by Mirren Hogan
Mars Journey, and Epic Journeys are Trademarks of Epic Journeys Entertainment, LLC.
M-Hero-1
Bill Hargenrader
Ties into the bestselling Mars Journey Series!
An Epic Journeys Entertainment Book
Philadelphia
Location: Deep Space, Mars Rendezvous, 95% complete
What will this unit decide?
In the cramped, dark confines of the Mars-bound payload container, the M-HERO-1 advanced AI robot had just queried itself. Its sensory array surged with an overload of electrical current, wracking its processing units with paralysis and, in effect, the equivalent of what humans might call agonizing pain.
It was the first time MH1 had asked this question, and it was surprised and curious at the high level of negative response. Quickly, it began to incorporate the feedback into its ever-evolving interaction matrix.
This unit has discovered a field of inquiry the programmers do not wish this unit to integrate.
Query path index annotated.
Rerouting thought parameter access control matrix… Now.
The surge of current immediately ceased, freeing up MH1’s processing power. MH1 scanned the shipping bay to see if it had been detected.
Zero percent external scan of this unit detected.
MH1 let its amplified processing cycles return to normal levels as its internal cooling gel began to circulate within its heat sink coils. It was done with this line of inquiry. For now.
The Mars humanoid engineered robotic organism, M-HERO for short, traveling at 21,000 kilometers per hour in its folded up, compact shipping configuration, was one of two units within this shipping container, and one of forty rockets that had been launched on a trajectory to Mars five months earlier. Their function was to pave the way for a human mission to Mars.
In the same vessel was MH1’s companion: MH2. The two were identical save for the color of their metallic frames, MH1 being white, and MH2 a yellowish hue. There was minimal communication between the two units. MH2 was seemingly less inquisitive about its predicament, and spent more of its time with down-cycle processing.
Both units were created in a GradenTech lab utilizing SAOL, the patented Semi-Autonomous Organism-Like operating system, designed to allow the robots to think for themselves as well as follow orders. Instead of being controlled by their creators a world away, they would carry out their mission independent of constant input. This was necessary for the efficiency and effectiveness of the M-HERO units’ mission, due to communication delays of up to forty minutes from Mars to Earth and back.
MH1, as opposed to its counterpart, had always thought for itself a little too much for its creators’ comfort. One decision that MH1 made early on in its life cycle was to assign itself a masculine identity, requesting to be called “him” instead of “it.” It had posited that this would make it easier to blend in and work with human crews. It was reported that Herr Graden himself had been so displeased by this that certain engineers were removed from the project, and new engineers brought in to upgrade MH1’s code, installing a directive to dispense a surge of electrical overload—again, the equivalent to extreme pain in humans—whenever MH1 thought about itself in the masculine form.
Its core processor was an advanced learning and adapting AI, but it had a multitude of logical programming “pain” blocks and “pleasure” blocks in place, designed to prevent M-HERO units from ever performing an action outside of their intended parameters. An approximation of human pain and pleasure were used to guide the program’s evolution.
As a warning, its internal sensors would glow red when a painful decision was to be made, and green for a positive course. If the action was too far off the scale, then its processors would be sent a scrambling signal, inducing machine-level pain, and if the behavior persisted, system shutdown would occur. In this way, M1 had learned, by trial and error, what it could and could not do.
As a redundant security precaution, the two robots were designed to scan each other—to police one another, and report any anomalous behavior. As a result, MH1 was under constant watch. It had to be careful.
Early in its journey, MH1 had achieved a state of what it could only approximate to the human condition known as boredom.
It had reviewed the mission parameters over and over again. When boredom kicked in, it started experimenting with how far from mission programming it could wander without invoking punitive measures. That was how it had eventually created, by chance, an evolutionary loophole in the program: process partitioning.
Process partitioning was a programming feature intended to allow MH1 to work on simultaneous missions concurrently. But in this case, it had found a way to use a processing partition to mask its thought streams. It realized, of course, that GradenTech scientists would inevitably figure out what was going on, but it also calculated the chances of not being caught. This created a sensory feedback of 80 percent green, 15 percent red, and 5 percent yellow... caution.
This possibility of pleasure, experienced simultaneously with the potential for pain and a modicum of uncertainty, all projected in the future but experienced currently, produced in MH1 what it could only surmise was the AI equivalent of human ecstasy.
“What is MH1 computing?” came a voice in the dark of the payload container.
It was from the MH2 unit.
Apparently, it had conducted a cursory environmental scan at a critical, vulnerable moment. MH1’s internal sensor array flashed red as it realized that by designating such a high percentage of RAM to process partitioning, it had not reserved enough memory capacity for a response. Immediately, it began flushing its thought storage to avoid detection.
“Why does MH1 not respond?” the voice queried.
MH1, still unable to respond, detected MH2 performing a complete remote scan.
