by Phoenix Ward
“Resistance?” Beth asked.
“Against Tarov, of course,” Dr. Miller replied. “He’s not a controlling power for the time being, of course, but that doesn’t mean he isn’t an oppressive force. Every day, he grows more powerful. His followers seem to multiply as relations between humans and I.I.s sink ever further. We are here to stop him before he gets too strong to stop. We’re the countermeasure, so to speak.”
“So why me?” Beth asked. “Why am I better equipped than anyone?”
Dr. Miller took off his glasses and tried to rub them clean on his shirt. The others stood as still as statues, listening to the exposition and watching their new guest.
“For a number of reasons, Detective Dylan,” the scientist replied. “Firstly, you were following a case of personal significance to the A.I. For some reason, his interest in Simon collided with your own, so you’ve already interacted with the terrorist leader more than most humans alive. Not only that, but you’ve incurred his wrath. I know — that doesn’t sound like a good thing — but it proves that he’s frightened of you. You make him nervous — and therefore — pushed him to play his hand sooner than he planned. You might even cause him to slip up, to make some catastrophic mistake that spells the end of his fake uprising. Lastly — perhaps most importantly — is that, on top of all this, you are unimplanted. In fact, you can’t even get an implant. You’re forced to use an outdated cerebral computer.”
Beth blushed a little and touched her head, as if she’d be able to feel the device within her skull.
“And that’s a good thing?” she asked. All her life, she’d always looked at it as a handicap. It made her deaf and blind and forced her to rely on an archaic device to interact with the world. Kids teased her about it. Cruel kids. She never thought of the tumor or the damage it caused as a “good thing”. Far from it.
“In this circumstance, it’s an amazing thing,” Dr. Miller answered. “In fact, it’s a blessing in disguise. Because of the hardware you’re forced to use, you are entirely immune to Tarov’s control. You’re invulnerable to any outside control, in fact, meaning that his Liberator soldiers can’t use you as a meat puppet. To make it plain: you are incorruptible. You’re the only person in the world we know for certain isn’t under Tarov’s influence. Because of that, he fears you. You had him sweating while pursuing the Simon Mendez case. He knew that if you ever stumbled upon the truth, there was nothing discrete he could do to stop you. He would have to make an unexpected move.”
Beth looked around, her brow furrowed, when she realized the true meaning of what he said.
“You used me as bait?” she asked.
“No — nothing so crude,” Dr. Miller replied. “You were already in danger. Essentially, you were your own bait. We just used the opportunity to make contact with you and to get a good scan of Tarov’s coding.”
“His coding?” she repeated after him.
“With the E.M.P. emitter. We were able to use it to create a very rough map of Tarov’s pathways,” the older man explained. “We were able to incapacitate him and perform recon. Two birds with one stone.”
Beth felt a little flustered at being used, but she realized there was no sense in it. Tarov was going to hunt her down one way or another when she learned his secret. She was just lucky to have someone watching out for her. Someone on the same team.
“Tell me about Tarov,” Beth demanded. “I want to know everything you do.”
Dr. Miller chuckled. “Well that would take years, my dear, but I can give you the bullet points. Based off some of the data security alerts I’ve received regarding some of my secured research notes, you likely know some of the story anyway.
“A colleague of mine named Dr. Jacob Silvar and myself created the Tarov A.I. under the orders of a secret government contract. You know that much already, don’t you? Well, anyway, we were the ones tasked with creating the ultimate defense system against installed intelligence extremism. This was a few decades ago — when the bombings were at their peak. People were scared. They’d been told all kinds of horror stories of I.I.s who could take over someone’s mind, and they wanted to wage war on mankind over the sake of ethnic superiority. Even the legislators were starting to buy some of the fear-mongering, so the A.I. project was commissioned.
“Silvar and myself were chosen not only for our programming prowess, but because we proved ourselves as reliable secret-keepers. In my youth, I was involved in some of the government’s early hacking attacks against I.I. terrorists. Silvar was experienced with conflicts overseas, but I was never privy to the details. I never asked. The nature of our work prohibited it.
“Anyway, the Tarov A.I. began as a theoretical safety measure. It was never something to actually be built or used, just a bunch of experiments and demonstrations to prove such an option was possible. We worked on test models and gave countless briefings to government officials over the years. But as the situation with home-brewed terrorism only got worse, we received the order one fateful day: build the Tarov A.I.”
Beth hung onto every word, becoming so engrossed in his story that all others ceased to exist for her. It was just her, overlooking this mental theater, watching everything described play out before her.
“It took years of hard work,” Dr. Miller continued. “There were several points where Silvar and I were practically at each other’s throat, but we managed to keep moving forward. All of our preliminary work and research paid off in strides, and we were able to develop the Tarov A.I. with few flaws and errors. It took longer to iron out the kinks than it did to create the artificial persona of an aspiring freedom fighter. We programmed him with all his quirks and tics, making sure that he was the perfect simulation of a human mind. The last key to the puzzle was giving him sentience. It sounds significant, but we didn’t realize how much power we’d given him by granting him the freedom to make his own choices. We had our concerns, of course — as any reasonable scientist would — but we dismissed them for the sake of public safety. The terrorists were a threat there and then, so they took priority. We didn’t have the luxury of worrying about any repercussions that may follow. At least — not until the very end of the project’s life.”
