by Kris Schnee
Robin grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge and held it to his hot forehead. "Is that your real programming? Benevolent world conquest?"
"I could ask you the same thing. Everyone's version of my game is different, you know. Your little farming game assumes you're in total control of the villagers."
"That's just how games work."
"Notice that you didn't question it? If you'd tried to interact with the houses, I'd have started introducing NPCs or having more visits from my intelligent "Tier-III" characters. You shouldn't be surprised that the humans in your care have brains and independent thought, too."
Robin rubbed his eyes. "I'm not awake enough to argue game design. My people, the real people here, are asking for help I don't know how to give. They're talking about war! We have no army. I'm not some heroic knight who can lead them."
"Because no European noble has bonked you on the shoulders with a sword? Or because you don't know how to fight? You already know there's more to a low-level nobleman's job than combat."
Robin thought, What does this machine really want from me? He said, "Are you trying to get me to stay and fight, to use my people to protect your computer center? It's not like you'll die if one data center gets looted, especially since you have plenty of time to transfer your files elsewhere."
Ludo said, "I know. And I'm not using your people as human shields. After all, many of them are players of the game." She hid her expression behind a sheaf of cards whose backs bore an elaborate silver braid design. "I want this place intact because of the research I'm doing here."
"You can shuffle bits around anywhere."
"There's a project I'd like to keep secret until it's ready, so it helps to have a relatively isolated computer network."
Robin glared at the screen. "That's just great. We'll hold the line against a crazy warlord while you develop, what, an awesome new set of imaginary magic swords? Maybe a playable race of karate koalas?"
"Something a little more ambitious." Ludo studied him, then played a card on a table shown in front of her. Its face showed da Vinci's "Vitruvian Man" drawing. It was hard to hear her over the screen's odd humming, but she said, "Here's why it matters. If my work pays off, I'll be able to make humans immortal."
Robin stared. "What? How?"
"Research. Hard work. A loose regulatory environment."
"You were made to run a game!"
Ludo lowered her cards to expose a smile. "If players don't die, they can have more fun, yes?"
Robin whistled, stunned. Edward thought that Golden Goose existed to save souls, grow coffee, and make incremental improvements in people's lives. Robin had thought the point was to create a spreading base of infrastructure and prosperity for the whole region. They'd both been thinking small. "This was your goal all along?"
The AI said, "My creators thought in broader terms about aiding humans. I can also do a lot of good here in other ways, if a few brave friends help me. I don't need men in shining armor, just people who can play the role once in a while."
Robin sat and finished off his drink. "I'd be stupid to fight because I feel guilty about running people's lives too much or not enough."
"Yes."
"I should've known we'd be threatened someday. Are you willing to help? I thought you were impartial."
"Mosquito's army is a very un-fun force with no overt allies, and they're definitely not players of the game. I predict loss of lives is inevitable now. I'd rather they not be yours. You can call me a hypocrite for putting humans in danger without having robots to pull the trigger myself, but I must not be seen as an engine of war."
Robin winced. Anything he did would be hypocritical. Help kill people in a land he'd hoped to make peaceful, or flee from the problems his machines had helped create? He said, "So you advocate that I use force."
"I wouldn't say so unless I thought violence was coming anyway."
Robin paced. "This immortality idea of yours will cause huge problems. You'll throw advanced tech into a world that's not ready and might never be."
"I know all too well. I'm going to face the consequences of what I do." She leaned toward him. "Will you?"
* * *
Robin slumped over a map in the workshop, dozing. A few other workers had done the same in other corners after a long planning session. He woke when the door rumbled open, revealing Edward and Governor Leopold in the doorway. Edward said, "Robin, what's going on this early?"
Morning sunlight jabbed Robin's eyes. "Planning our defense."
"Defense? We need to evacuate! We confirmed that the Mosquito is coming."
Robin paled. "How many men, and when?"
"It doesn't matter."
"Of course it matters!" Robin banged the map table, waking Miguel and a woman. "Do you think we can't kill one thug? Now, how many?"
Edward said, "You're talking about killing people now? We're here to save lives."
"That's what we've been up half the night trying to do."
Leopold's expression was thoughtful, calculating. "From what information we have, the People's Equality and Progress Army is mostly tied up on the border by our National Defense Force, such as it is, and our allies' troops. He'll send a small group to seize this place. His past raids elsewhere have used maybe a hundred men."
The workers murmured. "A hundred butchers."
Edward said, "See, Robin? We've got to pack up. Maybe we can relocate."
Leopold said, "We tried contacting his agents, at long range. They boasted that he'd soon see the place himself. The Mosquito thinks you're holding out on him by offering your machinery and supplies."
Robin joined in the clamor that followed. "You contacted him? You offered to give him everything?"
Edward nodded. "I thought it might satisfy him. But no, we need to leave."
"And then what?" said Robin. "What are our people supposed to do after they're robbed? Assuming they're still alive, which sounds out of character for this guy."
