by John Conroe
Cade looked at Aaron. “Great idea. Let’s do just that,” he said, shaking his head and holding his hand up in Aaron’s face when the scientist opened his mouth to speak. “We have a special guest on the line. Harper, are you there?” he asked, looking up toward the ceiling dramatically.
“Hi, Cade. Yes, I’m here. Thanks for having me call in,” a familiar voice said.
“Harper Wilks, everybody, the young cyber expert Ajaya has mentioned a time or ten,” Cade said.
“She doesn’t even have a degree in the field,” Aaron protested.
“Oh? It’s my understanding that Harper grew up actually inside the Zone. That she was trained by her genius mother and that she’s had more time interacting with computers through advanced neuroprothesis than maybe anyone alive. Is it true, Doctor Ewald, that she just simply got up and walked out of a secure and guarded cell inside Zone Defense itself? And that no one in the entire Homeland Security or national intelligence apparatus has been able to track or find her since she left? Those are pretty good credentials, if you ask me,” Cade said.
“Thanks, Cade. Hey Ajaya, what’s up?”
“Hi, Harper. Thanks for my gifts.”
“Well, you sent one of them right back to help me, so you’re welcome and thank you too.”
“You do know that you’re hosting an FBI Most Wanted felon on your show, right?” Yoshida asked.
“Sure. Freedom of speech, Major, freedom of speech. You’re welcome to try to track her signals, but she doesn’t appear worried,” Cade said.
“Actually, they’ve gotten close a time or two, Cade, so kudos to them. But yeah, good luck pushing this signal back to me.”
“So Harper, do you have any answers for the questions I asked the major and Dr. Ewald?”
“As the old adage goes, sometimes you gotta fight fire with fire. If you’re facing a rogue AI and its algorithmic codes, use another AI against it. I’ve been doing just that from out here. I borrowed some code from Ajaya’s pet drone when we were inside the Zone. After a lot of work, I have isolated and enhanced a subroutine that may be the answer to COBWEB. At least, I think it is. As we speak, it is being sent across the world to every major IT department pretty much everywhere.”
“What about Plum Blossom itself?”
“Well, Ajaya sent his Rikki into the system after it. I’ve been working with Rikki to track and counter it.”
“Will it work?”
“Cade, I would love nothing more than to reassure you and your audience that everything is well in hand, but I can’t. Nobody’s ever had a battle like this before. As Ajaya said, we need to remove computers from the networks, isolate them from contamination, cut the phone lines, so to speak. And Cade, Plum Blossom is a mean motherfucker, sorry for the language but there it is. I will say, however, I’ve never come across an AI like Rikki. Fast and adaptive like nothing I’ve seen before. More adaptive than the Spiders, even. So there’s hope.”
Cade, Yoshida, and Aaron were looking at me. Cade wore a smile, Yoshida was unreadable, and Aaron was shooting lasers with his eyes.
“One thing, though,” I said. “We have to keep it together or we’ll do Plum Blossom’s job for it. Right now, the average American is up in arms for change. I get it. I’m pissed too. I mean, there’s already been, like, seventeen members of Congress who’ve resigned their offices. But we can’t turn the whole thing over a hundred percent or we won’t get anything done… and we’ll lose.”
“So what are you saying, Ajaya?” Cade asked.
“I think we should continue the investigations and find those people at fault, but we also need to do everything in our power to stop the extinction of our species.”
“Like what?”
“Well, I know nothing about the political sociological stuff, so I’ll leave that to the experts. But I know about survival. We’ve already talked about the first step: take the AIs out of circulation and move our vital systems back to more primitive tech. And harden food storage sites, medical facilities, the power grid, and our other vital energy supplies. A runaway self-driving tractor trailer could utterly ruin a power station or a hospital.
“Next, we need to stockpile supplies and create a distribution system that doesn’t rely on AI to get food, water, and medicine to the areas that need it most.
“And third, every citizen of the world needs to prepare for disruption and sacrifice. I don’t mean hoarding supplies and hunkering down in an every-person-for-themselves scenario. That will kill most of us faster than anything. No, we need to prepare ourselves and our families, be ultra-mindful of any kind of waste, be ready to lend a hand to our neighbors, invest in independence.”
“That’s all fine to say, Ajaya, but what the hell does that look like?” Cade asked.
“Cade, I’ve spent more time inside the Zone than anyone alive. Do you have any idea of how many people died on Drone night and in the days after because they were helpless to save themselves? People ran each other over, people walked right into kill zones because they were so focused on their phones and their technology that they couldn’t think for themselves. A Crab bot, Cade, is smaller than an old-fashioned toaster oven. I can kill one with a fire extinguisher or a garbage can. Yet I found multiple bodies of people who were killed together by a single Crab because they froze or panicked, or most commonly, weren’t aware of their surroundings. We need to reach back and remember our ancestors’ mindsets. The people who lived off the land and weren’t always at the top of the food chain. Because, Cade, we’re not at the top of this food chain and it’s our own damned fault.”
