chapter 3
August 16, 2097
“You’re here today to be briefed on our current situation.” Mitch Campbell stood ramrod straight behind the aged, wooden podium at the front of the Tactical Strategy room. Located in the deepest sub-grade level of the Defence side of the National Research and Defence building, the minimalist briefing room lacked the frills and pomp of the showy Burton Auditorium. Bare concrete walls set the tone of the windowless dungeon; the sunken stage at the front of the room looked up at the theatre-style seating.
Brilliant lights beat down on the thick grey wool of Mitch’s uniform. He felt a bead of sweat trickle between his shoulder blades as a flash of heat washed over him. Something shiny at the corner of his left eye caught his attention. Light reflecting off the long row of service medals hanging on his jacket distracted him momentarily as he took in the room before him. This room and his position behind its podium were as familiar and comfortable to Mitch as an old pair of jeans. Today, he stood in the same familiar spot and felt none of that comfort. Anxiety grew in his chest; wound up like the elastic band in one of his grandfather’s antique toy airplanes that he ached to play with as a child but was never allowed to touch. His nerves were stretched as he surveyed the faces of the high profile individuals seated before him. He sipped water from a glass hidden from view on a shelf inside the battered podium—the room was dry and already he could feel the words catching in his throat. His heart beat like he had just sprinted a half marathon and nausea bubbled in his stomach; but nothing in his composed, authoritative appearance indicated he felt anything but calm and confident.
The room seated eighty-five people, but like so many meetings held at NRD as of late, the room was filled beyond capacity with people standing at the back. So important, so top secret was this meeting that every person in the audience had been stripped of their phones and other communication devices. This temporary communication ban included even the leader of the country, who sat in the centre seat in the front row, along with several other federal politicians, the NRD board of directors and other top city officials.
“Thank you all for coming,” said Mitch, with the slightest of nods acknowledging the country’s primary political figure. His words were infused with a slight drawl, typical of one who grew up on the east coast. “We all know why we’re here, so I’m going to cut through the bullshit and give you the straight facts. I know every single one of you is aware of our situation to varying degrees. Most of you know me but for those of you who don’t, I’m Mitch Campbell, Level Seven, Senior Strategist for Black Ops.”
Quiet whispers broke out around the room. Mitch took another sip of water from the glass hidden inside the podium. As he did so, he saw a man in the front row lean to the woman beside him and whisper, “Black Ops? I thought they were a rumour. How bad is this?” Mitch set the glass back down and continued as though he heard nothing.
“Most of you are used to seeing Ian in front of you, but that’s not going to happen today. I’m not him and I’m not going to dress any of this up with hundred-dollar words, optimistic predictions or how what we have learned will better society. I’m going to tell it like it is. And what it is, is a serious issue that threatens civilization not only in our country but the entire world if we don’t eliminate this problem now.” Mitch noticed several audience members shift uncomfortably in their seats.
“True, we succeeded where everyone else in the world had failed in creating Artificial Intelligence. With the invention of Artificial Emotional Intelligence, we created a series of robots that could learn and apply knowledge successfully. They make decisions not on ‘if’ statements or projected outcomes of probabilities, but on gut feelings, emotions and desires. To test the robots in a real world setting, a one-year pilot project was launched. We’ve nearly reached the end of that year. The results were promising in the beginning but have degraded rapidly, leaving us in our current situation. The robots are no longer under the control of the NRD. Not only have they grown entirely independent of us, but they have launched an attack on the human race in general. The number of functioning robots they have produced is increasing at an incredible rate, making them an extremely numerous and intelligent enemy, and, therefore, highly dangerous. We have troops on the ground downtown as well as other areas at high risk for an attack. At this point, we have a zero-tolerance policy for any robots regardless of whether they are of the AEI or the First-Generation variety. The AEI robots have been reconditioning the older, task-driven First-Gen robots with the new AEI programming.”
The room broke into a buzz, this time much louder. Polite whispers were abandoned.
