Rogue Autonomous

by Rahul Bhagat

  ROGUE AUTONOMOUS

  Rahul Bhagat

  First Edition

  Table of Contents

  Cover

  Contents

  ONE

  TWO

  THREE

  FOUR

  FIVE

  SIX

  SEVEN

  EIGHT

  NINE

  TEN

  ELEVEN

  TWELVE

  THIRTEEN

  FOURTEEN

  FIFTEEN

  SIXTEEN

  SEVENTEEN

  EIGHTEEN

  NINETEEN

  TWENTY

  TWENTY-ONE

  TWENTY-TWO

  TWENTY-THREE

  TWENTY-FOUR

  TWENTY-FIVE

  TWENTY-SIX

  TWENTY-SEVEN

  TWENTY-EIGHT

  TWENTY-NINE

  THIRTY

  THIRTY-ONE

  THIRTY-TWO

  THIRTY-THREE

  THIRTY-FOUR

  THIRTY-FIVE

  Copyright

  ONE

  THE LAST OF the evening sun disappeared below the horizon, and thick clouds followed in its wake. They had started rolling in long before sunset, but now they came in waves and filled the night sky. The weather took a turn for the worse. Wind started howling through crevices in the mountainous terrain, and a misty drizzle enveloped the forested landscape.

  A lonesome highway snaked through the Appalachian forest and glistened in the night rain. The road was empty except for two vehicles traveling in close formation to reduce air drag. This was the golden age of autonomous vehicles, or AV, as the current vernacular referred to them. Within a couple of decades, self-driving cars had completely overtaken the automotive landscape of America. It took time for masses to trust autonomous vehicles, but once the trust was established, there was a groundswell of public support to outlaw manually operated vehicles and prevent thousands of deaths caused by human error. At first, human drivers were banned from highways, which led to a dramatic fall in vehicular accidents, and policymakers were quick to extend the ban to most city streets.

  That triggered some interesting aftereffects. Accidents, even fender benders, became rare. Traffic jams disappeared. People rebelled against seat belts in ultra-safe vehicles, and those were soon gone, along with steering wheels, brake pedals, and other accessories required by human drivers. Death from vehicular accident, which had been the fifth leading cause of death, became a rare event.

  The vehicles, a white van followed by a black luxury sedan, raced down the highway toward a tunnel. Shortly after entering the tunnel, the sedan in the back shuddered and braked lightly. The braking action was violent enough to catch the two occupants by surprise. It made twelve-year-old Paige Callaghan spill her drink, and her pet bunny, Mimzy, was thrown to the floor.

  “Mimzy!” Paige dived after her pet. The furry mammal stayed still on the floor and didn’t hop or sniff as usual. She took the rabbit in her lap and stroked the animal’s head. “Is he all right, Ms. Marse?” she asked her teacher.

  “He will be fine, Paige. Don’t you worry,” Ms. Marse tried to reassure her. The rabbit looked dazed but otherwise fine.

  But for Paige, it was one more thing that hadn’t gone right that day. She was a rich heiress, and it was very upsetting when she didn’t get what she wanted. She had such grand plans for her birthday.

  “I won’t have a birthday party if it’s not on the moon,” Paige said, recalling events from earlier in the day. Her voice had a ring of defiance.

  “Paige, I think you should listen to your brother. Didn’t he say it’s very dangerous for children to travel to the moon? And I agree with him. What’s wrong with low Earth orbit? It’s so much fun floating in the air. You won’t be able to do that on the moon; it has gravity.”

  “Nooo… I don’t care about floating,” Paige wailed. “I want my birthday on the moon. Emily and Lucy and Trevor—they’ve all had their birthdays in LEO. It’s no big deal. I want mine on the moon.”

  Ms. Marse didn’t have the energy to sit through another hour of whining. “Paige, did you notice that chair?” She pointed to a chair at one end of the vehicle. Oddly, it was facing outward, looking at the highway through the window.

  “Why is it turned that way?” Every AV that Paige had seen had chairs facing each other, away from the windows.

