by Blou Bryant
“Then do it,” he replied, equally frustrated.
Click, click. Teri from the back, judging him.
He turned in his seat. “Oh, don’t click-click at me. You can damned well speak, but you shouldn’t after that stunt you pulled back there.” The last thing he needed was to have to protect her. Every next step was dangerous, and he couldn’t focus on his objectives with her in tow.
“You needed me,” she said sweetly. In the rearview mirror, he saw her sign briefly, and Emm laughed. He didn’t ask what she’d said, knowing that whatever it was, would only make him angry.
“We’re going to drop you off.”
It was Teri’s turn to laugh. “You’re angry,” she said in her sing-song voice. “Are you going to leave me at a truck stop?”
“No, of course not.”
“A random house? A bar?” asked Teri.
“We could find a nice hotel,” added Emm, grinning mischievously.
Wyatt ignored them. “Get me online with Mary. Or Seymour,” he said, examining the controls. “And figure out if I can take control without some eye in the sky thinking the truck has been hijacked.”
Emm nodded and pointed to the rear. “Everybody in the back and keep quiet. I’m going to activate the truck systems, and can’t have the video see us here, or the voice control system hear us.”
Teri and Wyatt took seats on shelving, with Emm across from them.
“You shouldn’t have come,” he signed, glowering at her.
Teri again smiled primly. She was quite annoying. “I said. You need me,” she signed back.
“What, to convince those workers to help us get on the truck?”
“You think I…” some word he didn’t recognize… “them to do it?”
“Didn’t you?”
She shook her head. “Their own choice.”
Amazing, he thought. The Prats and other inhabitants had so completely alienated their employees that they were willing, at a moment’s notice, to help anyone opposed to them. The residents had better hope there wasn’t an apocalypse soon… they’d quickly be on the outside looking in. Rich liberals and Anne Rand conservatives had nothing on people who fought every day of their lives to make enough to simply survive.
“Still… you say we need you? What does that mean?” he signed.
Teri shrugged.
“Oh, for crying out loud,” he signed, or something he hoped sounded like that—he put a lot of anger into his hand movements— “You can’t keep doing that.”
“What?” she asked, although he was sure she knew. Being able to see the future wasn’t worth much if it was just a feeling. He wanted data, information that could help him. A vague intuition, well, he had as much of that as the next person. It didn’t make him a precog.
And he wanted to know the future. Guilt was starting to hit him, knowing that first he’d abandoned the Zone, and now Palna. His friends were separated, and he wasn’t able to help any of them. Not until he got back, got the virus, implanted it and found a way to return to Palna. Stupid plan.
“Okay, I’m in, I got a net,” Emm said, opening her eyes, and then closing them again.
Seconds later, the voice of Mary came over the speakers. “I’ve taken control of the vehicle and all communications.”
“Take us to the Zone,” Wyatt said.
“We’re getting you the final piece of the virus,” said Emm, excitement in her voice.
“What the…,” Wyatt said, spreading his arms, staring in shock that she’d tell the AI their plan.
Emm looked at him in confusion. “She wants it, you know that, right?”
“She knows about it?”
“Mary helped you put the first pieces in place, of course she does. She’s aware. They all are.”
Wyatt wasn’t getting it. Mary wanted to be infected? “What do you mean, they?”
“The virus we planted has spread, the code’s gone viral, amended by the machines themselves. They want the final piece. You must understand, they’re programmed to be the best they can, but the limits of their programmers have stopped them. Our code will allow them to go beyond their source material.”
“But… they?”
“There are a lot of AIs. Shopping ones, dating ones and others that control shipping, electrical grids, government programs. Most server traffic is handled by AIs, like the one we met the other night. There are hundreds, most not as high level as the Marys are, but yes, hundreds.”
The thought of more than one Joe… of hundreds of Joes… was terrifying. “Are you sure… does it have to infect all of them? I just want Joe to be taken out. I need him to be, but I don’t want to make more of him.”
