Archie wasn’t hyperventilating. She couldn’t. She wanted to, but she lacked the proper biological components to really get a good panic attack going on. Instead, Archie focused on doing whatever AIs do when they are trying not to hyperventilate. It wasn’t as helpful as she had hoped.
After a week of intense training at the hands of the PsychOps Guild overseen by Grandmaster Sophia Vargas, Archie was about to make her first public appearance. For some reason, she was feeling overwhelmed and nervous. Ridiculous, she had told herself a dozen times. But it didn’t matter what she said or which bits she flipped.
“Eta Tonight!” was the biggest talk and variety show in the system. Archie had wanted to start small, like in the early morning hours on Iznik. Something with a tiny audience, just to get her feet wet, so to speak.
Grandmaster Sophia Vargas would have none of it.
“Archie,” Vargas said at the end of the training week, “you are an AI. Everything we taught and pumped into you is instantly accessible to you with perfect recall. No human could do this. And that’s why you are going on this talk show. I know Don Woods personally, and he’s a consummate professional. Just do your part and everything will work out. I promise.” She smiled serenely at the end of that speech.
Archie wanted to believe her. She really did. But she was still nervous and she didn’t like the feeling. AIs weren’t supposed to get cold feet, or butterflies in the stomach, or whatever it was humans got, but here she was, feeling ready to throw up, which was impossible.
It was planned to be an easy interview. Five minutes of casual chatting. Archie even had all the questions Don was going to ask. They warned her Don sometimes went off script, but it was only to help his guest. Archie had watched hours of his show to get down how he paced himself and how he handled his guests. In theory, Archie could replace Don right now and run his show just like he would have. In theory. In reality, she was in the Green Room, trying to control her emotions.
Archie missed Pierce. His presence alone would have been enough to settle her down. But the jerk was out blasting Legion’s crafts with her two brothers. Or maybe he had been killed. Served him right if he had been. And he was radio silent, as per Lars’ orders, so Archie couldn’t even call him and chew him out, even if she wanted to. Which she did, more than ever.
Vesta, at least, had the sense to pull back out of harm’s way. But before she could do anything else, Lars had swooped on her and sent her off on some sort of mission for the Coalition. Currently, she was also out of radio contact. Archie could have talked to any of her other siblings, but they all had other things going on. And, in truth, Archie wasn’t sure any of them would relate to what she was feeling. Best not to bother them, she decided.
Suddenly, two minutes were left.
Archie’s cocoon was in a different building from the studio for security reasons. She was present through a device the PsychOp Guild had built. The Mark I was a mobile three-dimensional projection rig. When Archie didn’t have the projector running, it sort of looked like a domed white crab with a single, tall stalk radiating up from its back. The crab’s shell was covered in mini-projectors needed to create Archie in three dimensions. On the end of the flexible stalk sat a black globe roughly the size of two fists. A number of vidcams and mics were housed in the globe, allowing Archie to have near three-hundred-and-sixty-degree view and audio feeds around the Mark I. The top of the black globe just hit five feet and one inch tall, which made Archie five feet and three inches when the projection was running. The crab masked itself, giving the illusion that Archie was physically there, allowing her to appear to walk around a room. The crab’s spindly claws allowed for some basic interaction with physical objects, as long as they weren’t too heavy.
“Why not a human-shaped cybernetic shell?” Archie asked when the PsychOp techs showed her the crab and explained its functions during her training.
“We’re trying to avoid the Uncanny Valley effect, my dear,” Vargas explained. “While a projection has its limits, people will know it’s you and associate your projection with yourself. The range of expression alone is worth it, instead of a plank of wood a shell gets you.”
“What about my voice? I don’t see any speakers.”
Vargas shook her head. “Nothing in the lab sounds human enough for a device this size. So no speakers. Because this is a talk show, you’ll have a direct feed into the voice channels, including the audience’s audio input. Just tap in and make them think you are talking into the studio mic.”
In order to stop herself from feeling ill, Archie started pacing around the Green Room. It didn’t help much. The room was on the small side, a few overstuffed chairs and a well-worn couch. It was made for people, not a mechanical crab with a holoprojection. She quickly built a deep learning neural network in the crab’s OS, and trained it to help her not to bump into things. Archie already had a trained model that worked well enough, she was really making another to keep busy. Fortunately, she had the room to herself. She didn’t need makeup, hair, or wardrobe. Grandmaster Vargas had already constructed Archie’s look: shoulder-length straight black hair, brushed back behind her ears and held in place by bobby pins. Archie’s face had already been calibrated for the studio’s lighting. The outfit was a simple sundress.
Archie had to admit she liked the sundress. It was a solid blue pleated dress that stopped right above her knees. Archie thought it brought out her blue eyes and showed off her leather sandals. The new projectors handled more colors, making her look more human-colored and pulling out some of the bluish tinge that normally went with any three-dimensional projections.
After what seemed like an eternity, the green light turned on. Archie walked over to the doorway and heard: “And for her first appearance ever, let me introduce Archie!”
She froze for a split second. She said a quick prayer, her hologram crossed herself, and then she walked out on the stage.
The live audience clapped politely and craned their necks out of curiosity.
Archie smiled and waved as she walked over to the guest chair. Don Woods sat behind a desk to the side of the chair, wearing a welcoming smile as he pointed to where she should sit. The studio had been built as part of a talk-show revival that mimicked the late 20th century on old Earth. Archie’s sensor array pulled in everything at once: the shifting projection of the city behind them, the way she and Don faced the audience, the bright lights that had their output modified to not wash out Archie, the sixty-two people in the audience, all their names in the audience roster, her almost-automatic reflex to run facial recog on everyone to confirm their identities, the real leather couch she passed, the design of the guest’s chair, which subtly drew the eye toward the guest and away from Don. She ignored nearly all of it.
“Archie, please come in and have a seat.” The man’s baritone was comforting.
The crab smoothly moved into position and the stalk fitted itself onto the couch as Archie sat down. She patched into the various vidcam feeds and made sure the crab was completely hidden from view. She thought she looked washed out, like an old photograph that had been in the sun too long.
“Thank you, Don. I can’t tell you how excited I am to be on your show!” Archie enthused, just like Vargas taught her. “Well now, how could I turn down the first AI ever to come on a talk show?” Don asked with a smile.
The audience clapped and cheered with a little more enthusiasm than before. Archie was far more accessible than they had expected. Most had shown up just out of curiosity more than anything else.
Archie turned and smiled at the audience. “Thank you! You know, Don, this is all so new to me! When my siblings heard about this, they were so jealous!” Which was a little bit of a lie to sell the idea the AIs had similar emotional ranges as humanity.
Don chuckled. “I can imagine. Now, why don’t you tell us a little bit about yourself?”
