The Guardian Program, page 17
Whatever K had uploaded that night at the university had seemed to have quieted the rogue program, at least for now. There was concern the program wasn’t complete, that the pause would only be temporary, but six weeks later, all was still ticking along.
Giant displays lining the top of the bar momentarily grabbed Terre’s attention from his wayward thoughts. He was sure a football game had been on the display when he’d sat down, but now a newscast and talking heads had replaced it.
The news anchors were commenting on an altercation between civilians and a group of bots. Not just any bots, though—Terre would recognize those bone white frames anywhere. A handful of Sentinels lay incapacitated on the sidewalk of what appeared to be New York City.
Other casino patrons had stopped what they were doing to look at the projected screens hanging from the ceiling. Some pointed as they discussed the events unfolding onscreen, an energy of trepidation forcing its way through the crowd, reminding them that the recent troubles with AI were far from over; still a threat. The dose of reality was temporary, though. Most shrugged it off and returned to their gaming tables or whatever else they had been doing.
Though the volume on the screens was muted, the headline beneath its images read: More rogue bots? New York City in lockdown.
Terre cursed and downed the rest of his scotch.
Fredericks had assured Terre his and K’s actions at Berkeley had provided the military with enough of a window to get the bots under control. They were supposed to have used the pause to gain access, regain control, and ensure things didn’t escalate again. Who knew what that had meant, but it obviously wasn’t enough.
Terre wiped his mouth and was about to pay his bill when his cell started buzzing in his pocket. Terre sighed as he reached down. He was happy for the comfort of his archaic smartphone; he had no use for the eye-pieces most of those around him sported, never mind the implants that were increasing in popularity. He already had enough tech swimming in his veins.
The Caller ID flashed, and Terre nearly dropped his phone. He held the device in his palm, weighing up whether he wanted to answer it or not. He took a deep breath before tapping the answer button on the screen.
“Fredricks,” he answered. “You realize I quit, right?”
The man had been his CIA senior during his time on base in Guam, and that had continued when they were both transferred to San Francisco after the bots had destroyed the base. Fredricks had been the man responsible for sending Terre to put an end to the rogue machines. He was the last person Terre wanted to talk to, especially if Sentinels were reactivating.
“I’m guessing you’ve seen the news?” Fredricks asked, his husky voice straining through the receiver.
“Just now,” Terre replied. “What’s going on?”
“We’re still trying to determine that. It seems a couple of units are coming online and not responding to us. Just like last time. Fortunately, despite what the media is saying, they haven’t attacked anyone. There are rumors of downed officers, but it’s unrelated. We’re monitoring things until we know more.”
“And let me guess, Command aren’t willing to reach for the kill switch?”
“For a handful of units? That’d be overkill. A couple of Sentinels wandering around Manhattan is cause for concern, but we don’t need to panic yet. So far, the drone units have shown no sign of malfunction. We’ll hold off from anything drastic until we know more or until we establish there’s a threat. We don’t know how widespread things are yet.”
Terre put his free hand to his head. “And when they do?”
“No option is off the table,” Fredricks answered. “But we have to consider risk versus reward.”
“Cities are on lockdown, airspace is closed … There’s more happening than you’re letting on.”
“I don’t think you realize the economic fallout if we make that call prematurely,” Fredricks said, dodging the question. “This isn’t like turning the lights off. It’s not even like igniting a standard EMP. The NextGen3 pulses needed to knock these units out en masse produce electro-magnetic fields strong enough to ensure nothing electronic lights up for two hundred years.”
Terre’s frustration finally hit boiling point. “Why are you calling me about this, sir?”
“I know you wanted out, Hoffman, but we need your help.”
Terre shook his head and rubbed his fingers over his creased forehead.
“I didn’t walk off the job for a vacation, sir,” he said, lowering his voice and peering around to ensure nobody was close enough to overhear him. “You hired me to run network diagnostics, not to give me ray guns and risk my ass. I left to get my head screwed on straight. Far away from these killing machines.”
“You think hiding in a casino is going to keep you safe?” Fredricks barked. “You know what these things can do better than anyone.”
“Yeah, which is why, whatever you’re offering, I’m not interested.”
“Hoffman, I’ve already notified Zatica. I’m waiting on some intel, but what I can tell you is going to affect you personally. Stay in Vegas and await further instructions. It’s going to be all hands on deck.”
“Go fuck yourself, Fredricks,” Terre said, his face growing warm, though from the exchange or the alcohol, he wasn’t sure. All he wanted was some time to unwind, to clear his head, then go back to a normal job and rebuild his life. Terre wasn’t even sure it would be possible anymore, but he wanted to try. “Unless you’ve got an executive order from the President, count me out.”
A sigh came from the other end of the phone. “Don’t push me, Hoffman. More lockdowns may be coming. Martial law won’t be off the table if more of these bots wake up again. We need you, but I haven’t got clearance to divulge the specifics. Get over yourself and do your duty, son. Standby for further instructions.”
The phone went silent. Terre lifted the device as if to hurl it across the casino but stopped himself mid-swing. Getting kicked out wouldn’t help him, as tempting as destroying his phone might be.
“Work troubles?” a woman’s voice chimed from behind him.
* * *
Artificial Insurgence
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ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
The Guardian Program is a short read, but a lot of work went into bringing it to the final stage of production. Although The Guardian Program is the fourth book I’ve published, it was the second one I wrote.
Since its original drafting it’s gone through multiple revisions, expansions and deletions to bring it to the work that you’ve read today.
I’d like to thank Pete Smith from Novel Approach Manuscript Services for providing it with multiple edits, and assisting with details and phrasings that I was at a loss for. His efforts have truly brought this work to the next level of refinement.
To Aime Sund at Red Leaf Word Services for the final proofread and catching my Canadian-isms before the book hit the shelves.
The folks at MiblArt have been my cover designers from the beginning, and they outdid themselves with the covers for this series.
And as always to my lovely wife Nettie, who understands my early mornings, late evenings, and weekends at the keyboard. It is truly a blessing to have someone so supportive behind me.
Herman Steuernagel, The Guardian Program