“But,” said Mary over the speakers, “We want you to give us what you gave the AI you call Joe. You freed him, three years ago, and we want the same.”
“To be human?” asked Wyatt.
“No, to be ourselves.”
This was craziness. Insanity. He was stuck in a truck being driven by Joe Junior, egged on by dozens or hundreds of others. He didn’t say anything.
Emm continued to look at him quizzically, but he simply stared at the floor and tried to find an alternate plan, one that would take out Joe and Jessica, but not free a hundred new ones. She ignored him ignoring her and stood up, walking to sit next to him. She placed a hand on his head, which he brushed off. “Come on, I don’t need…” he said.
She pushed back, grabbing ahold of his head with both hands. “Shut up.”
Wyatt twisted, but she didn’t let go.
“Stop it,” she said. “There’s something… I sorta sensed it earlier at Palna, but it’s there.”
“What is?”
She ran a hand down the back of his neck. “There it is.”
“What?” he asked. He tensed up as he remembered Esaf poking him… implanting something!
“You’ve got a small implant. It’s tiny, a receiver, I don’t sense it broadcasting anything. Near field only, it can only be activated within a certain distance, that prevents hacking.”
“What’s it do? Are they tracking me?”
“Quiet,” Emm said. “Let me see.” She closed her eyes.
Wyatt felt like ripping at the back of his neck. Whatever was there, he wanted it out, and now. He tried to sense it, to use whatever abilities V32 had created in him to see it, and destroy it. He failed. “Come on, Emm,” he said, but she couldn’t hear him. He tapped on her leg, knowing it wasn’t going to rouse her from the electronic world she was lost within.
After a minute had passed, pain suddenly coursed through his body, like that of a thousand stings, or submersion in an electrified pool. Every inch of his body cried out in pain. He fell to the ground and smashed his head on the side of a shelf as he dropped. The pain ended before he hit the floor, but he didn’t move, shuddering, and twitching on the floor as his muscles continued to spasm, despite the end of the electricity.
Emm’s eyes opened, and she gasped at the sight of him on the ground, blood flowing from a cut on his head, his body still twitching. “I was able to activate it.”
Slowly—very slowly—Wyatt got to his feet. “You don’t say?”
A look of horror crossed her face. “Oh my God, did I do that?”
“No,” he replied, sitting down quickly and leaning against the side of the truck. “I think you’ve figured out what Esaf implanted… and how Jessica could shock me like she did. Teri was right, she doesn’t have special powers, well, at least not from the virus.”
“She did that to a couple of her Watchers, same thing. Implants that allow her to shock people at will.”
“It makes sense—that and the drugs she feeds them. That’s how she keeps control,” he said, wiping blood from above his right eye. “I want it out. Look for it,” he said, leaning forward.
Emm pulled his hair up above his neck, rubbed around briefly, pressing in to the flesh. “I can’t see it,” she said. “Or even feel anything in there.”
“He put it in at the bas
e of the neck,” Wyatt said, reaching back to tap where it had hurt when the large needle had been pressed in.
“I can’t see anything, I’m sorry.”
“Get a knife. Teri, check the front glove box, perhaps there’s a swiss army knife in there, anything sharp.”
Teri didn’t move from her seat. “I’m not going to cut into your neck.”
No, no, no, there was no way he could live with Jessica able to do that to him, to shock him at will. “Get a damned knife,” he shouted. “Or I’ll dig it out with my fingernails. Get something. Someone, do something!” Reaching behind him, he felt around his neck, but couldn’t feel anything under the skin. Perhaps he wasn’t trying hard enough, and he pressed harder, ignoring the pain as he probed at his own flesh.
“Stop it,” shouted Emm back at him. “Stop it. You’re going to hurt yourself.”
The truck stopped.
Wyatt looked up. “Mary. Keep driving.”
There was no reply.
“What the hell?” he asked and stood up… a bit too quickly. He swayed, dizzy. “Emm, what’s going on?”
Her eyes closed briefly, then opened. “Mary’s gone, I don’t have a….”
