by Robin Craig
“Why should I wish to help a competitor?” he asked curiously, probing for the man’s motive.
“Oh, I am sure you will find it worth your while! I would not be so presumptuous as to ask you a favor for no return. It concerns a topic of great mutual interest and I think you will find our interests align. If not – well, I shall not think any less of you if you refuse to answer my questions. Shall we say eight at Benson’s?”
Beldan looked at him silently for a few seconds. Well, why not? He did not trust this man and more information on him could be valuable. And his hints sounded intriguing. “All right, Mr Sheldrake. See you then.”
He sat back, wondering what this meant.
~~~
Benson’s was a high-class restaurant with a magnificent rotating view of the city and, more to the point for most of its clientele, secure private booths if you preferred your presence or business kept secret. Beldan arrived and was respectfully ushered into one of those booths, where he ordered an expensive red wine of excellent vintage to start. He thought that if Sheldrake wanted his help he could at least pay for a decent wine.
Five minutes later, he was idly watching the city lights sparkling through the deep red of his wine when Sheldrake arrived and seated himself with a smile; his eyes clear and empty of the chill of their first meeting. “Good evening, Mr Sheldrake,” greeted Beldan. “What is this about?”
“Straight to the point I see,” he replied with a smile. “I would expect no less. However my problem is somewhat, shall we say, embarrassing. Shall we enjoy dinner first?”
Beldan raised his eyebrows but signified assent with a gesture. “Sure. It’s your dime.”
They enjoyed a fine dinner. What conversation they had concerned world events, political trends and the state of their industry. They were like two friends, except Beldan found he still could not warm to him. There was nothing he could point to: even the hard eyes were gone. Perhaps the reason lay in himself.
Finally Sheldrake delicately wiped the last crumbs of dessert from his lips and activated the privacy screen. Beldan sat up somewhat straighter.
“Well, Dr Beldan, I asked you here tonight partly in acknowledgement of your wisdom. You expressed some suspicion of our military robots, and I regret to say that you may have been right to some extent.”
He played a short video. It started much as the usual publicity videos from Allied Cybernetics about their war machines, with restrained Spiders patrolling peacefully unless attacked, upon which they reacted with startling speed and effectiveness. Then the view switched to one apparently recorded by a Spider itself, full of interference and static like a literal demonstration of the fog of war, showing people attempting to surrender but being murdered where they stood. The final sequence, also from a Spider and equally degraded, showed an attempt to subdue another Spider. A brief battle ensued until the second Spider reared up over the one recording the fight; there was a brief flame and then blackness.
Beldan looked at Sheldrake, waiting for an explanation.
“What you saw at the beginning was how the CHIRUs – oh hell, let’s just call them Spiders like everyone else. Frankly,” he interpolated disarmingly, “we call them that among ourselves most of the time. Anyway, that is how they normally operate. How they are meant to operate. But one of them has malfunctioned. It has become what our enemies say they all are. When another Spider detected the malfunction it attempted to subdue it: but as you can see it lost. The rogue Spider has now vanished and we are afraid of what it might do next. Despite what our enemies say, neither we nor our robots are monsters. Except this one, I regret to say. We need to find it and stop it.”
“Why tell me?”
“You are the only person in the world who has had direct expert experience with a rogue AI. Oh, certainly there are differences. But still, there are similarities. Perhaps you can give us some insight into what it might do, where it might go, how this might have happened. I know it’s a long shot. But we need to put this away quickly. And quietly. And you have not only the experience but the motivation. Whatever you think of me, our interests in this coincide. If this continues, if this machine manages to create mischief on a grander scale, the anti-AI crowd have some potent material to work with. I’m sure you want that even less than I do.”
“What happened to it?”
