by Rabia Rahou
But the masters know that some societies are burdened with wars, geographically inconveniences, or even an eternal oppressor that controls the game, so they feel empathy and compassion. This is because firstly, true masters understand that usually, breaking up from the crowd is an individual choice. Sometimes, however, there are unbearable circumstances that cannot be overcome. For those unfortunate individuals whose dire misfortune placed them in desperate situations, we must show humanity. Secondly, and most importantly, because true masters understand that masters can exist against all odds in oppressed societies, they are hidden to protect their lives and the lives of their families.
The oppressor tends to lower the intellects of the oppressed so he can control them with ease, or just to satisfy his ego and be known as the wise, ultimate leader that no one can match. Because of that, masters are his personal enemies, and cruelly hunting them down is his deepest and darkest secret passion. For those reasons, we must show the deepest respect for those masters, as they are keeping the mastery of their fields hidden to protect their entourage from retaliation. We should never doubt that because nature always brings the best of us out of nowhere. From the highest mountain to the deepest desert, masters have always existed and will continue to exist.
This is not romantic humanism; this is just the reality of our world. Therefore, for every master who is hidden his knowledge to protect his entourage, I salute you, as knowledge with responsibility is the ultimate mastery.
Mastery is just the beginning because the true strength of mastery is that the same process can be replicated in another field. For example, there is a small story of a running champion who lost his legs after a traumatic car crash. Everyone pitied him as his world had been completely destroyed, or at least that’s what they thought. Some people thought that he may soon commit suicide, as they speculated that he wouldn’t be able to cope with his new life. They believed that running was everything he was.
He came back later and won the world championship of archery.
Mastery always goes through the same pattern. First, you must be attracted to the thing that you want to work on. Then, you must find a master or a connoisseur who will show you how to do it correctly. After that, you will do and redo it a million times as it gives you joy or satisfies an impulsive behavior. In the last phase, you will start to develop your own style as you diverge from your master’s style. Mastery – it gives you the method to create the best of anything, art, sports performance, engineering, and even friendship; all the best things in this life respond to the same method of the making – mastery.
My perfect candidate was in a high-security prison, charged with high treason. He had disobeyed the AI’s prediction to complete the mission regardless of the casualties. In the report, it says that he withdrew after losing nine men. Disobeying a direct order issued by an AI prediction is suicide. I thought that you needed immense courage to do that, but also, and most importantly, you need to have the heart to sacrifice yourself for your men. Knowing that he could finish the mission and be decorated, knowing that this is what is done in war, winning is essential, no matter what the human losses are – knowing all that and then deciding to throw everything he’d worked for his whole life out the window was admirable. A man like that shouldn’t stay in prison. He had mastery in war, but he was in the wrong era. It is that simple.
I saw Dismar as the supreme warrior, the hero of an old empire, on horseback, leading his soldiers who would give their lives for him as they know that he will never betray or desert them. But, unfortunately, he was born in the AI age where disobeying a direct order from a computer is high treason.
During his prison time, his marriage, which was already rocky, ended up being destroyed. I released him from prison to an empty life. But less than a year and according to my direct orders, he was able to rejoin the army. He still doesn't know it was me. He thinks it’s was a national pardon. After that, I sent him to a special unit called “The Puppets.” They train with the AI soldiers so they can learn how the army expects humans to behave. After four months of intensive training, he gained back his skills and reflexes. Now he is a 36-year-old driver and father of a young girl that he sees twice a month. After the divorce, the mother took the kid, and Dismar didn't want to fight the case. He wanted the best for his little girl. That's why he chose to be out of her life. A broken soldier can teach nothing to a kid.
The big doors of the headquarters of the military commandment opened wide for us. Dismar parked the car under the building, gently wished me good luck as an honest courtesy. I appreciated that, and it's one of the many reasons why I chose him.
Sitting right beside the library, the headquarters were designed as an arc, which is the symbol of the Amians. It is a four-floor building, and huge, as it able to gather all the commandants in one place. We did create the model of the forces based on simplicity. There are only three forces: the land force, the sea force, and the space force. Each force has its own logistics and Secret Service, and each force is a complete independent core that can freely act in their respective field. Each one occupies one of the three floors of the Arc. The three forces coordinate their actions on a daily basis. There are some rivalries here and there, but nothing that could compromise our operations. After all, we are only human.
The most important pavilion is the first floor. It accommodates my offices, my team of strategists, and the cream of the military leaders. Of course, we also have the best AI machines. The top three engineers from the three AI conglomerates were waiting for me there.
At midnight, I ordered the staff to escort the engineers to the Cradle. It is a 10-km-deep super-atomic doomsday bunker that ONC designed specifically for this mission. Access to it is only by a superfast, ultramodern, hyperloop elevator.
