Chapter 13

 

“Glad you could join us, Ajaya,” the major greeted me as I stepped into the auditorium. Everyone in the room turned to stare at me.

 

“Yeah, it’s great for me too,” I said.

 

“Ah, see everyone, like I told you. He feels the exact same way you all do about the simulator. Totally unfair, right, Ajaya?” Yoshida said in jovial tone that I had learned was fake.

 

“Unfair? Nothing in the Zone is fair, but unrealistic? Yeah, I’ll agree with that. The reason I have Rikki in there with me is to detect drones long before I can. Having a multi-ton Tank-Killer spawn five meters away, right out the side of building is a bit of a stretch, don’t you think?” I asked right back.

 

He paused, looking at me with mild chagrin. “Okay, you have a point. But what about the rest?”

 

“You set the room for a level impossible to survive. So I didn’t survive,” I said with a shrug, taking a pull on my water bottle.

 

“And you’re angry?”

 

“Annoyed, puzzled, confused. I mean, that was a hell of pep talk you gave me before sending me in, and then you go and spin it up to Armageddon. Wondering what the point was?”

 

“Oh yeah, about that. The class felt the exact same way.”

 

“You’re saying that the level they fought at felt impossible and so you showed them what impossible looks like?”

 

“See, class, this is why he’s your instructor. Exactly, Ajaya. Sending you and Rikki in to run the table at level one wouldn’t convince anyone that it wasn’t a setup. So I set you up.”

 

“Awesome.”

 

Yoshida laughed and, amazingly, so did some of the super soldiers in the audience. “Alright, questions?”

 

“Why did you suicide out of the game?” a sniper asked. I recognized her from the orientation talk.

 

“The AI was spawning brand-new drones, fully armed with complete loadouts, the last of which was the Tank-Killer. The only ordinance I had that would touch that bot was my XM-2080, so I figured I would take it out and see what the computer would predict would happen to me. I was pretty sure to die, but the Room AI can compute all those factors and I thought it might be a learning experience.”

 

“You saw limited chances to survive and decided to experiment?” she clarified, frowning.

 

“Yeah. If Rikki had detected a TK inside his normal range, either in real life or in the game, I would have set up a combo trap of MSLAMs and an XM-2080 and then got out of there. But the major’s god-level game just dropped the damned thing right on top of me. Did anyone get anything useful out of that… that clusterfuck?” I asked.

 

They were silent, then the Green Beret from earlier spoke up. “Actually, I was feeling like Major Yoshida said. Like it was rigged. Then I watched you and your drone waste your way through a dozen drones in about thirty seconds before you got tagged out. So yeah, I learned stuff. But I would really like to have you walk us through what you did, and why you did it.”

 

“Yeah, that would be helpful,” the sniper lady admitted. A number of other voices rumbled agreement.

 

“Good idea,” Yoshida said, still smiling. “Walk us through it, Ajaya. Maya, crank it back up on the big screen.”

 

So we did. I explained sending Rikki in and listening for gunshots to see if the area was clear. The step-by-step run-through took longer and we had to back it up and replay things a lot because either a student had a question or I had to first think about what we were doing and then explain why we did it.

 

“You weren’t even watching the Berkut during the shootout,” a Marine noted. “How do you know what he’s shooting and what you’re supposed to shoot?”

 

“That’s a little harder to explain. We’ve been in too many shootouts, so we kind of know what each of us is supposed to shoot, like you all do with your long-term team buddies. Rikki handles the fast flyers and I handle the ground bots. We each sort of prioritize based on lethality. A Tiger or Berkut is a top killer and needs to be taken out quickest. Flechette shooters and smaller ground bots like Leopards and Wolves need to come next, then down to laser weapons and light caliber guns, and so on. Also, we shoot according to our firepower and hit probability. My guns are bigger but he’s a better shot on hard-to-hit, fast-moving targets, so we balance out. I had almost no chance of hitting that enemy Berkut in open flight, so he would know to automatically take it, although I could distract it and disrupt its tactical plan with an explosive. Not sure if that answered it or not?”

 

“You made those choices that fast and all on the fly?” another Army type asked.

 

“We’ve spent a couple of years together and had a lot of simulated combat time before that.”

 

“I thought this simulator was brand-new?” the Ranger who had caught a shot in the back of the head inside the simulator asked.

 

Yoshida jumped in before I could answer. “This one is, but Ajaya hooked his Berkut playmate up to a series of first person shooter games and trained it to fight by his side.”

 

“What? That’s…” the Ranger trailed off as he thought about it.

 

“Crazy?” I volunteered.

 

“Kinda genius, actually,” he said. “What games?”

 

“Most of them, but for team play we used Lost Honor 45 a lot. Also played Bleak in a few competitions,” I said.

 

“You took your drone’s AI into online competitions?” the Ranger asked.

