, or, through inaction, allow humanity to come to harm. During the simulation, the attackers were offline so she didn’t know their real intentions and the refugees were treated as innocents. She chose to defend those that had the best chance of becoming citizens or least likely to inflict harm on others. Once again, impressive. But the system was still too powerful.
When Ruth and Mark arrived at the outer ring and disembarked from the light rail, Terry got up from the bench and made a show of removing his ATU. He received a slight shock as the perforated metal surface lost contact with his skin. A thought occurred to him but he’d have to come back to it because Ruth looked pissed and was asking him a question before he’d even set the device down on the bench.
“Is that really necessary Terry? Do we have to meet in secret out in the outer ring to have a meaningful discussion,” Ruth knew the answer to the question but couldn’t help herself.
Terry didn’t respond. He simply walked off the platform and into the surrounding pasture. He sat down cross-legged and absentmindedly picked at the grass while he waited for them to join him.
Mark looked at Ruth, then removed his ATU and headed into the field. With a sigh, she followed suit.
The three of them sat in a rough triangle amongst the sweet-smelling grass and soft bleating of the grazing animals. Terry had called the meeting but was obviously searching for the right words so instead, they uncomfortably avoided looking directly at each other until Ruth broke the silence, “So what is this all about? Are you feeling defensive because ED3N showed up your troops? Or do you really not trust the system?”
“It isn't about trusting the system as much as how it was programmed over the years. Who has reviewed the entire system? If there is a flaw in the design and ED3N decides to jail or kill us all then what? The effortless way she disarmed the teams … I’ve never seen anything like that,” Terry reflected.
“ED3N isn’t going to imprison or attack us. She just displayed her main goal to all of us. Protecting humanity, as a whole,” Mark said.
“But she wasn’t protecting us from foreign invaders. She took control knowing full well this was a simulation and all the people involved were citizens of this city. We were role-playing and she used live ammunition,” Terry argued.
“Yes, and, simulation or not, your troops were also armed and attacked when we thought they were just going through the screening process. Maybe ED3N was showing off for you. Playing with you. You made an unexpected move during this game of chess and she countered similarly,” Ruth reasoned.
“But who gave ED3N the approval to do so?” Terry let this question hang there for a while. Neither Ruth nor Mark responded so he continued, “What if her automated aiming was off just a few degrees? From that distance she could have mowed down hundreds, maybe even thousands of us in an instant,” Terry stated sternly.
Mark replied, “I think you’re not giving the system enough credit.”
Terry countered, “And I think you're giving it too much. At the end of the day, it's still a machine. And we are imperfect humans and not easily predicted by parameters and programs. I've seen a lot of people, both military and civilian, get killed when dumb people follow orders precisely without reacting to real-world situations. When they throw common sense to the wind. You need smart trained humans to make decisions of life and death. Daily administrative and service-oriented acti
vities are fine for robots, human or otherwise. But policing, war, and passing judgment during fight or flight situations requires human intelligence.”
“Feedback noted,” Ruth said, “but keep in mind we can override the system at any time. Don't feel like you don't have a say. The system still works for us … ED3N assesses the situation and asks if we prefer option A, B, or C. If we ever feel like the system is out of control we can shut it down.” She hesitated to share this next part but felt it was important if she were going to win Terry over and continued, “Shepard told me about a failsafe.”
“Ruth that isn’t what happened at all. ED3N didn’t assess the risks and provide you, or Mark, or me with any options. She opened fire. You have a failsafe? Then I think it is time to use it and shut the system down. Then Mark and the IT staff can try to fix the flaw in the algorithms for the autonomous systems. In the meantime, we have plenty of human firepower to protect the city and can manually work the food and water production. It’s easy enough to have the power generation equipment dump electricity into the grid without ED3N’s support. We’ve got everything we need to live great lives without the robots,” Terry said.
“I agree we could make a rudimentary go at running the city but I keep coming back to Shepard’s vision for this place. He didn’t invest in the idea and planning of the Ark Project, of ED3N, for decades just to have humanity survive. His goal was for humanity to prevail. To rise to our full potential. Something we’ve never been able to even attempt in the past because of our dependency on money and power. ED3N is a revolutionary concept. A leapfrogging of societal advancement. Like transporting us hundreds of years into the future or sending us to another planet. He wanted this place to be a radical rebirth of the human race.” Ruth knew in her bones this was what Shepard had in mind and she was fully bought in now. It was the only way to break the cycle civilizations always fell into. Struggle and conflict leading to a huge loss of life. The slow rebuilding and repopulation. A brief period of peace and thankfulness. Then came the power plays and greed. The corruption and abuse of power. Ultimately leading to decay of society and once again to war. This cycle was repeated countless times throughout history … it had to be different this time.