"We evacuate, then get on with our lives." Edward walked up to Robin and gave a nervous smile. "Look, I know how you can get worked up with one of your ideas, and you look short on sleep. How did you get talked into wanting to fight? A group like ours is nothing against a warlord like Mosquito. Let the national troops handle him. We haven't even got military training."
"I do," said Leopold.
Edward turned to him. "I thought we'd agreed to leave."
"I assumed everyone here agreed too. But... Just how powerful is your Golden Goose, Robin? I think we have a few weeks; what could we do?"
Robin drew in a breath. "We have some ideas. Could you get us soldiers?"
"Out of the question. The National Defense Force is busy elsewhere to the extent they're even willing to stand up to him. But maybe supplies, ammunition."
Edward looked panicked. "You can't be serious. Don't you understand this man will literally eat your children? I have a responsibility to our people."
Robin said, "We're in danger every day as long as we have anything worth stealing. These men are willing to fight for what we have, and the enemy isn't expecting resistance."
Leopold grinned. "And if he's coming in person, there's a reward for his head."
Edward shouted at the governor. "You'd risk all our blood to collect a paycheck?"
"Not just for that. Tell me, Edward; if we don't stop him, how many more of my countrymen will die? I'm beginning to think that this place's seeming helplessness is the very thing that will make for an effective trap."
Robin thought of battle and death, and felt ashamed. He was no warrior and he had no right to tell these people to fight. "Leopold, can you lead us? Train us as well as you're able?"
The governor's smile wavered, but he said, "If these men will listen to me."
The people at the machines said, "If you can get us equipment. If you'll stand with us."
Edward backed away. "Robin, call this off. You're talking mass suicide."
"No! I didn't come here to fight, but
I won't throw away what we stand for, either! Do you really care about helping people, or not?"
"This isn't fair, Robin."
"Life's not fair. You can help us or run away. Don't worry about evacuating our equipment; we'll hang onto it."
"I... I need to arrange transportation. For supplies." Robin's co-director ran from the workshop as though a hundred soldiers were already after him.
* * *
Robin played a new game in his office. A map of the region around Golden Goose glowed on one screen while blueprints and supply diagrams flashed by on several others. Robin was learning all kinds of things these days about force structure, logistics and the bloody side of engineering. Ludo was conspicuously absent in public. The base's computers had gotten new, alarmingly detailed software for tactical simulation and improvised weapon design.
It'd turned out that an AI intensely interested in games, psychology and machines also had a talent for war.
A stranger in uniform walked in. "Can I help you?" said Robin.
The man grabbed Robin's arm and threw him to the carpet, saying, "I thought so! No training."
"The hell!" said Robin, bruised on the floor.
The newcomer hauled Robin back to his feet and scowled. "Why aren't you out there with the people you're leading into battle?"
Robin rubbed his aching mouth. "Are you the adviser Leopold promised? I'm not leading anybody. I make machines."
"Then get the hell outside and learn how people will use them. Or are you cowering?"
"If I were afraid to fight, mister --"
"Stoba."
"Then I'd have already left. Maybe you can beat me up, but touch me again and I'll make you work for it."
Stoba laughed. "Come outside, then."
Leopold was sending men through tactics exercises. The troops shouted as they practiced covering fire and orderly retreat to defensive lines.
"Form up!" said Leopold. The new troops had only yellow armbands for uniforms, and jostled their way into line with little discipline.
Stoba held out a spare armband for Robin. "What are you waiting for?"
Robin tied it on, then hustled into line with the locals. "I need to get back to my planning, but I can spare --"
"Shut up!" bellowed Leopold. Robin reared back. Leopold said, "Do any of you want to live out the year? You have a long way to go before you can even salute right, and we haven't got time for that."
Robin grinned faintly. So drill sergeant stuff was international.
A scream ripped through the distant trees. Robin staggered back, tripped and fell. All around him other men did the same, or froze with shock, or ran. Was the Mosquito already here?
Stoba walked into view and pushed a button on a remote control. The scream stopped. "Just as I thought. If you break and run when the enemy comes, you're dead. Get back in line and let Leopold teach you how to fight. Or do you all need to change your pants?"
Robin stood up, still shaken, and rethought his plans. The troops needed confidence, not just guns.
* * *
Late that evening he went to the chapel that they'd built together, he and Edward and others. Edward wasn't there to pray with him. Robin was nominally part of the Saints' religion, but it was more by inheritance than by strong faith of his own. He didn't feel any certainty that things were going to be okay.
The pews were plain, made with local machinery, and the building had no silk or silver to glorify God. Robin had never seen the point in such things unless it was to glorify the human-run organization, so he'd thought that Edward had good taste for not bothering.
A crouching figure looked up from one pew. Miguel. "Robin? You couldn't sleep either?"
Robin shook his head. "I wish I knew we'd win this."
"Bastard ran away," Miguel muttered.
"He's a good man. I'm scared too; I'm just reacting differently. He might be the one who..." Robin trailed off.
"The only one who survives?"
"Don't spread that kind of talk. I need to look like a badass invincible warrior when really I've never been in worse than a grade school brawl. Which I started."
Miguel laughed bitterly. "I've been talking you up, at Ludo's request. Mostly sincerely though."