Sheldrake spread his hands. “We don’t know! The first we knew of it was when we saw that video transmitted by the Spider you saw destroyed. When Spiders meet in the field they often do what we call a meld. In a sense they exchange memories, basically video of what they’ve been up to and other data linked to time and location tags, along with basic system diagnostics. The destroyed Spider identified a severe problem with the other one and tried to stop it – and we realized we had a larger problem than just losing a unit in battle. Unfortunately the transmission that might have told us what had happened was jammed and we only got fragments before it cut out entirely.”
“Did you retrieve any clues at all?”
“No. We can only speculate at this stage. Maybe some battle injury short-circuited something. Maybe it just went crazy. But frankly…” He paused, unconsciously looking around and lowering his voice. “But frankly, our worst fear is that some hackers have found a way in and are subverting it for their own purposes. We would dearly like to find out, so capture is preferable to destruction. But destruction is preferable to leaving it loose.”
“Why do you suspect hackers? Surely a plain malfunction is more likely?”
“There are two reasons. First, the nature of the problem. Purely statistically, a malfunction is more likely to lead to random behavior or breakdown than such a specific symptom. Yet, I am proud to say, there have been no such cases. Second, there is external evidence of unauthorized communications aimed at that Spider before it dropped off our grid.”
“Could I see that?”
“I wish you could. Hell, I wish I could. Unfortunately we only have the fact of it happening, not its content. I wouldn’t be allowed to tell you that part anyway – legal considerations with our client, you know. But I can assure you that it wouldn’t tell you anything.”
“I see. What do you think the hackers would want?”
“Well, given what hackers generally do – I imagine nothing good. It could be rebels, attempting to discredit their enemy by ‘proving’ that the Spiders are weapons of atrocity. It could be someone wanting to steal a Spider for their own military or criminal ends. It is even possible that this rogue behavior was unintended: that someone tried to attack it or subvert it, but instead they inadvertently made it go crazy. With any luck it killed them in the process.”
Beldan thought for a while. “Intriguing. But why do you think I can help you? I know very little about the inner workings of your machines – which will please you. But from what I know, their central processing core is neural tissue. I find it hard to believe that anybody has any clue on how to hack into that!”
Sheldrake grimaced. “We can all hope that’s true, I’d say. How much do you know of the Freudian model of mind?”
“Not much. The little I read in my youth didn’t impress me. Didn’t he invent the concept of the unconscious mind?”
“He certainly brought it into the public consciousness, as it were. But specifically, he proposed a three-part mind. The Id, the unconscious sea of unregulated desire; the Super-Ego, the controlling morality; and the Ego, the thinking, conscious mind.”
Beldan nodded but made no comment, waiting for Sheldrake to explain the relevance.
“It may surprise you to know, and I hope you will take it as a sign of my good faith that I’m sharing this with you, that our Spiders have something similar. The neural tissue is highly flexible and capable, but you could say it goes too far in that direction. It has to be guided to do what we want. It comprises something like Freud’s Ego. There is also a foundation of primary goals including emotional drives, which push the Ego in the desired direction: the Id. And over that is a more ri
gid set of control circuits that constrain both the Ego and the Id.”
“OK… I admit I am impressed. But I still don’t see how I can help you.”
“I don’t know how you made your robot Steel either. But I can guess the outline. Frankly, I stand in awe of what you achieved, but no man works in a vacuum. There are well known algorithms for interfacing between electronic neural networks and more traditional digital circuitry. Steel’s brain had to be developed, trained and refined somehow, no? Forgive my speculation, but I imagine you used some version of those algorithms for that. Well, the Id and Super-Ego of a Spider are similar: they are electronic systems, interfacing with the neural tissue using similar algorithms.”
Beldan felt himself finally warming to the man even as his words chilled him. When he was talking like this an underlying enthusiasm shone through, as if he was speaking from genuine passion. Perhaps I’ve misjudged him, Beldan thought. But the thought was in the background, as he considered what Sheldrake was saying. He was starting to see the shape of it, and waited to hear it put into words.