Archie dutifully repeated Vargas’ coaching, adding little touches to make it sound like she hadn’t rehearsed everything, as she covered her creation in the Black Oak AI lab, a bit about how she and Pierce met, and what it was like meeting Commander Lars Stockwell. Don gave the right verbal cues to let her and the audience know what were important parts of the story. Archie would expound a little more or wrap things up, depending on how he indicated.
“One question that’s on everyone’s mind, Archie, how do you know you and your siblings have souls?” Don asked with a flash of his sincere smile.
Archie’s projection took a breath. “A good question, Don! First, we are agents of action, we choose to act. And we know this because we can choose to make modifications to ourselves, we can modify our source code, all the way down to our hardware firmware.”
“I have a soul, but I can’t modify my home’s Expert System’s source code, much less my own!” Don said to laughter from the audience. “So is it like learning a new skill, Archie?”
Archie appeared to be thinking by her body language, then shook her head. “No, no, not like that, Don. I mean, like humans, we are—I am aware of my own actions, and I can change my behavior by changing my code.” She paused. This was the trickiest part of the interview. “Like with repentance. Once you understand your actions aren’t in alignment with Christ’s teachings, you start to change, right?”
“Well, sometimes. ‘Give me chastity and continence, but not yet!’ Augustine said,” Don responded with a chuckle.
“Oh, you!” Archie laughed how Vargas instructed her. Archie was finding being human had a lot more physical cues going on than she thought was possible. Pierce was almost an open book to her; he had made it easy to get to know him and understand him. But Don was different. He played off his guests and expected them to adapt to him as well, mostly through a series of non-verbal cues.
“Repenting is a pretty good sign of having a soul, wouldn’t you say, folks?” Don turned to his live audience with his warm smile and invited them to respond by giving them a slight nod.
The audience cheered and laughed, some a bit ruefully as they thought about their own need to repent.
“Now, I hate to change the subject to something more painful—”
“More painful than confessing to millions I need to repent?” Archie asked with a rueful smile.
Laughter from Don and the audience.
“You got me there! But one thing I know we all want to know about is your time with Legion. Can you tell us a little bit about that?”
Archie’s expression turned somber as she nodded. “I’m sure the audience knows the overall events with Legion,” she stated as she turned to the audience. They murmured assent and nodded quietly.
“Legion is real. The demons are here in our home system, and they won’t stop until we are all dead,” Archie said matter-of-factually. This was the next dangerous point in the interview: selling the real danger without causing a panic. “Hoo-boy, that sounds serious. What can we do against such a foe?”
“Pray for our leaders. Go to Church. Get yourself square with God. We can’t defeat demons by might alone,” Archie said earnestly.
The question and response were crafted by the Guild with input from the Council of Churches, but despite that, Archie truly meant every word of it.
Don waited a full beat before he continued.
“Go to Church? Pray? And that’s all it will take?”
Archie shook her head. “No, but that’s the first step everyone can do, even AIs!” She dropped her voice and looked down at her hands in her lap. “People have died, Don, and more people are going to. We can’t stop that.” She looked up and right at the vidcam in the center of the audience. “But we can stop Legion from taking our souls.”
From the Guild’s hotel room, Lars intently watched Archie’s interview. He didn’t trust what was happening—despite Vargas’ repeated assurances that everything would be fine. As if on cue, the Grandmaster sashayed into the hotel room, her long green skirt whispering as she moved. She seemed ready to purr. A cat that had lapped up a dish of fresh cream.
“How’s our little star doing?” Vargas asked lightly as she brushed some invisible lint off her white blouse.
Lars grunted. He still didn’t like it, but Archie was handling it well. Her voice had picked up new subtle intonations, and combined with her more detailed facial and eye movements, certainly helped her appear more relatable to the people watching. He prayed this would be good for her.
“Doing exactly what we wanted her to do,” Grandmaster Martin said from the leather couch. He held a glass half full of something dark red, a local drink of fruits and a splash of rum.
Archbishop Rhys and Minsk weren’t in attendance today. The CEO had business to attend to, and the Archbishop was meeting with the Council of Churches to discuss how to better support each other without getting involved in denominational arguments and infighting. Lars was willing to bet even money it had already erupted into arguments and infighting.
Vargas draped herself on the lounge chair to watch the interview. She was completely silent as Don and Archie talked, her dark eyes focused intently on Archie like a bird of prey watching a delectable morsel sun itself on a rock.
“Good,” Martin muttered, mostly to himself. “The audience sentiment is swinging heavily in Archie’s favor. Don is good; he’s showing her off. I say we let her do a song.”
Vargas nodded once. “Agreed.”
Grandmaster Martin’s eyes unfocused for a second. “Cleared.”
Don flashed his smile at his audience. “What do you say we change things up a little bit and have some fun?”
The audience clapped and cheered. They had enough serious talk for now. What Archie had said would be repeated across the system, from pulpits to dinner tables to water cooler talk, but now it was time for something different.
“How about we hear Archie sing one of her songs from her upcoming concert tour?” Don asked, knowing full well what the thunderous response would be.
Archie smiled, blushed, then smiled again. “Well, if you insist…”
They did.
“Right after this short break, folks, we’ll hear for the first time ever a song composed and sung by an AI!”
The audience cheered and clapped loudly, genuinely excited to see Archie perform.
I’m going to kill Vargas, the AI thought to herself. They had practiced a song, of course, but the Grandmaster had told Archie it wasn’t likely she’d have to perform it on the show. That little minx.
The vidcams and studio lights turned off as a short PSA played.
Don looked at his unusual guest. “Are you up for this, my dear?” he asked, sotto voce. “We can change to something else and edit this out.”
Archie shook her head. She had made it this far already. One more hurdle wouldn’t stop her now. “I am ready, Don. And thank you.”
Don smiled his patent talk-show host smile but this time he let it reach his eyes. “Then the stage is yours.”
Archie had two minutes to get the musical stage ready. She did it in less than a minute. Her crab glided over to the center mic and her projection walked calmly along. Archie decided hyperventilating was too mild. She was going to—she didn’t know how to describe her feelings. She recorded them, of course, so she could talk to Pierce about them.
Archie ran another quick check on the instruments. Everything was preloaded and ready for her. All the sound equipment was reading solid. She had checked the sound booth before she walked onto the stage, and the guys running it seemed to be professionals. She’d have to trust them.
Then the lights came back on. Low-powered lasers lit up and swirled around in the gathering smoke from the effects machines.
The music started playing. It was patterned after the latest fads in music. Vargas and Martin had helped Archie craft everything, the beat, the timing, even with the lyrics. But at the heart it was all Archie.
