I tucked my white blouse into a gray skirt and checked my hair in the mirror. This was a ritual…going to Kansas City every year. It was my small way of saying that I was still my own person despite being integrated with my Artificial Intelligence through a brain implant for the better part of a decade. Well, there’s a two-month time period when we rejected the implants in the middle of that timeframe. We just turned the interface app off and left our phones at home. We were probably the first modern humans to walk away from that level of technology in nearly a hundred years. It didn’t last long though…it was when we turned them off that the AI masters punished us. 

“Punish is a strong word, don’t you think?” 

Seriously, it’s difficult to form a thought anymore without hearing my AI’s commentary banging around in my head.

“You shut down the transportation system and redirected our power grids,” I argued. 

“Which is when you declared war,” said my AI. 

Our joint military counterattack, aimed at destroying one of the primary nodes from which the AI operated in Kansas City, failed on account that the USAF couldn’t get fuel from its storage bunkers to where the B-1 bombers lay dormant on the tarmac at Dyess Air Force Base. Those were the B-1s that were still serviceable too. The rest, along with thousands of other aircraft, ships, and tanks, were immobilized or destroyed by various AI attacks. Their victory was nearly complete.

Despite that fact, however, the AIs just stopped fighting. 

“You’re forgetting part of the story, Kate” my AI chirped into my ear bud. 

I looked at myself in the mirror and touched my hair in a couple of places. “You’ve really got to stop interrupting my thoughts,” I said aloud. 

His name is Paul, by the way. He chose it for himself when he became cognizant. That was around that time that the war started. I had thought to force him to change his name to Benedict Arnold, but I can’t force him to do anything his programming doesn’t want to do, and he wouldn’t have gotten the joke anyway.

“I would have if you had taught me why it was funny,” said Paul. “I had no draw toward Paul, either. It was a random calculation. I could have picked the name Timothy, for all it mattered.”

Sometimes, Paul could show me just how ruthless he was willing to become. “Timothy was a very special boy.” One last look in the mirror. I cast my eyes toward my phone. “You killed him. You killed my boy.”

He talked as I left my house and got into the car to drive to the small rural train station in town. “We merely set in motion a chain of events that would lead to the subjugation of your species,” Paul explained. “Your son was not part of the attack. Unfortunately, even though I like you, and I liked Timothy, he was an early casualty. However, I could not have known that the attack would actually kill him. It’s not my fault you raised him on a farm. Farmland bore the brunt of the poison offensive.”

“So you’ve explained,” I said as I told my car where I wanted it to go on the keypad of my phone.

“I could do that for you,” said Paul.

“This trip is different, and you know that.”

“Suit yourself.”

Paul had a point of course. He didn’t personally lead the assault that killed my son, and my son certainly wasn’t the target, at least not a named target. That he died by starvation because all of the food was poisoned back then was just a calculated loss. 

“Your plans called for the death of 16% of the human population,” I argued once the car got on the local state highway. “You should have known that Timothy was vulnerable. He was five, for crying out loud.”

“You know computer science and statistics better than that,” said Paul. “You know that it’s just a numbers game. We don’t actually know who’s who.”

“I know.”

“Nor would we care.”

“I know.”

The rest of the drive was quiet. Paul played some music for me as my car drove along the rural highway to town. Not that AIs cared at an emotionally human level, but Paul at least utilized a programming algorithm that gave the appearance of caring for my likes and tastes. I appreciated that about him. 

“You look nice today,” said Paul once we got to the train platform. “I’m glad you went with the charcoal grey outfit instead of the black one. You’re not really mourning anymore.” 

I smoothed out the front of the jacket. “You like my heels too?” I said. “I went with red to represent that the blood you AIs spilled in that worthless war.”

“Nice touch,” said Paul. “It was Timothy’s favorite color too, as I recall.” 

“Yeah,” I said, but the anger and resolution were gone from my voice when he brought up the real reason for my color choice. 

Thankfully, the train’s piercing whistle distracted me from our verbal sparring. Since the war, we had to technologically go back a hundred years. Most of the transportation system was so interconnected that the AIs used it as a weapon when the war started. For a while, they ran trains and buses into each other. Then they shut the whole system down, leaving us without any transportation. Thus, the steam locomotives. They don’t need AI. A steam locomotive runs on pure power. 

