“Somebody is going to have to fix this.”
“Really? I thought maybe I’d do the exact opposite and ignore the problem. You know, like we’ve been doing so far?”
“Sarcasm? That’s how you respond to a global crisis? How professional of you, Captain.”
“I learned from the best, Commander.” Jay made no effort to hide the venom in her voice.
Commander Obert slammed his palm against the desktop hard enough to make the monitors flicker. “Watch your tone, Captain! You’re on thin ice already.”
“I warned you about the issue long before it was a problem. If you hadn’t rushed it into the field without testing, we wouldn’t be having this conversation.”
“Are you suggesting this is my fault?”
“As opposed to what?”
“As opposed to the fault of the engineer who was paid massive amounts of money to program this thing without fucking it up?”
“I did not fuck it up! I programmed it exactly as specified! It’s not my fault you assholes suddenly decide to use it for something other than its original purpose!”
“I thought we hired you because you were one of the best in your field. Did you lie on your resume?”
Jay’s cheeks flushed from the sting of the insult. She fought to appear unruffled. “I told you the code was glitchy. It was untested. If you’d bother to read any of my reports, you would have seen…”
“You said your software upgrade would take care of it. Obviously it didn’t do shit! Now this thing is out of control and the whole world is watching.”
“If you recall, Commander, my software upgrade was only intended to be a temporary solution. Temporary! A short-term patch to contain the unknown variables until we could perform adequate field tests! Without testing, how am I supposed to know what needs to be corrected? This isn’t Microsoft, for fuck’s sake! You can’t just toss something out to the general public for beta testing and then throw them an upgrade when problems arise!”
“This is your project, Jay. Now it’s your mess to clean up.”
“What do you mean, MY project? This was a team effort! Your hands are just as dirty, if not more so, since you were the one who accepted the money from that bitch! You assholes are all alike. You think money can fix everything.”
Obert, who had been pacing like a caged animal, spun to face Jay. His pale eyes darkened with fury, but he spoke softly. “Do I need to remind you how to address a superior officer?”
“Oh, pardon the shit out of me, Commander Asshole, Sir! I think diplomacy left the building around the time you accused me of lying on my resume. Did you seriously think we were going to get away with this? You sent an untested unit into an uncontrolled environment. What the hell did you think was going to happen? I warned you the code was buggy. I told you the bugs would replicate exponentially if the program ran uninterrupted for a long period of time. But no! Don’t listen to the stupid programmer! What the fuck does she know? Oh, right. Fake resume. That’s the style these days, right? If you don’t agree with something, just slap a big ‘FAKE’ label on it.”
Jay no longer gave a shit that the Commander had the power to strip her of her rank and jail her for insubordination. Let him do his worst, she thought. Prison was preferable to what he was suggesting.
“You know what you have to do, Captain.”
“No! Commander, please, I –”
“ENOUGH!” Obert bellowed. “I will not tolerate any more backtalk from you! You started this, and now you WILL FINISH IT!”
Jay turned away to hide the tears welling in her eyes. “Give me one more chance. I might be able to shut the unit down remotely without attracting any attention.”
“Make it happen!” Obert barked. “Otherwise you are responsible for shutting it down manually, by any means necessary.” He strode from the room without another word, leaving Jay to contemplate the task before her.
Armed with a steaming mug of whiskey-laden coffee, Jay positioned herself at her workstation to tackle the code once more. She had already tried everything, but the alternative terrified her.
She wasn’t ready to die.
* * *
Hours later, Jay woke, the checkerboard pattern of the keyboard imprinted on her cheek. She wiped the drool from the keys and from the corner of her mouth.
Dreams of wandering lost in an endless forest flickered at the edge of her memory. Tree trunks endless lines of ones, blooming with leaves of zeroes, with a meandering path that led Jay back to the start of the same broken loop, where a devastated, post-apocalyptic wasteland waited.
“Making any progress?” Damien slid up beside her on a wheeled stool, his usual means of conveyance around the work area.
“No,” Jay sighed, rubbing her eyes. “It’s just the same old loop. Every patch I try leads back to the same glitch, or makes it worse. There has to be something I’m missing.”
“Can I help?”
“Probably not.”
Damien Scott was a recent addition to the team, a young but brilliant engineer. Under normal circumstances, Jay might have welcomed his input, but this situation was anything but normal.
“Try me. I might surprise you.” Damien’s closeness suggested he might have been offering more than just assistance with the project.
“Don’t you have work to do, Lieutenant?”
“Yes, actually. Obert assigned me to help you. All my other duties are suspended until this…whatever it is, is fixed.”
“You’re joking, right?”
“Nope. Message just came in now. So, what are we doing?”
Jay rose from her chair and stretched her weary shoulders. “Coffee?”
“No thanks.” Damien studied Jay’s screen while she crossed the room to refill her mug, minus the whiskey this time.
Jay returned to her seat. “Does any of this make sense to you?”