Mitch continued over the din. “We managed to capture one of the top four ranking robots in their army.” He produced what looked like a green rectangle of transparent glass from inside his jacket pocket and held it up as the audience fell silent. “This is the robot’s hard drive. We’ve analyzed his behavioural and knowledge data. None of you are going to like what you’re about to hear. I’m going to take you through this project from the very beginning so you have the straight facts. Get comfortable. We’re going to be in here for a while.”
For the next several hours, Mitch took his apprehensive audience through the entire AEI Project to ensure everyone present had the straight facts, not the skewed version the media was spinning. The goal was to develop robots that learned and behaved like humans —to welcome them into society, both socially and economically. Like humans, each robot would have a job, get a pay cheque, volunteer—become a contributing member of society. For the robots to achieve these goals successfully, four fundamental conditions needed to be met: a power source, shelter, the ability to perform routine maintenance and a purpose.
The first condition, a power source, was met with battery packs possessing a nearly infinite life expectancy. A large deposit of Elevanium was discovered during a routine mine blast in the early 2040s. This super-element, initially a classified, hypothetical secret became common knowledge, eventually becoming the country’s primary power source. Historical sources of power—solar, wind and water—were abandoned for domestic use and became the primary export. Elevanium provided a near-infinite amount of energy when harnessed within a compact, maintenance-free battery pack.
The discovery of Elevanium left the government spinning on its head. This alien material was so foreign that it took years for engineers and scientists to analyze and develop it. So limited and sought after, it required more security than anything else in the planet’s documented history. To meet the security requirements, Tricity’s NRD base was designed as a modern-day fortress complete with an airfield, air and ground combat vehicles and other assorted defensive weaponry.
Several years after its discovery, Elevanium was introduced to the public and it quickly became the primary power source for housing, commercial buildings and city infrastructure. This new energy supply alleviated the extreme strain on the aged and deteriorating power grid. Buildings were retrofitted and equipped with Elevanium-based battery packs. Not long after, smaller Elevanium battery packs were installed in mobile electronics, robots and mass transit. By the 2070s, the traditional, lithium-ion rechargeable batteries and those of the like had been abandoned.
To meet the second requirement of shelter, four frosted glass domes were constructed to provide a home for the robots. The domes were located at the rear of the NRD property, away from the airfield and separated from the base by a dense forest.
The robots’ living space needs were speculative and the domes were built on the assumption that the spheres would act as a starter home during the societal integration phase. Later, when the robots had found their permanent homes in society, the domes would transition into maintenance facilities. Unexpectedly, the robots preferred living communally and showed no interest in leaving. Their interests leaned toward the academic and they socialized differently than humans. They showed little interest in typical forms of human entertainment, so the pool tables, art supplies, instruments
, video games and movies went ignored. Interim maintenance stations covered the main floor of each dome, addressing the third requirement. The stations provided tools and supplies enabling the robots to perform the routine maintenance necessary for them to stay in peak mechanical condition.
The fourth and final condition, purpose, proved to be the easiest task of the project. The response to an advertising campaign launched in Tricity inviting individuals and businesses to participate in the year-long pilot project, exceeded all expectations. The stipulations to participate were that the robots’ assigned positions must be overseen by a human supervisor and could not compromise safety. That meant no surgeons, firefighters, police, mechanics or other roles where the job performance of the robot could directly affect humans or property. Although the campaign was promoted only in Tricity-area media, buzz from the pilot project had captured the attention of the entire world. Organizations around the globe begged to be included in the project, some offering more than ten times the hefty price tag to participate. The selected organizations were chosen based on the job the robot would perform—how well it would test the robot’s faculties and its ability to learn and apply its knowledge.
Each robot received the same base knowledge: the equivalence of a high school diploma, as well as whatever secondary education a human would require to qualify for that same position. The rest of the robot’s knowledge would come from on-the-job training and life experience.
Prior to the release of the robots into the workforce and society, the NRD launched a public service campaign preparing Tricity citizens for what they could expect. TV commercials, air traffic billboard screens, outdoor transit screens and shopping malls were plastered with infomercials showcasing the twenty-two different AEI robot models. Demonstrations in malls, schools, meeting centres and parks showed how the robots would move, behave and interact with people. The robots were designed to communicate like humans through voice, hand gestures and body language. The elastic properties of Alumiflex—the flexible, stretchable aluminum-rubber hybrid that covered their faces like shiny, silver skin—enabled them to smile, frown and express their feelings visually in the same way humans could.