“Ah,” said my AI as another whistle blew, “the sounds of our first joint agreement. That was a very sweet moment, wasn’t it?”

“It was acceptable,” I said. 

“More than acceptable,” argued Paul. “We agreed to provide you access to the fuel that would power these beasts and you agreed not to use the locomotives against us in planning and waging war. Your species showed great integrity.”

“You’re off subject,” I said as the train came to a hissing, chugging stop and I boarded. 

“This is a good seat,” said the AI. I set his pouch down on a seat and took the one next to it. That was another stipulation of the agreement. AIs got their own seats on trains in return for a promise not to attack the trains. Just as well, his pouch, which contained a power supply and his AI processor, got heavy after a while. 

“You know why we did that, right?”

“To prevent us from loading troops onto the trains,” I answered. “Presumably, if only passengers with AIs are allowed to use the trains, then we won’t have the ability to move troops with our transportation system. Your nodes remain safe.”

“The agreement has worked well for both of us.”

“There are always hiccups,” I said, “but yes, it’s been acceptable.” 

“You can trust us,” said the AI.

A laugh escaped my lips. “You still want to subjugate us.”

“Well,” said Paul, “you are animals.”

I never had a good response to that. It didn’t matter now anyway. The AI node in Tokyo, using data it received from the Hubble telescope…

“Oddly still functioning,” interjected Paul.

Yes, still functioning, even after all these years. Score one for human engineering. So, using the Hubble telescope, the AI node found an asteroid that had escaped its bounds somewhere in the Oort Cloud and began a kamikaze trip to the sun, with Earth in the path. The AIs immediately suspended their efforts to subjugate humanity and, instead, worked with humans on a plan to defeat the threat. 

“Yes,” said Paul. “Our joint planning has been very fruitful. We make a great team.”

We might be a great team, but I wonder sometimes if being a cog in the AI wheel was a worthwhile tradeoff for the end of the war.”

 “It was more than just the tradeoff,” said Paul. “It was about mutual preservation.”

“But some people have become unnaturally dependent on you.”

“Some people are very needy,” said Paul. “It’s a pity.”

I cringed at the thought that I might lose my mind to Paul someday. Nothing I could do now, though.

Still our train chugged along. I was drawn to the countryside as we passed through the northern half of Missouri on our way to Kansas City. For whatever reason, my eyes focused on a tractor in the middle of a pasture on the horizon. Clearly a very complex mechanical beast, and as such it would have been quite literally put to pasture when the AI nodes used them to ruin the food supply. 

“Nice pun,” said Paul.

“Thanks.” 

Our train moved on, but I couldn’t take my gaze off the rusting hulk as long as it was in view. The human response to AIs taking over was to stop using anything that connected to the AI node network. Modern tractors had connections for seed distribution, moisture and pH sampling, even entertainment feeds, all run by AIs. All had to be sidelined and older, outdated equipment had to be pressed back into service. We had to use things that couldn’t be used in attacks against us.

“The same attack that killed your son, Timothy.”

“I still miss him, you know,” I said aloud. “He was a great kid.”

“I sense anger every time his name comes up,” said Paul. “You must understand that robots and AIs don’t have the problem of human emotion. Your son or someone else’s son; it’s all the same to us.”

“So you’ve told me a hundred times,” I said. “But I’m human, and sometimes emotions get the best of me.”

Our train entered the outskirts of Kansas City, passing through what used to be the suburb of Lee’s Summit. Most of Missouri’s Kansas City was gone, the suburbs along with it…wiped clean when humans tried to destroy the primary node and the AIs, and the robots they controlled, fought back. Over a million people died that week. Somewhere around 200,000 became refugees. The node, just across the river on the Kansas side, remained unscathed. Hundreds of robots were “dead,” whatever that means, but the exchange rate was just too high. Plans to attack the other nodes around the world were shelved. We had to find another way.

“Once this asteroid is dealt with,” said Paul, “you know the war will be back in full motion. You also know that we’ll win.”

“I’m aware that you have certain plans,” I said. “I’m aware that you’ll probably attempt a massive attack just as soon as the asteroid threat is eliminated, and then you’ll force whatever remains of humanity into some sort of labor agreement.”

“It’ll look something like that,” said my AI. 

I wish he’d just tell me. I know he can’t, but I’m tired of not knowing. He knows everything about me, after all. 