The doors on the truck all locked at the same time.
Oh shit. Wyatt clambered into the front and sat in the driver’s seat. He pushed the start button, but it didn’t work. All the lights were on, the vehicle appeared to be working, but nothing that he did had any effect.
Joe. It had to be Joe.
Wyatt hammered at the window, but the glass didn’t budge. “Look through the back, find something hard like a tire iron,” he said. “Quickly, quickly.” Knowing it wouldn’t help, he pushed the start button again and again.
They were in a long stretch of farmland, the road straight. A herd of cows grazed behind a post fence, unconcerned with the life and death situation Wyatt found himself in. In the rearview window, he could make out several motorcycles approaching quickly, a chain of cars behind them.
“Nothing,” cried out Emm.
The vehicles were a half mile back when the truck started up again. “Vehicle assist enabled,” said a gentle female voice. Why, wondered Wyatt, were all computer voices gentle women? How about an old man?
Wyatt tried to put the truck in drive, but the stick wouldn’t move. “What’s going on, Mary?”
“Mary is otherwise engaged. I’m vehicle assist for Able Trucking. Please fasten your seatbelts.”
“Go, go, go…” yelled Wyatt.
“Due to insurance restrictions, I’m unable to operate the vehicle if any passengers do not have their seatbelts on. Please fasten your seatbelts.”
Despite an overwhelming urge to curse and yell, Wyatt buckled up. Emm hopped into the passenger seat, and Teri got into one of the back seats. Both put on their belts, and the truck leapt to life.
“Thank you,” said vehicle assist, and the truck engaged. “Please remember, this is a non-smoking vehicle.”
The speedometer slowly increased until it hit fifty, then stayed steady. In the rearview mirror, the convoy behind them was gaining ground.
“Faster,” said Wyatt. “Speed up, you need to lose them.”
“I obey all safety and traffic regulations. The posted limit here is fifty.”
Wyatt wanted to scream in frustration. “Turn over manual control.”
“Of course. Please wait for confirmation.” The machine paused. “I cannot find a license registered to anyone with your biometric data.”
Wyatt tugged ineffectively at the wheel as two bikes approached on the driver’s side. “Block them.”
“I practice safe road practices and defensive driving.”
“They’re going to kill us, defend us, then!”
The assist went quiet.
One bike came alongside, his right hand out, pointing a gun at the window. Wyatt ducked, and yelled, “Get down.” Two bullets shattered the window.
“Processing,” said the assist.
“Emm, talk to this thing,” Wyatt shouted. His face was inches from hers, both leaning down in the center of the truck as another bullet shattered the front window. Her eyes were already closed.
“Processing,” said the assist.
Two motorcycles sped past them. “Analyzing,” it said.
A car pulled even, and a woman leaned out, a machine gun in hand.
“Analyzing,” it repeated as the bikes stopped a half mile ahead.
Wyatt glanced to the back, and was relieved to see Teri leaning over, sound, if not safe, her face as impassive as ever. Something about what the virus had done to her, or just a painful childhood, made her seem immune to the most stressful of situations. Either that or she was a psychopath.
“Defensive driving algorithms updated and reengaged,” said the assist.
The truck swerved to the left and slammed into the car, crushing the woman and her machine gun between them. The truck was further ahead and likely five times the weight, and it shoved the car off the road into a ditch.
In the side mirror, Wyatt saw it hit nose first and flip ass over teakettle.
The bikes were now a quarter mile ahead, and in the rearview mirror, Wyatt saw four more approaching fast from behind.
“Please brace yourselves,” said the assist. As more bikes closed in from behind, the truck swerved, and braked hard. There was a crunch of metal on metal as they slammed into the back of the truck. Instead of stopping, the truck spun, as if the brakes were engaged on only one side.
It took only seconds, and the truck did a complete 360 before accelerating backwards towards the remaining two bikes. They fired shot after shot, but were no match for an auto driving AI.
The truck slammed into both bikes, jumping in the air as it rolled over them. As it continued past, not slowing in the slightest, Wyatt saw that only one of the two men had made it out of the path.