  “That’s because this AV has been customized for manual mode. Your brother sits there and drives the vehicle,” Ms. Marse said.

  “Drives?” Paige’s eyes went wide. “Like in the video games, but for real? I want to do that.” She got up and walked over to the chair facing outward, Mimzy safely in her arms.

  “It’s illegal to manually drive on the highway. You’ll have to go to the countryside or to a race track,” Ms. Marse said and got up to join Paige. “You need a steering wheel for manual operation,” she said, looking around.

  “Steering wheel?” Paige asked.

  “Yes, a round, wheel-like thing to steer the AV. You use it to control the direction.” Ms. Marse gestured with her hands around an imaginary steering wheel. But that made no sense to Paige. She had never seen one.

  Their AV emerged from the tunnel. The highway took a sharp left turn just after the tunnel ended, but for some reason, the vehicle didn’t make the turn. It barreled toward the guardrail at high speed, but just before crashing headfirst into the barrier, the AV activated its brakes, full force, and screeched violently. Paige and Ms. Marse were thrown into the front window; the force of the impact cracked the tempered glass. The nose of the AV hit the guardrail, and it flipped upward, tail first, and became airborne. The momentum propelled it toward the sky, but gravity soon caught up, and the AV plunged into the ravine.

  Inside, dazed from blunt-force trauma, Paige was still aware enough to experience a moment of weightlessness. She wondered if she was back in space. Was it her birthday already?

  TWO

  EARLIER THAT WEEK

  The display panel on the new fridge was flashing an error message that didn’t make any sense to Detective Martin Stump. Besides, it was early morning. The sun was not out yet, but he’d woken up because a flock of birds was causing riot in the backyard. He tapped a red dot to make the message disappear and opened the fridge door. Then he dropped a couple of ice cubes into a crystal glass with amber liquid and closed the door. The error message had reappeared. He snorted and turned around. It wasn’t like Martin didn’t care about fixing the problem; it was more an issue of how. The world around him had changed too much. Machines talked as if they were humans, and cars drove themselves. The world had become too complicated.

  Next stop was the weighing machine. One hundred ninety pounds. That wasn’t too far from normal for a six-feet-tall man, but Martin considered himself overweight. He was in his midsixties and had curly white hair and a bulbous nose.

  He took a gulp from the tumbler in his hand. The liquid warmed his throat and gave him a good fuzzy feeling. But then the worry he was trying to ignore sneaked back in. How would he tell Julie about this? He stood still for a minute, pondering the conundrum that borderline alcoholism posed.

  “Fuck it! I’ll figure out a way,” Martin said and downed the remains of the glass. He let out a tiny belch and walked over to the kitchen table. Alcohol buzz in his head felt good. He sat there a long time, reminiscing about his past, until the train of thought was interrupted by the sudden realization that he had to call Julie. Martin had been seeing her for a few months now, and it was getting to the point where they were talking about moving in together. He was very happy, on cloud nine. After enduring a long, unhappy marriage and years of living alone, this was like springtime.

  He called Julie and confirmed plans for late
r in the day. They would meet in the entertainment district and spend some time together in the promenade. Then they would meet with Natalie for coffee. This was the first time Julie and Natalie were going to meet face-to-face, and Martin was a little worried. What if they didn’t like each other? He didn’t have any reasons to believe they wouldn’t, but he still worried.

  It was late afternoon when they met. Martin embraced Julie and lost himself in the warmth of togetherness. Then they walked down the promenade, hand in hand.

  “I’m thinking of applying for early retirement,” Martin said and looked at Julie.

  “Do it,” Julie said and tugged at his hands playfully. “You’ve given enough to the department. It’s time they handed you over to me.”

  “And what do you intend to do with this technology-illiterate, aging detective?” Martin asked with a mock quizzical expression.

  “I haven’t given it much thought, but I’m thinking of a hobby farm.” Julie looked at Martin and smiled. “A pair of strong, virile hands would come handy.”

