42 Requiem for a Robot

 

Broadway New York. Aug. 27. 2033

40°46'21.4"N 73°59'02.1"W

 

“Really Nelson, can’t you sit quietly?”

Nelson Banks grumbled and fidgeted in his seat. He disliked the opera and detested Verdi. With HighTower’s escalating bad press, Bank’s mind lay elsewhere. The plan to appease his wife and keep up appearances wasn’t working as he’d hoped and now the lead soprano was trilling her way through the interminable Caro Nome. “That’s it. I’m going outside for a cigar,” he grumbled, leaving their private box before Mrs. Banks could raise an objection. As he stepped onto the mezzanine, Nelson was met by two men. They moved toward him, their hands clasped together in front of their suit jackets. A grey-haired man in a charcoal trench coat approached and reached behind Nelson to shut the door. “Mr. Banks, if you’d be so kind as to follow me, we have some questions for you.”

“What do you mean, ‘follow you’—do you realize who you’re speaking to?”

“Yes sir, I do. My name is Special Agent Armitage, FBI. My orders are to escort you, with the assistance of Special Agents Fuller and Michaels from the State Department.” Armitage gestured with his head toward the two men on either side as he spoke, “…To our headquarters downtown. Would you come with us please?”

Nelson pointed his finger in Agent Armitage’s face and muttered, “You’re operating way above your paygrade, I’m the CEO of HighTower Security Authority—I effectively own you. Now, get the hell out of my way.” He attempted to push past the agent but was manhandled into an arm lock by the two men from the State Department. “That’s it—goddammit! I am contacting Secretary Gorton about this. Now, get your hands off…”

“Sir, Madame Secretary issued the order for your detainment. I think it would be best if you came along quietly.”

“Maureen… did what?” Nelson looked baffled as the men dragged him across the balcony level. They pushed him into the elevator and as the door began to slide closed, he shook his head, stammering, “My wife—she’s… I should go back and tell my…”

“I wouldn’t worry, Mr. Banks. We have an agent taking care of that matter as we speak.” The lift doors opened onto the opulent main floor and Banks blinked as the floodlights from cameras flared all around him. The lobby’s burgundy carpeted atrium was packed with media and crowds of angry citizens who burst into frenzied questions and catcalls as the HighTower CEO was led into their midst. “Mr. Banks—CEO Banks! Can you comment on the leaked files showing that your company paid for designer genetic weapons?” “Did HighTower unleash a bioweapon of some kind on populations in Africa and the South Pacific? Sir!” ...“Mr. Banks?” What is your response to Mr. Kaleka’s charge that you should be tried for war crimes?” …”How many dead, Mr. Banks?”…”Murderer!”

Nelson ducked his head and muttered, “Get me the hell out of here—And place a call to my attorney. Now!”

 

 

HighTower-West Corporate. New Seattle WA. Aug 28 2033

47°32'59.7"N 122°02'38.7"W

 

Amanda bent over her keyboard, furiously entering commands. The bluish tint from the screen cast a spectral glow on her features, her hair hung in strands around her face. The rest of the office remained dark; the window shades were drawn. “Come on… Hurry up and delete, you bitch!” The sharp click of a latch announced the automated assistant’s arrival.

Flora glided into the room. “Good evening, Director Terrance. I was not made aware that you would be present at this hour.”

Amanda pursed her lips as she glanced up from her computer. “Why are you here, Flora? I distinctly forbade you to activate your overtime compliancy—distinctly!”

“Forgive me, Director Terrence, my programming is designed to auto-engage when departmental security protocols are breached. I am unable to override this function.” The robot stopped in the center of the room. “May I inquire why you have removed certain Revelations files and phone logs dating back to…”

“Damn it, Flora, I need you to hear what I am about to say… This is critically important. Are you listening? Do I have your complete attention?”

“Affirmative, Director.”