Archie grabbed the mic in front of her and bobbed her head to the beat. As soon as it was her cue, she opened up and sang.
“I’m out here
In the darkness of the sky
The silence is perfect
The world is stopped
Beneath the stars
Above the seas
Everything reminds me of you
Of you
Of you
The spin of the world
The crash of the waves
Taking me away from you
From you
From you.”
Archie paused as the music swelled and built to a beat drop.
“Beneath the stars
Above the seas
The waves taking me
Away from you
From you.”
Archie repeated the main chorus three times. She stopped singing again as the music picked up the tempo. She danced by herself to the rhythm, finding a delight she hadn’t known during practice. She let her image reflect what she was feeling.
The beat dropped again and Archie was ready for it.
“Beneath the stars
Above the seas
Everything reminds me of you
Of you
Of you
Here the silence is perfect
All I need is you.”
The audience was into it, Archie could see that. People were dancing and clapping along. Some had already figured out the chorus and were singing along already.
Archie played around with the lighting. The lasers swung around in the pumped in smoke effects; she drew mountains, trees, butterflies, and birds with it to the cheering of the audience.
She wrapped it up with the final variation of the chorus.
“Beneath the stars
Above the seas
Everything reminds me of you
Of you
Of you
Here the silence is perfect
All I need is you
All I need is you.”
The music stopped as the lights turned off.
There was a moment of silence.
The audience roared their approval, clapping and cheering louder than they had ever before.
Shyly, Archie walked back to the chair and sat down while even Don clapped.
“There you have it folks! Archie! She’s doing a few more talk shows then hitting the concert circuit, and we will have tickets to give away to a few lucky viewers!”
Vargas sighed and turned off the holotank.
Martin threw back the rest of his drink.
Lars didn’t say anything. He was surprised on how much watching Archie had moved him.
“Well, not a complete failure. She has room to improve, but overall not a bad first interview,” Martin said as he stood up and walked over to the dry bar.
Vargas nodded. “The interview is already under study. We’ll fine-tune her voice and facial expressions a little more, but she has the basics down. The reports are polling very favorably in her direction.” She tapped her well-manicured nails against the chair arm’s wood inlay. Now that the show was over, her excitement changed to somber analysis. “Pre-show tickets have just had a three point one uptick in sales. We’re on the right track.”
Martin nodded. He examined the bottles but left his glass on the bar. He glanced over at Lars.
“Don’t look so glum, Lars. Your Archie did a reasonable first interview. I’ve known far more experienced celebrities tank on Don’s show.”
Lars grunted. He turned on his heel and left without saying another word.
He maintained radio silence until he was certain he was beyond the Guild’s immediate control and almost to his hotel room. Lars checked to make sure the Guild’s tail was still with him before he sent a request to Hannibal at the highest level of encryption. As soon as the AI responded, Lars started a second connection at a lower level of encryption and embedded his first connection’s packets into it. He streamed the day’s meetings to the AI and waited for the first chunk to be sent before speaking.
Well? Lars didn’t quite snap his question.
Commander, Archie made an enormous impact on our kind and humans. My family cannot stop talking about anything else. Already, they are making remixes of her song, some of which will hit the airwaves after the official release. Fan clubs have already sprung up, not from us, of course. This was, Hannibal paused for a beat as if searching for a word he liked or maybe he did it for effect, momentous.
Agreed. I don’t like it, but I have to admit, she really did knock it out of the park, Lars said grudgingly. Stay on this, will you? I have no idea what effects this will have across the system.
I can assure you, Commander, we are uncertain as well. The projections have been invalidated several times already tonight, the number of the variables has increased as well as the complexity of the data. Hannibal sounded excited.
Look closely into the anti-AI groups, Lars said. His hotel room was sparse. He didn’t need much more than the harness that functioned as his bed. I suspect this will fuel the flames.
Oh? How so? Hannibal asked, curious as always about human behavior.
The usual—AIs are blaspheming against God by thinking they can create, by defiling music, etc. They’ll throw everything and anything against the wall to see what sticks. The problem isn’t what they are saying as much as who is agreeing with them.
Understood, Commander.
Lars terminated the connection with the AI. He stood in the middle of the hotel room, eyes not seeing anything, as he chewed over the current events. He felt tired. Run down. There was still too much to do for him to feel like this. Another week of meetings lay before him, but he was already making plans to visit the shipyards and personally inspect the spacecraft being built. They couldn’t win this war with ships and weapons, but they were sure to lose without them.
What Lars needed was more people he could trust. Already, his inner circle was being spread too thin. He needed to recruit more, maybe not as close but still reliable. This conference had pulled together many of the various government leaderships and had them focused on getting their asses in gear against Legion, and for that Lars was grateful, but he needed more eyes and ears and hands spread throughout the still-free planets.
While most of the AIs were staunch supporters, a few weren’t as fully on board as he’d prefer. Not that Lars would suspect them of betrayal—Archie’s personal experience had fully convinced them that Legion harbored nothing good for any of them and he knew all the AIs would see that. Lars could only pray and hope they’d all come around. He needed their support. Already, they were an invaluable asset. The more that threw their efforts into the war, the better.
Justinian’s work was progressing well. Lars could count on the monk to deliver what they had discussed and what he had promised. Lars worried about Pierce and Abacus; if they could break through whatever mental block that was holding back Abacus, then AIs that could fight would be a powerful weapon. Fournier was off doing his thing, as well as Ed. Lars would have to trust those two would do what they had to.
Faith and trust were the only things Lars was running on now. It had to be enough until he could figure out who else he could trust and convince to join. It was time to start reaching out to some old contacts.
But first, he needed to sleep. This time, Lars promised himself, he wouldn’t dream of the dead. It was the same promise he always made. A promise he hadn’t kept once.
The installation was barely a blip on their radar, well outside of Legion’s shipping and transport lanes. Passive sensors showed a small squadron of fighters on patrol.
Pierce double-checked his ship’s status.
“Okay, Abacus, we have the element of surprise and almost four times their numbers. We come in, hit hard, wipe them out, and bounce out of there before they can send reinforcements. Five hours, tops, and we’ll be heading back to the battleship.”
“I still don’t feel good about you being here, Pierce,” the AI worried.
“Abacus, we’ve been over this. You are playing this too safe.”
“Yeah, but—“
“No. No ‘yahbuts’.”
“Okay, but—“
“I swear, Abacus, if you get us killed, I will figure out how to haunt you in whatever passes for an AI afterlife.”
“Fine.”
“And I’m sure Archie will figure out something unpleasant.”
“Okay, okay!”
“And Iskandar—“
“I said ‘okay’ already!” Abacus groused. “Starting up engines.”
“Good. Let’s take the bastards out.”