  Martin enclosed her in a bear hug and gave her a long kiss. Early in their relationship, he had mentioned his dreams of moving to the countryside and leading a simpler life, maybe starting a hobby farm. He had completely forgotten about it.

  “Julie, I’m the luckiest man in the world. I love you so much,” Martin said and looked deep in her eyes. “Let’s get this retirement ball rolling. I’ll talk to the chief next week.”

  It was getting close to the time when they were supposed to meet with Natalie. So they headed toward the center of the district, where the majority of restaurants and cafes were located.

  “It’s interesting how Natalie has become a surrogate for your daughter,” Julie said.

  “I know,” Martin said. “Initially, I thought I would be dragging along a summer student while trying to solve this case. But little did I know. Without Natalie, I would’ve been lost in that artificial intelligence mumbo jumbo.”

  “And didn’t she also prod you to get in touch with your own daughter?”

  “She did. Tracked down her contact information too. But I could never connect with Melodia. We couldn’t break down the mistrust.”

  “Instead, you bonded with Natalie.”

  Martin nodded and looked across the street. Someone standing by the entrance of the coffee shop waved at them. That youthful face and hair in bob style, a bit ruffled, belonged to Natalie Conor. Martin beamed and waved back.

  Natalie was in her late twenties, but she looked like a teenager. She intentionally cultivated an absentminded look—minimal makeup, casual clothing, and sneakers. She was the opposite of a dressed-up doll.

  Martin could tell that Julie had an instant affinity for Natalie, and he was relieved to see Natalie reciprocate similarly. The two most important women in his life would get along fine. He sighed with relief.

  “Guess what?” Natalie chirped as they settled down. “I just landed a million-dollar grant to study RBAM.”

  Martin made a face. “What’s an RBAM? A bird?”

  “Random behavior in autonomous machines,” Natalie said with a laugh. “I’m going to study unpredictability in machines that don’t need human supervision to operate—the drone that flies itself. The AV that drives itself.”

  “Oh! The AV that drives itself,” Martin said mockingly. “It’s a damn car. Why did we have to change the name?”

  “Can you explain why we had to change the name from horseless carriage to car?” Natalie countered and cocked her head.

  Martin couldn’t think of an answer. He gave her his usual response—a shrug and a sheepish smile. Natalie and Julie high-fived.

  The evening turned into night, but there was no end to their conversations. It was one of those perfect days.

  THREE

  EVENING BEFORE THE ACCIDENT

  Dean Callaghan, brash, young CEO of Callaghan Enterprises, was sitting at his kitchen table. He wore an expensive burgundy silk robe and sipped orange juice from a glass goblet. A beautiful tall vase filled with yellow tulips occupied the middle of the table.

  Sitting directly across from him were his two corporate lawyers.

  “I want the Lunar Mining Company,” Dean said. He was getting frustrated with his lawyers’ lack of enthusiasm.

  “That’s no secret,” the older lawyer said wearily. “Everyone knows you want LMCo, but you can’t go around saying that. Makes our job more difficult.” His companion was busy gawking at the paintings on the wall.

  Dean took another sip from the goblet but said nothing. He felt annoyed. So what if the world knows? What was he paying these buffoons for? To sit around and twiddle their thumbs?

  The older lawyer leaned forward. “Every guy on the street knows about your interest in LMCo. It’s a bankrupt piece of shit, but thanks to your interest, the stock price has tripled in the last quarter. I don’t understand what you see in there.”

  “My gateway to space,” Dean said casually. “That’s where the future is. I have to get in the game. I swear Callaghan Enterprises is going to dominate space business. But I can’t do that with Aventu alone.”

  “In Aventu, you have a very profitable business, Mr. Callaghan,” the lawyer reasoned.

  “Let’s be honest,” Dean said. “It’s a rusty space freighter business that’s on a deathbed. I need something more long-term. LMCo will give me a permanent base on the moon to grow from.”

  “Its mines are almost depleted. All the easy water ice, those just on the surface, they’re gone. Now they have to dig deeper.” The lawyer seemed very concerned. “You know the repair and maintenance bills. It’s a very harsh environment for machines.”

