D.A.R.I.A Book One

by Martin E. Silenus

  D.A.R.I.A

  Book One

  By

  Martin E. Silenus

  Be sure to visit

  Martin E. Silenus

  At

  www.martinesilenus.com for free books and special offers!

  Table of Contents

  Introduction

  Chapter 1: In the Beginning

  Chapter 2: Opportunity

  Chapter 3: Frosty

  Chapter 4: DARIA

  Chapter 5: The Equipment

  Chapter 6: Crawford

  Chapter 7: The setup

  Chapter 8: Go Time

  Chapter 9: Debrief

  Chapter 10: First Impressions

  Chapter 11: The Collections

  Chapter 12: Russian Mob

  Chapter 13: What Happened

  Chapter 14: The Offer

  Chapter 15: Mexico

  Chapter 16: Airborne

  Chapter 17: The Hit

  Chapter 18: Anthropomorphize

  Chapter 19: The Distrust of Gov’t Wetwork

  Chapter 20: Becoming Mobile

  Chapter 21: Digital Infiltration & Breeching Gov’t Security

  Chapter 22: Taliban/ISIS Camps in Northern Alberta

  Chapter 23: Preparations

  Chapter 24: Game On

  Chapter 25: Dreamland

  Chapter 26: The data

  Chapter 27: Trans-Human

  Chapter 28: Lucy

  Chapter 29: Home Base Compromised

  Chapter 30: Remote Camp

  Chapter 31: Good News Bad News

  Introduction

  I am an enthusiastic and vigorous supporter of G.R.I.N. That is, Genetics, Robotics, Information Tech, and Nanotechnology. Yes, a vigorous supporter of human evolution and development utilizing all of the tools that we currently have at our disposal. Why would a human be any other? Our role is to learn, propagate and contribute back into the society that made us. To further mankind, further our evolutionary existence and take life to the next level.

  In my lifetime alone we have made tremendously exciting strides forward in Medicine, Computers, Internet and global instantaneous communications. We have so much more information, more data, to base our opinions and decisions on now. It is hard to believe that it has been achieved over the short span of less than a lifetime, how remarkable and wonderful.

  I do not bode fools well, nor do I bode well those that stand in the way of human evolution. Braying like frightened donkeys at the thought of human change. Struggling to keep us locked in the medieval non-relevant grip of various flavored antiquated religions.

  It is true that due diligence, best business practices, and industry standards must be employed to move forward in a controlled informed and calculated fashion. To ensure such practices are followed more resource research dollars need to be committed.

  Our collective intelligence is to be cultivated and nurtured to further our evolution including human/genetic/technology/robotic/nanotechnology integration and augmentation. We must move forward with proper process, resources and great vigor!

  Martin E. Silenus

  Chapter 1: In the Beginning

  My name is Mathew G. Southam; the G. is for George and I never use it. And don’t call me “Southie” unless you want a beating, just “Matt” is fine. High school graduate, University dropout, served in the military in Afghanistan, achieved rank of SPC, honorably discharged.

  Things hadn’t been all that shiny since I got out of the military. As is so often the case for Vets my military education made returning to civilian life harder than normal. They had done a real good job of teaching me to fight physically and mentally, to fight with a variety of weapons, and to stay alive. But what the military did not teach me was how to rejoin society. My friends were still in the military, even when they finished their hitch they went back. Couldn’t stand the civilian life they said, only home they had was in the military, and their best friends they could trust with their lives were there with them, in the military.

  It was not an unusual situation, being important in the military with rank and commanding men and machinery worth multi-millions. Then discharged and damn lucky to get shitty starving salary job stacking fucking groceries at the local grocery store. Being shit on by little jerk-off people you could kill with one hand. Not much wonder that the crime rate, alcohol, and drug rates were so damned high for us vets. What the fuck are we supposed to do?

  I thought hard about re-enlisting but didn’t, wasn’t sure why, except I had been there and done that and wasn’t fussy about doing it again. Also thought about some form of police force, but they were and are a collection of toothless useless tits. They were watched so closely by “this and that rights organizations” that you couldn’t whack the truth out of any piece of street shit. Nope that was definitely not where I wanted to go. I could see clearly the liability of how that would go for me.

  My daddy had taught me to shoot, and shoot real accurate too. So I was a natural in the military and excelled at very long distance sniping. I just seemed to have an innate sense of where the bullet was going. Always said I could feel if it was a good shot. And not too shabby with medium range selectable fire rifles either. Of course handguns were the opposite end of the extreme from sniper rifles, horribly inaccurate at anything but close ranges and even then you had to be disciplined to stay calm and steady to hit anything. My first love was the sniper ultra-long range ballistics and what went into making the two mile “Interdiction Rifles” work so damn well.

  While in the military I had also taken a great interest in technology. Volunteered and worked with it as much as I could to learn it as much as possible. My friends figured I was some fucked up as when the rest of them were off getting pissed and chasing pussy I would be on base and working in the technology pool. There was some uber cool Artificial Intelligence (AI) shit there that few knew of and even fewer had any idea of what it could do. But what I saw really impressed me and I knew that at some point I had to learn more about the AI systems. Shit that stuff was least 4 years ahead of anything remotely close in the civilian world.