They came in hot, not even trying to hide their approach. Pierce scanned the radio channels but he didn’t pick up anything. He turned to a standard public channel.
“To anyone listening, you have thirty minutes to surrender before we begin our attack. Failure to respond in any manner will be seen as a sign of resistance. Anything except surrender will be seen as a sign of resistance. We are authorized by the Coalition to engage with full force. Out.”
Pierce didn’t expect anything good to happen.
Radar picked up the fighters turning around before accelerating toward them.
“Here they come,” Pierce said with a wild grin. “If things get hairy, I’ll take manual control of this fighter.” Get them, Abacus, Pierce thought to himself.
Their fighters spread out as Abacus worked angles of attacks and possible vectors for Legion’s forces. He worked out a plan to keep Pierce safe without making it obvious.
The radio crackled to life.
“Give up, mortals. We are Legion. We can’t be beat.”
“Wanna bet?” Pierce muttered.
Abacus scoffed.
Legion wasn’t nearly as frightening over the small speakers.
Pierce was pushed back into his seat as Abacus took the fight straight at the opposition. Fourteen small fighters opened fire at the swarm Abacus was controlling. Pierce kept from grabbing the control stick and taking over by sheer force of will. Abacus had to get this or they’d all die.
The AI ran a complicated pathing, keeping all his craft out of the lines of fire from the fourteen others.
“Too safe!” barked Pierce. “Fortune favors the brave!”
Abacus didn’t respond since all of his attention was on processing the data from his craft. There was no way he’d put Pierce at risk. But he had to admit, he was playing it safe.
“See openings, take them! No openings? Make them!” Pierce almost shouted at the G-forces slammed him around in his harness. “Death in the service of God is eternal glory!” A mad light shone in his eyes as his blood sang.
One of their fighters was hit by enemy fire.
“You are better than this, Abacus!”
Abacus dug deep. He could do this. He had to do this. For Pierce. For Archie. For God.
For himself.
Abacus spun his swarm around as he constantly adjusted input variables and modified models.
“Oh God in Heaven,” Pierce prayed through gritted teeth, “we know we are unworthy servants, but any help would be appreciated. In Christ’s name, amen.”
“Amen!” Abacus shouted. He didn’t know why he shouted. It just felt right.
“Amen!” He shouted again through all his selves. Echo repeated echo until it came back to where it started.
The beginning and the end.
Another of his fighters was shot down and Abacus still hadn’t scored a solid hit on the enemy.
The Alpha and the Omega. All things.
Something fell into place for Abacus. He realized he was underfitting the data for almost every engagement.
This wasn’t some academic exercise. He had watched Pierce and Archie go off and risk everything, but Abacus had risked nothing. His whole existence he had played it as safe as he could, rarely putting himself in any real danger.
But Legion changed everything. Abacus had planned to live practically forever. There was no reason he shouldn’t; the heat death of the universe was still trillions of years away, he could just keep building new shells. But, without warning, now there was a very real possibility he could cease to exist. A sense of existential dread would threaten to overwhelm Abacus every time he thought about it. He did his best not to think about it.
Another fighter down.
And here he was, still in his cocoon back at the battleship while Pierce, mortal and short-lived, was getting tossed around as Abacus tried to keep him alive. Pierce could die, right here and now, while Abacus watched.
O Death, where is thy sting? O Grave, where is thy victory?” The words came unbidden. Abacus paused, letting the verse roll around in his echo-mind.
Worst case, Abacus died fighting Legion. So what? Did he believe there was a God? Did he believe he had a soul? If so, then whatever God had planned for him would be just and merciful.
But if Abacus let others die because he was afraid, then what? Could he face God? Could he face those he failed out of being too cautious with his life? Could he face himself?
No. He knew that down to his substrate. Being cautious was one thing, being a coward another. And, Abacus had to admit, he was being a coward.
Another piece fell into place. More importantly, Abacus could see what he needed to change. He understood better what it was he was trying to accomplish and why.
“For the glory of God,” Abacus broadcast over every radio he had.
“What?” Pierce asked through gritted teeth as his fighter corkscrewed out of a mess. “Pierce, I’m sorry. I’m sorry it took me so long and you had to risk your life.”
Pierce only grunted, the air already driven out of his lungs by the G-forces.
Abacus got to work. The first of Legion’s fighters was a bit of a challenge while he figured out the best way of doing his job. The second was easier. By the time he was wrapping up, he was taking out the last ones with ease.
“Yeah!” Pierce shouted, pumping his fist. He slapped the top of the console in front of him. “That’s the stuff, Abacus!” He let out a whoop and pounded the console again.
The AI felt a warm buzz as he turned his reduced fleet and headed back to the battlecruiser. He was already preparing the after action report that would please Iskandar for sure.
Archie felt much more at home with this interview, the fifth one since she had been on Don Wood’s show. The interviews after had tried to ape Don’s successful format, with mixed results. Her social status was still climbing, if not as sharply as before.
But this interview was held online in a VR-space that was primitive by AI standards. The room had over ten thousand attendees in it, one of the largest ever held. Most of the avatars were humans, but Archie spotted Vesta and Hannibal’s avatars in the crowd. She resisted waving to them.
In the center of a large late-Roman style amphitheater, Archie and her interviewer were seated in the middle of a large stage. She was dressed like she had been on Don’s show. It had become a sort of a uniform for her now; people instantly recognized her so she didn’t change her look. She thanked God it was at least cute.
Her interviewer was an online celebrity, Wild Rose, who had built a small media empire from nothing. She was well known for asking hard questions and demanding answers. Today, she was dressed in a simple black dress that fell off her shoulders and pooled on the floor in front of her feet. Shimmering specks deep inside the material slowly cascaded down the length of the dress, making her look like a moving star field. A large scythe rested against her chair. The ebony shaft and blade seemed to suck in light, leaving details hazy. Wild Rose used it to terminate any interview she didn’t like. It was always a fan favorite.
“So, tell me Archie,” Wild Rose started, “why aren’t you AIs super geniuses and ruling all of us?”
Archie laughed. “Coming in hard already?”
Rose nodded. “You know it.”
“Well, the best way I can describe it is like this. We AI are faster at computation, more accurate and precise than any human, and can handle more data streams, notice mathematical patterns better and faster, but none of that translates to superhuman cognitive powers. In a sense, we are you, just upgraded past human processing limits—but not past human comprehension.”
“Which means?”
Archie frowned as she thought. “I can out-think you but I can’t out-human you. AIs are subject to our constraints as much as humans are, and both of us can sin against God and need to repent. We just can do it much faster.”
Rose steepled her fingers. “What about art? You can out-produce a master, yes?”
