Chapter 10 #2
The robot replied, “Number 20.” It sounded human, like a male voice of about-average pitch, with no affect. Brodie saw no visible speakers, and the voice seemed to emanate from the center of its head and was slightly muffled. It turned its head to Taylor, then back to Brodie.
Brodie said, “My name is Scott Brodie, and this is my partner, Maggie Taylor. We are special agents from United States Army CID. Do you know what CID is?”
“No.”
“We are criminal investigators. We are here to investigate the murder of Major Roger Ames, by you.”
Bucky sat motionless and quiet, staring at Brodie.
Taylor asked, “Do you know who Major Ames is?”
“Yes,” it replied.
This was tedious. Brodie said, “Tell us who he is.”
“Major Roger Ames is the chief scientist at Camp Hayden for the United States Army Combat Capabilities Development Command. He is thirty-six years old. He has dark-brown hair and brown eyes and pale skin.”
Taylor asked, “Do you remember killing him?”
“No.”
Brodie eyed Corporal Powell, who stood about ten feet away with his rifle still trained on the bot. Then he said to Howe, “I don’t think that’s necessary.”
“It doesn’t bother the bot.”
“It’s bothering me.”
Howe said to Powell, “Lower your rifle but be at the ready.”
Powell slowly lowered his rifle and remained where he was.
Brodie asked Bucky, “What’s my name?”
“I do not know.”
“I just told you.”
Captain Spencer explained, “It knows what it is programmed to know. It cannot learn, in any traditional sense. It cannot form memories either. It lives in the perpetual present, you might say.”
Brodie said to Bucky, “Good for you, Number 20. Living in the moment. No memories means no regrets, right?”
“I do not understand your question.”
Taylor asked Bucky, “What is the size of this room?”
Without hesitation, Bucky responded, “Six point two meters by four point five seven meters. The ceiling is three point one meters high nearest the door, and three point two five meters high nearest the window.”
She asked, “How tall was Major Ames?”
“One point seven five meters.”
“Why did you kill him?”
“I do not know.”
“When did you kill him?”
“I do not know.”
“What is your doctrine statement?”
“Neutralize all enemies.”
She asked, “Who are your enemies?”
Bucky immediately swiveled its head to its right and locked on Corporal Powell, who gripped his rifle tightly as he stared at the robot. “Corporal Daniel Powell is my enemy.”
Brodie asked, “Then why aren’t you trying to neutralize him?”
Bucky swiveled its head back to them. “Two conditions must be met for me to activate my doctrine statement. One, be issued orders by an authorized individual. Two, be located within the battlespace. Neither of those conditions has been met.”
Taylor asked, “And what does it mean to neutralize your enemy? What do you do?”
“I shoot the enemy with my rifle.”
Taylor leaned forward. “And then what happens?”
“He is dead.”
“Define ‘dead.’ ”
“He sits down. He removes his helmet. The laser engagement system deactivates the targeting guidance.”
Brodie said, “That’s not dead. That’s just a game you play. Major Ames is dead for real. Do you understand?”
Bucky replied, “No.”
Brodie picked up his full water bottle and threw it at the robot. It bounced off Bucky’s chest. The robot looked down at the bottle as it landed on the table and rolled.
“Not great reflexes, pal.”
Taylor looked at her partner. “What are you doing?”
“Running diagnostics.” He picked up the bottle again and flung it at Bucky’s head. It smacked the robot square in the face, causing its head to jerk back slightly, and the bottle landed on the floor.
Colonel Howe stepped forward and said sternly, “Mr. Brodie. Is this how you normally conduct an interview?”
He turned to her. “Interviews are with people, Colonel. As you made clear, this is a thing.” He looked at Caroline Dixon. “A self-driving car. And this is reminding me never to get one.”
Howe said, “You are abusing our equipment.”
“I don’t think a Costco water bottle stands a chance against titanium alloy.” He looked at Spencer, then Dixon. “Why doesn’t it defend itself?”