Chapter 25
Full disclosure: I’d rather be in the Zone than continue to live in the spotlight. Some people do really well as the focal point for a movement, a wave of societal disruption, or even a revolution. Not me. I know nothing about public opinion, politics, societal constructs, or changing a government. Yet as the person who brought it to national attention, people demanded my presence at every meeting, my involvement in every decision, my words in every news blog or television event. It didn’t matter how many times I told them that I wasn’t qualified to render an opinion or make a decision, they still needed my seal of approval.
When I was a kid, I vaguely remember a national movement that rocked all levels of American society. It was mainly sexual harassment but also sexual discrimination, and it was big. What was happening now was even bigger. Politicians, generals, public officials, and corporate leaders were being investigated or resigning or even jailed as the American people, backed up by the rest of the world, demanded justice. But that was just the tip of the iceberg. The real architects of Drone Night had yet to be revealed.
Throughout the next few weeks, Sarah Jarit was my saving grace, along with Astrid Johnson. I had shamelessly pulled Astrid into the mix as quickly as I could. Not because of my own cowardice in the face of so much fame and attention, but because I already knew how much better at handling it she would be.
Sarah was connected to the right people, and her ability to judge character and intent was invaluable. Astrid was already well-known and already linked with me, but what people hadn’t realized was how really bright she was. Her past interviews on Zone War had never drawn on her deep insights and understanding of the human animal before. And people still stereotype: That stunning blonde was certainly beautiful but must be dumb as a stump. Wrong. Way wrong. So I quickly pushed the two of them into the forefront of the tsunami that was sweeping the nation from one end to the other. That gave me just enough room to do what I could to help Harper and, once again, the defense complex, led by Zone Defense, with the fight against Plum Blossom.
While Astrid worked in a very visible role, Sarah worked from behind the scenes, and between the two of them, I was quickly regulated to public appearances and a few key meetings or televised events.
Any time that I could wrestle away from those endeavors was spent working with both Yoshida’s scientists and Weber’s programmers, offering ideas and insights where I
could. Mainly, I was useful for telling the world what we needed it to do to fight back. Humans are stubborn, self-focused creatures. There were corporate leaders and bureaucrats who quietly refused to attempt to change out their sophisticated AI-driven systems for clunky old-fashioned human-driven replacements. But with Harper finding them and then me berating them on a global stage, most quickly fell in line. Of course, some were too late. An important hydroelectric dam in Europe was lost when its expert system first locked all the spillways completely shut right after massive storms had fallen upstream, then over-pressurized the intake system and blew out the entire turbine system. An automated water management system in a huge Chinese retirement community spread Legionnaires’ disease-laden water to every room and apartment in the complex. Sixty percent of the residents died. Within days of each other, American and Russian farming robots went wild, destroying untold acres of soy, corn, and wheat crops in both countries.
We saved more than we didn’t, but the cumulative losses were building. I was now living in a separate building on the Zone Defense campus, in what used to be the graduate hotel of the Cornell Tech campus. It was near the front gate and I came and went as I wanted. But it was still guarded, and so was I. A small group of Strike Force personnel, under the command of Sergeant Akachi Rift, wearing civilian clothes with covert weapons, acted as my bodyguards at all times. And I needed them. If it was shocking to find myself in front of huge crowds or protesters who cheered when I walked onto a stage, then it was way more so to have attackers hurl Molotov cocktails at my transport vehicle or charge the front of the room I was speaking in. Say what you want about the corrupt government, but our military people were the best in the business. Nobody got close. Ironic that I was the principal whistleblower and yet was being protected by the very government I had turned over. But, as I constantly forced myself to remember, it wasn’t the whole government, just parts of it. Highly placed, still very, very dangerous parts of it. I found out just how dangerous firsthand.
We were at the Brooklyn Cruise Terminal, down on the waterfront area of Red Hook. Cruise line participation dropped precipitously in the aftermath of the Spider Fight, as it was known. Reasonable, right? Who wants to take a cruise on a giant floating AI-run ocean vessel when it was announced that all AI was suddenly suspect? I mean, people were pretty suspicious of their household smart appliances, let alone a ship.
On a side note, smart range tops and ovens, at least the gas-burning ones, blew up more than a few homes before they got shut down across the world. Not much for a microwave or refrigerator to do, but anything with flame and gas was suddenly deadly to humans.