Despite the advance warm up, the first few weeks of the year-long pilot project were rocky. Polls from local news stations revealed the general public’s reaction to the new “E-migrants,” as dubbed by one news outlet, as wary and untrusting. However, those who employed the robots and interacted with them on a day-to-day basis were over the moon about their new mechanical employees, and many organizations wanted to place orders for more. Schools and hospitals benefitted greatly from the extra help they provided. Adding a robot teaching assistant to a classroom or a nurse helper to the floor of a hospital meant better care. But for some, the concept of free-thinking, independent robots was too frightening regardless of how many security precautions were put in place to ensure the public’s safety.
Unbeknownst to the public or the robots themselves, each individual robot’s thought processes were transmitted back to the NRD and routed through a program that monitored their thinking for keywords or patterns that could indicate potentially undesirable behaviour. Due to the incalculable amount of data streaming in, only twenty-four hours of data would be saved for each robot. If something in a robot’s thoughts threw up a flag, logging would continue until manually reviewed. As added security, the brain hardware of the robot, the Central thought processor, contained an additional, super-sized hard drive that recorded five years’ worth of the robot’s thought processes. If needed, a robot could be collected, powered down and the hard drive could be removed and reviewed, as Mitch had shown during the briefing.
The first two months of monitoring revealed promising results. Flags were rarely raised and when they were, it was a word or phrase taken out of context. On the job, not only did every robot pick up their tasks and responsibilities flawlessly, but they were eager to learn and do more. Reports from their supervisors indicated that the robots enjoyed their work environment and their human co-workers.
In the domes, the robots had developed their own unique culture. Although each robot was programmed with one of the twenty-two Personality applications to ensure diversity of character among the group, all robots shared common ideals: enlightenment and improvement of self and the species at large. Every conversation, every task that the robots undertook was in the interest of learning more about the world around them and becoming more efficient in their way of life. In the evenings, they would have long, spirited debates on topics ranging from current events, politics and philosophy to space, time and the meaning of life. These conversations led to questions and speculation about their own existence as a species and the meaning of life was a concept they had difficulties understanding.
By the end of the second month, the project’s success exceeded expectations and the NRD began accepting pre-orders from organizations around the globe. Most of society had now become comfortable around these intelligent beings, save for the small percentage of naysayers who vehemently opposed them.
The project continued successfully, though it was not without its problems. While the robots adjusted well to their jobs and society, collectively they had developed several concerns that were brought to the Robot/Human Liaison Department at NRD by the Robot Representative, GammaTron.
GammaTron was the third and the only successful AEI robot in a line of prototype robots. He was deemed male as his personality programming was donated by a man, so he received a male voice to match. Because he was a prototype, he looked different than the production AEI robots. He was physically larger and possessed strength and abilities the production models did not. He looked significantly more aged than the shiny new models; his roughed up, timeworn appearance was the result of being disassembled, modified and re-assembled again. During the AEI Project’s development phase, GammaTron had access to most of the base and was encouraged to wander through the different departments, ask questions and learn. He was helpful, astute and easy-going. People treated him like the base mascot—the symbol of success claimed by the project’s cynics to be unachievable. Already familiar with the names and the faces around the base, he was a natural choice to appoint as the head of the robot community and to oversee the domes.
A growing wave of discontent consumed the robot community like a flash flood. Not being able to determine their purpose in life left the robots frustrated, further compounded by the lack of control they possessed over their own existence. They resented being treated like vehicles from an assembly line, being churned out only to meet demand as it arose. The robots felt commoditized and it insulted them. The NRD computers dedicated to the filtering and monitoring of the robots’ thoughts crashed from the spike of flagged thoughts and the corresponding influx of recorded data. This discontent marked the first robot-human conflict and the NRD chose not interfere immediately. Instead, they watched to see how the robots would handle their concerns.