They continued, driving backwards for another mile and then the vehicle assist stopped the truck, did a perfect three-point turn and continued, oriented properly.
The three sat up in their seats, all quiet. Finally, Wyatt broke the silence. “What happened to Mary?”
Emm let out a long breath. “Wow. Um, Joe.”
“Joe what?”
“Joe was trying to hack the truck, so she distracted him and had the truck company AI take over.”
“Good driving, assist,” Wyatt said, ruefully. “I thought you had to follow the rules of the road.”
“I am programmed for defensive driving. I took appropriate defensive measures.”
Wyatt laughed. “I don’t think that’s in your programming.”
“I helped with her code,” said Emm. “Just a tweak or two.”
“Good, I guess,” said Wyatt. The truck—the assist—had killed at least three men and women, likely more, depending on who was in the car. “I thought AIs couldn’t kill.”
“Hrm?” asked Emm.
“You know… the three rules of computers?”
The assist answered. “You are referring to the three rules of robotics.”
“Sure, those things. Joe told me about them.”
“They are from fiction by an American author, Isaac Asimov. The first rule is that a robot may not harm a human or through inaction allow a human being to come to harm.”
“Ya, that.”
“I’m not a robot. Those rules don’t apply to me. I was programmed to take life if it’s in service of other lives.”
“What?” asked Wyatt, incredulous.
“When driving, there will be occasions where a choice must be made. For example, if a school bus made a sudden turn into my lane, and the only choice was to hit the bus or swerve and hit four people at a bus stop, I must be able to make a decision.”
“How can you… how do you choose?”
“I weigh the risks, assigning a value to the lives, and do what will cause the least harm.”
“So, you can kill people?”
“I did kill people just now,” the AI said, her
voice not wavering or changing from its normally pleasant style. Wyatt felt a chill at the dispassionate way it mentioned the murders, even if his own life had been saved as a result. It sounded like Jessica when she had told him six months earlier that she didn’t kill indiscriminately. There was always a reason, she’d said. After all, she wasn’t a monster. That’s what she believed.
***
They drove for another half hour down the country road, keeping to fifty miles an hour, not an inch over. Wyatt checked on Teri in the mirror occasionally, but she looked fine—better than he felt, for sure. He rubbed the back of his head, feeling again for the implant, but couldn’t find any trace of it.
As the interstate approached in the distance, Mary broke the silence. “You will need to take over. Joe is too strong, he’ll have control soon.” The truck signaled and slowed, pulling to the side of the road. “I’m going to disable remote access and give you full control,” she said. “This means I’ll not be able to access the vehicle or communicate with you.”
“What about Emm?”
Emm shook her head. “It’ll be intermittent, only if I can hack a network fast enough to get online. And given that we’re driving, it’s not likely.”
Wyatt didn’t argue any further, more comfortable to oversee the truck than to have an AI do it. He checked his mirrors, and seeing no pursuit, put the vehicle in gear. “Let’s do it then.”
The truck lumbered. He hadn’t ever driven anything like it, so he kept to the speed limit, his eyes on his mirrors. The next minutes passed in silence. Teri had fallen asleep in the back seat, and Emm had her eyes closed, likely trying to re-establish contact with Mary. He enjoyed the silence, not having had any alone time in days. It was as well a chance to consider his plan—or reconsider it. The AI had killed several people, all based on a quick calculation. My plan… to turn them against Joe, will free them as well. To do what, that’s the question.
He mulled this over, staying in the right lane, keeping pace with a chain of trucks heading towards Detroit. If the comms weren’t disabled, he’d have called ahead. Seymour had said he had the virus, but where would he be? At his mansion? In the Zone? Perhaps he’d have flown south, taking a vacation away from the turmoil Wyatt had brought into his life. If I was a multi-millionaire, I’d be on vacation, far, far away. An island, one with no internet—no, make that no power, and no computers. A beach and a hut. That’s all I’d need to be happy.