Anyway, I digress. Astrid had accompanied me to the unveiling of the first retrofitted cruise ships. The transition and advisory team Sarah had put together thought it would be important to the suddenly struggling economy if I came out to support the new “old-school” ships. The cruise lines were making a big deal of the increased human jobs and customer service that the non-AI ships would provide.
So, hand in hand, we toured the two ships, met the captains, signed autographs for the brave passengers (who were getting a hell of a discount) and each gave a short speech at the front of the embarkation terminal. Astrid’s speech was better—it had actual content, whereas mine was mostly my own off-the-cuff observations about the ships and their crews. I finished my speech first and turned it over to Astrid. While she was talking, I looked around for our security detail and didn’t find a single familiar face.
The cruise line’s chief of security noticed my glances and came right over. “Your team got called away. Some kind of emergency call-up in the Zone. A backup team is on the way to take over but in the meantime, I assured them that my folks were more than up to the task,” he said. I suddenly recalled his name, David McPhee.
“That’s completely out of protocol,” I said.
He smiled a little, like maybe I didn’t know exactly what I was talking about.
“See, I wrote most of the protocol,” I added. “You know… ’cause I actually know something about staying alive in hostile territory.”
His smile disappeared as he suddenly remembered who I was instead of who I had become over the last few weeks. He shrugged. “I don’t know any more than I just told you. But we’ve got good people and there’s a pretty heavy NYPD presence here too. You should be fine until the backup people get here.”
“When did they leave?”
“Just as you went out to speak. Like, before your introduction was even done.”
According to our jointly agreed-upon plans, in the event something happened that my on-site security couldn’t handle, a group of armored troops from the Instant Response Strike Force would ride in on an Airdragon Recon quad-rotor. They should already be here. And it would make no sense to pull unarmored personnel, who were lightly armed with sidearms, for a call up when they had the standby troops already in powered exosuits, armed with heavy weapons, ready to move.
I could feel an unstoppable frown form on my face as I stepped back and placed a call. It took a few seconds because none of us were using personal AI assistants anymore. Instead we had super primitive, super simple phones, the cheap kind that you can literally throw away after just a few uses.
“Zone Defense,” a male voice answered.
“This is Hot Topic actual. Patch me through to the IRSF duty officer,” I said.
“Standby Hot Topic, connecting now.”
So old school, but so necessary.
“Lieutenant Gallivan,” came a new voice. I didn’t know that name, which meant he probably wasn’t actually part of IRSF.
“Lieutenant, this is Hot Topic actual. Where is my team?”
“Nobody told you? There’s been a big call up inside the Zone. We don’t have details but orders came down for every IRSF active team member to head in. That’s why I got handed the duty slot—there’s not a single member of the Strike Force still here.”
“General Davis ordered this?”
“Ah no. The orders came from Washington,” he said. I hung up.
“What’s the matter?” McPhee asked, frowning at my expression.
“Yeah, what’s wrong?” Astrid asked as she stepped closer. Some part of me had been aware that her speaking part had ended but most of my brain was inflamed with a sudden nameless dread.
“Something major is wrong. Our team got called off by Washington.”
“Dammit!” Astrid said, which wasn’t exactly what I expected but matched my own sense of alarm. She was looking all around, immediately scanning for threats. Mr. McPhee looked simultaneously bemused by her response and slightly wary
While she was watching, I turned back to my phone and immediately started awkwardly typing on it. I have a few memories of my mom typing on an old style iPhone when I was really little. She had grown up with them and the speed of her thumbs flying across the screen had fascinated young me. But my generation had grown up with personal AI; we were expert at short-word verbal commands. Thumb typing? Not so much.
“We need to get out of here,” I said, finally sending my text message to Harper. Astrid nodded, her left hand pulling the edge of her shirt up enough to reach the top of the tights she wore under her skirt. The grip of a small pistol was just visible against the tanned skin of her flat stomach and as her hand touched it, McPhee’s expression changed to alarm.
“Wait… what are you doing? You’re safe here, my people have this,” he said. Then his head exploded, the sharp crack of a hypersonic electro-magnetic bullet coming a split-second later.
We both ducked down instantly, our hands almost simultaneously filled with the sidearms that Sarah had insisted the authorities allow us to carry. Bits of bone, brain, and blood spattered both of us, but we ignored it, concentrating on getting behind the nearest concrete retaining wall.
Even as we scuttled to cover, other security staff were falling to the sniper’s rapid fire. Two armed guards, a man and a woman, were killed with barely a second’s space between sho
ts.
An NYPD cop died next, the bullet blasting through both sides of his body armor like it wasn’t there.