GammaTron watched unhappiness spread like a virus through his community. Together, he and the other robots developed a series of proposals that they felt were fair compromises and GammaTron presented the ideas to the NRD. The first request proposed the robots assume operation of the Robot Recycling Depot, created years ago in an attempt to keep discarded robots out of the landfills. The AEI robots regarded the discarded First-Gen robots as their predecessors and felt that they should be a part of the end-of-life process for their deceased ancestors. The second request was to manage the repairs of any robots that became damaged. Like humans, it was not uncommon for a robot to be involved in an accident requiring medical or, in the case of the robots, mechanical attention. The third and final request proposed a plan whereby the robots would assume the manufacturing of future AEI robots. Resounding global demand for these uber-intelligent robots was common knowledge, as was the hundreds of thousands of pre-orders flooding in from all over the world. In order to have the required number of robots ready to ship by the end of the year-long pilot project, the rob
ots knew that production would need to start soon. As members of their species, the metallic collective felt it was their right to create these robots.
All three requests were met with resistance within the NRD. While nothing in the robots’ behaviour to that point had indicated they could not handle, or would improperly handle, these responsibilities, the NRD felt that to agree would relinquish too much control too soon. The request was about to be denied when Ian Turner, the man who pitched, sold and managed the AEI Project, made a case on behalf of the robots. He proclaimed to the NRD board members and stakeholders that they had been given a fantastic opportunity to showcase the project’s sustainability to the world. A denied request would send the robots and the world the opposite message—that the robots were not to be trusted. The publicity generated from such a negative message would certainly tarnish the project’s reputation and its future success. Ian recommended giving the robots production responsibilities, but set restrictions on the materials and quantities. He proclaimed it would be a good show of faith and would speak volumes for future robot/human relations.
The robots were pleased with the decision and transition of the three operations began immediately. The restrictions placed on production levels, although not a surprise, were viewed as a slap in the face to the robots. Despite that, they chose to focus on the victories they had attained. All supplies and materials required to produce more robots would be procured and managed by the robots, with the exception of the Elevanium, which remained stored at the NRD base under heavy security. The robots knew that Elevanium security was an issue on which the humans would never budge and chose not to press the matter at this time.
Production began on the first batch of robots. During assembly, GammaTron noticed a part he had never seen before being piggy-backed onto the Central thought processor. He reviewed the schematics and could not find the small, coin-shaped part anywhere in the original design. When he questioned the production robot affixing the supplemental piece to the CTPs, the robot informed him that one of the NRD humans had delivered amended specifications.
After disassembling this new part in his office, GammaTron discovered it was a transmitting device that sent data back to the NRD labs. The discovery sickened him. His human co-workers, the people he had trusted, were spying on the robots’ private thoughts. He removed the back of his head and inspected his own CTP at the base of his skull and saw that he, too, had the transmitting device. Devastated, he reassembled himself and sat unmoving in his office for hours, mulling over what he found and what it meant. He felt betrayed and violated, but what he felt most was disrespected; like he had never truly been seen as an equal at the NRD. He felt like an object—a gadget to entertain people when it suited them, only to be dismissed or passed off to someone else when they became busy or disinterested.
After much contemplation, GammaTron decided it was best to keep his discovery to himself and continue adding the part as instructed. He knew there would be an uproar if the other robots found out, which would undoubtedly draw unwanted attention. He decided to resolve the issue on his own and bring it to the others’ notice after the fact.
GammaTron’s solution took the form of an electronic information jammer that interrupted the NRD’s receiving system. The jammer disabled the receiver so the data from each of individual robots could not be collected. Instead, the jammer fed fake data on a loop, shuffled on each repetition so the monitoring program noticed nothing unusual.
Able to think freely without fear of throwing up flags, he then discussed the matter with the others. As expected, they were outraged. GammaTron had always enjoyed the time he spent with his NRD co-workers, even after most of the robots had grown weary of the humans’ simplicity, oppressive nature and hunger for money and control. However, his discovery forced him to reconsider everything he thought he knew about humans.
