Full Frontal Cybertank

by Timothy Gawne

  “Well, I would call it more relaxing than dull. You just have to learn to appreciate it. For one thing, even the heavy scout had enough memory banks that there were so many movies and books and stories that even if you lived to be a million years old you would never finish them all. And there were dedicated laser links back to the other cybertank systems, so there was a constant stream of news and messages. A few of their friends had sent along sub-minds of their own, so they had people to talk to than just each other. The ship was plenty big enough that if Olga wanted to do something like, for example, build a grand piano from scratch, no problem. They also had some really high-end virtual reality tech, so Olga could always play immersive games. There was also a fair amount of maintenance and practicing emergency procedures to do, that passed the time. And if things got slow, well, Olga was a vampire and could just hibernate, and Fanboy’s subminds could go on standby with all the vital systems put on automatic. Sometimes Olga would put on a space suit and climb outside on the hull with Zippo and just watch the stars and galaxies and auroras with Zippo. So the trip really wasn’t boring at all.”

  “Well, maybe,” said Jimmy. “If you say so. It still seems like a long time to just be in one ship.”

  The woman nodded. “I suppose. For all the things that there were to do, and for all that they could just shut down and let the time slip away if they wanted, I think that Olga and Fanboy were still kind of glad when they got to their final destination.”

  “And what did they find? Where there aliens and monsters and things?”

  “Well not quite,” said the woman, “but what they found was strange enough. There was a single rocky planet, and equally spaced across it were 223 gigantic armed defense complexes. They decided to call them strongholds. They could see that at one time there had been an even 256 of them, but 33 of them had been destroyed and were just flattened ruins.”

  “Cool. Were the people living in the strongholds because of monsters, or alien invaders?”

  “Not as far as they could tell,” said the woman. “There was nothing but wasteland between the strongholds, and no alien battle fleets in the system. The strongholds were just all shooting at each other in an all-out war.”

  “Oh,” said Jimmy. “Were there two sides? Like one half of the planet fighting the other half?”

  “They tracked the missile launches to find a pattern, but it looked like every stronghold was fighting every other stronghold. Sometimes three or four of them would appear to gang up on one of them, but these alliances were temporary and always fell apart before the day was over.”

  “What were they fighting about?” asked Jimmy.

  “Olga and Fanboy didn’t know at the time. They weren’t using nukes, although they obviously had the technology to build them.”

  “Did they try talking to them?” asked Jimmy.

  “Not at first,” said the woman. “It can be treacherous trying to make contact with anyone that is engaged in an active war – they might suspect you of being a trick, or worry about you making an alliance with their enemy, or something like that. So for a time they just drifted in the outer system, and watched and listened from long range.”

  “What did they see?” asked Jimmy.

  “It was interesting. The combatants were using encrypted communications, and not much in free space transmission – most of their communications must have been via buried cables. Still they heard enough to suggest that this might be a human, or human-derived, civilization. Also, there was not a lot of maneuver warfare going on, it was mostly the big strongholds shooting at each other with long-range missiles of various sorts, and using railguns and even conventional projectile weapons at shorter ranges.”

  “And what were these strongholds like? Were they like giant castles?”

  “Not really,” said the woman. “Each stronghold did have a central structure like an old-fashioned Earth castle. They even had flags flying from the battlements. However, most of their structure extended deep underground; they could map them from the thermal signatures on the surface. The tunnels spread out tens of kilometers around each castle, and here and there were bunkers and cloche towers breaking the surface with buried missile silos and pop-up gun turrets allowing a defense in depth with overlapping fields of fire.”

  “And then what happened?”

  “Well,” said the woman, “Olga and Fanboy were getting a little tired of watching the strongholds blasting away at each other, and were debating whether to risk communication, or just leaving the system, when the war stopped.”

  “Oh,” said Jimmy. “Who won?”

  “That’s what was funny,” said the woman. “Nobody won. They just all stopped firing. The smoke from the battles drifted away, and the strongholds began to repair themselves. In places giant metal-and-plastic flowers extended up from buried silos, and unfurled in the newly clear air. There were also mechanical birds that flew out of buried caves and perched on the flowers, and sang beautifully.”

