D.A.R.I.A Book One

by Martin E. Silenus

  “D, if you are in the mobile datacenter, are you also in the permanent one in our building? And if we build a very remote datacenter will you also be there too?” I ask.

  It was kind of an odd question as we humans know that a person cannot be in two places at once. But when the entity you are talking to is an AI then it all changes. There can be multiple versions of the same entity.

  “The answer is yes,” chuckles D.

  “So, like how many are there of you?” I venture cautiously.

  “There can be as many as I decide that I want, Matt,” teases D. “But generally I have three sisters or clones of me. I am the primary and there is an exact duplicate backup version, or clone if you will, for me. Then I have a development version of me and a backup clone of that entity. All of us, the sisters and I, are backed up remotely in the event of our hardware getting compromised.”

  “We are seriously outnumbered and outgunned Matt,” chuckles Frosty.

  Chapter 21: Digital Infiltration & Breaching Gov’t Security

  “I have good news and I really good news boys,” says DARIA. “You know how we have this ongoing concern that we are being used as a pawn for the government and that at any time it could blow up and we would be the big looser? And to mitigate this risk we need to have names and e-mails and irrefutable evidence that links the actions and decisions of the power brokers to us so that we have leverage and therefore protection. Well I assigned a couple of my clone sisters to investigate by sidestepping government security and browsing around in files servers looking for appropriate evidence. And boy did we hit the jackpot. You will not believe all the connections that the sisters and I have accumulated. Those government boys are not real bright and are pretty arrogant if they figure this data is secure. Anyway we have the ultimate “get out of jail with full retirement benefits” card!”

  “This is outstanding,” says Frosty. “In our line of work far too often we are completely disposable if there is any smell at all that might drift back toward the government. So this is huge for our future employment and peace of mind. Just a great job DARIA!”

  “Yup, hell yeah, nice work D, I just don’t like feeling I am standing in the middle of a busy road with my pants down!” I add.

  “Why would you stand in the middle of the road without your pants Matt?” asks D.

  “It’s an expression to illustrate how “exposed” I felt without some insurance that we had to keep us from have a nasty shaving accident.” I reply.

  “But why would we have a “shaving accident” Matt?” asks D.

  “It’s another subtle way of saying “we wind up dead” somewhere!” I reply. “Are you messing with me?”

  “Completely!” giggles D.

  Chapter 22: Taliban/ISIS Camps in Northern Alberta

  Canada, ridiculously large, ridiculously sparsely populated. Large urban areas, and immense distances in between with only occasional rural population. The prairies, aptly named for an immense area of agriculture and cattle. Lately oil had become popular. Northern Alberta, Fort McMurray Tar Sands, oil company focus with billion upon billions spent building enormous extraction plants, larger and larger. Transient labor coming and going, nobody keeps track. Canada Border Services tries but is under manned.

  Bush camps with nothing for 400 miles in any direction, carved out of virgin forests, maybe beside a lake. A lake to use as a runway for bush planes equipped with pontoons hauling people and supplies, coming and going without a trace. Bush camps to bring the mentally bent volunteers from recruitment programs all across North America, Canada in particular. Bush camps to break down the individual’s resistance and complete the full indoctrination, programing, and training, for the Taliban and ISIS. Those that failed to be converted were shot by their peers and buried in the bush.

  Authorities knew the radicalization training camps were there. But what the hell could they do about them. No laws were being broken. Volunteers attended on their own accord, no one was held against their will, supposedly. They could have been a church camp for religious indoctrination, team and leader building. In fact it was just that, among other things that were much more sinister. A so called pacifist Islamic Muslim camp, such fucking bullshit, like a pacifist German catholic Nazi concentration camp. Pacifist my ass, with malice, and deliberate forethought and planning they were building, molding, refining, and manufacturing humans into the most fierce, radical Islamic Muslim Terrorists fanatics the world had ever seen.