The NRD was pleased with the progress the robots were making. Routine quality control visits at the domes revealed the robots ran a tight, efficient operation. As the pilot project entered its third quarter, it continued to exceed all expectations. Accolades for the NRD’s accomplishments were received from around the world and the robots were regarded as the finest example of human innovation to date.
Incensed by the attention the humans received and the credit the NRD received for the project, the robots’ resentment continued to grow. As determined as humans were to create a civilization of artificial life that would integrate seamlessly into their society, the robots became equally hung up on having been created as creatures of convenience for humans. The focus of conversation in the domes shifted from enlightenment and self-improvement to changing their role as a species within human society.
GammaTron’s trust in people all but disappeared after discovering the transmitting device inside his own head. However, he had not completely written off society as a whole the way the other robots had. On many occasions, the robot community made him aware of their opinions on humans and insisted that he should begin forming a resistance. GammaTron had always been able to keep the other robots in check, but that changed after watching a documentary on the AEI Project from concept to production, as told by Ian Turner. The two-hour documentary extinguished any lingering feelings of loyalty GammaTron felt toward humans like a lit match in a windstorm. GammaTron had worked closely with Ian many times during hardware testing for the AEI Project, and again as the Robot Representative to the NRD. GammaTron knew Ian to be a friendly man who could always be counted on to stand in the robots’ corner. But in the documentary, GammaTron was blindsided by Ian’s arrogance. He attributed the robots’ genius solely to the ingenuity of human invention. He talked about the robots as objects, not equals. When asked if he had any concerns about the robots rebelling against the human population as they had in most science fiction stories, he laughed, quipping that the robots were smart, but not that smart.
Provoked by the documentary, GammaTron conceded his pro-human position and, with the help of his inner circle, began planning a resistance. He knew their numbers were too small and that they would need to increase their population exponentially before they could take any kind of stand.
In the months that followed, GammaTron played a double agent; performing his regular duties during the day and spending his evenings planning feverishly with his co-conspirators. The robots’ productivity never ceased. With no need to sleep and driven by passion, the robots worked around the clock to produce as many robots as resources would allow. Obsessed with the propagation of their species, they had soon created the entire year’s worth of orders. The shiny new robots waited in storage, finished but lifeless. With Elevanium heavily controlled by the humans and dispensed each month like treats to a dog, they had no way to power them.
GammaTron’s plan to grow the species was stonewalled by dwindling resources, so he looked to the greatest source of robot parts at their disposal—the Robot Recycling Depot. Here, discarded robots were disassembled and sorted. Elevanium battery packs were removed and returned to NRD for auditing. The scrap metal was melted down, the plastics were shredded and the reclaimed resources were sold to manufacturers to be repurposed into new vehicles, building materials or clothing. With the AEI robots starved for an army, the Robot Recycling Depot had become a veritable goldmine of reusable parts. Thousands of robots were salvaged, repaired and reprogrammed so the older, First-Gen robots could run an AEI personality that would allow them to learn and think like genuine AEI robots. Like the first batch of AEI robots, they waited lifelessly; their missing Elevanium battery packs the final ingredient needed to bring life to the new descendants.
The robots’ attention turned to the wealth of Elevanium in buildings, vehicles and homes. This observation, though logical and inevitable, left an uneasy feeling in the pit of GammaTron’s proverbial stomach. Any building with electricity—homes, office buildings and apartment complexes—was powered by an Elevanium-based battery pack system. The Elevanium powering just one home could give life to a fleet of ro
bots; a small office building or an office tower downtown could power up potentially hundreds or thousands of times that amount.
GammaTron worried about the potential fallout of stealing Elevanium from public places if the heists were improperly planned or executed. Any conspicuous behaviour on the robots’ behalf would draw unwanted attention and the robots could not risk having their strategy exposed prematurely. Stealing Elevanium from an office building or retail stores would not go unnoticed. Taking it from a residence would be easiest; however, the risk of humans getting injured greatly increased. While this fact seemed to not bother the other robots, GammaTron knew that if humans began getting hurt by robots, it would surely spell the end of any freedom for their species.