 

“Yeah, along with my sisters. We did pretty good. I wanted Rikki to experience team play. It helped hone our understanding of each other. Most of the time, I can’t speak or yell to him unless it’s all gone to shit. So we’ve worked out a bunch of nonverbal cues. My mom’s dad used to hunt pheasant with his Irish Setter, Darby. I’ve watched them work a field together, and Grandpa would explain how he could read Darby’s behavior and body language. So I pay attention to what Rikki is doing and he does the same with me. We can go over all of that in detail later.”

 

“So you see, Ajaya adapted techniques that humans have used for thousands of years to this new technology. I could have sent him in alone and let him cover the Room on his own, but the point we want you to take away is that the lone hunter is far from efficient. One equipped with a drone bird dog is way, way more effective, even at impossible levels of combat,” Yoshida said. “And a class in drone body language is a good idea. Maya make a note of that, please. We’ll work on that before we issue you a drone of your own.”

 

“If I do the room on my own, without Rikki, at the level you all experienced, it takes me a full hour, generally, because rushing gets you killed. With Rikki, it would have been five or six minutes at the normal level,” I said. “My recovery success rate inside the Zone went way, way up after I got Rikki.”

 

“Will our drones be as effective as the Berkut?” someone asked.

 

“Nope, at least not right away. Ajaya and Rikki have hundreds of hours together. That’s not going to happen for you all right away,” Yoshida said. “But we will be putting you and your drone into an online VR simulator that you can use as often as you want, and you’ll all have lots of hours in the Zone Room,” Yoshida said.

 

“We can do the VR during free time?” the Ranger asked.

 

“Yup. Now, let’s keep going on this debrief. Ajaya?”

 

It took an entire hour to cover the eight minutes and seventeen seconds we survived in the simulator. One thing for professionals, they ask lots of questions—good ones, at that.

 

I was a little wrung out as the class filed out of the auditorium. They had a block of free time to do whatever they wanted: work out, call home, read, eat, or even take a nap. Me, I was ready to head home, but Yoshida motioned me to hang out as he fielded a question from a SEAL. Then he turned as the man left.

 

“Alright Ajaya, that was good work. I think this group has a better appreciation for the Zone than any of the first four you took in. What do you think?” he asked, leading me out of the room and toward the lab.

 

“I think they have an appreciation for the simulator. I agree that this approach is necessary, but now I’m a little worried that the game aspect of it will dominate their perceptions,” I said.

 

“That’s a valid point. One that I already thought of. Starting tomorrow, we’ll be breaking them into three groups. In the afternoon, one group will travel to various points around the perimeter of the Zone for a little show and tell. A second group will spend time with the Render pilots, and the third group will take a Quad trip over the entire length of Manhattan. Each day, during the afternoon training block, the groups will switch activities till they’ve all had the same exposure. By the end of the week they’ll have their Kestrels, the new Mark 7 version, and they’ll start training with them in the mornings.”

 

“What are they going to be doing in the mornings between tomorrow and when you issue their Kestrels?”

 

He turned to me with an evil grin. “Why Ajaya, I’m glad you asked. They’ll be in class with you, learning nonverbal drone cues, tips, and secrets of Zone travel on foot, and the finer points of clearing a building with a drone partner.”

 

“I don’t have any curriculum made up,” I protested.

 

“Well, Sniper, you have the rest of today to prep for tomorrow’s clinic on silent drone communication. Then you have tomorrow night to figure out foot travel, and the day after that for building clearing.”

 

“I want to use the Room,” I said, my brain already coming up with ideas.

 

“It’s yours. No one else will be using it when you’re holding class, so why not teach everything from inside it?”

 

“Yeah, but I’ll need one of the science geeks to set up and run the simulations.”

 

“Which do you want?”

 

“Either Maya or Eric. Not really a fan of Aaron.”

 

He laughed. “Yeah, he’s an acquired taste. I’ll tell Maya that she needs to work with you, but she’ll be disappointed—she likes the whole secret web search thing.”

 

We reached the lab doors, which opened at our approach. Inside, I immediately spotted the terrible trio crowded around their virtual work tables. All three looked up as we came in, Maya waving while Eric looked at us with a distracted expression that probably meant he wasn’t really even seeing us. Aaron just gave us a glance and then turned back to his work surface, clearly dismissing us from thought.

 

“Maya, I need you to work with Ajaya to set up some programs in the Room. He’ll be teaching morning classes the next three days and the simulator is the best venue.”

 

“Oh, I was going to whip up a few info bots and send them into the web tomorrow,” she said, frowning for a moment. Then her expression turned curious. “What programs?” she asked me.

 

“I want to demonstrate how Rikki and I read each other’s body language when we’re inside the Zone. So that’s going to take like a dozen or more mini-scenarios. That’s for tomorrow. Day after that, I want to show them how we work together to move through drone-rich areas. And the day after that is Building Clearing 101.”

 

She looked up at the ceiling for a moment, deep in thought. Then her eyes came back to mine and she smiled. “I have some ideas on all of those. This could be fun too.” I was immediately glad the major had picked her. The other two didn’t appear to have even noticed the exchange.