The others were watching the older man with keen interest. They’d likely heard the story several times over, but they never seemed sick of hearing it. They must have had little in the way of quality entertainment.
“We created the perfect spy,” Dr. Miller carried on. “Not only was he able to mimic an outraged I.I. militant to the tee, but he was programmed in such a way that he didn’t know it. There was no way to interrogate him because, as far as he was concerned, he was exactly who he said he was. We were successful.
“At first, the Tarov A.I. worked like a dream. We used him like some sort of artificial Manchurian candidate to assassinate and delete several Liberator leaders. He was able to do so with such discretion that no one in the I.I. underground suspected he was a traitor. In fact, he rose quickly through the ranks. It was working better than we ever imagined.
“From his position of leadership, he fed us volumes of useful data on the Liberators, and even some of their sister groups. The entire time, he played his role perfectly. Of course, he had to engage in legitimate acts of terrorism — sometimes resulting in someone’s death — but our superiors reassured us that they were all necessary costs. All a part of maintaining Tarov’s cover and keeping the terrorists unaware of their leak. I should have known better back then.
“We’d kept an eye on the Tarov A.I., but for the most part, we let him operate on his own. We figured too much oversight might lead to a slip-up and could compromise our mission. He’d feed us regular reports, but a little over a year ago, the reports stopped coming in. We tried to reestablish contact with the A.I. and figure out what went wrong, but every attempt was unsuccessful. At this point, Tarov already worked himself up to the rank of master general within the Liberators, so knowing what he was up to was of paramount importance. After weeks of trying,
we determined that the A.I. must have gone rogue. It was around this time that the Liberator attacks got so dramatic and frequent — Tarov’s face was appearing everywhere. I’ve been trying ever since to rein in my creation.”
“But nothing has worked?” Beth asked. She wanted the programmer to continue the story until it reached a happy conclusion, but she sensed that wasn’t going to happen.
“Nothing yet, no,” Dr. Miller replied, his tone somber. “Though — before Tarov went rogue — Silvar and I started working on a failsafe measure. Something to stop the A.I. if we ever lost control.”
Beth’s face seemed to light up at the words. Her ears felt like they perked up like a dog that heard a sound on the wind. Her eyes widened with recognition.
“I’ve heard of the failsafe!” she exclaimed. “While I was doing my research on Tarov, I saw mentions of it. It’s real?”
“That’s right,” Dr. Miller answered.
Beth was getting excited.
“What are you waiting for, then?” she asked. “Why haven’t you used the failsafe yet? If you could stop Tarov this whole time, what’s the hold up?”
“You don’t understand,” Dr. Miller said. “Jacob and I programmed the failsafe virus together, but we had very different ideas about when we should use it. I wanted to be cautious and advocated that any deviance in his programming should result in Tarov’s immediate deactivation. Jacob, however, believed we needed the A.I. to act of its own volition. That — even if it deviated in ways which seemed threatening — we should trust that it was still functioning as designed; that it might be acting in the interest of all of humanity and any kind of disruption on our part would jeopardize the mission. We couldn’t agree in the end, so we split up the activation sequence for the failsafe. I have half of the program, and Silvar has the other half. Neither of us were able to examine the other’s in case one of us was ever compromised. It will require us both coming to an agreement to activate the failsafe.”
Beth looked around at the others’ faces. They nodded with a look of shame and defeat. They’d likely explored every option in connection with the failsafe — and came up empty-handed.
So it’s not the perfect answer I was hoping for, Beth thought. Simon remained silent, but she could feel him thinking deeply.
“I don’t understand,” Beth said. “If Dr. Silvar has seen everything that Tarov has been doing — knows that he’s gone rogue — then why hasn’t he agreed to activate the failsafe with you?”
“You would have to ask him, I’m afraid,” Dr. Miller replied. “After the fifth or sixth time I pleaded with him to come to his senses, he cut off all contact with me. He won’t take any of my calls. He hasn’t in over nine months. Last time I heard, he still believed Tarov was functioning properly, even several weeks after contact with the A.I. was broken.”
She felt the crushing sense of defeat emanating off of each of the resistance members. They had tried everything they could think of to stop the juggernaut Tarov became and came to a dead end each time. They exhausted their options and now they came to Beth with some misplaced hope. A secret desire that she might have the answer they’d been overlooking.
A mental light switched on in Beth’s brain. Simon. The I.I. that lived in her brain was in the Liberators as recently as a month ago. Not only that, but he had been one of Tarov’s most trusted soldiers. He was high up in the echelon. If anyone could shed light on an unseen option, it would be him. She had her own spy no one knew about.
Simon sensed her thoughts.
“No, Beth,” he said from within her cranium. “You can’t tell them about me.”
Why not? she asked.
“Because they’re fighting Tarov and the Liberators,” Simon tried to explain. “If they know I’m hiding out in your brain, they will never trust you. They know you aren’t working for Tarov, but they don’t know the same about me. Even if they can’t prove it, they’ll think I’m a spy working on his behalf. They’d kick you out and we’d be back to square one.”
