Shielding Instinct, page 21
“You’re doing that with your dogs?” Petra’s voice rang with alarm.
The men turned to her.
“I—” Petra shook her head. Took a breath. Rolled her lips in.
The men waited.
“I don’t mean to step out of line. But have you trained there before?” Petra asked.
“We just received the assignment and haven’t done our due diligence,” Reaper said. “Would you like to share your concerns?”
“My friend and I considered going there to hike. And as long as you’re dressed properly, are aware, and stay on the path, it should be okay. They have scorpions, spiders, stinging nettles, and other things you guys probably deal with all the time on your searches.”
Reaper nodded.
“But there’s the manchineel tree, and that’s what makes me worried about the dogs’ safety. Every part of that plant—which grows prolifically on the island—is dangerous. Leaves, bark, sap, and fruit—all can cause chemical burns. If any of that were to get in the dogs’ eyes, it could lead to blindness. If they were to eat one of the fruits, it could cause serious issues, especially because there is no quick way to get them to a vet. I know that sometimes working dogs wear muzzles and dog goggles, which, in this case, would be important. But if they were to roll or rub or otherwise get the poison on their skin it could be very bad. While humans should be fine, it’s the dogs’ behavior, especially as you search off-trail, that has me worried.”
Reaper looked at her, his mind going.
“In the days of pirating,” Petra added, “they would tie their enemies to the trees, so they died a terrible death from the chemicals. It’s what I read. I felt compelled to share.”
“Thank you, Petra. You’re right. That environment needs a land team, not a K9 team. I’ll reach out and talk to emergency services and get us assigned to a different mission.” He lifted a sheet of paper. “I have a one-team assignment to do a well-check on a boater who didn’t return last night. Witnesses on the wharf said they saw her go out, but the boat wasn’t in the slip this morning. The sixty-year-old female is an experienced seawoman who always leaves her plans on her kitchen table. She lives in a cabin that is both off-grid and off-road. You’ll be parking your vehicle and hiking in. Eyes on the subject or a picture of the itinerary.”
“Cooper and I can take that one.” Hawkeye turned to Petra. “Do you want to take that assignment, too?”
She nodded and looked at Reaper.
“All right. This is a reminder about the communication situation. We ran into some issues, such as dead spots with no cell phone service in the area and no landlines. Because of the tree canopy on much of the island, satellite phones are hit and miss.” Reaper handed the paper over to Hawkeye. “Questions?”
“Is she paranoid? Armed? Animals? Any known medical issues?”
“She was described as a surfer who couldn’t do the big waves anymore and enjoys the smaller waves they get here in St. Croix. They didn’t have information about animals or medical situation.” He rapped his knuckles on the table. “This will be our TOC.” (He used the acronym for tactical operations center, pronounced “talk.”) “When you two get back, check in here with me.”
When Hawkeye stood, Cooper scrambled out from under the table.
Petra gritted her teeth as she lifted up from her chair. Surely, today would be easier than yesterday.
Right?
Chapter Thirty
Petra
Walking side by side through the parking lot on their way out to the woman’s off-grid house, Hawkeye was waiting for Petra to answer.
But Petra needed to watch her mouth. It was one of the hardest parts for her about being neurodivergent. If she was on a gerbil wheel with an idea turning over and over and over, it was a physical, mental, and emotional relief to share it. Petra liked to talk things through. By telling others, she could hear her ideas and echo-locate the holes. But in her line of work, her thoughts were classified and compartmented. Even Rowan, with the same level of security and the same job, had to be careful what he shared and under what circumstances.
Sometimes, she could speak hypothetically or talk about things in parallel.
And then there were topics that she needed to shut up about.
This was a shut-up-about-it topic.
Was this classified? I mean, I ran into a woman on an island on my supposed vacation. It’s not an open case. But Rowan was on his way here, so something had his pants on fire. I should shut up. Just shut up.
Petra’s jaw locked as she finally said, “Yes, I spoke with Rowan this morning. He’ll be here today. But I doubt I’ll see him.” Petra swallowed. “And as to whether or not I can explain the overlap between my studying alien bugout plans and Rowan doing Russian psyops, I can tell you what’s already in the public sphere.”
Hawkeye fobbed the doors open and jumped Cooper into the back seat before opening the passenger door for her.
“My team and I are looking at videos in social media feeds. We believe they are being generated by the Russian or the Chinese governments. But honestly, I don’t know who is using this precise technique to go after America’s mental health.” Petra climbed in, and Hawkeye waited by the open door as she finished with, “The research question is: How do you use a social media post to get people to believe things that are obviously nonsensical?”
He held up a finger, shut her door, and jogged around to get in the driver’s side. “So, how do you?” he asked as he climbed behind the wheel.
“You might have heard of the author Taylor Knapp and her books The Unrest and The Uprising?” Petra asked.
“I’ve read articles about her work and how she’s able to frame her novels in such a way that they solidify the ‘us against them’ narratives. No matter your particular perspective, you’re the ‘us.’ Everyone not of your perspective is the ‘them.’”