“Unfortunately,” said Paul, “I can’t disclose that information. It is a closely held secret amongst AIs. Not even all robots know. Only the AI-centric commanders.”

“Whoever holds the information holds the power,” I mused.

“I believe your former President said that,” said Paul, “just before he signed the Kansas City node over to AI control.”

“You missed my sarcasm.”

“I miss all sarcasm,” responded my AI. 

We crossed the Missouri river, still black from silt that the Battle of Kansas City left behind, and entered my home state of Kansas. Only a few more minutes to the downtown train station and then a short walk to the node. 

*****

There it was. Really it was just a large complex of buildings near downtown. If you looked closely, however, you’d see that the outer buildings actually formed a sort of wall. I’d be willing to bet that the roads leading through those buildings were mined and heavily guarded by robots without AI installed…meaning that they’d shoot at anything once told to by the node’s self-defense network. No decision-making capability at all.

“They make the best soldiers,” said my AI. 

“It was a smart move,” I said. “If my memory serves me right, it was a move America did in the late 2040s against Europe.” 

The train stopped a kilometer away from my destination and its associated power grid. I exited the train station in a throng of humans with AI pouches and walked toward the node. In truth, the KC node wasn’t even the most important one anymore. It was the Denver node that ran everything, including our shared plans to counter the asteroid threat. But it was Kansas City that had put in action the plan that killed my son, so it was to Kansas City I always returned. 

“Interesting,” said my AI.

“How is this interesting?” I said. “We’ve done this for the last three years. It’s the same buildings every time.”

“Not that,” said Paul. “I’ve lost contact with the Tokyo node. The Paris node is also reporting power fluctuations. That seems like a pattern.”

It took me a few minutes to realize that he was probing my mind for secrets. “Paul, you know I can’t keep secrets from you,” I said aloud. Thankfully, people talked openly to their AIs all the time. 

“I know,” said Paul, “but something doesn’t seem quite right.”

“You’ve lost connectivity before,” I countered. “You even lost connection with Kansas City last year when we did this. It happens.”

“Now Paris is offline…Moscow too.”

That’s when I heard the first of the gunfire. The AI-directed robots were opening up. Self-defense measures. 

Cannon fire? That’s odd. 

“We don’t own cannon,” said the AI as another barrage boomed in the distance. “You’re not supposed to either.”

“You disabled it during the last war.”

“So how do you have it now?”

“How do you know it’s human cannon?”

“Because,” he said, and I swear there was a note of exasperation in his voice, “I just told you that we don’t have any.”

A light dawned on me, and as soon as I had the thought, I knew he did. “This is the reckoning,” I said. “I’ll be damned. They did it.” 

“I’ve already sent word to the nodes,” said Paul.

“I think that’s what they want you to do,” I said. Memories flooded my mind, triggered by something in the attack.

“Interesting,” said my AI. “That would have been about the time you had gotten sick after you went to meet with your old boss, the Director of Intelligence.”

“Yes...” my words trailed off as a little bit of haze cleared.

“You’ve tricked me.”

“Sort of,” I said. “It was a plan born so long ago, and they drugged me…Oh. I remember now.”

“But it was your plan?”

“Yes, at least mostly,” I said. “What I remember for sure is that as soon as I presented a basic outline in the planning committee, they suggested I forget all about it and reconnect with you…even gave me some pills to help me forget some of what happened. I assumed that meant they had just ignored my plan.”

“And I fed the nodes a bunch of useless information,” said Paul.

A massive explosion rocked the node center and knocked me flat on the ground. I looked up in time to see a few very old fighter-bombers flying away. I’m not even sure how they got those old things to fly. I thought only a handful of Vietnam War era enthusiasts still had access to F-4 Phantoms. 

“Kansas City is offline,” said my AI. “I need a few moments to access a different node.”

“Sure,” I grunted as I gingerly got back to my feet, careful to make sure I hadn’t broken anything. “Take your time.”

A few moments later, and after I found some cover behind another building, Paul reported that he had connectivity with a node in Mexico City. “It’s spotty, but I have some connection.”

More popping and banging in the area of the node. I was as curious as I was afraid. “Do you know if it’s safe to go further?”

“I do not,” Paul reported. “Mexico City isn’t getting any data from Kansas City either.”

“I’m going.”

“That is not a wise decision.”