  So I watched and supported myself as best I could. Kept my eyes open, worked out daily to stay in shape and trim. Not like I was given to fat, that hadn’t run in the family. I’m six foot four inches tall and 230 lbs. A big well-proportioned man, lean and raw, cowboy style with lightening quick reflexes. The daily work outs served to keep me focused and the stress level under control. A man my size with my skill sets can do a hell of a pile of damage in a short time, so getting out of control was not an option. I liked to blend in as best I could and preferred not to be noticed.

  Of course at the gym, which was mixed, that was not always possible. There always seemed to be some peckerwood attempting to get in my face, or a woman eyeing me up. Seems a lot of very bored housewives wanted to test ride this big old boy. They were bad news, all of them, bad news and trouble. They chatter to their friends and you become a spectacle and then they spread rumors of sexual events, and before you know it some irate husbands, or boyfriend pricks, or both, are calling you out to fight so they don’t lose face in front of their bored wives and girlfriends. The women love that, two men fighting over them. It really pumps their egos. I don’t need that brand of shit and I prefer not to be manipulated.

  That said there had been a woman some couple of years ago that had attracted me and we had spent some post gym personal workouts fucking the daylights out of one another. But that all ended when her husband was transferred.

  And there was also that little incident in the parking lot a while back, with the dregs of society, which kinda got out of hand. A mostly demolished Pontiac Sunfire full of young druggy street scum with flat brim caps, hoodies, baggy pants, were
twisted up real bad out of their minds, if they had any, and were tearing around a Sobeys’s parking lot cutting drivers off, screaming insults, and attempting to hit shoppers pushing their carts of groceries. I watched them go by once and terrorize a middle aged woman and get right in her face. It made me angry. So I waited for them to come around the lot again and stepped out from between the cars as they swerved back and forth coming across the parking lot.

  The driver was hanging out the window screaming obscenities at me. I sidestepped to miss the car and grabbed the driver puke by his left arm and hoody and yanked him half out the window the action twisted his arm back and I felt it break. Now he is screaming in earnest, for good measure I punch him in the right ear, and he went quiet. The car swerves and rams itself under a nice late model Ford F150 pickup truck. The radiator punctures immediately and steam spews out around the hood. His buddy jumped out of the passenger door and is coming over the hood through the steam. Meanwhile the puke in the back behind the driver hopped out and comes at me with a nasty looking pocket knife. I let him get close while watching for buddy to show up coming through the steam. Then I kicked the knife wielding puke in the balls and folded him up just like his jack knife. A short kick to the head and he was both down and out. Driver buddy lands on the ground staggering from the steam in his eyes. Too bad you fucker, and I kicked him in the inside of his right knee. The joint just collapses and he’s screaming on the ground clutching the remains of his knee. From the back of the car on the passenger’s side a girl got out and ran shrieking around the back of the car and charged at me. It looks like she has a nail file in her fist. What the fuck are these puke skids thinking? I waited not moving till she got in range and I punched her once in the face, just hard enough, nose crushed, front teeth snapped off. The force of the blow lifted her off her feet and flopped her on her back on the pavement, her head hit with a satisfying clunk!

  “Thank you so much Mister” a voice from behind me said, “Those little pukes sure had it coming and it’s so satisfying to see them get their asses handed to them!”

  I turned around and it’s the same middle aged woman that had been on the receiving end of these pukes a couple of minutes ago. I could hear the police sirens coming in the distance.

  “You are very welcome”, I grin at her. “I hope you’ll handle the cops accordingly.”

  “Ha, you got it, no worry on that”, she smiled back.

  I shouldn’t have got involved in such a sordid little mess, but it really pisses me off when law abiding good people are put upon by the drug addled dregs of society. Guess I kind of see it as fair game and an opportunity for some payback to those pukes the police have trouble convicting. Yeah, I know it is a form of vigilante justice, but it sure needs to happen.

  Alright, maybe I don’t always keep my head down and remain invisible, but for the most part I do attempt to do my best to keep a low profile.

  Waiting is never easy, and I wasn’t sure what I was waiting for, but I knew something was coming, I could sense it.

  Chapter 2: Opportunity

  Sure as hell it was not too long in coming either. I had gone downtown to the police lockup to extract a drunken military buddy. Dwayne was a serious quart a day alcoholic, and on weekends he liked to step it up a little and mix in some drugs. Well things had gotten a bit out of hand and old Dwayne had punched out a couple of customers and a bouncer at his favorite watering hole. Before he could vamoose the local police rolled up and cuffed him and stuffed him in the van for a ride downtown to the drunk lock-up. So I took a taxi downtown and had a brief chat with a very old, grey haired, bored officer behind the desk. He eyed me keenly overtop of nose spectacles and recognized me as a vet, then spoke in his radio to someone to go collect Dwayne. While I waited I found myself on a wooden bench shared with a couple of passed out drunken old whores. To pass the time I was staring at the wanted posters covering the walls. After a bit something caught my eye and I got up to look closer at a couple of the posters. Hell, I knew one of these guys, hadn’t been a week since I had seen him, Crawford, at the gym. I was more than startled at the Bail Bond reward offered for his capture. WTF is that all about, so I read it again more closely. Seems Crawford had jumped bail for a number of felonies against him, including beating on the ladies, it said. I went back and sat down and pondered on this. Crawford was out on $200,000.00 bail and had jumped and disappeared. The fee for his capture was $40k.