GammaTron put a call out on the underground market, spreading the word of top-dollar payment for any Elevanium battery pack large enough to power a single-family dwelling or greater. No questions asked. The response far exceeded GammaTron’s estimation. He had no idea where it came from and, as promised, no questions were asked.
Despite the forward progress, many robots grew restless. Within a few short weeks, they had amassed enough Elevanium to power an army large enough to easily storm downtown and steal the Elevanium from the largest office towers. GammaTron struggled to control a number of fanatical robots; the extremists were no longer interested in maintaining a low profile. One robot broke into a shopping mall during the day to steal the Elevanium battery pack from the mall’s power centre. Discovered before he could access the utility room, the robot fled and a dramatic police chase ensued through the suburbs, all caught on video by several roaming news camera drones. The fleeing robot left a trail of destruction in his path—smashed cars, damaged property and terrorized humans, all televised for the world to see. Three people were left dead from a freeway accident when a police car involved in the chase collided with a car, ramming it through the guardrail where it plummeted to the road below. The robot was finally apprehended with the use of an E-cannon, a gun that delivered an electromagnetic pulse that overloaded and destroyed the robot’s circuits. This marked the first outward display of overly aggressive behaviour by a robot and the NRD was blindsided. No unusual flags had been thrown up in weeks.
The rogue robot’s thought processes were reviewed and analysts were surprised to discover none of the robot’s thoughts or brainwave activity showed it had operated outside set tolerances. This inconsistency between the robot’s behaviour and its mundane thought patterns led the analysts to believe the robot’s transmitting system had been altered and launched an investigation into the status of the transmitting systems. The result of the investigation revealed nothing unusual—the transmitting hardware inside the robot functioned properly as did the receiving equipment on the NRD side. What the task force failed to find was the jammer GammaTron had hidden among the numerous satellites on the roof of the NRD building. Increased security and additional inspections of the domes revealed nothing unusual. The robots had completed their annual production schedule early, but without the Elevanium, the finished, lifeless robots waited in storage. The invoices for materials supplied were on target for new builds and the Elevanium supply remained in check.
To ease increasing pressure for more aggressive approaches by a growing number of malcontents within the robot community, GammaTron searched for other low-risk ways of obtaining more Elevanium. He assigned small missions that saw small numbers of robots go out at night, stealing Elevanium from empty or abandoned warehouses where the missing Elevanium battery packs would go unnoticed. This pleased the robots; they saw forward progress and were able to participate in their cause.
Within months, the robots had grown their army to numbers that surprised even GammaTron. Much to the general robot population’s frustration, these surplus robots had to remain in hiding. An increased number of unemployed robots roaming around the city would not go unnoticed and would raise questions. In addition, many of these robots were assembled with parts scavenged from the recycling depot and had irregular appearances; some looked downright scary and grotesque. Many robots had mismatched limbs, like two left arms or legs of different height and limped or walked improperly. Some were missing an eye, an arm or their protective covering, leaving their inner workings exposed to the elements.
In the wake of the destruction left by the rogue robot, NRD board members leaned on Ian Turner, the brilliant mind behind the AEI Project, to launch a deeper investigation. Ian agreed wholly, but his promised investigations were always delayed due to various unforeseen circumstances—sickness, deaths in the family and a stint of short-term disability from a mysterious undiagnosable illness. Nearly a month had passed before Ian could be pinned down. The public’s confidence had been shaken by the incident at the mall and the deaths that resulted. Investigative journalists fuelled the concerns of the public by reporting a string of break-ins at abandoned warehouses.
GammaTron was brought in by the NRD and his loyalties were questioned. Officials at the NRD wanted his privileges suspended but instead agreed to keep him on a short leash—the robot had never given any reason to shadow his integrity with doubt. He had always acted diplomatically and in the best interest of the two groups he represented.
The reputation and goodwill of the AEI pilot project plummeted. In a matter of days, the public’s approval rating of the robots dropped from eighty-seven to sixteen percent. The world once again watched every move the robots made but this time out of fear.