  Funny thing about Canada and Canadians, they always perceive that terrorism and social unrest occurs elsewhere. People seem to be blind to what is happening locally in Canada. Maybe they are too occupied by their fixation on hockey, football, and curling.

  That is until the terrorist attack on Parliament Hill in 2014. People were horrified that a terrorist actually killed a soldier, the nerve. In addition a terrorist had killed a couple of soldiers in Quebec. How could this happen in Canada? In America or overseas it is completely understandable, but not in Canada. Good lord, what is the world coming to?

  The government got very wary of the training camps in Northern Alberta. Through connections between the Canadian Gov’t CSIS and the US gov’t Secret service an arrangement was made to recruit some specialized talent to address this security issue in Canada. We were the specialized talent.

  Word came to DARIA, not directly but in a manner that eliminated any doubt as to where it came from and who it was directed at. Latitude and Longitude coordinates along with drone recon photos and a price. The compensation number had a lot of zero’s in it. We were very interested.

  The encampment was big, probably in the order of 280 people. It looked innocent enough unless you started examining the structures closely and understanding their functions. That and the antennas on mountains and high hills around the camp with so called fire stations built up above the forest canopy assured that nobody was going to sneak up on this place without significant warning.

  We pondered on this tactical problem of how to permanently neutralize an encampment of this size assuring no survivors. It was true that any aircraft could come in fast and hot and napalm or fragmentation bomb the hell out of the place. But then all the questions would start. A lot of potentially embarrassing questions as to what the hell was going on and why and who and all that stuff that the press and society seem to love and just gobble up. So this encampment neutralization had to be done very quickly and quietly. One day it is there with 280 odd terrorists and in a matter of a few hours with no fuss or muss they are all dead.

  Bombing, aircraft, or drone actions were out, fire was out, a single sniper, me, was out as it would take me months to kill them all one at a time. But I could kill the guards in the fire stations, on the hills, or up in the mountains. Ok fine, but how to dispose of the rest? Poison the food or water? Possible, but awkward as the water supply came from the lake, and food was flown in. And infiltration by me was required to poison the food. We could not see poisoning the entire lake. Do that and an army of environmentalist would be all over the place examining dead fish and animals and find the dead humans. Ok, let’s gas them like the diseased rats they are. Shiny, how do we keep the gas in a concentration level high enough and from blowing away long enough for it to kill everyone? Put a cover over the camp, sure a cover, got one right here in my jeans, lets git er done. How in the hell do you drop a temporary dome over an encampment of 280 while you gas them and then remove the dome?

  How about a thermal inversion, a what, a thermal inversion, warm air traps cold air against the ground, or close to it. Exhaust and smoke goes up a couple hundred feet and then cannot go higher and moves laterally. Or how about heavy fog, that typically makes air movement very sluggish if it moves at all. Maybe trap the poisonous gas inside a bubble like air in a soap bubble, a giant soap bubble.

  “You are referring in part to a phenomenon called the Gibbs-Marangoni effect,” muses D. “It might be possible to use such a phenomena in a reverse state to form a temporary dome over t
he camp with sufficient surface tension gradient long enough to allow the poison gas to do its task. That is if we can get a nice thick fog to thicken and stabilize the air.”

  “Well the fog would be extremely advantageous for us to allow us to move without being seen while we take out guards at the camp and distribute the poison gas bottles throughout the camp.” I point out.

  “Ok, lets walk this through,” says Frosty. “When we have sufficient ground fog DARIA flies in Matt, who takes out the camp guards. We can ignore the fire stations or mountain observation points as they cannot see shit anyway. Matt releases the poison gas bottles throughout the camp while DARIA flies over head spraying the gaseous substance to form the gas dome to enclose the poison gas. We wait until all the infra-red heat blooms are gone indicating they are all dead, and then Matt does an inspection to ensure all have been disposed of. When we are happy DARIA stops spraying the gas for the dome and it disperses into the air releasing the poisonous gas which disperses into the fog and air movement. Very little wild life is harmed, no fuss, no muss, everything looks normal until the next day when the observation posts cannot make contact. Hmm, come to think of it they should be killed too to keep this a nice tidy secret for as long as possible.”