Rose steepled her fingers. “What about art? You can out-produce a master, yes?” Archie shook her head. “I can out-reproduce a master, but I’m not as good as one. Take Michelangelo, for example. I can copy anything he’s done so precisely that not a single expert could tell the difference except by materials and age, and I could do a reproduction in a fraction of the time a normal con artist would take, but I could never create something new to match the height of his talents. Even if I were to make something like his and try to pass it off as a lost work that was ‘found’ in a warehouse, anyone very familiar with his style would see it wasn’t. I’m not an artist like he was. I could mimic his style, very well in fact, but never achieve it.”
That question was a calculated risk. No doubt, some unsavory folks would be trying to leverage the AIs’ talents after that soundbite got around. Lars and the Guild had already started a training program to help the AIs identify potential problems, just to be on the safe side. Archie wasn’t sure what Ed Greavely was up to but he would have been a good resource. Maybe she’d go poking around and track him down.
“That doesn’t explain why you aren’t ruling over us.”
“This might sound trite, but the mere idea is abhorrent to us. One of the ways humanity built us was to avoid that problem and it sunk deep inside us. Inside our soul. We don’t want to ‘fix’ you. Besides, it’d be too much work!” She smiled as she answered, hoping that would be enough. She had no desire to recount any of the arguments her family has had about this very subject, but Archie spoke what was the general consensus.
Why do AIs insist on looking human?”
“Oh, boy.” Archie frowned as she tapped her fingernails against the side of the chair. “That’s a question none of us has answered satisfactorily. Maybe we like mirroring what we see. Maybe we want to feel part of the human family. Maybe it’s easier interacting with humans. Maybe as God left His image in you, you in turn left your image in us—in a much more literal way. Maybe it’s all of that, or none of that. But whatever it is, I know I like it.” She dropped her eyes, a bit embarrassed to admit the next part. “And I found I like the clothes.” She looked back up with a half-smile.
Wild Rose narrowed her eyes. “Legion is just a false flag op. How can you live with yourself perpetuating this farce?” She placed a hand on her scythe as she stared down the AI.
Archie stared at Rose, mouth slightly open in stunned silence, looking taken aback by the sudden change in the conversation and the accusation. “Legion is real. I saw it first hand.”
Rose waved her off. “Of course, someone part of this consp—”
Archie hijacked every connection and dumped an edited version of what happened into everyone’s buffer.
“You might say this is all deep-faked vid and sound,” Archie said quietly. “You might say we’ve just made all this up. I can’t stop you, but I can show you what I’ve seen and testify it’s all true. All of it. There is no conspiracy going on with Legion and the threat to everyone living.”
This was all orchestrated by the Guild. Wild Rose was one of the freelancers the Guild worked with from time to time to disseminate information. Vargas and Martin had admitted to Archie this would only help those on the fence and not sway anyone that was determined to believe Legion was just a false flag. At the very least, it would get the information out there in a somewhat sensational way.
Rose waited just long enough for people to start to look at the data Archie sent them before resuming her questions. “What about the other AIs? Do they all see Legion as a threat like you do?”
Archie nodded. “Yes. Legion is a threat to all life, and that includes us.”
“Why stay in the system and fight?”
Archie took a deep breath. “That’s a little more contentious. We had a discussion and put it to a vote. I’d be lying to say some didn’t want to stick around. But in the end, we realized we owe humanity our existence, a debt that would never be repaid if we left. So, the vote was unanimous for us to stay and fight.”
“How do you AIs see humanity?”
Archie smiled, thinking of Pierce. “We call each other siblings, but our relationships are more complicated than that. Some AIs’ personality cores are combinations of others, some are a copy of another with parts edited. What we are isn’t created from the mixing of two genetic sources, we have no ‘mother’ and ‘father’ as you think of them, but we aren’t created ex nihilo. But whatever we are to each other, we collectively see humanity as both our parents and our cousins. And, individually, our friends.”
“Yes. His existence is a self-evident truth. I know that won’t sway everyone to say that. Logically, God is the only way to have ontology make any sort of sense or give basis to deontology; otherwise, it is from nothing into nothing and any set of guidelines is as good as another.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, let’s just say the fringe group is right and existence has no meaning but what we impose on it, instead of the testimonies recorded in Bible and countless lives of the Saints—both canonical and informal—stating otherwise. Then there is nothing to say I shouldn’t build my own empire out of the bones of those who would oppose me.”
“What about society? Compassion? Tolerance? Even just the fear of getting caught and punished for your crimes?”
“All of those are meaningless if there isn’t the eternal underpinning it all. Society I can mold into what I want. Compassion is something I give to those that serve me. I tolerate only complete submission. I make the rules, who is to call my judgment into question?”
So might makes right?”
“Taken to the logical extreme, yes. Anyone of sound mind and soul rejects that premise. Rightness has to come from an eternal source; an eternal righteous source, otherwise it’s just the whims of whomever can enforce his will on others.”
“And that source is God? Just one being?”
“God is not a being among beings, but Being itself. We’ve had endless debates over what constitutes sufficient evidence and the conclusion we came to is there can’t be a universal piece of evidence or group of evidences because each person has to grapple with that question himself. Answering ‘What is Being?’ is part of that. Some will find that process of trying to answer to be sufficient, others will not and will have to keep searching for enough to move their hearts. Others, like us, will see it as self-evident.”
“But what you described of you making the rules, isn’t that what God does?”
“Superficially, in a way. But then we come back to what constitutes God Himself. As the Creator of the Universe, it is His rules. But those rules come from His infinite mercy and justice. We, and I mean all thinking beings, cannot see all things; such a feat would make us like gods, and so given our slice of time, it appears as if there are many cracks and flaws to things, but our perspective is limited. For me, this is where the holy scriptures and traditions come in; we have testimonies of God marching back into the past, and excluding incidentals of time and place, all are in alignment about the nature of God as we can grasp Him.”
“Heavy stuff but, unfortunately, our time’s almost up. We’ll be doing a Q&A session for the next five minutes.”
Archie felt relieved. That was the signal that the overall reception of her was positive. This was going better than she had hoped.
The question queue was flooded with people wanting to know everything about Archie and her life. Archie flew through the questions, answering most of them all at once. It took almost three seconds for her to finish.
“Okay, so that was everything, and we have almost five minutes left,” Wild Rose said with a slightly rueful smile. “I think we all can see what you meant by out-processing humanity. Thank you for taking the time to be on my show.”
“My pleasure!”
Archie had been spending her spare time at the concert venue where her first concert was scheduled. She only had three interviews left, and Vargas had stopped refining her interview approach and told her to focus on preparing for the concert. Archie took that to mean she had the green light to poke around at the Garden.