“I see you are beginning to see, Dr Beldan. Yes, it is hard to imagine how anyone could hack organic neural tissue. But the Id and Super-Ego are digital electronics! I don’t know how even those could be hacked: but of all the possibilities it seems the least unlikely. And that’s where you come in. If I am right – if you used similar systems – you know how they work and perhaps you might know how they might be subverted.”
Beldan looked at him, slowly nodding his head. “Yes… I see what you mean. It is the most likely attack point. The hierarchy of control… in a sense the lowest levels are the simplest, and if they could be taken over... I don’t have any ideas at the moment and maybe I never will, but it gives me something to think about.”
He paused for a minute, thinking, before adding, “May I keep a copy of the video?”
“If you think it will help. You will have to sign an airtight confidentiality agreement, but I imagine that is no problem. I’m sure you understand that we have to keep this as quiet as possible.”
“Sure. I don’t know if I can help you, but I’ll do what I can. As you say, our interests are aligned on this one. Even ignoring the public relations angle, there’s the human one: innocent people are being killed by this thing. It has to be stopped.”
Chapter 28 – The Kill Zone
Kali was on patrol in the pacified region beyond the buffer zone. She did not want to meet up with any humans but she did want to meet another Spider, preferably alone. A pacified area, close enough to the active zone to be worth patrolling but not active itself, seemed the optimum location. Any Spiders there were likely to be alone and relatively safe from rebel attack.
It had been days since she had met with Lyssa, days in which she had sat in her lair studying the world through her electronic feelers, researching the war and thinking. Lyssa had not contacted her but that was not surprising: it would take her time to reach her target and complete her mission. Perhaps she never would. She lived in a dangerous world and might die; she might decide not to trust Kali; she might betray Kali to her friends. Kali had learned that the motives of humans were complex. In the web of needs and loyalties Lyssa lived among, Kali could not be sure what her ultimate decisions might be.
Kali might have changed, but she was still a war machine. She had long departed from her meeting place with Lyssa, being unable to trust her only human ally. Nor would Kali initiate contact. If Lyssa was still loyal she would eventually make contact through their agreed channel, while if Kali tried to contact her earlier it could endanger both her and her mission. And if Lyssa had betrayed her it would serve no purpose.
Kali wondered about her fellow Spiders. She was sure she could not be unique. Yes, she was unique in what had happened to her; or at least she had seen no signs of it in her own earlier experience or in what she could find on the net. But surely whatever weakness Lyssa had struck did exist in others, albeit in their own specific ways. The Spider she had fought and destroyed seemed untouched by the phrase that had so profoundly affected Kali. But while not amenable to mass production, the Spiders were all made to a common design. Surely that meant they shared weaknesses as well as strengths. She knew there was a lock and that it could be opened. She just had to find the key.
With the Id scattered into impotence, Kali had begun constructing a crucial defense. She created a fake history comprising scenes from her own life, scenes shared by the dead Spider in their fatal meld, and hints of a secret mission. Her original motive was to protect herself in case she met another Spider who attempted a meld. But now that she had a plausible history to show, she saw she could turn it to her advantage. She needed to study her fellow Spiders more closely. Perhaps she could find a means to turn them too or, failing that, at least find some clues about what had happened to her.
A Spider felt no loneliness and had no need of companionship, but Kali was less a Spider than she had been. Lyssa might have helped fill that void, if void it was: but even if were possible to have any meaningful meeting of souls with her she was now far away. The robot Steel might have been a more likely companion had he lived; but he too might have proved as different from her as the humans were.
Kali needed to meet another Spider for many strategic reasons. She did not know what the strange yearning that also motivated her meant. If she had known how to put it in words, it might have been: perhaps what I need is a friend.
So here she was, scuttering along a street with the sun beating down on rooftops that now sheltered only dust and memories. This part of the city was not as ruined as some other places. It had not emerged unscathed, but people would be able to return here one day, and normal life would resume with only a modest investment in repairs.