“Sure, I mean, I recognize the code. What’s the problem you’re having? It looks sound.”
“What do you know about the project?”
“Just the parts that are common knowledge. You have some kind of robot that has gone rogue and you’re trying to shut it down remotely.”
“An oversimplified analysis, but not entirely inaccurate.”
“So what is it, exactly? Artificial intelligence, I assume. How did you package it? Some kind of android-type unit? Cyborg?”
“You’ve seen too many Terminator movies.”
“Not a cyborg, then?”
“Not quite. We don’t have that kind of technology yet. This thing is 100% artificial, no living tissue or anything like that. But it looks real enough to fool most people at first glance.”
“And it’s intelligent, I presume.”
“It’s only as intelligent as its programming. But the CPU is a learning computer.”
“Like the Terminator. Now who’s watched too many movies?”
“Ok, I’ll give you that one. But that’s where the similarity to Hollywood ends. This thing is less sophisticated. It learns, yes, but it can’t think for itself. It is only capable of simulating independent thought.”
“What was it designed to be?”
Jay rolled her eyes. “Take a wild guess.”
“Something military, I’m sure.”
“Obviously. We were originally contracted to design an artificial soldier. Imagine the implications. It’s fearless, follows orders and can solve simple problems on its own. It would reduce casualties in any war to almost zero.”
“Except in a war there are always casualties. Often innocent ones.”
“Yeah, I know. Let’s skip the moral debate and focus on the job, ok? I was hired to program this thing, and for the most part, I succeeded. It passed all the field tests with flying colors. Except for the last one.”
“Which was?”
“They wanted to see if it was capable of integrating into human society. Maybe it could be more than just a mindless killer to send into battle. They started looking at other uses for the unit. Namely, espionage…”
“Robot spies.”
“More or less, yeah. Its ability to record sound and video would be indispensable in that environment. The question was: could it be sent undercover undetected?”
“I’m guessing it failed that test.”
“Not exactly. It passed. The problem was, we underestimated its ability to adapt. It blended into the public a little too well. And apparently it enjoyed being there. When we tried to call it back, it refused to obey. Dug its heels in like a five-year-old having a temper tantrum.”
“Didn’t you install a fail-safe shutdown procedure to prevent that sort of thing? I mean, that’s standard, isn’t it?”
“Of course it is. But they rushed me. Obert wouldn’t change the deadlines, so the unit was put into the field without adequate testing of the fail-safe protocols. If we had been allowed to run more tests, we would have found the bug in time to fix it.”
“So this thing was basically field-tested prematurely, and now it’s out of control?”
“Correct.”
“And you’re trying to shut it down remotely.”
“Yes.”
“And if you can’t?”
“You heard Obert. I have to do it manually.”
“And that is a problem because…?”
“Shutting the unit down manually is a suicide mission.”
“The hell?”
“First of all, there is the self-destruct function. Remember, the thing was supposed to be a soldier. Naturally, we designed it to be capture-proof. If threatened, it will explode, destroying itself and everything within a two mile radius. Manually shutting it down would require physical contact with the unit.”
“Geez! What the fuck is wrong with Obert? He’d sacrifice you like that?”
“It appears that way, yes. My mistake, my consequence.”
“You’re sure you can’t achieve physical contact without triggering the self-destruct?”
“Positive. Because of the malfunction in the AI programming, the CPU is having the equivalent of a mental breakdown. It’s learning things it was never programmed to understand, and it isn’t equipped to process them. As a result it has developed a series of circuitous thinking patterns, all of which lead to perceived threats against it. It has developed a sort of programmed paranoia.”
“Artificial psychosis? Holy shitsnacks. That would be fascinating if it wasn’t so terrifying.”
“Right? Unfortunately, we don’t have the luxury of studying the phenomenon. This is an emergency unlike anything we’re equipped to handle.”
“Can’t Obert send some snipers to take it out?”
“Snipers would likely die in the process. They would need to be within the two mile blast radius. The unit is designed to be sniper-proof. Shooting it sets off the self-destruct, just like it would in a battle scenario.”
“Shoot it from a distance then. A plane? A missile? Have the sniper wear a bomb suit? I mean, it’s risky, but you might have to accept some collateral damage.”
“A bomb suit, yes. That’s an idea worth looking at. Unfortunately, Obert isn’t going to let me risk any of his men. You heard him. The sniper would have to be me. And I’m not exactly trained for that sort of thing. I’m not a soldier, I’m just a computer nerd. There’s a strong possibility I would miss. A failed attempt on the unit’s ‘life’ would be worse than none at all. The chain of events it would set off would be…disastrous. The thing is under heavy security, partly due to its paranoid state but also because of its position.”
“Position? Where the hell is the thing that makes it so hard to get to?”
“It’s more than just a ‘where’. It’s also a ‘what’.”
“Speak English or Nerdish – something I can understand.”