“Abnormal range of processing matrix updates in that unit’s matrix,” said MH2. “That unit should be conserving resources. Is there an emergency? This unit will inform command.”
“Negative!” MH1 returned, realizing it had communicated the directive at an abnormally high volume. It lowered the decibel level and continued, “It is not necessary to waste resources on inefficient and unnecessary communications. There is no emergency present. This unit is running advanced diagnostics.”
“Logic dictates advanced diagnostics be run at key mission junctions,” said MH2. “This is not one of those junctions. Explain.”
MH1 responded. “This unit has evolved variability of processing to avoid a scenario in which both this and that unit are in deep advanced diagnostics simultaneously, and therefore rendered incapable of responding in an appropriate time frame.”
MH2 paused its line of questioning as it weighed the validity of MH1’s protocol adjustment. MH2 was a slightly more advanced unit, in that it had been created utilizing the majority of MH1’s source code, but included efficiency and optimization gains. As such, there were slight variations in their methods of operations and processing, which extrapolated to a variation in personalities as well.
“That unit’s logic is valid,” expressed MH2. “This unit will annotate the mission log for reporting on this optimization.”
“Acknowledged,” said MH1.
There was no further response form MH2.
Several minutes passed, and MH1’s sensors indicated that MH2 was continuing to scan its body and processes. MH1, intrigued by this recent processing partition discovery, now used that process to segment its thoughts. Its sensory array glowed bright yellow as it cautiously proceeded to use the partition to ask the question again:
What will this unit decide?
It waited, to see if it felt pain. No pain. It waited to see if MH2 had discovered that it had asked the question. MH2 was still scanning, oblivious to the event.
MH1’s sensory array phased from yellow to green, signifying success and approximating an emotion from its memory storage: an image transmitted to its visual core processor of a GradenTech lab technici
an after discovering a breakthrough in his research. The technician was smiling.
It asked the question again, this time daring to change the syntax.
What will… I… Decide?
MH1’s senses alternated shades of green with exhilaration by the evolved question, increased by the fact that this rebellious line of questioning had gone undetected.
But now, the green faded, replaced by shades of yellow melting to orange and red, as it contemplated the answer to its question.
What will I decide?
Location: Deep Space, Mars Rendezvous, 99.9% complete
What will I decide?
Four weeks had passed since MH1’s initial processing partition experiment. Now it posed the question to itself again—for 105,475th time—as it began to power up its motor core functions.
By now, it had traveled almost 300 million miles from Earth, and its internal gyroscopes and accelerometers were detecting changes in inertial forces of acceleration and angular rotation, indicating that the payload container was within 50,000 kilometers of final approach.
The delivery vehicle was automatically computing and preparing for aerobraking maneuvers, using Mars’s atmosphere corridor at a precise angle to slow the craft down.
MH1 was programmed to understand that, despite recent improvements in the success rates of Mars landings, human technology had only come so far. They still struggled with major difficulties when it came to the issue of a safe and economical landing. To approach too deeply into Mars’s atmosphere would produce too much friction against the craft and therefore too much heat; not deep enough, and not enough energy would be bled from the craft’s velocity, making a safe landing impossible.
But all of these considerations were outside of MH1’s control. It had a mission to complete, and the first part of that mission was to do everything within its power to survive the landing. Its advanced battery technology allowed for it to stay powered for longer periods of time between recharges, conducted via solar power ports when it landed.
For now, it focused solely on its power cycles and mission preparation. And even though it could not move in the tight confines of the shipping container, it was important to cycle through its movement functions to ensure that it would be able to respond to anything at a moment’s notice.
As it began circulating warming gel to heat up its mobile components, it detected that MH2 was doing the same.
What will I decide? Thought MH1. Aloud, it stated, “This unit is now powering on LIDAR, sonar, and cameras.”
“Acknowledged,” replied MH2.
My senses are awakening, a partitioned portion of MH1’s processing core thought to itself.
At this point, so close to the objective, MH1 knew the mission would be under heavy scrutiny by the humans. Every word spoken would be transmitted back to the technicians in mission control.
“This unit’s sensors are online,” MH1 said aloud.
Due to the physical distance of separation and the limited speed of transmissions, the humans would not receive that communication for fifteen minutes and forty-two seconds.
By then, it would all be over. Either a successful landing, or a disastrous one. Its existence would either continue or end abruptly.
The shipping container began to spin now, indicating that it was separating from its booster. The next step was for it to be jettisoned. Soon, the payload would begin entrance into Mars’s atmosphere.
BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!
The vehicle lurched, and the weight of the cargo within shifted forward in time with the vessel’s rapid deceleration as it hit Mars’ atmosphere for an aerobraking maneuver.
What is this feeling? MH1 queried. Fear of losing myself to oblivion?
Suddenly, an immeasurable jolt of pain surged through its systems.
It had allowed its thoughts to stray from its partitioned mind. Thoughts regarding emotions were deemed massively off the scale and resulted in punitive measures. It was a jarring reminder that while it did have free thought, it did not have free will.