Spencer answered, “Self-preservation is an element of its doctrine statement. Survival within the battlespace for the duration of the exercise. Outside of the battlespace, it won’t raise a finger, unless it is instructed to by an authorized individual.”
Except for two nights ago in the DEVCOM lab, when it raised all its fingers and wrapped them around Major Ames’s cranium.
Brodie leaned down and picked up the water bottle. He asked Captain Spencer, “Are you an authorized individual?”
Spencer nodded, then said in a commanding voice, “Number 20, avoid getting struck by the water bottle.”
Brodie flung it at the robot again, harder this time. With lightning reflexes, both manacled hands shot up from the table. It caught the bottle with its right hand and gripped it tight, causing the plastic to burst open and spray water all over itself, the table, and Brodie and Taylor.
Bucky remained frozen with its arms lifted, squeezing the crushed plastic bottle as water dripped down its head.
Brodie wiped the water off his face. “Nice catch.”
Bucky did not respond.
Spencer said, “Arms down, Number 20.”
Bucky lowered its arms to the table, still gripping the crushed bottle.
Brodie asked it, “Who built you?”
“I was manufactured by Synotec Systems in the state of Nevada.”
“Why were you built?”
“To help prepare the United States Army for the future of warfare.”
“That’s nice of you. What is the future of warfare?”
“An increased reliance on automated systems to achieve strategic and tactical advantages for our nation.”
“It’s not your nation,” said Taylor. “You don’t have a nation.”
Bucky did not respond.
Brodie asked it, “Are you a better soldier than a human?”
“Yes,” answered the robot.
“Why?”
“Our platoon has participated in sixty-seven offensive engagements versus the United States Army Rangers, and we have won every engagement.”
“Every engagement?”
“Yes.”
Brodie looked at Colonel Howe. “Is that true?”
Howe almost looked ashamed as she said, “It’s true.”
Brodie stood and turned toward the two scientists.
“Captain Spencer. Ms. Dixon. We are going to need a technical explanation for how and why this thing did what it did to Major Ames. And if you can’t provide one, we must conclude that you’ve lost control over your own creations and don’t fully understand how they work.
Or someone with technical expertise is intentionally misleading us. ”
Howe stared at him. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves, Mr. Brodie.”
“I’m right where I need to be, Colonel. Laying it all out.”
“You’ve been on base less than two hours, and you are already leveling serious accusations. You have yet to even speak with any of our Rangers or understand how their training is—”
Brodie interrupted, “There’s a Ranger in this room.” He turned to Corporal Powell. “What is your opinion of the lethal autonomous weapons you are training with?”
The corporal hesitated. He glanced at Colonel Howe.
She kept her eyes glued to Brodie as she said, “You may speak freely, Corporal.”
Powell looked at Bucky, who was staring straight ahead, motionless, with water still dripping down its bucket head. Then Powell said to Brodie, “I hate them, sir.”
Brodie smiled at the man. “Thank you for your honesty.”
Howe said, “Hating the enemy is good for morale and motivation.” She added, “I think we’re done here.”
Maggie Taylor remained sitting with her eyes locked on Bucky. She asked the robot, “Do you think you’re strong enough to break those chains, Number 20?”
“I do not know.”
“Have you tried?”
“No.”
She asked Howe, “Why don’t you go ahead and order it to break the chains? See what happens.”
“I will do no such thing.”
“So they’re just for show, then. To make us feel safe. Well, I don’t.” She stood. “We must speak with General Morgan.”
Howe said, “You’ll get your wish very soon. I was informed he and his wife have invited you both to their house for dinner tonight. Mrs. Morgan is a very good cook.”
That probably wasn’t what Maggie Taylor had in mind, but when a general invites you to dinner, you go. She nodded.
Colonel Howe said to Specialist Kemp, “Escort Number 20 back to its cell and dry it off, then shut it down.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Kemp said to Bucky, “Number 20, stand up and return to your cell.”
The robot immediately stood, then turned around and shuffled back toward the open holding cell door.