 

“Speaking of info bot searches, where do we stand?” Yoshida asked.

 

“Well, Major, some of us have been working instead of playing video games,” Aaron said without lifting his head. “My bots have already reported in. Your cannon fodder was right,” he said with a nod in my direction. “There is a statistically significant amount of accidents with both drones and self-driving vehicles. And also with a few pieces of automated construction equipment, and these incidents aren’t just here in New York. Boston, Philly, DC, Houston, Orlando, and Saint Louis are just a few that have had a couple similar issues. Most were traced to software glitches. The ones here in New York were far, far more serious, and not all of them have been fully explained.”

 

“The search programs I ran yielded similar results but also indicate there have been unexplained glitches in civilian and commercial aircraft,” Eric said, glancing sideways at Aaron.

 

Wow, competition was fierce among these three. Brutal, even.

 

“Okay, Ajaya was right… again. Now why is it happening, oh super geniuses?”

 

“In most of the cases, there were investigations into the cause,” Eric jumped in before Aaron could get any words out. “Sixty-one percent of the time, it was due to faulty code.”

 

“And the rest of the time?”

 

“Either too much damage had occurred to the CPUs to back test or the people involved were unable to make any determinations,” Aaron said, regaining the floor. “Which generally means they weren’t skilled enough to dig it out.”

 

“Or that it was more complicated than a bit of bad code,” I said.

 

“How much damage are we talking about?” Yoshida asked, ignoring the condescending eye roll that Aaron gave me.

 

“Some drones exploded on impact, a few shorted out, and at least one caused a fire hot enough to burn up the UAV,” Aaron said.

 

“And in those cases where a determination was possible, it was faulty code,” the major said, making little air quotes with his fingers.

 

“Yes,” both scientists said in unison.

 

Yoshida looked at me, frowning. “So, we got two enhanced battle-hardened AIs plotting the end of humankind, and they’re hiding somewhere inside the Zone,” he summarized.

 

“And DoD says to leave Spiders alone,” I added.

 

“No, Ajaya, they said to leave that Spider alone—the one we had. They never said we couldn’t hunt ourselves some more. And we have you as a Spider hunter.”

 

“Not to rain on your parade, but I wasn’t that good at it. Took me over eight years to get the first one.”

 

“Learning curve, kid,” he said with a clap on my shoulder. I don’t know what he did to get hands that hard but damn… that hurt. “Eight years for the first one, probably just days for the next. After all, you said it yourself, they’ve targeted you.”

 

“What? They can do that?” Maya said, looking horrified. Eric looked a bit green too and even Aaron appeared uncertain at Yoshida’s casual comment.

 

“Yeah, makes it real, doesn’t it? All very interesting exercises in theory until it knows your name and perhaps even where you live,” Yoshida said, clearly enjoying himself.

 

“Rikki, what is the probability that Peony and Plum Blossom know my address?” I asked, totally not liking the major’s humor.

 

“Unclear. Possibly as high as forty-four percent. All utility bills, rental agreements, and insurance binders are in your mother’s name, protected by her virtual assistant. The household Internet of Things are all encrypted by the same VR AI. However, there are numerous bank and investment accounts in your name with that address, albeit protected by your personal AI. Given time, Units Peony and Plum Blossom will likely achieve penetration of your security software, which is arguably less hardened than the cyber security systems of the corporations they have already compromised.”

 

“That is… probably an accurate summary,” Aaron said, looking thoughtfully at Rikki. “Lotus was pretty—robust. Even with the current state of personal and corporate AI anti-identity theft software, I think your drone is right.”

 

“So I have to find a way to move my family,” I said, stricken by the enormity of it.

 

Maya was shaking her head. “No, what we need to do is move your address.”

 

I frowned at her, thinking that I had just said exactly that. But Eric was bobbing up and down in a weird little motion of excitement. “She’s right. We just need to move your address on all files to something close but different, like, say, across the street.”

 

“We’ll have to be excruciatingly thorough or it’ll be all for naught,” Aaron said, looking at the other two with something that might have been actual excitement. “It’ll be tedious, difficult, and require us to be at the top of our game,” he said. I was still reflecting on the kind of guy who says “for naught.” Not a single bit of game going on there.

 

“Awesome,” Maya said, almost breathless. The other two nodded and then all three were suddenly typing.

 

“I’ll take city records,” Eric said.

 

“I’m on utilities and finance records,” Maya called out.

 

“And I’ll handle the IRS and state taxation departments,” Aaron said, cracking his knuckles before diving back onto his virtual keyboard.

 

I looked at Yoshida, who just smiled. “This is exactly why they all work here,” he said.

 

“And why we make more than you do,” Aaron said without looking up.

 

Yoshida shrugged at me and nodded. “Maybe, but you don’t make that much more. Admit it: You just like the government-level access to all of those networks you’re currently having your way with.”

 

“Yeah, power trumps money,”Maya said with a leer before turning back to her station.