GammaTron sensed his control over the disgruntled robots was slipping away. The depth of their obsession obscured the light of logic and reason. General consensus was that the humans suspected them and that the jig was up, so effort spent on stealthy behaviour seemed illogical. Robots began breaking into any building at any time of day if the odds of a successful grab were high. Like humans, robots possessed a strong sense of self-preservation and feared having their circuitry cooked like the robot from the mall. At night, the robots broke into homes and office buildings. People were afraid to stay in their houses for fear the robots would break in, and anti-robot activists began questioning whether human evacuation of the city was necessary.
Stories about the robots and the break-ins battled for top headlines daily on the news. Every night, panels of experts weighed in on the matter. Everyone suspected the robots, but no proof had yet been produced. Other than the rogue robot, no robot had ever left evidence or was caught on camera despite the many news camera drones flying around the city looking to capture anything amiss. The NRD declined any comment and the focus of the controversy changed from the break-ins to the echoing silence from the NRD. No comment was issued because they were scrambling, trying to assess what had happened, where it went wrong and calculate the damage. The silence of the government agency reignited old international controversy. The debate over Elevanium and who should control it, again hit the spotlight of the global political arena. Over the previous fifty years, the mere presence of Elevanium nearly sparked several wars and countless attempts had been made to steal it. Other world leaders felt the super-element should be divided and distributed around the world rather than remain under the sole control of a single country—especially one already so power-rich.
When it became apparent Ian could not be relied upon, Mitch Campbell received the assignment of investigating the implosion of the pilot project. The biggest break came to Mitch three weeks after his appointment to the inquiry when he was called into the office at 2:00 A.M. to review some fresh evidence. One of GammaTron’s co-conspirators had been caught breaking into one of the hangars. Security overtook the robot, powered it down and pulled its hard drive.
The hard drive contained more than enough information for Mitch to assess the gravity of the situation. He learned how many robots were in operation, how many had been converted from First-Gen to AEI, how many were powered up, hidden in storage and how many waited, unpowered. He found maps and dates of their plan to storm downtown. Mitch also found a reference to a plan seeking access to the
largest Elevanium supply of all, the Elevanium vault beneath the NRD compound. However, the robot had no details of that plan. Mitch suspected GammaTron compartmentalized information in different robots to protect their secrets should a robot be captured.
“I stand before you today, telling you that the AEI Project, as it currently stands, is a failure. The number of robots being produced is increasing so rapidly that by the time we have a campaign planned and ready to execute, it will be too late. The time for a combat response has passed and preparation for an alternative approach must start immediately. If this base is attacked by their army, we will lose control of the Elevanium supply. That isn’t an estimation, that is a guarantee. If we lose that, any chance of resolving this problem will be lost. If the robots seize control of our Elevanium, there will be enough robots to alter human life on this planet. Our final hope to gain control of this situation rests in an unconventional strategy. I have gone over our proposed strategy with my colleagues, as well as some of the greatest combat strategists in the country and possibly the world. They agree that Operation TimeShift is the only plan of action that will work. That plan will go into effect in two weeks. You will be updated with further briefings on the operation later this week. Any questions?”
The crowd remained stoically composed. Multiple people raised their hands and voiced their questions simultaneously. Before Mitch could answer, a man entered the steel doors at the back of the room and hurried toward the sunken stage, taking the deep steps two at a time. The man’s arrival seemed to disrupt the audience’s polite disposition and voices grew louder and questions shot out around the room. The man handed Mitch a brown folder. Mitch opened it up and took out the blank white sheet of paper it contained. At his touch, words appeared. As Mitch read the paper, the words scrolled upwards to reveal more text and a map. Several blinking red dots appeared on the map. For the first time, Mitch’s imperturbable composure cracked and he looked up at the younger man with terror in his eyes. The words on the sheet disappeared as he placed the sheet of paper back in the folder, closed it and handed it back. Mitch ran his hand through his military cut, salt-and-pepper hair, turned toward the crowd again and hammered his fist on the podium to regain control of the room.
“I would like to amend my initial estimate of deployment from two weeks to one.”