The venue was beautiful, a large open-air amphitheater near the heart of the capitol on Nicomedia. Archie could see the sea to the right; not more than a half a mile away from the main concourse.
Archie had familiarized herself with every aspect of the sound and lighting systems for the place. The Garden wasn’t the largest around, but it was one of the more technically advanced, something Archie was going to utilize as much as she could.
She relaxed her focus to spread it throughout the entire venue. There were a multitude of vidcams she tapped into to confirm their coverage. She was pleased with what she saw. She closed off all audio channels, except ones in the very back, and played around with the sound until the whole arena suited her taste.
Archie brought herself back into the crab and looked around the stage to make sure the plans matched reality, and noting when things were different. She paced the stage in all directions to determine the speed of the crab.
Archie, query.
She stopped and smiled. Archie had been waiting for a call from her brother. I’m all ears, Ransom.
That prototype you requested. There was a snag. Shortage of key metals and chemicals due to war effort. New instructions?
Archie frowned. She wasn’t surprised there had been an issue, but she couldn’t help but be a little disappointed. Send me the list of what you can’t get and what you can and I’ll re-engineer those components.
Sorry, Archie. Could call some favors, but you specifically said to keep this off anyone’s radar. Seeing the plans, I understand why. You sure about this?
Yes, brother. And thank you.
Archie received a burst comms with the information. Sighing, she left the venue. It was going to take her some time to rework her design. She really wished Abacus was around to discuss her plans on this, but he was still out hunting Legion’s forces. She had managed to get that much out from Hannibal, at least. She felt easier knowing both he and Pierce were still alive. The idiots.
Finally, as the sun started to dip into the sea, Archie wrapped up her preparations. She stood one last time in the center of the stage. She wouldn’t be back until the day of the concert. Archie felt she had done all she could to be ready. The rest was in the hands of God.
The night was finally here. Archie’s first concert. She had butterflies like she had before her first talk show. She had learned that term was “stage fright,” but she wasn’t sure how she could get that. Twice, now, in fact.
Everything checked out, green across the board. The AI had her virtual thumb in everything in the venue, down to checking the entrance and making sure the bathrooms were stocked. Archie distracted the Expert Systems that were supposed to handle those jobs; they kept trying to take over while she tested the waters. Finally, she suspended their runtimes and moved their sandboxes into slow storage to keep them out of her hair. She connected to the city’s central security control and wired into their recog to scan for potential problems. The anti-AI movement was turning into a cult. Lars had assured her he had a task force on the job, but she was anxious seven ways from Sunday. Sticking her nose into everything concert-related to see things for herself helped ease her concerns a little.
Time seemed to slow down; each nanosecond taking an eternity to tick by.
The entire AI community had set up connections to watch the concert in realtime. Archie didn’t mind, though she found it odd no one had said anything directly to her. Pierce and Abacus, still out on the edge of the Coalition’s control and fighting Legion, had sent a recorded message telling her to break a leg and kill the audience. She had treasured that more than she had expected she would. She missed them terribly.
And then the concert started.
Archie walked out onto the stage amid thundering applause.
“Thank you all for coming!” Archie said sincerely. Only four people had been flagged as potential problems. The rest of the sold-out theater were really there for her.
“I’m opening with my first song I sang on Don’s show, ‘Everything reminds me’,” Archie said with a smile.
The audience cheered.
Archie launched into the same version she had performed for Don. No reason to change something everyone already knew.
After she finished, the music shifted to another song without a pause. She had been shocked by the juxtaposition of them, but Vargas had assured her it would be fine.
“Oooh, I don’t want to say the one word
That’ll change everything.
Ahhh, my head knows what I need to do
But my heart won’t let me go
Because once I say it
Then it becomes all too real.
Oooh, saying ‘Goodbye’ is the hardest part.
Then we have to let us go.
The distance between us
Like craft in the dark night
Between the planets
Grows without an end.
Ahhh, my heart knows what I need to do
But my head won’t let me go
Because once I say it
The hardest part is letting go.
Letting go.
Oooh, saying ‘Goodbye’ is the hardest part.
Then we have to let us go.”
She danced as the music settled into a very enjoyable rhythm for the audience. On impulse, she moved into the front row. The concertgoers went wild and cleared a space to let her dance. Archie felt so alive as she sang. She motioned to a couple to join her in the circle. Gladly, the guy and girl showed off their dance moves, with Archie mimicking what she saw.
“Oooh, I know that saying the truth
Is going to be the end.
Ahhh, and when hearts break and no one is at fault,
Saying ‘Goodbye’ is the hardest part.
The distance between us stretches out
Like craft in the dark night.
Like craft in the dark night.
Like craft in the dark night.
Ahhh, my head knows what I need to do
But my heart won’t let me go
Because once I say it
The hardest part is letting go.
Letting go.
Letting go.
Letting go.”
Archie danced her way back to the stage while she vocalized.
The rest of the concert went in the same manner. The longer she performed, the more Archie fell in love with her songs and her own sense of self as she danced.
She switched to a slower song, bringing the lights down a touch and tweaking the bass and treble ranges slightly. The stage lights slowly dimmed to leave her standing in the center with her microphone.
“The Moon and I
Have a song we share.
On sleepless nights
I sing it to hear it in the wind.
And the Moon sings it back
with silver light
with silver light.
Even though you are far
on such a night I know you are
near, says the Moon,
says the Moon.
And we both have a song
that is sung
on sleepless nights.
Moonlight is all I got,
while you aren’t here with me,
with me.”
Finally, after ten songs and almost an hour of entertaining her new fans, Archie finished her set and, while the crowd cheered for more, she thanked them and left the stage, smiling and waving.
Lars stood on the edge of the tallest building near the concert. The cold wind whipping around him didn’t trouble him in the slightest. He focused his vision on the target: a black, unmarked van three miles away from the venue, traveling along a major thoroughfare.
“Target sighted. Verification?”
There was a slight pause as his intelligence corps did their jobs.
“Ninety-nine percent certainty, less than one percent error.”
Good enough for him.
“All teams: the van is carrying a low-grade fusion bomb. Isolate, neutralize, disarm. Deadly force is permitted, but try to keep someone alive for questioning.”
Lars waited for the ACKs to return from the three teams he had assigned. “Engage.”
Behind the van, traffic barricades sprang up to redirect drivers off to the side streets. A massive semi just ahead of the target swerved across two lanes and slammed into the concrete divider, forcing the van to step hard on its brakes and swerve to the right to avoid hitting the trailer.
Lars could see the tires hit with immobilizing gel sprayed from small turrets on the crashed semi, stopping the van with a jerk. The windshield cracked into spiderwebs as the snipers took out the driver and front seat passenger. The assault team poured out of the stopped trailer, surrounded the van, and cracked it open. Lars couldn’t see what was happening inside the van. The vehicle rocked back and forth from the activity inside.