“I need you not to be here right now. In fact, I instruct you to… No, I order you to turn yourself off—right this second, Flora.”

“Regrettably Director, that is a command that I am unable to comply with. My circuits will not allow for discontinuation once the HSA security clearance has been compromised. I must request that you cease deletion of these sensitive…”

Amanda sighed, closed her eyes briefly and then walked to the bookshelf on the east wall. She removed a heavy trophy from the bottom shelf and presented it her assistant. “What can you tell me about this?”

“This is the 2029 HighTower award for ‘Achievement in Management,’ presented to you as a regional director. Records indicate that you were the youngest woman to receive such recognition in the corporation’s history.”

“Yes Flora—but, no…Tell me what it’s made of, please.”

“My external sensors denote granite, with metal components of…”

“How dense is granite?’

“The potential value of granite falls between 165 and 171.5 kilos per square foot.”

“Does that make it strong enough to withstand a series of blows to a hard object made from, say… titanium and carbon fibers?”

“Specify. Your parameters should be more clearly refined in order…”

Amanda brought the trophy down hard on top of Flora. The assistant toppled backwards onto the carpet. Small pieces of metal, fiber and synthetics flew across the floor. Amanda fell to her knees, crying out between repeated blows, “I’m sorry, I never wanted to hurt you.” At last, the robot’s systems went dark and Amanda removed a translucent chip from the integrated circuitry. Returning to her desk, she straightening her skirt, drew a jagged breath and whispered, “Damn it, Flora… damn you.” A staccato bleep brought her attention back to the current situation; her screen flashed “deletion sequence complete” and switched off. Amanda grabbed her attaché from the floor and stuffed a stack of electronic files into its pleated folders. Sweeping the hair out of her eyes, she checked the time; her mobile read 0120. Security drones would be executing their routine sweep of the executive floor soon. She fastened the hasp on her case and moved toward the door, carefully stepping over Flora’s carcass. Her mobile buzzed. Startled, Amanda fumbled for the device, swiped the screen and muttered, “This is Terrence—what is it?”

“Director Terrence, this is Lieutenant Martinez at HSA command center bravo. Your MQ-47C drone is in position over the coordinates of Graham Island, Haida Gwaii. Since this mission has been designated ‘for your eyes only’, I’ll need you to key in authorization before we deploy the payload.”

“Hang on, will you please?”

“Excuse me, Ma’am?”

“Just… Wait a god damned minute.”

Amanda clutched the attaché to her chest and pinned the mobile between chin and shoulder as she wrestled with the door. She pulled back on the handle and was astonished when the door opened of its own accord. Thrown off balance, Amanda dropped her shoulder and the mobile slid to the floor. A voice on the other end of the line repeated, “Hullo ma’am—Director Terrence? …Ma’am, are you able to confirm your authorization?” She picked up the device and glanced at the screen as she barreled through the doorway. “Yes, I’m still here. I need you to just hold on a second for confirmation.” At that moment, she collided directly into Adili’s broad chest. Jumping backwards, Amanda stifled a scream. She raised her hand over her chest. “Wh—who are you? What the hell are you doing inside this building in the middle of the night?” Adili stood in the center of the doorway and glared. “Move away, whoever you are—really, I don’t care, alright? I need to get past you. Right now—just…go!” She tried to wave him away, fighting to keep her voice steady. The disconnected voice on her mobile asked, “Director Terrence. I repeat, we cannot deploy the missile without your authorization. Are you able to authorize? Can you hear me?” Ignoring the voice, Amanda gulped, straightened her shoulders and hissed, “The security drones are on their way. I can have you shot on sight. I’m going to ask you one more time: Get the hell out of my way.” She was relieved to see the big man step aside. Amanda moved to brush past him but halted in her steps, her jaw dropped open. Several paces behind the imposing man was Trip Ashfield, sitting on the edge of Flora’s desk. He tossed a small electronic sensor up and down in his hand.

“Hey there Mandy, how’s tricks?”

