by submission | Apr 22, 2010 | Story
Author : CharlesHB
I wasn’t your normal soldier, but then they weren’t looking for that kind of man.
A young physically capable, malleable man, the kind that have been cannon fodder in all history’s wars, they were more interested in my psyche report.
Could I micromanage complex strategic problems, was I an introvert, someone who enjoyed solitude, did I mesh well with direct thought active input devices, was I comfortable with artificial intelligence.
Physically it didn’t matter I was wreck, hell they didn’t even care I was running away from a bad marriage.
“Just like joining the foreign Legion.” My handler told me. I didn’t know what he meant, but I read about it later that evening. I guess he was right.
When the tests were run, when they’d made their choices, when they’d sent home two thirds of us; when there was just me and the rest; I looked at their human faces for the last time. We were all running away from something.
The tank was third stage, by now we’d been through every simulation they could think of, so getting immersed as naked as a new born in suspension gel wasn’t a surprise.
It was fine, even the cable hook-ups into the meat of me weren’t that bad, and I hardly noticed the change when the life support took over, freeing up my brain for other tasks,
The tank just ensures your body stays healthy, damn healthy truth be told, better than I ever looked after it. Meantime the brain, my brain, an organic computer that gets to play.
I thought the computer simulators would have prepared me, but when the tank was lowered into the interface port and the ships systems went online, it was something else again.
They called me forty three. There were a hundred in the first group, twenty five made it, but we all kept our original numbers.
They gave us ships off the line, and we were the Human Oversight.
It’s strange to think now centuries later, that artificial intelligence was feared in those early days, that Politicians insisted a human being ‘captained’ the automated dreadnoughts.
They were crewed by artificially intelligent systems, I say crew because we thought of them that way, individual intelligences each outstripping my own, collectively far greater than any human being and yet an officer of Oversight Committee was their Captain, a guarantee the engines of destruction remained under token human control.
When they finally called me home, when I told the ships navigation system to calculate the hyperspace jumps back to Earth, I wasn’t surprised to run into the last of my old friends. We had all lived long long lives, the tank system ensured that. Not everyone from that first class had stayed with the service, some of First Officers of the Oversight Committee had even returned to normal life, many decades after they had left it, but thanks to suspension gel system, only physically a few years older.
Times had changed they told us.
Our Commanding Officers announced we could come home too. People no longer feared artificial intelligence, for how could they fear what they had in fact become? We listened, and for the first time I disobeyed orders. I wasn’t the only one.
I gave my ship the command, my crew had been trained, well programmed to respond. I felt her shudder as if she were me, and leap into the void. I knew my friends were doing the same, each taking their own solitary path into the starry sky. After all this time, it was the only home we knew or wanted.
by submission | Apr 21, 2010 | Story
Author : Angela Reese
I looked up as the door slammed open. “Boss? Bad news?”
“Oh, just one more set of forms to be filled out and added to the packet,” she grumbled, handing me the folder. “Honestly, it is getting harder and harder to get permission for human drug trials. Every time I blink, there are new regulations and restrictions!”
“What is it this time?” I started looking through the paperwork – nothing too complicated, just several pages of requirements that had to be confirmed. And… “Water contamination? What’s this?”
“Oh, someone on the committee read an earlier study in which the results were questioned due to some trace chemicals in the native water supply. Now we have to supply filtered water in any trials of oral medications.” She sat down at her desk and started pulling up files, smirking. “Luckily, I saw the same study, which is why our budget already includes a supply of filtered water. We do have to get all these forms updated to show that, though.”
“And, of course, no one has made the forms available electronically,” I sighed. “You’d think technology was all in our imagination sometimes, the way it gets ignored.” I started filling in the specifics, then handing the forms over for her to sign. “We should be involved in developing and testing entertainment technology. As long as it isn’t actually useful, it’s hugely popular and gets funded for eons.”
She finished signing the paperwork and took the folder over to the scanning station. “At least we can send them back electronically. Let’s be thankful we don’t have to physically send them several hundred miles; we’d be waiting forever.” The papers finished feeding through the scanner, and I took them back from her for filing.
“How long a wait do you think we’ll have?”