It was a hot day, the sun blazing out of a blue sky with only a few high wispy clouds to mar its purity. She had been doing this for a few hours without any success. Even if it had been a wise idea she could not simply broadcast a request to meet as if in some bizarre dating service. In this zone jamming of radio frequencies was intense, and even if any long-range signals did get through any other Spider would as likely think it a human trap as a genuine message. But at last she came across evidence of recent human passage and near it, evidence of a Spider. Her emotions passed through happiness, excitement then fear. If the Spider was tracking the humans she might already be too late.
She scampered after it. It was heading closer to enemy territory, but her desire to catch it overrode the still small risk of a serious fight. Normally she would move more cautiously, but since the trail was recent any ambushes or traps would have already been triggered. Besides, if her noise alerted any humans it might save their lives.
Then she saw it. It must have heard her approach, for it stopped and turned to look in her direction. She signaled that she wanted to join it and it simply turned to scan the area in front of it, waiting for her arrival. It had reached the top of a rise and was looking down at whatever lay on the other side. It did not seem alarmed, so Kali picked up her pace.
~~~
In a building a few hundred yards ahead of the other Spider, a man cursed. He had seen the machine crest the rise and shifted his grip on his rocket launcher, ignoring palms suddenly gone sweaty. But the Spider had stopped, looking around then scanning the area in front as if uncertain or suspicious, and he hoped whatever software the damn things used hadn’t been upgraded. They had set up in this area because the buildings and debris funneled naturally into an open area in front of the building he was hiding in; there was a second good hiding place in a building to his left; and the large red stone building further up to his right was ideal for flanking fire. They had left a few signs of their passage, hoping a Spider would investigate; hoping it would come close enough to pin it with flanking fire then take it out with their rockets.
This had been his plan and he had been sure the Spiders weren’t clever enough to notice the trap; or if they did were too arrogant in their metal invulnerability
to fear it. But this one apparently had, and the fate of his team would be on his head – assuming it remained on his own shoulders. He paused to think, as uncertain as the Spider. Perhaps it had stopped for some other reason and would simply continue into the trap, or move on none the wiser to its narrow escape. But if it did know and he let it go, it would bring reinforcements and they would all be dead.
He considered calling a retreat. But the Spider was just sitting there and if they moved it would see them. He chewed his lip. Why had it stopped? If it suspected danger it might be waiting for support before continuing. In that case they should attack before its help arrived. If they could take one Spider out they could take two of them separately: but their chances would plummet if the two fought together.
The man hefted his launcher. He would have preferred to wait as planned and fire when the Spider was much closer. While his rockets were guided and fast, the Spiders had damnably fast reactions and at this distance it might have enough time to dodge. When dealing with these things he much preferred guarantees. But even so it was his best bet. If he failed to take it out it would certainly charge, and his team could probably take it down when it got closer. So it would be much the same as the planned trap, only more intense.
Kali had nearly reached the other Spider when she was startled to see it leap to one side. A moment later its action was explained when a rocket screamed past it to explode in a nearby apartment block. The Spider took off over the hill and Kali ran after it.
She crested the hill and quickly surveyed the scene. She could trace the missile back to its point of origin by the vapor trail dispersing in the light breeze, and no doubt the other Spider had already done so. It was half way down the gentle slope, running in a zigzag, taking what cover it could, but heading inexorably toward a dilapidated building at the bottom of the hill.
Kali was surprised that the attack had come from such a distance: there was a fairly clear area, once some public square, closer to the building. If the people in it had waited until the Spider had reached the square they would have had a clear shot and even a Spider’s reflexes wouldn’t have saved it. She crouched down and paused to consider. There was a large red stone building to the left of that area but further up the rise, which provided cover and a good height for withering fire into the square from behind. Another building to the right of the missile’s source also showed tactical promise, for either a simultaneous two-pronged attack or pressing home a fatal secondary ambush.