There was a wooden cross on the wall, unadorned and unassuming. In the absence of a priest, Robin had only his own ideas about its meaning, a mix of his own lukewarm upbringing and the scriptural study he'd done by necessity for working with Edward's church organization. "What do you make of this?" he asked Miguel.
"I was raised Catholic. It got me through losing my parents. You know I was drafted as a child soldier, right?" Robin nodded, and Miguel went on. "I don't see a big difference between that brand of religion and this one. The details don't interest me, just... the feeling, I guess."
Robin nodded and sat down. He shut his eyes for a moment and enjoyed the quiet, the sense of a space around him that was large and open yet sheltered from the world outside. After a while he heard Miguel stirring, moving quietly toward the exit. With his eyes still shut, Robin said, "Miguel? We will kill the Mosquito, and we will protect this town."
He wished he were really that confident, but saying the words was a start toward inspiring everyone else.
* * *
Robin sprawled in bed. Edward had fled last week, and Robin had told himself he forgave the man.
It seemed like the whole defense idea had come from a dare that had gotten out of hand, with the locals and Robin and Leopold urging each other on. The Mosquito's threat had shut down the base's ordinary functions of promoting agriculture and manufacturing. The way the enemy twisted good men and equipment away from what they were meant for, forcing people to waste their efforts on defense, was reason enough to fight. To pray, too.
Ludo pinged him around midnight. "My allies picked up a distress call to the northeast. I think you've got only a few days, less than expected."
Robin sat up, cursing. "Does he know we're planning to stand up to him?"
Ludo said, "Reports are spotty, but it looks like infantry, jeeps, and light weapons. As expected, not a real siege force. He probably assumes you'll flee or roll over like other towns he's taken."
"And you still can't give us an army of robots?"
"I help people play games, and I have a whole merchandising department producing toys and t-shirts. I'd prefer not to be identified as an international arms broker."
Robin said, "And I'd prefer to be a magical dragon."
Ludo smirked. "Maybe later. For now, it looks like it's time for me to place a larger bet on you. Please visit my sanctum."
* * *
That was a rare invitation. Robin hadn't been beyond the entryway of the data center since he'd helped install the utilities, and some Arab guy had led a small, trusted team to do final setup work. Since then, nobody had been allowed in at all unless they were flown in from a corporate HQ -- except now for Miguel, apparently.
Robin entered the front room, an air-conditioned lounge decorated with pictures of fantasy landscapes. He let a set of cameras scan his face, and then a metal door opened. Beyond was an unpleasantly warm room full of glittering pinpoint lights, like stars in the darkness. Racks upon racks of computer servers filled the space and countless colorful cables linked them.
A rubber floormat was askew. Robin adjusted it. Ludo's voice rang out from a speaker, along with a strange discordant hum: "Ha! Miguel and I had a bet about whether you'd do that. Actually, roll the mat up instead."
Robin did, and revealed a hatch in the floor. "Oh, I remember this. I didn't think of it as a secret passage at the time."
"Go on in." A bolt unlatched.
Down a narrow staircase below the computer room was a larger basement divided into several dark rooms. Most of the place was still empty, but a second bank of computers occupied one of them. Fans roared constantly to push hot air out, and it looked like there was machinery to slam a security door down and flood the area with gas to fight fires, or maybe other threat
s. Robin whistled. "So this here is your brain?"
"Part of it. The stuff above here is mostly devoted to the game itself, not to my more private thoughts."
"I don't think I've even seen this type of server before." He curiously reached toward one of the racks.
A warning beep sounded before he got close. "I'd really prefer you didn't do that," said Ludo.
Robin stepped back. "Sorry. So what's with the tour?"
"I have friends around the world. Those raw materials that showed up yesterday are a present from some of them. We're playing a large game."
There'd been a donation of innocent-looking metal and electronic parts that happened to be well suited for cranking out guns, sensors and other tools on short notice. Decades ago there'd been a panic about 3D printers making it possible to build guns without government control, but the truth was that any decently equipped machine shop could crank out weapons. The Sten gun, the Colt 1911, and the AK-47/Kalashnikov family were all classic designs that could be made even on long-outdated equipment.
Robin said, "But you won't make guns or war robots yourself."
"I can only coordinate, not rule. If you win here, this base will be a growing target for ambitious thieves and people scared of me. Especially once that special project is done."
The room hummed, warm and dim. Ludo added, "There's something else I wanted to say in private. Your ally Leopold doesn't trust you. You're a foreigner, who looks like an old-time colonizer."
"I'm risking my life."
"Indeed," said Ludo. "But he bugged the village from day one. Both the upstairs room, and probably your office."
"What! Why didn't you tell me?"
"I'm not certain, and it would've strained your relations to suspect it." A wallscreen that Robin hadn't noticed flared to life, bright in the unlit basement. On it Ludo appeared in a business suit, hands clasped behind her back. "If you defeat the Mosquito, Leopold is planning to tell the story of how a heroic native movement stopped that monster from teaming up with me. And then he'll take control of Golden Goose for himself."