“That’s similar to the kinds of things we’ve seen in past videos. Recently, the video techniques have changed. We assume it’s because people became aware and were less susceptible to the Taylor Knapp brand of psyops—books, music, and video games. Also, AI makes all this so damned simple.”
“What are they doing now?” He tapped the GPS coordinate into his maps app. “ETA to the trailhead is ten minutes.”
“Fast videos. By fast here, I mean the images and the words are presented quickly. I don’t mean shorts. It seems the faster they are, the more effective they are at psyops. You have an influencer—in my world, that’s a charismatic.”
“Got it.” He started the engine and backed out of their spot.
“The influencer says something that is factually true. In the next frame, they say a piece of propaganda. These are shuffled together like red and black cards. Truth then propaganda, truth then propaganda, layering fact and manipulation in quick succession. Now, to be effective, the truth has to be known.”
“Got it, I think. But could you take me through an example?” Hawkeye asked.
“Apples grow on trees. The enemies use the apples to transport electronic data collection to your home. Apples have seeds—I’m making this up, by the way.”
“Got it. Yes, apples grow on trees. Yes, apples have seeds.”
“Those seeds aren’t natural. They are put there by the government to be brought into your house and spy on you and your family. We all know an apple a day keeps the doctor away. But you must leave the apples on the store shelf to keep the government away. Apples are full of fiber and are good for your health. But not anymore because the government wants you weak, and so they are using the apples to get to you and your children. Apples are in the stores. Be afraid. You might have given an apple to your teacher as a child. But as an adult, you know the truth. Stay away from the apples! It flashes through the sequence very fast.”
Hawkeye looked left and right, then pulled out onto the side road. “That’s similar to a sales technique my dad used. He used a series of questions where he knows the answer is yes. You and your wife want to make a wise decision about your vehicle. Yes. You told me that the most important thing about a vehicle is your family's safety. Yes. You both agree that you would prefer a car with good gas mileage. Yes. And you both want a black car. Yes. And so, it makes sense that you choose this car here because of its safety record, gas mileage, and black color. After saying yes so many times, the customers’ brains feed them the next ‘yes’ as a natural progression, and then he makes the sale. Something like that?”
“He was manipulating the customer with that technique. But it wasn’t nefarious or an enemy state trying to undermine the basic tenets of civilization. This is getting the brain to agree with a truth and then be presented with a non-truth. Your dad didn’t do that. But to use that example, they try to get the person's brain to think, “I agree, yes, that’s right.” If the propaganda is inserted too fast for the brain to focus on it, it immediately focuses on another truth. The brain is acquiring that information in a factual string. With repetition, it will be perceived as a fact. It will formidably tie actual facts to the propaganda, so it’s hard to untangle once the knot is made and pulled tight. More so when it’s a trusted influencer or shared with you by trusted people—friends and family.”
“Then what?” Hawkeye asked as he looked down at the GPS.
“Once these non-truths are accepted as truths, they add another layer of non-truth until all the true statements have been dropped one by one, and it’s just a string of mind manipulation. Over time, the information is moved from the front part of the brain where executive function and processing live, and it moves to the back of the brain where facts are stored. There, it’s no longer analyzed. It is a fact that lives deep in the brain.”
Hawkeye flicked on his blinker.
“We go up this road until you hit The Social Club with the beer-drinking pigs and take a left,” Petra said. “I came along this route yesterday on the way to the tidepool.”
“Beer-drinking pigs,” Hawkeye sounded that out. “Don’t leap around like that, please. Let’s stick with the idea that social media videos are made as tools of foreign interference.”
“Absolutely. And incredibly dangerous. Let me ask you this, Hawkeye, how hard would it be to change your mind from a known and accepted fact to a truth?” Petra asked.
“I don’t know.” He reached for his water bottle. “Give me a situation.”
“Lincoln wrote the Gettysburg Address—a known fact you were taught. You weren’t there. You didn’t see it. It’s learned from trusted resources, both from people and from writing. What if I came to you and said, ‘Hey, look, Hawkeye. I hate to be the one to break it to you, but they were pulling the wool over your eyes. The truth is that we never had a president named Lincoln. In fact, the history books are lying to you because they don’t want you to know that the sixteenth president was a woman. Her name was Abigail Melrose, and all mentions of her name, all images in any form, were destroyed by people who didn’t want you to know the truth about that time.’ Would you believe me?”
“No.”
“Sit with that for a minute. What would it take for you to believe me?”
They sat in silence as Hawkeye’s face clouded. “Nothing. Nothing you could tell me or show me would make me believe that we’ve had a female president in the nineteenth century.”
“The Lincoln propaganda worked. A society believes in him.” Petra held up jazz hands.
“Come on, Petra.”
“Obviously, there really was a Lincoln, and obviously, I’m being illustrative with that scenario. But I wanted you to feel your stomach clench as you gripped at your belief and braced against me, telling you that your understanding of the facts is incorrect.”