Brodie said, “Nice meeting you, Bucky. I hope they recycle you into tank armor.”
Bucky stopped walking. It stood frozen a moment with its back to them. Brodie and Taylor exchanged a look.
Kemp said sternly, “Number 20. Return to your cell.”
Bucky continued into the holding cell, and the SPC followed.
They all left the brig, and Colonel Howe checked her watch.
“Your dinner with the general is at nineteen-hundred. In about one hour. Your luggage has already been delivered to your residence.” She said to Spencer, “I am going back to my office. Please escort Mr. Brodie and Ms. Taylor to their house and show them the location of General Morgan’s house. ”
“Yes, ma’am.”
The colonel excused herself, as did Sergeant Mendez. Dixon said to Brodie and Taylor, “I hope that was instructive.”
Taylor replied, “It was chilling. And somewhat frustrating.”
Dixon nodded. “They’re not programmed for the art of conversation. It’s too bad you don’t have the opportunity to see them in action on the battlefield.”
Brodie said, “I would be perfectly fine if no one ever gets that opportunity again.”
Dixon looked at him. “I understand this is unfamiliar, Scott. You’re used to dealing with human suspects.”
“I might still be.”
She gave a tight smile. “Right. But we are working with a very complex system, and it might take time to find what went wrong. Roger Ames was a colleague and a friend, and I will do everything in my abilities to get to the bottom of it.” She looked at Spencer.
“I know the captain feels the same way.”
Spencer nodded.
Taylor asked, “Why did Bucky stop walking when Scott said the thing about it getting recycled? It was almost like it wanted to respond… but stopped itself.”
“That was a little odd,” admitted Dixon.
“It heard you address it,” said Spencer. “It stopped to listen, maybe to hear if there was going to be a command. Let’s not overthink it.”
Dixon checked her watch. “I’m going back to the lab. I’ve got at least two Diet Cokes’ worth of work to do.” She turned to leave, then stopped herself and looked back at Brodie. “You called it Bucky. In that moment when it stopped walking.”
“I was told that’s the Rangers’ nickname for it.”
“Among themselves. They don’t talk to the bots. No one else uses those names, and the units aren’t programmed to recognize them. They don’t answer to them. It shouldn’t have even known you were addressing it.”
Taylor said, “Context clues.”
Dixon shook her head. “These things don’t do context clues, Maggie.”
Captain Spencer said, “They’re not designed to walk with manacles—maybe it was being careful with its footing.”
Dixon said to him, “After what happened to the major, we need to be on a hair-trigger alert for any anomalies, no matter how small.”
Captain Spencer appeared irked by her tone. He said, “I know, and I agree.”
Brodie asked, “Do you think those manacles can actually restrain it?”
Dixon shrugged. “Probably not. They’d slow it down, though.” She added, “If I had to guess, that whole show of keeping it in the brig, the chains and all that, was a bit of theater for your benefit ordered by General Morgan.”
“Why?”
She smiled slightly. “Best I don’t prejudice you. Enjoy your dinner with the general. He’s a character.”
Brodie said, “I have never gotten along with anyone described as a character.”
“How about eccentric?”
“I can work with that.”
“Good evening.” She turned and headed in the direction of the lab.
Brodie watched her go, then looked again at the brig and the little barred window behind which Number 20—a.k.a. Bucky—had by now had its key removed and was as lifeless as a pile of scrap metal.
We have won every engagement.
That didn’t sound like training. That sounded like torture. And that winning streak was against elite Army Rangers, for God’s sake.
Maybe the whizzes at DARPA and DEVCOM had done their job too well, and now, in classic Frankenstein fashion, they were tormented and hunted by their own creation.
But at least Dr. Frankenstein tried to kill the monster he made.
Caroline Dixon was spending her night looking for errant code, for glitches.
The monster didn’t need to be slain. It just needed a firmware update.
Well, maybe she was right. Maybe the monster can’t be unmade. Maybe Pandora’s box does not close, and the future is here to stay.