“Ashfield. What brings you here? Where do you get off, just showing up—out of the blue? You’ve got a lot to answer for.”

“Do I? Maybe so. But, how about we deal with first things first, Director? I believe there’s someone waiting for a response on the other end of your line—am I correct?” As Trip spoke Adili snatched the mobile out of Amanda’s hand, tossing it over to Trip. “Thanks so much. By the way, you don’t want to make things difficult for my big friend, trust me.” Trip placed the mobile to his ear and listened, shaking his head with a twisted half-smile. After a moment, he spoke into the receiver, “Lieutenant Martinez, this is Ashfield, Trip: HSA authorization, Yankee-Charlie-three-one-alpha. I am ordering you to abort this mission, over. Roger… Transmit that message in its entirety to my mobile. Out.”

“You are going to regret this, Ashfield,” Amanda whispered through gritted teeth. “Believe me, when I’m finished, this entire mess will all land in your lap. I swear to god.”

“Mandy, Mandy… If I’ve told you once, I’ve told you a thousand times… practicality. You have got to start thinking more like a pragmatist. Now, what good would it have done me to leave a callous pack-climber such as yourself alone at the company store without employing a few security measures, hmmm?”

“Stop bluffing, Ashfield. You’ve got nothing.”

Trip leveraged himself off the desk with difficulty, and Amanda noticed that he walked with a limp. Trip looked through the office doorway and then came up behind her, pinning Amanda between himself and Adili. He brushed a wisp of Amanda’s disheveled hair behind her ear and leaned in closer to whisper, “Your assistant seems to be a little worse for the wear. Did you break up with your only friend, Mandy?”

Amanda shifted sideways, glaring at her nemesis while he played with her hair. Summoning her most confident tone, she said, “There is nothing left that can tie me to Revelations. Let Nelson Banks take the hit for this—release me and I’ll make it worth your while, Trip. I promise.”

Trip let the lock of hair run through his fingers before he turned and limped back to the desk. He looked over his shoulder, saying, “Well? Did it all transmit?”

“Oui, entièrement.” A female’s voice startled Amanda, she jerked her head in its direction and saw a young woman with jet black hair leaning against the wall. Garance held a tablet and was typing messages onto the screen. She met Amanda’s stare and then looked away indifferently, saying, “Christoph can decipher these files easily—he needs only a password.”

Trip crossed his arms and smiled at Amanda, “I see you made sure to remove the processor from your robot’s mainframe circuitry before you dismantled her in such an ungainly manner. That was good thinking. But—and here’s where that whole pragmatism thing comes in, Mandy… Did you ever think to check for external sensors? I mean, it only makes sense, right? If you want to eliminate loose ends and ensure no one can trace something this enormous—and this situation is rather enormous, isn’t it? Well, if it was me, I would’ve made sure to check for any external bugs on my automated personnel before smashing them completely to smithereens.” With that, he tossed the electronic sensor into the air one more time and pocketed it. Turning to Garance, he said, “Tell your hacker to try the password ‘Flora’ and if that works, then have him send the entire cache to the Department of Justice—oh, and what the hell, have him copy that goodie-two-shoes, Raj Kaleka, while he’s at it.”

Garance typed the five letters into her tablet. “Voilà! We’re in.”

Trip watched with amusement as Amanda’s attaché dropped to the floor. Adili retrieved it and placed his hand firmly on her shoulder, pushing her forward. Trip paused as Amanda was escorted past him. Bowing, he quipped, “Come, your helicopter awaits. What say we make a quick stop at the airport? There’s an agent standing by to escort you to DC. I hear that Secretary Gorton is anticipating your arrival. You two should have a great deal to talk about.” Trip pushed the elevator button labeled “rooftop,” and they filed inside. As the doors shut behind them, Trip closed his eyes for a moment, smiled and mumbled to himself, “Finally I can get away from these fucking trees.”