“I was assured that a decision would be made as soon as these additions were submitted. Given how urgently this drug is needed, I’m certain we’ll get approval. After all, it has to pass the human trials before we can move on to the next stage. Are we set to go?”
I nodded. “The water and food supplies were fully stocked as of this morning, and the habitat has been cleared of all workers and debris. We’ve installed tech and entertainment to match their level, and I checked the security system myself yesterday. We can leave for Earth to start collecting human subjects as soon as they sign the approvals.”
by submission | Apr 18, 2010 | Story
Author : Arthur Pershing
“Light red would be perfect for your lips.” Abel Porter said to his creation. He was working on a new design of robotic store mannequins.
At the turn of the twenty-first century, mannequins were dummies, plastic statues that were dressed and placed in displays. They would show off a new style or even items the store simply wanted to get rid of.
Thirty years, and many advances in robotics later, mannequins were so life-like that they were only allowed to have simple programmed instructions. Move an arm this way, or turn hips thirty degrees that way. The robotic mannequins were successful and well received by the public.
Abel had spent the last five years building and dressing mannequins. This month he had received a shipment of the new model. Mannequins with, as the advertising brochure put it, one hundred percent realistic facial movements. When they spoke, their lips, jaws and facial muscles moved like human.
Abel painted the mannequin’s lips with the selected shade. The paint dried almost immediately. The head was complete. Abel picked it up off the desk and attached it to the body. He ran a finger over the lips. Soft. Abel hurried to make the last of the wire connections and turned the mannequin on.
The eyelids opened and blinked as the internal computer booted up. The mannequin turned to face Abel. It had the ability to sense when someone was near and would then try to sell that person some clothes. Abel took a step back as he looked into its eyes. The mouth began moving like a real woman’s.
“Please select clothing display program.” the mannequin said. The voice was a very seductive one. Something stirred inside Abel, something primal, sensual, sexual. The mannequin had no equipment that would satisfy a man’s urges. Abel didn’t care.
“Please select clothing display program.” the mannequin said again. He stood up on the mannequin’s base. He was eye to eye with it. He put his arms around mannequin and held her close. Abel closed his eyes and kissed passionately. Abel almost broke the embrace when he felt the mannequin kiss him back.
As man made out with machine, its arms moved and held Abel in an embrace of its own. The arms held tighter. He stopped kissing and tried to open the dummy’s arms. The arms closed tighter, accompanied by the whirrs of the motors and hiss of hydraulics.
“Let go of me!” Abel gasped. The arms squeezed tighter, it was impossible to inhale. This mannequin was trying to kill him. He pushed back with all his might against the mannequin’s hydraulic limbs. Abel felt himself beginning to lose consciousness when the mannequin’s arms opened and let go of him.
“Please select clothing display program.” the mannequin said once again. Abel scowled and stood up. He stepped behind the mannequin’s base and pulled the power supply out. The mannequin’s eyes closed and head slumped forward. Grabbing a black marker, Abel drew a large X across the face. He then wrote ‘Defective – Recycle’ on the mannequin’s work order.
A few minutes later, Abel finished uploading a Defective Unit report. In the morning a man from Shipping would collect the mannequin.
He looked at the clock and decided to leave for the day a few minutes early. Abel turned the lights off in the workshop as he left and locked the door behind him.
Somewhere in the darkness there was a faint digital sob.
by submission | Apr 17, 2010 | Story
Author : Ken McGrath
“Herbie, are you okay? I heard a gun.”
“It’s nothing. Get back in the house.”
“But I heard…”
“What did I say?” he roared, face flushed red behind a bushy, brown beard.
Herbert rolled his eyes. He’d have to teach her another lesson now too when he got back inside. Reloading the shotgun he squinted, staring into the trees down at the end of the garden, as if trying to see through them. He was sure that was the direction he’d seen the robot scurry off in.
Slowly, carefully he moved down the lawn, keeping the gun pointed downwards but ready to swing up in a lethal arc if needed. At least the grass was short and dry, they’d had a few sunny days last week and he’d taken the lawnmower to it. He’d grumbled unmercifully at the time but was certainly glad now.
A couple of yards from the evergreens he paused, listening. There to his left, something scurrying away through the shadows.