  “LMCo holds a number of important patents. They have a deep pool of scientific talent,” Dean countered.

  “That pool has become stagnant; it’s more a cesspool of political in-fighting.” The younger lawyer, attention back on the conversation, intervened. A ruby-red handkerchief poked out of his suit’s breast pocket.

  Dean looked at them, from one to the other, and then he said with a firm voice, “I want Lunar Mining Company. Make it happen.”

  The lawyers were not going to give up easily. The older guy spoke again. “And what do you propose we do about Madam Callaghan? She is just going to vote against you, like she has done dozens of times in the past.”

  “Rebekah…” Dean snarled. Bile rose in his stomach, and he felt a strong urge to destroy something, to obliterate it. He grabbed a tulip bulb from the vase and crushed it in his hands. Its yellow color smeared his palm and fingers. The urge fulfilled, he calmed down. He leaned back in his chair and said, “I’m going to get rid of this pain in my side. Just watch.”

  A calm, gentle voice interrupted their conversation. It was the house’s digital assistant, an AI-powered electronic brain that took care of lighting, water, heating, and even letting visitors inside.

  “Mr. Callaghan, your sister, Paige Callaghan, is here. I’ve let her inside already,” the AI said.

  “Her!” Dean didn’t even try to hide his displeasure. “What does that bastard sister of mine want?”

  “She didn’t say. She is here with her teacher,” the AI said calmly.

  Dean looked at the guys across from him. “This won’t take long.”

  A young girl, hair in a ponytail and a mottled rabbit in her arms, came bouncing into the room. An older, graceful-looking woman trailed behind her.

  “Hey, sister. What brings you to DC?” Dean asked with a smile.

  “Dean, you have to change your digital assistant settings,” Paige complained. “It’s blocking my calls.”

  “I’m busy. See? You’re interrupting a business meeting.”

  The lawyers nodded gravely.

  Paige dropped her pet rabbit on the kitchen table. “You know my birthday is coming?” she asked, trying to build up some intrigue.

  Dean was a stickler for cleanliness. He freaked out. “That thing could shit on the table. Shouldn’t you be attending your evening clas
ses at this time?”

  “I am. See? Ms. Marse is with me. I was taking lessons in the AV.” Paige turned back and pointed at the older woman behind her. Ms. Marse looked respectfully at Dean and nodded.

  “Okay.” Dean became serious. “What brings you here?”

  “You know it’s my birthday next month.” Paige looked at Dean with anticipation.

  Dean allowed a smile on his face. “I know. What do you want for your birthday?”

  “Something special. Something that only my super-smart brother can give,” Paige said.

  “All right, enough,” Dean said. “Get to the point. I have work to do.”

  The lawyers nodded and smiled like angels.

  “Birthday on the moon!” Paige exclaimed and threw up her hands.

  “What?” Dean almost choked on his orange juice.

  “Yes. I heard you’re buying a company on the moon,” Paige said.

  “How the hell do you know that?” Dean snarled and leaned forward.

  Paige grabbed her rabbit and took a step back. “Mom was talking to someone,” she said innocently.

  Dean turned toward his lawyers and gave them a cold look. “She knows.”

  The lawyers nodded gravely.

  “Deal is dead?”

  “Yep,” the older lawyer said.

  Dean turned back toward Paige. He wanted to lash out, to say something nasty, but controlled himself. He forced a smile onto his face. “Listen, sister, I don’t own the moon company yet, and your mom, now that she knows about it, will do everything to scuttle the deal. Besides, I can’t send a bunch of kids to the moon. What’s wrong with LEO? You’ll be there in ten minutes; the Moon takes hours. And the moon has gravity; it won’t be as much fun.”

  “Who cares about zero gravity?” Paige spoke like someone who had done her reasoning. She was going to cut her birthday cake on the moon. The first kid ever to do so.

  Silently, Dean cursed his father for dallying with Rebekah while slowly going senile. He’d left Dean a steaming pile of mess to deal with. But not to worry. He was going to take care of it, once and for all. He took a deep breath.