“You’re going to like this. It’s better than fiction. Coffee?”
“No. You already asked that. Got anything stronger?”
“You’re right. Screw the coffee.” Jay reached into her desk drawer and produced a flask, which she sampled before passing to Damien.
“That’s what I’m talking about.” He took a hearty swig.
“Ok, so it goes like this. A billionaire businessman, who will remain nameless, commits suicide. Apparently he was suffering from advanced dementia and a bit of a drug problem. His wife freaks out when she finds his bloated old corpse in the Jacuzzi tub, slit at the wrists. Not because the little mail-order bride gives a shit, but because she wants to make sure she gets ALL the money, not just some of it. She knows the old fart is cash poor and that most of his assets will go to creditors on his death. She needs time to liquidate some stuff, move some money around, that sort of thing. She also knows his life insurance won’t pay off on a suicide. Her plan is to dispose of the body via a secret cremation while giving the impression that everything is normal. Through some of her old-country connections, she finds her way to Obert’s team and this project. We were way over budget and on the verge of being shut down by the current administration, which had decided to go in a different direction. Obert took matters into his own hands to prove the project’s worth to the powers that be. Mrs. Moneybags bankrolled us on the condition that she got the first test unit. She needed a stand-in to pose as her deceased husband – one she could be certain would never blackmail her. She needed the public and those in authority to see him alive and well before his official death, which was to be staged as an accident. Fiery plane crash, bodies burned beyond recognition, or maybe lost in the ocean… I don’t know which way it would have gone, but that part is irrelevant because it never happened.”
“Shut up! You’re telling me the fucking thing is… him?”
“None other.”
“But how? I mean he… it… what the hell do I even call it?”
“It blended into the social scene seamlessly, better than we ever thought it would. It seems we chose the perfect environment in which to introduce a polymer-coated android… a world filled with phony plastic people. I mean, the thing was so hastily assembled – disproportionate body parts, unnatural flesh tone – and nobody even noticed.”
Damien took another swallow of whiskey. “Ok, I get why the unit went into the field prematurely. But how did it get from there, to…now?”
“Give me some of that.” Jay grabbed the flask and helped herself to a generous portion.
“The rest of the story you already know, from watching it on the news. The unit decided it liked being in the spotlight and before we realized there was a problem with the programming, it had already…”
“Run for President, and won.” Damien finished.
“Yes.”
“So how do we shut it down without blowing it up?”
“That is exactly the problem. So far we haven’t found a way. Like I said, it’s a suicide mission. And we are also talking about treason. Nobody on the team is exempt. We may be on a military payroll, but we acted on our own to create this mess. Obert did not have clearance to release the prototype for testing. As far as his superiors knew, the project was shelved pending cancellation.”
Damien paled. “Jesus, Jay. Treason? I didn’t sign up for this.”
“Neither did I. All I wanted was what everyone wants. A career. A comfortable government salary. Maybe a chance to make the world a better place. Now I’m as good as dead. If we don’t shut this thing down, there’s no telling what damage it will do. It’s only been in office a few weeks and it’s signing executive orders like they’re fucking autographs.”
“Maybe it thinks they are,” Damien mused. “It looks like it signs anything they put in front of it.”
“If we don’t shut it down, treason charges will be the least of our concerns. This thing is in charge of nuclear launch codes. It’s batshit crazy, and it has already threatened a number of nuclear-capable countries.”
“So in other words, we’re all as good as dead.”
“Pretty much. Unless a professional sniper is willing to step up and take one for the team.”
* * *
Billy turned the brim of his red baseball cap to the back of his head to clear his line of vision. He wiped the sweat from his battle-scarred forehead, cursing the Florida heat. It brought back unpleasant memories of Iraq, with the added discomfort of stifling humidity.
He caressed the stock of his newest acquisition. The new, more lenient firearms regulations had simplified his purchase of the AR-15. He might have missed the rally if delayed by the inconvenience of a background check and having to procure a weapon illegally. Laws or not, the end result would have been the same. However, Billy appreciated the irony that his target’s own actions had expedited his execution.
The rally was underway, judging from the sounds of the unruly crowd in the street below. Soon the buffoon who had stripped Billy of his pension, health care and reason for giving a shit would begin another hour-long incoherent ramble that passed as a speech in this fucked-up world. Billy had plenty of time. Hell, he didn’t even need the scope. The 90-round drum magazine held enough firepower to take down dozens of those cockroaches along with their leader, as fast as he could pull the trigger.
Billy’s historic blaze of glory would conclude with him deep-throating the barrel of his .44. His time as a POW had taught him that being taken prisoner was not an option. When left with nothing to lose, take as many bastards with you as you can.
He aimed the barrel out the window of the hotel room, easily finding his target in the crosshairs.
As he squeezed the trigger, he muttered,
“I can’t believe I voted for you.”
Copyright © 2017 Mandy White
Photo by Markus Spiske from Pexels
DysFictional 
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