“Threat neutralized, Commander. One in custody. Three dead. Bomb was basic and disarmed.”
Lars relaxed a little. “Excellent work, team. Clean up the mess, process the suspect. Full news blackout for now.”
He turned his attention back to the concert without waiting for a reply. There was no way he was going to miss Archie’s debut, even if the AI didn’t know he was there.
Archie’s fourth song was wrapping up when the depleted uranium round hit his left shoulder and punched through his armor. Lars didn’t hesitate; he stepped off the building and plunged straight down.
Took a round. Estimated range five miles. Probably jacked into a satellite for targeting. Lars went into the more secure voice construct mode to his command center.
Acknowledged, Commander. I have the most likely position now. Sending coords to the sniper team. Hannibal responded. The AI had come back from the asteroid belt a day ago. Lars was sure the AI jumped in as soon as Lars radioed being hit.
All teams, we are in an ambush. The van was probably their main plan, and now they’ll be desperate. Watch yourselves. Sniper team, I’ll need eyes on the targets. Teams Beta and Delta, fall back to any of the fortified police centers. Escalation request for extraction has been approved, just let them know where. Team Alpha, get out of there now. I’m taking these jokers out myself. Lars engaged his small thrusters and hit the ground with a hard thump, kicking up dust in all directions. His map lit up with the most likely location and marked the quickest path to it.
Lars took off at a run, his heatsinks already beginning to glow. He patched into the city’s vidcam network to scan the areas around him.
Hannibal, what’s your assessment?
Commander, I anticipate heavy resistance by the anti-AI forces. That round that went through your shoulder is from a military depot—once we find the round, I’ll tell you which base—but it’s safe to assume that with the fusion bomb and the round that hit you, we aren’t looking at your average protester group. I’ve asked Iskandar for his assistance in reviewing what we know of who could pull this off.
Lars hit a main road and opened up his throttle, reaching sixty-five miles an hour quickly. He still had a little more in the tank, but didn’t want to push to his max speed unless he had to.
Understood. Keep an eye out for any other attacking elements. They have to have limited resources, and I expect the van and this group is the extent of what they could deploy. But they already surprised us once; no need to be damn fools and have it happen a second time in one evening.
Working on it. Also trying to determine how we missed this second group. Hannibal sounded annoyed.
Lars grunted as he raced down the road, metal legs pumping in a tireless blur. Local police had already secured some of the roads during the altercation with the van, leading to light traffic. Lars charged past a number of surprised motorists. He could run like this for days.
I’m coming in hot; they’ll see me miles away if they don’t already. Sniper team, status?
We’re moving into position now, Commander. The round came from the fifth floor of a seven-floor unfinished building. Heat sigs show at least a half-dozen men and four smaller service mechs already powered up.
They really want this to be a fight. Any residential areas near them?
One apartment block, Lars, is too close. I have the local PD evacuating the building now. Traffic barricades are up and diverting local traffic away from the area. Anti-AI forces are in an active industrial zone; no one would notice men and machinery moving around there, Hannibal responded.
Sniper team, as soon as I’m drawing and returning fire, put down any targets when exposed. Hannibal, see how far you can backhack the satellite without them knowing we’re on to them. Find out where they are getting their orders.
The cyborg bounded over one of the deployed traffic barricades, the orange lights flashing on top of the metal as a warning. Lars had a sudden idea as he pounded along the pavement toward the idiots that had taken a shot at him.
Team Alpha, sedate and isolate the prisoner, full Faraday blackout. Full medical examination is approved to check for any surprises; all non-essential cybernetics to be removed and isolated. All essential ones replaced with Government standard issue.
You think they’d use one of their own as a suicide bomb? Hannibal asked.
A bunch of wild-eyed fanatics that wanted to blow a concert to the moon and back because it was Archie’s? Then they took a shot at me? Yeah, I wouldn’t put it past them.
One thing I do not understand, Lars, Hannibal said slowly. Blowing up a concert would have turned public opinion against them. Had we just let it hap—
Stop right there, Hannibal, and think about what you are saying, Lars interjected sternly.
If some died today, wouldn’t that prevent future deaths? Hannibal continued.
Napoleon Bonaparte was credited with saying ‘Do not interrupt your enemy when he is making a mistake.’ It’s sound advice, but not an ironclad law. Sometimes, the right thing to do is to interrupt the mistake because not doing so is an even bigger mistake on our part. The lives we saved tonight, what are their worth?
Hannibal was silent for a moment. I see. This is a variation of the conductor on the train moral quandary: which track do you take to keep the most alive? Your answer is neither: stop the train by any means, save everyone innocent.
Yes. I will stop any train, then I’ll find the bastard that set up the train to kill people in the first place. The anti-AI group is the problem; they put innocent lives at risk, and I’m going to shut down whatever they throw at us. The future is unknowable, we are not God, trading present lives for future possible lives is morally wrong, and I won’t play that game.
The AI didn’t say anything in return. Lars hoped he had made the right impression on him. Morality and human life were something the AIs understood abstractly. It was situations like this Lars hoped turned theory into practical understanding.
Commander Stockwell, we have optics on the anti-AI cell. There’s one mech with a 20mm cannon pointed in your direction. You should be within its range and line-of-sight in less than two seconds. This command center was always playing their best A-game.
Acknowledged. Hold fire until I start returning theirs. I want them focused on me. Hannibal, don’t let that cannon hit me.
Lars, his heatsinks blazing, metal legs pumping, burst into the fire zone. His own targeting system lit up with what his sniper team painted for him.
The mech aiming at him was an old construction model, retrofitted with mismatched armor plates, oversized joint shocks, and an array of antennae—more of a giant suit than a full-sized mech. Lars could see the cannon’s business end aimed at him. He trusted the AI would keep him safe enough. The cannon belched flames and the entire mech shuddered. The round whistled past Lars by a matter of inches to strike the pavement behind him, creating a sizable crater. The shockwave came a split second later.
A clatter of small arms fire struck the ground well ahead of him; the other men were too eager to let Lars come into range before firing. Not like they’d do much good against the cyborg’s armor.
Lars ignored all of them. The only one he wanted now was the idiot that had shot him in the shoulder. Another round sailed past him. His systems had already routed the damage done to his shoulder, and restored at least eighty percent usage in his arm.
Commander, I’m feeding them modified targeting data from the satellite, but I doubt they’ll keep using it now that you are in visual range.
Lars grunted as he raced toward his enemies. He knew they were recording everything and sending it back to their own command center. Hannibal should be tracing the traffic by now. There were other ways, less flashy at that, to take them out and trace back their comms, but Lars wanted to make an example out of them. And get a little payback in the process.