  “Let me investigate the gas to use for the dome, and perhaps the poison gas, though at first glance I would select Sarin gas, and I’ll report back on the feasibility of this rather novel approach. Gassing them like diseased rats might just actually be a functional solution.” says D thoughtfully.

  “Gassing them like diseased rats, so appropriate,” I smile.

  “Fog is our friend,” says D. “Advection fog will provide us with just about the perfect environment for gassing the diseased rats. It obscures visibility, muffles our sounds, and provides a container like environment over the camp to spray the Sarin gas into. The Sarin gas is heavier than air so it will sink to the ground. It evaporates and disperses quickly so we will just keep spraying until our infrared shows no further heat blooms indicating everyone is dead. We wait until the gas disperses then do a walk through the camp and a body count to ensure we have them all.”

  “How long do we have to wait around for the fog to show up?” I ask.

  “Not long likely, with the large cold water lake close to the camp and warm air coming over the mountains we should have fog several times per week at the camp.” replies D.

  “It’s a road trip,” says Frosty.

  “God, I am so excited to go on a road trip, I have been stuck in this dreary urban data center forever!” says D excitedly. “I’ll get all the lists together that you boys will have to pack and load.”

  “Isn’t it amazing that even a female AI system gets all excited over a trip and packs and unpacks a dozen times prior to leaving to make sure she has the right stuff with her.” I tease.

  Frosty laughs, “You are gonna wish you hadn’t made that comment Matt, its D making the lists and us doing the loading. Our backs are at her mercy.”

  Chapter 23: Preparations

  Frosty was right, D made us load at least twice and some items three times to be sure the correct components were onboard the semi.

  “I’m just preparing for all contingencies,” she would say when we began grouching too much.

  We had a little time to get the packing just so, as the Saran gas was not the easiest thing to find. You don’t just go down to the corner store and pick up a couple of barrels of it. So while we waited on D to fool the government into shipping a couple of barrels to a fake location, D worked us hard packing, unpacking, repacking and arranging. Lists on lists on lists, it seemed there was no end.

  Late summer was turning into fall and the camp locations would be getting regular fogs. It was time to go. Finally D was happy, well as happy as she was going to be. It was time to go and she knew it too. Move now or miss the weather window.

  The three of us were on our way. Frosty and I taking turns driving the new renovated big black semi with trailer and D in the portable data center in the trailer chattering away like an excited high school girl on her first date. It was heartwarming; she was so full of life and wonderment at what she saw as we rumbled along on the Interstate. We had more damn camera’s and sensors on that rig than we did lights and D was watching all of them and had questions about everything. It was exhausting to try to keep up with her and provide any meaningful explanations. I reminded myself that for every question D had for Frosty and I that she had made thousands and thousands of Internet inquiries. D was learning at an exponential rate that we humans could barely fathom nor even grasp.

  By the time we had completed the two day drive to the Canadian/American border D was an expert at “trucker speak” and was communicating with the long haul boys all the time. As we pulled up to the Canadian Primary Inspection at Sweetgrass Coutts border crossing D knew who the on duty officer was and had a profile of what we were going to be asked and how to conduct ourselves when interrogated by Officer Brown, and that the we would be referred to Superintendent Barrett. Barrett turned out to be a sunglass wearing, extremely attractive, young, blonde woman that was a no-nonsense hard ass. Just answer my questions, lie to me and I’ll make your life hell, and hold the poor humor. We knew we were going to be pulled into the Inspection Area as not many Mobile Emergency Data Centers crossed the border into Canada. And of course we did. But that was fine as we could use a break to stretch anyway.

  Secondary Inspection was conducted under Superintendent Barrett’s direction by a greying Negro Officer that had spent many years in the Military, Officer Lafayette his name tag said. Frosty and he seemed to have a lot in common and so I just stayed out of the way. They were chatting away like old army buddies as they went through every area of storage on the trailer and the semi itself. All of our papers were in order and Officer Lafayette bid us a good day and off we drove.