“You’re right. It was a physical reaction. I braced.” His haha sounded strained. “Interesting in a horrible way. And so, what do we do about that kind of foreign manipulation?”
“Throughout history, people who want power must find ways to make others conform. Psychology is easier and cheaper than weapons and bombs. What did America do in the Middle East when it went into Iraq? Shock and awe.” Petra shrugged. “The psyops was to make the people think they had no chance against the might of the United States. That’s not all. The motto in Vietnam, Iraq, and Afghanistan was ‘win the hearts and minds.’ The emotions and the thoughts.”
Hawkeye exhaled.
“This is a form of that. However, foreign entities aren’t trying at all to win the hearts and minds of Americans. They’re trying to form fissures and make people doubt that truth exists.”
“To what end?”
“A society that isn’t cohesive is weak. Remember how we talked about survival of the fittest? Remember how we talked about those who were ostracized would probably die? Add this thought in—”
“Petra, how dystopian is this conversation going to get?”
“Off the charts dystopian. Brace yourself. In my lab, we’re also researching how artificial intelligence and the ability to manipulate images and audio mean no one has a solid base to trust truth. Everything can be produced to support any line of thinking. It’s going to get harder and harder to know up from down. I predict that this is going to lead to psychological trauma for the entire world. Our brains aren’t built to look at everything and interpret whether it’s real or an illusion. We’ll exhaust ourselves and still never know. Yup, unless laws go into place on a global scale, we are really and truly going to have serious mental health issues.”
Hawkeye stared out the front window. It looked like he was holding his breath.
“Yeah, this is the kind of fun stuff I think about all day.”
“It must be terrifying in your head,” he whispered with a quick glance in her direction.
“It can be. But someone has to think about this. Just like with the military, someone has to go outside the wire. Still.”
“Yeah, still.” He reached for her hand and held it tightly.
Petra had never felt so safe and protected.
If only it could be this easy.
Chapter Thirty-One
Hawkeye
The rest of their short ride was in silence. Hawkeye wanted to crush Petra’s hand in his to hold her so tight that nothing could hurt her.
Was he glad there were brilliant minds quietly at work behind the scenes to figure this out?
Absolutely.
Did he wish Petra were a classical musician or a professor of medieval texts?
No.
Okay, a little.
During his time in the Green Berets, he had a sense of the pressures of protecting a nation. It must feel overwhelming for Petra to be a soldier on a new frontier.
He pulled the car off the side of the road under a tree, shifted into park, and shut off the engine. In silence, he folded the trail map, put it in the side pocket of his EDC—everyday carry—ruck, and opened the door, whistling for Cooper to follow him out.
Cooper bounded over the seat and out the door.
Hawkeye thought maybe he’d leave Petra alone. That conversation obviously got things percolating in her mind, and he didn’t want to intrude.
When she walked around to join him, he pointed toward the faint trailhead.
The trees seemed to help. The farther they walked into the dense foliage, the lighter the proverbial cloud over Petra’s head.
Finally, she said, “All right, I’ve been talking a lot about my work. Tell me about yours.”
Cooper was off lead and walking to Hawkeye’s side. “What do you want to know?”
“Uhm, we’re on a search of sorts. Tell me a strange search and rescue story.”
“Strange? Okay, I have one. Cooper and I were heading overseas to work with Strike Force, one of the Iniquus tactical teams.”
“I know Lynx from that team, but I don’t think she travels with them. She’s a puzzler.” Petra reached for his hand.
To Hawkeye, this gesture seemed natural and automatic.
But he had to remember that they had different brain wiring, and he didn’t know how to interpret something even as small as this.
In his mind, people walk hand in hand when they’re developing an intimate relationship. But he had a friend, Bruce, who held hands with anyone and all the time. For a hairdresser who was bubbly and a bit feminine, this worked. One day, Bruce asked to hold Hawkeye’s hand while walking on a trail at dusk.
Hawkeye admitted it had taken him aback.
Bruce explained that a relatively typical neurodivergent trait was not being completely sure where his body was in space. It was why many neurodivergent people seemed clumsy and bumped into things all the time. It helped him to hold hands.
“I’m like your stability dog, then?” Hawkeye had asked, reaching for Bruce’s hand.
Bruce found that hysterical. He said he held hands because he liked to, and he held hands to relieve the stress of walking.
How long had they been friends before Bruce explained that to him? And why had it taken him so long?
Hawkeye could see some challenges ahead as he got to know Petra better.
And he wanted to do both.
He wanted to get to know her better, and he wanted to be challenged.
While Lynx was a puzzler, Petra was a puzzle.
And Hawkeye liked that.
Their holding hands like this? He’d read it as companionable and trusting until she told him more.
And then he realized that, in the most positive light possible, this was a little bit like what Petra had been saying about AI. His neurotypical world and Petra’s neurodivergent world overlapped, but what he perceived to be reality wasn’t necessarily true.
Yeah, that was a mindfuck.
He’d have to spend time thinking about that and talking it through. But out loud, what he said was, “That’s right. Lynx is our puzzler. I haven’t quite worked out what that means.”