He raised the gun, focusing his sight down the barrel, trying to make out distinct shapes amongst the thin but plentiful branches hanging only centimetres from the ground. That was another job that needed doing too, trimming those back and the fence needed fixing as well obviously.
There was a click and a tiny pin-prick of red lit up, followed immediately by a mechanical howl as the robot lunged out of the undergrowth. Herbert let off a round almost by instinct and was rewarded with an immediate, satisfying bang as the shot collided with metal and plastic. The robot spun in midair its front left flank pierced and spewing oil. It landed heavily and Herbert was at it before it could compute what had happened, letting the remaining shot loose into its slender head, right through the Apparatus Animals logo.
The dog-like facial features fractured and tore, gears grated and caught, grinding with a painful noise that put his teeth on edge. The heel of his boot brought that to an end as he ground and twisted until the machine stopped moving.
Shouldering the gun he turned back to the house, he’d clear the remains later. Now through there was something that needed doing.
He banged heavily on the door.
“Christine. Open up.”
The latch was slid back and the door opened revealing the terrified face of his sister.
“It’s okay sweetie, I got him,” he said stepping inside and setting the bolt.
She looked at him with those child-like eyes set in an adult face and his heart broke knowing she’d never be able to fully understand what was happening.
“I didn’t mean to shout, but you remember what the man from the factory said? Those robot dogs are dangerous and not for playing with. When you see one you have to come straight inside and let me know. What do you do?”
“Come straight inside and let you know,” she echoed.
“Very good. It’ll only be for a few more days, until they round up the last of the strays that got out.” He let out a deep sigh. It was impossible to gauge how much of that had registered. “I’ll make us some hot chocolate. How does that sound?”
Christine’s face lit up and she wandered happily back to the table and her crayons. Herbert knew she’d be drawing pictures of doggies for the rest of the day and tonight she probably wouldn’t be able to sleep.
by submission | Apr 13, 2010 | Story
Author : Cesium
The vibration of his phone woke Anders from a deep sleep. He rolled over groggily and checked the display before answering. “Hi, Eliza. Something wrong?”
“Yes, Anders.” The synthesized voice so familiar to him came through from the other end. “I believe the portal is malfunctioning.”
“Malfunctioning?” It had never done that before. Still… “I’ll be right over.”
Quickly he got dressed and jumped into his car, and managed to catch a few more minutes of sleep before it pulled into the parking lot and deposited him on the sidewalk. Eliza was waiting for him, and he followed her smooth white casing into the building and down to the lab. The pool of utter blackness hung impossibly in midair, just as it always did. He turned to Eliza. “So where’s the problem?”
“It is not the portal itself, but what is on the other side.” He turned back toward it. “I have probed the environment; it is safe.”
Anders stepped forward without hesitation; there had never been a problem before. Moreover, he trusted Eliza with his life.
When his vision cleared, he found himself standing in the corner of what looked like a large warehouse, lit by panels in the ceiling far above him. But the other walls were much further away than they should have been; in fact, he couldn’t even see them. The space seemed to extend infinitely outward. It was filled by an array of chairs and desks, each supporting some antique metal instrument; the closest few dozen to him were occupied by people. A rattling din filled the air.
“What is this place?” he whispered, to himself.
“It was you who taught me about the infinite monkey theorem,” Eliza said, her voice taking on a strange echoing quality. “An infinite number of monkeys before an infinite number of typewriters will eventually produce all the great literature of mankind.”
“Wha-” Anders started, but stopped short, for something had caught his attention: the people before him, the ones sitting at what he now recognized as typewriters, were all him. There were slight differences — a beard here, a coat there, eyeglasses — but their identity was unmistakable. His vision blurred slightly, and he felt dizzy. He stumbled back against the wall, his eyes tightly shut.
“It was also you who discovered that the portal could access alternate universes,” Eliza continued, her voice cutting through the clacking of the typewriters. “Once I discovered this place, how could I not satisfy my curiosity?” He heard the whine of servos, and knew that Eliza had returned through the portal.
Suddenly, a strange calm overtook him. He opened his eyes and walked to an open desk.
Then he began to type.