  Dwayne was not in a good mood. He was bruised up some, and dried out bad. We walked a half block in silence to the nearest gin joint, sat down and ordered shots with beer chaser. After four double shots Dwayne started to relax and offered his appreciation and thanks for posting the bail to get him out. He didn’t say much else though, just kept ordering more shots to get caught up. I left Dwayne there pounding his whisky and nursing his bruises. I needed to check with some folks that I knew.

  It is amazingly simple said my legal buddy Patrick, drop by and sign these forms and I’ll file them on your behalf and field any questions the authorities might have. But, he said, be careful as it’s the slippery edge of the wedge where you are going and you best make damn sure you have personal backup to do this type of work. Lots of backup preferably, and skilled backup, not just some dumb schmuk with a gun. Patrick also mentioned that he was pretty friendly with an Inspector in the police force that might be able to provide some potential scum bags for collection. That could be a very handy source. The backup partner problem I pondered on a good while as I did not want a partner at all, felt they were encumbrances, but true to a fact I did need backup, there was no question of that, where I was going and what I was intending to do demanded a solid wing man watching my back.

  To make a long story short, my direction and intent pretty much stopped as I was effectively blocked by the need for a partner, but not wanting one. Sometimes it is very strange how events coincide to enable a direction. I noticed an advertisement for a local computer show featuring Artificial Intelligence systems. As I was keenly interested in such things back in the military I thought I might just check it out and see what it was all about. It wasn’t like I was short of time.

  The show was held in the local field house. The parking lot was jammed and inside it was literally a freakin zoo, hard to get around, difficult to see anything, impossible to get decent info, generally a typical large piss-off trade show. Except for one booth, there I recognized the guy in the booth from the military AI group where I had volunteered. So I made a point of meeting the guy and setting a time to get together for drinks after the show.

  Chapter 3: Frosty

  Neil Forsyth, or Frosty, as he was nicknamed in the service, was in every sense of the word a complete computer/techno/AI geek. He had no life other than his interaction with AI and his computer systems. Short blonde cropped hair, heavy glasses, thin face, chain smoker, and scrawny body even after military training. After several rounds of libations and small talk about the military days Frosty began to talk shop. His company was vying for some choice military contracts for advanced AI combat systems. Frosty was very enthusiastic in explaining in painful detail the elements of DARIA (Digital Attack & Recon Information Access) that made it far and away the superior AI combat system. It had three version generations of upgrades and improvements hence from the military systems that we had worked with. To be concise Frosty said it was all but human and you could not tell the difference. I watched, listened, smiled and called bullshit.

  Frosty just grinned, tapped the ash of his smoke, keyed on his cell phone and said, “How about a little test?”

  “Like what?”

  “Go down to the Liquor Store on the corner and pick me up a bottle of Chateau Montelena Estate Cabernet Sauvignon, but don’t pay for it.”

  “Be fucking serious, I’m not getting busted for stealing a fucking bottle of wine!”

  “It’s not just any bottle of wine, it’s worth $150 bucks, and if you listen to DARIA she will guide you through the operational process of stealing it a
nd being undetected.”

  “Jesus Frosty, be serious.”

  “Just try it asshole, if you want to know how good DARIA really is.” says Frosty and hands me his phone. “Say hello to DARIA and listen closely to what she says.”

  This is well beyond fucking ridiculous I think, but I can abort this stupid operation at any time if I don’t like how it is going. Besides Frosty is not one to bullshit. If he says it will work, it will fucking work, and work very well to boot.

  “DARIA, are you there?” I ask into the cell phone.

  “Yes Mathew, I am here, how are you? Frosty says we have a minor OP at the local Liquor store.” replies DARIA in a calm soft cultured voice.

  “Yeah, apparently an expensive bottle of wine to liberate to demonstrate your capabilities.” I reply with a look skyward and a scowl at Frosty.

  “It’s a minor effort barely worthy of the name “operation.” says DARIA. “But effective to prove a small point. Now how tall are you Mathew, how much do you weigh, and how fit are you?”

  “What is all that for?”

  “I need to know your size, weight, and level of robustness, to set time variables in the operation.”

  “Ok, 6’ 4” and 230lbs and damn well very fit.”

  “Very nice Mathew, we will get along nicely. Now go out the door and left on the street to the intersection, wait there while a police cruiser passes by and then cross the street to the Liquor Store.”

  “How do you know about the Police and what do you know of the Liquor Store security?”

  “Oh, I know all the Police schedules, monitor the Police radio bands, and all of the details of the security system at the Liquor Store, such as it is.”

  “Ok, Police car just drove by, crossing the street to the Store.”

  “Stand by for a second while I disable the security cameras and cause a diversion for the Pakistani guy behind the counter. Ok good, now move into the store and stop in the far right corner and stand still, you have 7 seconds, go.”