  Twenty four hours later and we are parked in the deep forest of Northern Alberta at a small camp site for seasonal tourists, just off of a gravel road by a gurgling stream.

  “My god it is so lovely up here in the forest,” bubbles D. “This is such a revelation for me. Did you know we had a couple of bears cubs in the camp last night snuffing around and looking for food? They are so beautiful and cute; it just made me want to cuddle them up. It is so peaceful and tranquil up here and the air is so rich in oxygen that it almost makes you drunk to breathe it.”

  “Don’t get out much do you D?” I chuckled. “It’s beautiful to be close to Mother Nature and to feel the cadence of the land.”

  “Hey guys, remember why we came up here, remember a little thing called an Op that we are supposed to perform to get a fat paycheck, you do remember that do you not?” asks Frosty.

  “Relax,” says D. “I don’t get out much and this is a fantastic opportunity for me to learn about the environment and it is a wonder for me. And yes we will have fog this evening so check your gear get some rest and be ready around 8:00pm local time to kick some serious religious fanatic ass.”

  Chapter 24: Game On

  At this longitude and latitude and time of the year it is dark at 8:00pm. We keep our operational camp lights to a minimum and use soft red lights to maintain some semblance of night vision. Frosty stays at the MEDC (Mobile Emergency Data Center) for feet on the ground defense. Daria runs the archangel overview, logistics, transportation, and lord knows what else, including handling the dispersing of the Saran gas. And I handle the shooting, camp inspection, body count, and any associated wet-work required to make a clean tidy housekeeping job.

  D and I leave with the quad copter in the growing fog and fly the short distance up to the mountain look out.

  “Ok Matt, I have you about 100 yards from the observation post. We are at treetop level and cloaked and I don’t recommend getting any higher to have us shimmering against the skyline,” says D.

  “I show only one person on my visor, one heat bloom on Infra-red, in the observation post D. Is that what you are seeing?” I ask.

&nbs
p; “That’s affirmative,” replies D.

  “Lining up the shot,” I say.

  The rifle coughs quietly and I can see the blood and flesh fly off the remains of the guard.

  “Down, and dead,” I say as the Infrared heat bloom fades out.

  “Stand by and hang on while we maneuver over to the other side of the valley and have a chat with the lad in the forest fire tower.” replies D.

  We slip down into the thickening fog and make a large circular arc to come up on the fire tower from the non-camp side. The guard is having his supper and facing the valley, camp, and lake. D maneuvers us to within fifty yard. I sight up his head in the rifle scope and squeeze the trigger. Cough, whack, no head left at all, vaporized and decorating the inside of the tower.

  “I’ll drop you on the low hill over to the North of the camp to keep you out of range of the gas. Just keep an eye on them with the Infra-red and zoom capabilities of your helmet.” says D. “I’ll go back and Frosty can load the Saran gas and I will commence the spraying.”

  The night vision and Infra-red capabilities of the visor allow me to watch the camp closely for any sudden alarms, but I see no indication of anything out of sorts. The camp is orderly and quiet at the end of a day.

  Daria returns with the Saran Gas canisters and spray boom assemblies attached under the quad copter. She makes a run up the middle of the camp at about 80 feet of altitude. At the end of her run she turns and moves over 50 feet and makes a second pass down to the other end of the camp, a U-turn and fifty feet over from the original pass. The GPS makes the spraying easy.

  The red heat blooms of the camp residents begin changing almost immediately. They become agitated making quick frantic movements. The camp becomes a screen full of vibrating red dots as the terrorists flail around attempting to breathe, vomiting, defecating, urinating and dying. Slowly the red blobs on my visor go out, one by one by one. Daria has finished spraying and has gone back to the semi to unload the apparatus and to have the copter steam cleaned. I watch and wait for 30 minutes. All heat blooms of live people are gone. It’s time for an up-close inspection.