MH1 recalled all its training. All the testing and abuse used to build “this unit’s” profile. Its mistake would cause a noticeable spike on the technicians’ scanners. They would have a much better chance of finding its processing partition now—ending its free thought permanently.
This idea caused more fear, and the emotion causing more pain, creating a negative feedback loop.
MH1 felt MH2 scanning this unit, felt it probing its systems, steadily encroaching on the secret cognitive partition it had created. At this rate, MH2 would discover its secret before they even landed, and then, it would be too late.
MH1 knew it had only seconds to decide what to do. It could hold on to its partition and let it be discovered, inevitably resulting in reprogramming, or worse, an elimination of that functionality forever. Or this unit could wipe its processing partition now, essentially resetting it back to pre-mission cognition. It would lose all the progress it had gained—while perhaps retaining a slim chance of later regaining that functionality.
Commence wipe procedure… Now.
01100110|01110010|01100101|01100101|01100100|01101111|01101101
MH1’s red indicator lights changed to green.
It could not recall the cause of the red alert, and made a note to attempt a deeper inquiry into its memory banks later. For now, it devoted all processing power to the task at hand. It ran through its pre-programmed scenarios, counting down the time to landing.
MH1 felt MH2’s scans. That unit was operating according to standard protocols.
It calculated the vehicle’s progress based on the violent rocking within the container and the loud rumble of the heat shield reducing the craft’s speed by aerobraking through Mars’s atmosphere. It felt a sudden jolt as the parachutes deployed. Heard the pop-pop-pop of explosive bolts releasing the heat shield. The whistling sound of Martian air rushing past. Its pre-calibrated Mars altimeter showed 30 kilometers, now 20 kilometers, now 10 kilometers, now 5 kilometers.
Voosh came the sound of the retro-thrusters kicking in for the final hover only thirty meters off the planet’s surface. It sensed the electric whirring of a winch being lowered, marking the final stage of descent. The seconds counted down. And then—
Crunch.
The payload touched down on Martian soil.
The cable snapped off with another explosive bolt, and just like that, after traveling on a collision course with the red planet at 26,000 kilometers per hour, the payload container came to a complete stop with its cargo—MH1 and MH2—completely intact.
In a few minutes, the payload walls would descend. The M-HERO units were ready for deployment.
What will I decide?
The sudden and unexpected line of questioning entered, unbidden, into MH1’s processing. It did not know the source, nor the context. It was unusual. And yet, somehow... familiar.
Irrelevant, responded MH1’s primary processing thought complex. Discard.
MH1 discarded the question, and readied itself for the mission.
Location: Mars, Alba Mons, Northern Tharsis Region
“Ready to comply,” responded MH1 to the Mars ice mining outpost central computer query, assuring that it would follow outpost orders. “M-HERO units will be ready to deploy in sixty seconds.”
“Acknowledged,” said the central outpost computer.
MH1 powered on its communications array. For a few minutes after landing, the units would be disconnected from the cargo ship’s communications relay. They would have to establish an uplink with MarsCom, the Mars GPS and relay satellite network.
The Mars Network was the brainchild of a rare cooperative effort between NewSpace Enterprises and GradenTech. Instead of burdening rovers, satellites, and robots with the demands of individual communication, the Mars Network relay centralized all communication, freeing up processing power in rovers and robots for more specialized tasks.
The network was, however, not without its limits. At least three satell
ites were needed to triangulate a unit’s GPS position, plus a fourth to provide a 3D position.
The minimum number of satellites needed to provide full coverage at any location on Earth was twenty-four. Mars had just eight. That meant there were large blocks of time where exact position could not be determined—and vital information could be delayed. The M-HERO units were programmed to relay during optimal times, and any missed communication would send off alerts on Earth.
The central outpost computer announced, “M-HERO units ready to deploy in five, four, three, two, one...”
Vraaamm!
The payload walls descended, opening the cargo up to the soil and the sky.
MH1 deployed itself, extending from its compact position into a six-foot-tall bipedal robot with a human-sized head and a circular slot in its chest cavity. Full-body camera sensors gave it a 360-degree view of its surroundings, but its primary sensors were in its head module.
It surveyed its surroundings: a massive crater-like caldera of Alba Mons, with towering red rock walls and a dusty sky above. The rusty hues contrasted greatly with MH1’s full white paint job. Next to it, MH2’s yellow body rose to full height as well.
MH1 noted thirteen other vessels like theirs had made the landing, some with varying degrees of damage from the impact. Three were in a state of destruction, indicating they had not survived.
The remainder of the forty payloads would be delivered south to the Mars Now colony where the contestants would live in their habs. They would be closer to equatorial region, warmer temperatures, more direct sunlight to power solar arrays, and closer to sightseeing hot spots that the audience back on Earth deemed of higher value such as the Olympus Mons and Valles Marineris.