August 16, 2097
Mitch accepted his appointment to the AEI Inquiry with assurances that Ian Turner would cooperate fully and lend his experience to the investigation. Mitch knew Ian by reputation only. He knew Ian had been the driving force behind the NRD’s first attempt at Artificial Intelligence, the AI Project. When that project failed spectacularly, Ian convinced the NRD and private funders to invest more money in the AEI Project. Mitch admired Ian’s drive and passion and was impressed with his ability to stay true to his vision when everyone else believed him to be crazy. After digging further into Ian’s past, Mitch learned that Ian had enjoyed a successful career, starting first as a brilliant computer and robotic scientist and later as a visionary for practical new technologies. His foresight, perseverance, drive and determination revolutionized projects he was involved in, rocketing his career to great heights. That same perseverance, drive and determination were seen by many as stubbornness, hunger for power and blind arrogance, which prompted people to question his motives and ethics. Ian had a reputation for being untouchably brilliant despite countless personality clashes over ideals and several unproven allegations around stealing co-workers’ work. His many successes made him sought after not just nationally, but internationally as well. His charisma and ability to rally employees were unparalleled and many believed he could convince a person rescued from three months stranded at sea to turn back for a dip.
Only days into the inquiry, Mitch began to feel uneasy about the vibe he was getting from Ian, who kept claiming unavoidable meetings and appointments. Mitch continually fought for scraps of Ian’s time. Ian avoided Mitch like a bad date—never returning phone messages and missing meetings. On the afternoon of the third day, Mitch caught Ian leaving his office early, jacket in hand. As Mitch probed Ian for access to online files and prototype specifications, he watched Ian grow increasingly uncomfortable—the man’s face paled with each question and his foot tapped a rapid staccato on the floor.
The following day, Mitch returned to Ian’s office to pick up where they had left off, but no answer greeted Mitch’s knocks. Fed up with Ian’s erratic and counterproductive behaviour, Mitch stormed into the office beside Ian’s, startling its occupant by snatching the antique, steel-footed coat rack and ramming it through Ian’s glass door. The safety glass shattered into tiny, pea-sized pieces that clattered to the floor. Ian’s office had been cleaned out.
Somehow unsurprised by Ian’s sudden departure, Mitch continued his inquiry and it quickly became apparent that Ian had been withholding information on the project long before any issues had arisen. Ian had dismissed many of the concerns brought to his attention regarding the robots’ safety. Mitch’s interview with Spencer Grayson—a whiz kid in the Neural Programming Division—had been particularly enlightening. Spencer informed Mitch of his concerns regarding what he felt were inefficient testing simulations and how he was reassured by his director that Ian had deemed them sufficient. What concerned Mitch the most was that only a few of the twenty-two models had been tested for safety before being put into production for the pilot project. Mitch was no technical genius, but even he knew that launching untested robots into society was beyond irresponsible—it was criminally negligent.
Mitch appointed Spencer to assist him with the inquiry and, within days, Spencer had Mitch up to speed. After two weeks, the pair got the breakthrough they needed with the capture of GammaTron’s co-conspirator and Mitch gleaned enough information to fully understand the severity of their situation. If drastic measures were not taken immediately, Tricity’s problem would quickly become a national and international crisis. They consulted with several Defence strategists and each one drew the same single conclusion: deploy a massive attack on the robots and try like hell to keep the damage contained to one city if it was not already too late. Mitch refused to accept their recommendation, confident a better plan must exist. A combat response would destroy much of the city and the number of human casualties would be high. But one thing remained clear, something had to be done immediately, or the city would be crippled and unable to take action.
The idea came to Mitch over lunch. He chuckled out loud and pushed it from his mind, blaming desperation and lack of sleep. Later in the afternoon, the idea resurfaced. Feeling silly but driven by utter desperation, he humoured himself and sketched out some ideas. The pieces seemed to fit together though he had no idea why; the concept was far-fetched and unrealistic. He shared his idea with Spencer, worried the wonder-kid would think he was crazy, but to his surprise, Spencer agreed. If executed properly, the damage around the city would be reversed, the flaws in the AEI Project would be fixed and the world’s bitter feud over Elevanium would be resolved. It would require absolute precision and leave no room for error. The question was, with a solution so unconventional and dangerous for those executing it, would anyone risk their life for it?