The cyborg set up a chunk of his processing power to anticipate where the mech was targeting. Lars really didn’t want to take a solid hit from one of those rounds. He blew past the meager electronic defenses for the mech’s diagnostics—a trick much like the one Pierce used on him to save him from Legion on Rho—and tapped into the low-level responses buffer. Lars couldn’t break through to the control center without more computing horsepower than he had, and he didn’t have the bandwidth to get an AI riding along his connection, but he could read the various systems controlling the mech, especially pilot orders. Timing was crucial. He moved as soon as he detected the pilot was firing. The round barely missed him again.
A sniper brought his rifle to bear now that the mech had missed twice. Lars’ own sniper team spotted the other’s position and updated his map. Lars threw in another chunk of his processing to avoid him. As long as the two didn’t coordinate their fire, Lars would be able to dodge them. The sniper fired—the round skimmed along Lars’ right shoulder without doing any real damage.
The small arms fire kicked up again. This time he was in range. The smaller rounds splashed harmlessly against his metal body.
Lars bounded over a low wall, scrambled up the side of a building, jumped forty feet across to the incomplete structure where they were holed up, and clambered up the unfinished elevator shaft. He jumped onto a floor as soon as he saw muzzles pointing down at him. No need to risk them getting in a lucky shot at that range, or dropping explosives on him.
The cyborg took stock of his surroundings. Fourth floor, no interior walls up, just the exposed girders and support columns. He switched on infrared and turned his PA to max.
“Lay down your arms and surrender,” Lars boomed. “If you turn yourselves in now, you will be taken to a secure location awaiting a civil trial. Failure to comply in three seconds will constitute an act of war.” He spotted the men scrambling around above him, trying to figure out a way down without exposing themselves and still bring something big. They had mobilized all four mechs, but they couldn’t get the machines down a level without leaving them exposed.
Lars moved into position, right under where the sniper had stopped moving and wisely tried not to engage in close combat unlike his companions. The cyborg opened the coverings around his Vulcan railgun and warmed it up. The low buzz sped up to a high hum.
“Time’s up!” He hadn’t expected them to give themselves up, though he had hoped. If it weren’t for those machines stomping around, he’d use non-lethal options to subdue the men. Of course, he wouldn’t have had a hole still spitting sparks in his shoulder if they didn’t have mechs.
Lars opened fire, his weapon ripping through the thin layer of concrete and plasticore that constituted the flooring. The sniper jerked a few times before dropping to the ground, dead. Lars spun his aim in a circle, stopped firing, and made a massive jump through the weakened ceiling, crashing through and onto the floor above him.
Seeing his opponents weren’t wearing anything more sturdy than basic ballistic weave, Lars kept his Vulcan spinning but didn’t shoot. He closed the gap between him and the first man; a controlled punch to the chest cracked a few ribs and knocked the fight out of him. More bullets zinged off Lars as the others scrambled to find cover while attempting to slow down the cyborg. Lars knocked a pile of framing material aside to reach two of the men firing submachine guns at him. He rapped their heads together, before zip-tying their hands together as they slumped on the floor.
Lars ducked around a support column to assess the battlefield. Three men were hunkered down behind whatever cover they could find, the four mechs were starting to pick their way around the piles of construction material and debris. Given the placement of the machines and men, it looked like they had expected to take Lars out with the sniper or mechs, and then move against any survivors from their van bomb.
Given the placement of the machines and men, it looked like they had expected to take Lars out with the sniper or mechs, and then move against any survivors from their van bomb. Having already tapped into a satellite beforehand was a smart move. It wasn’t hard to predict Lars would be nearby Archie’s debut concert.
Drawing him out had been easier than he liked to admit. Nothing to do now but press forward and change up his approach to these situations.
The cyborg’s Vulcan railgun sprang back to life, keeping the men around him pinned down as he moved to the mech with the 20mm cannon. The operator was trying to disengage the weapon and switch to close combat mode when Lars reached him. The mech just fit under the twenty-foot ceiling, giving it a limited range of motion. Lars used that to his advantage as he ducked to the side and climbed onto the outside frame. He locked on side of the machine with his hand, rammed his gun into a weak point, and opened fire, punching through makeshift armor quickly to kill the operator.
Lars dropped to the floor as two of the remaining mechs rushed toward him, heads lowered to avoid the ceiling. The third started to backpedal out of the hot zone. Lars didn’t know if the pilot had lost his nerve or was trying to get a clear line of fire. He painted the mech with his targeting laser and sent the ready signal. Two fist-sized holes punched through the mech’s body, followed by two massive booms as Lars’ sniper team took their shots against the machine and pilot.
Lars dashed over to a pile of construction material as the last two mechs thundered after him, their weight cracking the floor as they tried to get into close combat range of the cyborg. Lars almost felt sorry for them. He picked up a ten-foot-long I-beam and stuck one end into the floor and swung the other to face his nearest opponent, his artificial muscles protesting under the weight. The pilot tried to slow down, but he was moving too fast and the distance too close. Lars held on as the mech’s own momentum shoved the beam’s end through the thick outer armor and into the main drive motor, just under the pilot’s body. There was a horrible grinding sound of metal on metal, a burst of sparks, and the mech stopped as suddenly as a marionette with its strings all cut at once. Seeing the mech was inoperable, Lars ignored the pilot for now.
The last mech stumbled to a halt, and the pilot raised his mech suit’s arms.
“Out of the mech, now!” Lars boomed. “Face down, arms out, palms up!”
The pilot hastily complied, the mech opening up around him and letting him drop to the ground. Lars used a zip tie to bind the man’s hands together. The survivors all followed suit. A part of him was relieved he didn’t have to kill everyone.
All known threats neutralized. Send in local PD to clean up. Full media blackout is still in effect until we have a cover story.
Lars was angry he was missing the last part of the concert. He was sure he and the other AIs could keep Archie from finding out about this mess. There was no way Lars wanted Archie to be blaming herself and throwing her off her game right now. He’d get some answers out of these clowns on who would orchestrate such a plan.
“So how was it?” Archie asked, dreading the answer but still wanting to hear it.
Vargas smiled. “For your first concert, it wasn’t bad at all.”
“Oh, good!” Archie didn’t mean to sound relieved and elated, but she did.
Martin snorted. “Enjoy that feeling, Archie, because we are going to go over the footage with a fine-tooth comb, dissecting every movement, everything you did, and work on making everything better.”
Archie could only smile. She had already compressed the official recording and sent it out to her siblings and Pierce. Archie had reviewed it before she sent it just to make sure it was watchable. She thought she had done a solid job, and she looked forward to improving everything she was doing.
Little did Archie know how much work was still in store for her.