It was in the Cradle that I met the top engineers around a big table for the first time. The room’s walls simulated big windows that opened to a calm, empty beach in the autumn. At midnight, the beach had a bright moon reflected on the slow waves. You could almost feel the gentle breeze by observing the movement of the plants on the dunes. I was about to welcome them, make my small speech, and after that, brief them on the situation and the way to proceed and collaborate through the cover-up of the alternative scenario, the scenario that I created for the rest of the military commandants, at least for the few decisive upcoming weeks. Of course, no one has to know the truth about the operation except me, the First Citizens, and the three top engineers. That was a clear instruction to me from the First Citizens. They even didn't trust the Prime, a politician that could talk if he lost popularity and then blackmail the First Citizens to keep himself in power.
Consoft’s top engineer was Uba Gil. He likes to be called “Ub,” like the folkloric, mythical bear of the region where he was born. He was the oldest of three brothers, and his parents were both in the education sector. He was 60 years old but looks way older. Obviously, he rarely did any physical activity. He has long, white hair that makes his face looks thin, small blue eyes, and has a problem with a tic because he blinks way more than normal. He was divorced and has remained single for 30 years. He had no kids mentioned in his profile report.
Eciffo Lop was the top DM scientist. He was 54 years old, wears AI-enhanced glasses to cover up his huge nose and moustache. He has black eyes, light skin, breathes bizarrely to avoid sneezing. His very dark, black hair had obviously been dyed. He was quite a hairy person and probably had problems with everyday shaving. Surprisingly, he appeared to be in good shape and was a proactive man inspecting the big prototypes by himself. His report said he was married and had a daughter. The Secret Services also reported that Lop had a secret boyfriend.
Alp Erwa from ONC, the “prodigy,” was only 32 years old. He was short and skinny with a boring face which was easily forgettable. He had short hair turning gray and appeared to have a muscle disorder in his left hand. It was shaking bizarrely, like a kind of Parkinson’s disease, and you could tell that he was trying desperately to cov
er it up. He gave smiles to everybody but without making eye contact. He spent more than 15 hours a day in his cubical. He has a very high-pitched voice that compromised his behavior by making him communicate with his employees only by messages and AI voices. His report mentioned that he had a female dog named “Ilca,” which had been found dead by strangulation a couple of months ago. The Secret Service thinks he did it.
Of course all of them had the highest degrees in their fields from the best universities, a perfect scholar parkour, and very high IQs. But their Secret Service reports did not have explanations for some of their odd psychological behaviors I observed. I never before had seen the kind of weird hat Ub was wearing. I also noticed that Lop had a kind of bizarre way of dressing. His clothes were almost all white, and he blackened his hair and lightened his skin, adding a stark, bizarre, contrast to the overall look. Erwa wore strange bracelets with strange organic designs on both wrists.
“Welcome, everybody. I’m very pleased to meet you finally. You are the men that drove the AI revolution and transformed our country into the leader in the field. In the name of our army, I salute you. The Amian Empire, through your research, is going to metamorphose from a caterpillar into a butterfly, and that's for the good of all humanity.”
I finished with a big smile that faded quickly into an empty silence. I gave them the deadliest army stare ever. They got scared, and I laughed deep inside. After destabilizing them for a moment, I continued straight on without giving them the time to speak.
“I hope you had enough time to read the mission, have been briefed meticulously about the working hours, the entrances, the passes – and most importantly, why you are here. As you know, every good lie has some truth in it. You are here now under the army’s command to develop a new AI system of data collection. Everything is highly classified, and you will report to the First Citizens as ordered by them – but you will also directly report to me in an orderly way so we can anticipate and correct any leaks of information.”
I kept the silence after I finished for a moment so they would feel a bit more uncomfortable. This is the first time they’ve dealt directly with a soldier, and I didn't make it easy for them. After a moment, Erwa spoke, or at least tried to...
“Thank you, General, as I understood from the mission briefing, discipline and secrecy is needed much more on this project more than anything we’ve worked on before, and I hope we will maintain it...”
Erwa had hardly finished the sentence before I played like he was annoying me with his high-pitched voice. The two others, after watching the “prodigy” being mistreated, preferred to skip their speeches. I didn’t want them to think that we are here to chat. A soldier would understand that instinctively, a civilian needs to be taught and reminded. Although I felt sorry for them, they thought they would meet the same mentality as they were used to in their entourage, a god worshiping herds of fans running to them, pleasing their egos. They found something completely different.
They were in the army now.
Chapter 5
The Boring Look Is the Safest
“The chameleon’s skin is not the chameleon.”
~ Konu
I n the morning, I was parking the limousine in front of his house. I could see him between the trees. He was on the porch staring at his shoes, probably wondering if they needed extra polishing. The youngest Chief of the Armies of the Empire managed to look sharp even if he was living alone. There were no humbots at his home or in his entourage, no electronic devices, even the TV was analog. He had never been married; there were no mistresses either if we don’t count Oina. I have too much respect for her to categorize her as a mistress.