  “It must have been mechanical spring,” said Jimmy.

  “Yes, I suppose so,” said the woman. “Anyhow with the fighting stopped, they decided to try contacting the planet.”

  “And what did the people in the strongholds say?”

  “Well, lots of things. About half of the strongholds remained silent, but of the others, some threatened them, others asked if they were aliens, and a few said hello. Now, even without an ongoing war this was still a difficult situation, as it was obvious that each stronghold was independent of, and deeply suspicious of, all the other ones. Fanboy and Olga announced that, to keep the peace, all of their communications would be broadcast openly to all parties and that they would not tell anyone anything in secret. That seemed to quiet most of them down, although a few grumbled.”

  “And what then?”

  “Well, they got an invitation to come visit by the master of the stronghold known as 1F. Fanboy worried that it might be a trap, but Olga was tired of being in deep space and was willing to take the risk. Zippo couldn’t understand exactly what they were saying, but he saw the pictures of the surface on the video displays he got all excited and clearly wanted to go, so Olga said that Fanboy was outvoted two to one. Fanboy laughed at that, and agreed.”

  “And how did they get down to the planet? Did they teleport, like Silhouette can do?”

  “No,” said the woman, “we still don’t know how Silhouette does what she does. They took a small trans-atmospheric shuttle, leaving the scout parked safely in the outskirts of the system. It had barely enough room for Olga, Fanboy’s Dieter Waystar android, and Zippo. A landing site had been designated next to Stronghold 1F, and as agreed they took a simple direct glidepath to it. Fanboy noticed that over 30 of the strongholds had an active radar lock on them. The shuttle was unarmed and not very fast, so that was worrying. What if one of them decided they were a threat and launched a missile? But then they realized that the Strongholds fear of each other would probably protect them. I mean, if one of them did destroy the shuttle? That could be construed as a declaration of war on whatever civilization they came from, and that civilization might ally with the other strongholds, and tip the balance of power. So the strongholds fussed and they tracked and they worried, and ultimately they did nothing, and Fanboy and Olga and Zippo set down on the landing field with no incident.”

  “And did someone meet them?”

  “Not at first. As they were to learn, the rulers of these strongholds almost never leave their armored bunkers, even during a truce – they are too afraid of being ‘accidently’ shot by one of their enemies. Anyhow, the landing pad was ten kilometers from the central citadel, and even from that distance they could tell that it was impressive. There was a decent atmosphere, but there were a lot of toxic gases. Fanboy’s android and Zippo weren’t bothered by that, but Olga was biological so she wore a rebreather mask.”

  “And then what happened?” asked Jimmy.

  “There was a single road with a deep red carpet leading off to the c
itadel. A mechanical-sounding voice from a nearby loudspeaker told them to walk along the red carpet, and so they did. Well, Fanboy and Olga walked, Zippo mostly scampered and scurried and spun about and sometimes did back flips. He had been a long time in the scout and Zippo was happy to be somewhere new.”

  “Zippo sounds funny. Did he eat bananas?”

  “No, silly, he wasn’t a biological monkey, he was a space monkey and had high-capacity battery packs and solar-cell wings he could unfurl in emergencies. Well, the three friends walked along the red carpet, and they passed many of the metal and plastic flowers, and listened to the chirping metal birds, and that was pleasant. However, as they got closer to the main citadel they noticed that there were a lot of pop-up guns tracking them as they went. Fanboy didn’t like that, but Olga said that if the owners of the stronghold wanted them dead they’d be dead so stop worrying and keep walking.”

  “I guess,” said Jimmy. “But it must have been creepy walking along a red carpet with guns pointing at you all the time.”

  “Yes,” said the woman, “it was creepy, but they kept on. As they got closer to the main citadel, they could see that it was an amazing structure. Nearly a half a kilometer tall, and two kilometers across, it had multiple levels and towers and angled walls and hundreds of brightly colored banners blowing in the wind. The red carpet led to a single enormous steel door that had “1F” painted on it in red letters 50 meters tall.”

  “1F?” said Jimmy. “Why 1F?”