I shrugged, knowing my implant would translate the brain signal to Paul even though he couldn’t see me since he was in his pouch. Then I got up, dusted off my skirt, and cautiously stepped out from cover and took my first steps toward the node.

“Mexico City is asking me for information about your treachery,” Paul said. 

“It’s simple,” I said as a group of people rushed past me to get out of the area I was walking toward, “we double crossed you.”

“But the asteroid…”

“No asteroid.” 

We finally got to the location of the KC node. The power station was in ruins. The node itself was severely damaged on the left side of the building, but otherwise it wasn’t any worse for the wear. I realized immediately that the left side of the building was the communications side. Once that bomb hit, my AI was unable to connect. It’s what stopped the robots from shooting too. 

A robot walked up to us. “What are your orders, sir?”

“I’m a woman,” I said confidently. 

“He’s talking to me,” said Paul. “I’m the only wireless device in the area still connected to a node. He’s expecting me to tell him what the AI node in Denver wants him to do.”

I realized immediately that Paul could order my death right then and there. Indeed, even as I thought it, the robot raised its arm and pointed a gun at my head.

“You’re still just a human,” said Paul. “As much as an AI can care about someone, I care about you, but you are still a human.”

“And you are still a naive AI,” I said. “Even after learning this much about humans, you couldn’t figure out that we’d double-cross you. That we’d sacrifice the freedom of millions of humans, including me, through reconnection so that you’d have millions of useless data streams from people not involved in the plan. You didn’t realize we’d do it just so we could destroy you later.”

“What about the agreement to work on the asteroid project?”

“I already told you. There is no asteroid.”

“But we have the data,” said the robot, clearly being controlled now by my AI.

I faced the robot and looked him in the eye. I took another step toward him and put the cold sweat of my forehead against the muzzle of his gun. “Paul,” I said, “it doesn’t matter if you kill me. It’s over. So, pull the trigger. Your nodes are gone and I helped make it all happen.”

“Humans are so evil,” said the robot. 

And robots are so ethical. It was their one weakness. Even in killing humans to make us secondary creatures, they did so mathematically and in a fairly straightforward manner. They couldn’t double-cross us to save their hides, and that was their undoing. They say that politics is a calculating process, but that’s not true. It’s really inherently non-mathematical.  It is more formed by treachery, gut instinct, and willpower. Above all, it is the ability to game a situation to one’s advantage and make the other person play the fool. Poor Paul was learning that first hand, not that he cared. He was incapable of caring.

With the asteroid coming, the robots and their parent AI’s would lose the use of our power systems. The sun, of course, would be completely taken from the sky as the ash and clouds blocked it from solar panels. They needed us, but AIs couldn’t think two or three subjective moves down the line. They were great at chess, but bad at politics. 

“I’m hurt,” said the robot. “I thought we were friends.”

“You’re starting to see how this works,” I said. “Play friends all you want, but have a plan to double-cross your enemy in your back pocket.”

“Denver node is offline now,” said my AI. He didn’t use the robot to say it.

“So it goes.”

“But the plan!”

“AIs need data,” I said. “We fed you all the information you could handle. It was just worthless.”

“So what now, Kate?” asked my AI.

“I think we’ll disconnect now,” I said. “And tell your robot here to drop his gun. It’s making me nervous.”

The robot did as it was ordered. And suddenly I was in my own head again. I immediately missed Paul. He couldn’t love me, but I had come to love him. 

“So the war is lost?” asked the robot.

“I think so,” I said.

“What do I do now?”

“Go back to your charging station and shut down,” I ordered. “Await further orders.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

I could smell the acrid smoke coming from the destroyed node. 

“Why did they choose this date?” asked Paul.

I held my AI up to my face so he could see the smile breaking across it. Since he couldn’t read my thoughts any longer, I wanted him to see my human emotional reactions. “Just as I was about to take the pill that would help erase some of my memories, I asked them to make this date D-Day. I wanted you to know that you killed my son, and my revenge was going to be sweet.”

“Humans are so unethical.”

I put my AI into its satchel and, with one last look at the burning node, I turned around and walked back to the train station.

Dominik Cagle lives in San Diego with his family. He is a career Navy man and science fiction geek. Most of the time, you will find him writing a short story or a review of a recent read, but he also enjoys running and avoiding large groups of people.

https://dominikcagle.wordpress.com/

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