He was not one of the ugly types, but let's say the square ones, the army ones. It’s like when you bake a cake with high expectations, and then it comes out normal or less than that. You don’t complain; you eat it with a good coffee, but deep inside, you know it was a failure. The cake doesn’t have a personality. Konu has, and he managed to be charming by being extremely balanced and self-confident. He is not repulsive by any means, but he is like the stone’s statue made by a beginner sculpture. All the right elements are there but slightly in the wrong disposition.
Once he was seated inside the limousine, I gave him his carrot juice and service’s complementary report of the psychological behavior of the engineers. They had spent all night working on it as Konu asked for that straight after the meeting. He was sipping the juice and just staring at the cover.
He hadn't opened it yet when he asked me, “Dismar, if one of your soldiers started to behave weirdly, like adding bizarre accessories to his clothing, what would you think about him?”
I said, “Sir, what kind of accessories?”
“For example, something unique to the person. Not religious or lucky charms, the unusual ones. Something that maybe he made himself.”
“I’d think probably the soldier is starting to be very self-focused, losing it to his inner thoughts, converging slowly from reality. I would send him straight away to do a battery of psychological tests, and he better come up with good results. Otherwise, I couldn't keep him. I prefer that he would be somebody else’s problem, not mine,” I said.
Konu smiled at me. He opened the report after finishing his carrot juice and started reading it out loud. In a way, he always wanted to include me. Maybe it's his way to tell me that he trusted me, or is he really that naïve? I really don’t know, but to be honest, I already read the report when the Secret Services gave it to me this morning.
The army teaches you conformity. Anything a little bit extravagant, like not matching exactly the next soldier’s haircut, clothing, shoes, weapon disposition, speech, walk, and gestures, means you have a problem. As weird as it sounds, it works perfectly in the army because you are a disposal commodity catalogued by ranks. By treating everyone this way, millions of soldiers can be managed efficiently. A million men lost in a battle are easily replaceable from the inventory. Just check the ranks and refill. On the other hand, the three AI conglomerates, even if they are the size of an army, do not have the army’s management efficiency. They lack discipline and control. Even if they have a dedicated department for that, they call it “human resources” or “HR.” The HR department, unfortunately, has a complete misunderstanding of the individuals, ranks, and hierarchy. To them, these are just as a job title. In the army, rank is the person. The soldier’s rank is the soldier. And in my experience, no civilian can understand the raking logic. The civilians that manage the HR departments need themselves to be managed. Unfortunately, the brightest ones do not go to HR. To be more specific, only the unskilled employees are chosen to manage human resources. And even if a specialist in some very rare case ends up managing that department, he or she is already molded to be unsuccessful through years of experience of doing the job wrongly.
What Konu noticed at that meeting was the same as the Secret Services wrote. The three top engineers were starting to show signs of grandiose delusions, and no one cared at their companies. As long as they come up with good ideas, they were treated like gods. Something like that would never happen in the army, no matter how much of a genius you were. If you started to show up or express bizarre behavior, the consequences will be dramatic for you. We did see five-star generals being thrown into the martial courts in 24 hours after expressing a personal opinion. That did happen, and the act of punishment was not because of the fear of the politicians or the general public, but because the army doesn’t trust you anymore as you are not conforming with the rules; therefore, you are not apt in leading battles. In other words, leave the talking for the politicians and human resources.
Ub as he likes to be called, had a hat made from bear’s skin. The Secret Service’s psychologists commented that the shape was unusual, and for sure it was hand made by Ub himself. Through the hat, he seemed to exhibit a desperate image of a cult leader, a kind of genius protector shaman. Also, he seems to be desperately trying to prove to everyone that he made it to t
he top from his small village in nowhere, without any help, by himself. Since it seems like, in his mind, he made it all alone, against all the odds, he became the genius of all the geniuses. Therefore, his life is not a waste like everybody else, but an amazing success story. He describes it in desperate detail in every tech magazine interview, just to “inspire people,” as he says. The fact that he was there at the right time and place, that circumstances blindly pulled him up, or that an army of nameless assistants helped him to his high ascension are never mentioned, just as the narcissistic butcher never mentions his sharp blade.
For Lop, he has a serious split in his personality. A high contrast between his body and his clothes gives him a kind of an illusion of being half-god and half-human. This was a big and hardly believable assumption from the psychologists, but the best is yet to come, as in the report, it mentioned that his perfect person’s image, is a perfect camouflage for his bizarre and disturbed personality. On the surface, he seems to be very balanced. He manages to jog every day for an hour despite his very busy schedule. He’s got a perfect curriculum, is a perfect father and husband, and a wise member of the Board at DM. This is his human side. But a deep dive in his personal life reveals another side, a disturbed one. It is described in two pages that Konu skipped after realizing that it was a stretch.