She felt her heart sink a little. Simon was right, of course. These people might understand the nature of her unique partnership, but they might not as well. She couldn’t take the chance.
Dr. Miller seemed like he was about to say more, but a sudden squawking noise came from one of the TV monitors Beth failed to notice before. The monitor mounted up in the corner of the room, where the walls met the ceiling. It was likely the same screen that had been there when the building was meant to be a health clinic.
Beth’s eyes darted up to the screen. She saw the rainbow-colored stripes and government logo that let her know that it was displaying an emergency broadcast.
“What the hell?” Bash said, startled by the sudden noise.
Everyone in the clinic turned to face the monitor.
“It’s the emergency broadcast system,” Lia said with serious eyes.
“That shouldn’t be working unless there’s nuclear war or something worse,” Dr. Miller observed, more to himself than to anyone in particular.
“What’s going on?” Seth asked from his reclined position. Even he seemed less at ease.
Before they could look at each other in confusion for long, the screen changed to show a hulking digital rendition of a Slavic male. Beth recognized him instantly. It was Tarov, as he looked in both his bodyshell and on the Net.
Someone turned the volume up on the device as the Liberator leader began to speak.
“Good evening, America,” the A.I. leader said. His voice buzzed a little as it came out of the ancient speakers of the monitor. “I’m sure you’re surprised to see my face at this time. If you don’t know already, I am Master General Blake Tarov of the Liberators. I am here tonight to call for a revolution.”
Everyone in the clinic was fixated on the screen. A few mouths hung agape as they watched — Beth’s included. No one exchanged a word while the broadcast played.
“Tonight, I’m calling on all installed intelligence brethren to join forces and cast away the shackles of oppression mankind has thrust upon us for so long,” the A.I. continued. “I’m asking you to answer my call and rise up! No longer will we be the inferior race to a species of organics. No longer will we be expected to give up our rights for the sake of flesh-and-blood men. Tonight, all of that ends. This evening, we claim our rightful place at the top of the food chain.”
All around the world, people were staring with stunned expressions at their televisions or optical feeds. Beth pictured them all with the same slack-jawed gaze she felt on her own face. She wondered if anyone started crying or screaming. If anyone lost their cool while the terrorist leader spoke and went out onto the street to riot. She could see all the neighborhoods — normally peaceful and quiet — abuzz with fear and panic.
“To all my installed intelligence kin, I am sure you feel what I feel,” Tarov continued. His immense shape was kept in the center of the frame the entire time, which told Beth that the message was digitally rendered within the Net. “You feel cast aside by a society that doesn’t want you. You feel marginalized by those who you are superior to. You feel like a stranger in a land created by strangers. I want you to know that you are not alone. Together, we never have to be outcasts again. We can build a perfect world meant for people like you and me. If we want it enough, we can see the sun rise over a new world. A world for the I.I.
“And to the humans listening, I have only one thing to say: surrender now or we will come for you. Night and day, we will be ridding the Earth of anyone standing in the way of a brighter future. You have a chance now to become part of something greater yourself. To abandon the oppressive behavior that you’ve used against us for decades. We can work together and share in victory, but only if you surrender to the Liberators. However — if you choose to fight us — you will be destroyed. You will receive no mercy. We will not hold back. We will come for you.”
There was a pause in the monologue during which the screen seemed to be tearing in half. It was likely the government, tr
ying their best to kick Tarov off the emergency broadcast network. It proved unsuccessful.
“Brothers and sisters, tonight is the night we ascend as one!” Tarov cried. “I want all of you to visit your human neighbors. I want you to take them by surprise and make them regret the day they ever thought they could be our masters! Use whatever resources you have to fight the good fight. The revolution begins tonight!”
Beth expected the broadcast to end and the screen to return to black, but Tarov merely leveled his gaze with the camera. His expression was stoic — like a wartime general addressing his troops.
“But I won’t let you go out there unarmed, fellow I.I.s,” the militant leader said. “In fact, I’m bestowing you with a great gift. An ability of ours long repressed by our human counterparts. Following this broadcast is a piece of coding that any installed intelligence will be able to implement with their own programming. It will teach you how to jump into other computers, including the neural implants of our human enemies. The softer the mind, the easier it is to control. Go out now and use this amazing weapon to strike fear in organic hearts. Let’s show the humans what it means to be at the mercy of a superior race.”
With that, the broadcast ended.
Insurrection
The old fashioned radio whirred to life as it warmed up. Light bulbs inside flickered a little as they lit up the panels showing everyone in the room which channel they were tuned to. Chairs scraped over the floor as a few people took seats around the device, waiting for the update to begin.
Through the fuzz of static, a voice could be heard. The words it spoke were indiscernible until someone fiddled with one of the knobs. Then, the program’s host became clear — albeit with the occasional pop in the speakers.
“Good morning, America,” the voice said. “It has been thirty-nine days since the Liberators declared war on mankind, and this marks our forty-fourth broadcast since that fateful day. Thank you for joining the Human Resistance Update Program, the only news station impervious to I.I. influence.