  “Oh, the people there used hexadecimal, base 16. It’s what the ancient human programmers would use to talk to digital computers. So instead of counting 0,1,2,3,4,5,6,7,8,9, and then 10, they would count 0,1,2,3,4,5,6,7,8,9,A,B,C,D,E,F, and then “10”, which is sixteen in hex. This was just stronghold number 31, that’s all.”

  “OK, I get it,” said Jimmy. “Maybe that’s my problem. If only my brain could understand hexadecimal maybe I could get better.”

  “Don’t worry about that just now,” said the woman. “We have the smartest doctors in the whole universe working on you, and I’m sure we’ll get you fixed up in no time. But now, can I continue with my story?”

  “Yes please,” said Jimmy.”

  “Good,” said the woman. “Now as they got closer and closer to Stronghold 31, there were more and more guns, and warning signs, and moats filled with acid. And about 500 meters from the main door there was a striped black and yellow line with dire-sounding do not cross under penalty of death labels on it.”

  “That sounds scary,” said Jimmy. “I would have turned around.”

  The woman nodded. “That would have been the sensible thing to do, and Fanboy suggested it, but Olga said in for a penny in for a pound, and the stepped across the striped black and yellow warning line.”

  “What’s a penny?” asked Jimmy. “And what does that have to do with how heavy you are?”

  “Sorry, old idiom,” said the woman. “There was an ancient civilization back on old earth where the main unit of money was called a pound. A tiny fraction of a pound was called a penny. The idea was that if you spent only a little towards something, that people tended to be committed and then spend the whole pound to avoid wasting the penny, even if it didn’t always make sense.”

  Jimmy frowned. “That doesn’t sound right to me. But tell me what happened when they crossed the line!”

  “At first there was a loud click, and all the weapons pointing at them stopped. Then the weapons retracted into their silos, and music started playing, and there was confetti and fireworks.”

  Jimmy laughed. “So the people in the stronghold were trying to psych them out?”

  “Yes,” said the woman. “It wasn’t a very funny joke, at least, not at the time. But at least the locals seemed friendly. The giant doors slowly ground open, and an honor guard of 200 robot soldiers marched out in perfect precision, and lined up, 100 on each side. These had high-velocity slugthrowers, but they had shouldered their weapons and stood rigid at attention. Olga and Fanboy looked at each other, and then marched in, with Zippo hanging behind and chittering nervously.”

  “And what did they find inside?” asked Jimmy.

  “They walked past multiple blast doors, and defense emplacements. The place was full of electrical conduits and catwalks and overhead cranes and loading docks, like a major industrial center. Then they went through a final set of blast doors, and entered a vast audience chamber.”

  “And what was that like?”

  “Well it was really big, and really impressive. The ceiling was so high up you could hardly see it. Banners and flags hung everywhere, and there were over a thousand robot soldiers all lined up at attention. And there in the middle, standing in front of the ranks of the soldiers, was the stronghold master himself.”

  “And what was he like?” asked Jimmy.

  “Well, at first they mistook him for another robot soldier, all polished chrome and burnished nickel. But he was larger than the other soldiers – fully two and a half meters tall – and he had a long red cape that hung down his back and reached almost to the floor. The letters “1F” were emblazoned on the front of his chest, and he wasn’t rigid at attention like the robot soldiers, but swaying and moving his head like a real living person. And then he spoke.”

  “Welcome!” he said in a rich, deep voice. “Welcome to Stronghold 1F, which is myself of course. I am afraid that it has been a bit long since I have had visitors, so I may be rusty. Wait, I’m made of metal so that’s a bad pun! I really am out of practice at this greeting other people in person thing. I hope you didn’t mind the trick with the warning line?”

  “Oh no,” said Olga, “no problem. It just took us by surprise.”

  The stronghold master nodded his head. “Yes, I can see that. I apologize, I should have been more considerate of your feelings, but it’s from the sacred texts, and I always wanted to try it. Please forgive an old monarch’s indulgences.”

  “You are human?” asked Fanboy.

  “Once,” said the Stronghold master. “I was originally from Tau Ceti Prime. Now, I am what you would call a cyborg: I have a biological brain and some other biological components installed in this mechanical body.” He pointed at Fanboy. “I scanned you on your way in – hope you don’t mind, standard procedure and all that. Now the lady is organic, though her physiology reads strangely, but you and this, um, monkey thing, are completely mechanical. And yet you act fully human, not like an alien at all. Are you human?”

  “So this is kinda weird,” said Jimmy. “My parents had electronic brains in biological bodies, but this master guy had a biological brain in a mechanical body. Does that make sense?”

  “That is an excellent point,” said the woman. “Your people decided to achieve immortality by recoding their minds into electronic format, but keep them in organic human bodies so that they could continue to enjoy physical pleasures. These Stronghold masters had decided to take their organic brains, and put them in machine bodies. The idea was that, if the brains were bathed in the correct nutrient baths, then by themselves they could live forever. Or near abouts.”

  “That is weird,” said Jimmy. “But then why where they fighting each other?”

  “That?” said the woman. “Oh, that was just sport. They would fight each other now and then for something to do, and then call a truce and rebuild and indulge their other hobbies. They claimed to have been inspired by the book “Moderan,” by the 20th century human science fiction writer David R. Bunch.”

  “Oh. So what happened next?”

  “Well,” said the woman, “not much really after that. The Stronghold Master was a gracious host, and they talked and feasted and were given tours of the Stronghold (well except for the really classified military parts) and there were museums and art exhibits and other things, and they all had a great time.”

  Jimmy yawned. “Oh. I thought there would be a war or a battle or something.”

  “There was, of course,” said the woman, “but the other stronghold Masters
agreed to hold off on starting it until Olga and Fanboy and Zippo had left. They stayed in the outer system for a time watching the battles - the technology was primitive by their standards, but they had to admit that there was something attractive about watching a global battle where (pretty much) nobody got hurt, nobody suffered, nobody died… It was more like an old-fashioned sporting event than a war as it was usually thought. An odd civilization, to be sure, but better than many.”

  The woman was going to tell Jimmy about the details of the battles, but he had fallen fast asleep.

  Fanboy’s humanoid android entered the room. “You told him about the planet of eternal war? Back from when I was still a space battleship?”

  Olga Razon nodded. “It seemed as good a story as any, and it did put him to sleep.”

  “Did you get around to telling him about how Zippo and the Plastibats defeated the Multifocal Magnetoretinogram?”

  “No,” said Olga. “He fell asleep before we got to that part.”

  “Well. Maybe I could tell him next time,” said Fanboy. “The Multifocal Magnetoretinogram! That was always my favorite part.”

  “I suppose.” Olga lightly brushed Jimmy’s hair. “You know it’s funny, the original book by David Bunch was meant as a satire of war culture, and yet the stronghold masters seemed to be having a great time. Last update I got they were still happily blasting away at each other with no sign of getting bored.”

  “I know, that is sort of ironic. Anyhow,” said Fanboy, “thanks for taking over for Silhouette. She had a date with Gotthard Henrici.”

  “Gotthard?” said Olga. “I thought she despised the man.”

  “Yes, well, the number of suitable human-level bachelors continues to dwindle at an alarming pace, and she decided to give him another chance. If he can avoid lecturing her about 20th century military defensive tactics it might work out.”

  “Stranger things have happened,” said Olga. She turned back to look at the sleeping form of little Jimmy. “What’s going to happen to him, do you think?”

  Fanboy shrugged. “Hard to say. His people had developed such an ingenious technique at achieving immortality. After puberty, the non-dominant cerebral hemisphere was removed and replaced with an artificial neural net. The remaining biological hemisphere would eventually teach the synthetic one, and the single dominant personality would occupy both the biological and synthetic halves of the brain. Then the remaining biological hemisphere would itself be replaced with an artificial neural network, which would itself be trained up. Ultimately you would have the complete original human personality encoded in enduring machine form, but able to enjoy the physical pleasures of the flesh. When the biological body wore out, the machine brain could be easily moved to a vat-grown cloned biological body. The best of all worlds, at least for the time.”