[Original Novel] Little Robot, Part 13

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When I came down the stairs with a pair of Aibos, one tucked under either arm, she asked why I needed two of the same model. “They don’t like to be separated” I explained. I instructed Modulus, J.A.K.E. and RB5X to guard the smaller, less capable robots with their lives in my absence. Modulus saluted me, then began patrolling the living room while J.A.K.E. and RB5X resumed bumbling into one another.

I agonized over whether they’d really be okay without Odie watching over them. He was the only fully featured security robot of the bunch. Fresh tears tried to fight their way out as I thought about it, but I wouldn’t cooperate.

I kissed as many of the little fellows on the head as I had time for, repeated my parting instructions to Modulus, then shut and locked the door. This time with Hero 1 under my arm, who soon joined Eric and Ellie in the truck’s cab.

“Wait! One more thing!” Madeline groaned. “You gotta be kidding me. We shoulda been on the road five minutes ago! What is it?” I ran over to Odie’s remains, peeled off my jacket, then draped it over him. When I returned to the truck, Madeline asked what he needed it for at this point and if I wouldn’t be better off keeping it.

“I don’t want him to get rained on, he’ll rust. I know he’s gone, alright? I just…I dunno. I don’t want him to get cold.” My voice wavered. She reached out and rubbed my shoulder. I normally can’t stand being touched, but I allowed it. The pitiful heap of parts which had once been a dear friend of mine receded slowly in the rear view mirror as we pulled out of the parking lot.

“Where to now?” I wanted to say I didn’t care. That it didn’t matter anymore. But the sight of Ellie and Eric nestled together at my feet, and Hero 1 wedged between Madeline and myself reminded me that it was too soon to give up.

“The mountain complex. That was the plan. We’ll be as safe as it gets down there.” I wasn’t actually certain of that. Being cut off from the civilian internet, it should be unaffected. Should be. But really, I was in a hurry to get there because I realized there was now a rare opportunity to free Helper.

More than once we passed scenes which sorely tempted us to stop. A woman perched atop her minivan surrounded by a crowd of robots clawing at it, reaching desperately for her ankles as she screamed for help. An elderly couple tried to wave us down from atop a building we slowly passed as robots climbed single file up the fire escape.

We did have a gun on hand. Madeline’s pistol, retrieved from her car while I was inside gathering up Eric, Ellie and Hero 1. But in every case the odds were stacked so severely against us that we agreed to keep moving.

With just one 9mm handgun between the two of us, no more ammo than what’s still in the magazine, all we’d accomplish by trying to help would be to increase the total casualties by two. All perfectly rational, yet I still felt intense pangs of guilt as we motored past people dug into barricaded shops, locked inside their cars and atop buildings surrounded by restless mobs of murderous machines.

A number of video billboards along the highway were visibly glitched. One that still worked properly displayed a montage of clips depicting various disturbing scenes. First a robotic baby wriggling about, opening and closing its mouth as a young woman fawns over it.

Then a lab monkey suckling the rubber teat of a robotic surrogate. Followed by a bevy of trashy looking rubber skinned robotic prostitutes, done no favors by harsh neon light from the brothel sign which they stood directly beneath.

“In the absence of God, all things are permitted” flashed intermittently over these scenes in a tall, bold font. Then the name and web address of a local megachurch I’ve occasionally seen similar advertisements for. On the bodily displays of ad supported robots, ironically.

Then all of a sudden, the billboards went dark. The city behind us also abruptly vanished into the night as every window, every illuminated sign and other source of light was simultaneously snuffed out. Anybody still stuck in that hellhole would now have to fend for themselves against the shambling plastic mob in total darkness.

After about an hour, the silence grew uncomfortable. I kept waiting for her to say something about all those people we passed and wondered if she was waiting for me to do the same. So I turned on the radio to fill the void. Mostly dead air. The few stations still up were all broadcasting the same thing.

“-urging anyone listening to remain in their homes, barricade all entrances and make as little noise as possible. Any outward signs of life such as lights turning on and off will attract them. If there are any robots in your home, even very simple and nonthreatening ones, physically remove their batteries. They can be used to inform the rest of your position.

So far every call I’ve received confirms that the most effective way to take them down is to penetrate the battery pack. The ones with lithium polymer batteries are most vulnerable. The location of the battery depends on the model. For humanoids it is most often in the midsection or chest. On older models it’s in the backpack.

In wheeled robots it’s usually down very low, for stability. Damage anywhere else on the robot will not stop it unless extremely severe. The CPU and other vital electronics are usually well shielded and unpredictably positioned. Damage to the limbs can incapacitate them but they are still a danger to you, as they can notify other robots in the area of your location.

Autocabs are also affected, as well as any personal car with a self driving mode. Presumably this is to limit our ability to flee population centers. Cars without a self driving mode should be usable but not necessarily without risk, as their navigational function can be used to track you.

Still no definitive answers on the source of the virus. Prominent anti-robot hacker groups deny responsibility. Prevailing speculation is that we’re witnessing a cyber attack committed by the Russian, Chinese or the North Korean government.”

I pounded the dash. “That’s bullshit. Of course they deny responsibility. They want us to believe robots are inherently unsafe. That they can just randomly-” Madeline shushed me and turned the volume up.

“An instance of the virus has been isolated at great difficulty. It wipes itself when the host robot is destroyed, so it had to be extracted from an active subject. We can now confirm the commands are not being issued from some remote source, but instead originate from the virus itself.

It appears to be based on stolen military humanoid AI, but that’s not the whole story. If it were, their behavior would be easily predictable. I’m told that there are in fact several specialized versions of the same AI, being unpacked from an encrypted archive and installed on the host robot one at a time.

Each one utilizes totally different tactics, thought appropriate for a given stage of the attack by whoever designed this thing. Slowly unfolding, one strategy after the next, on a time delay. No way of knowing what the afflicted robots will do next without decrypting the archive where their upcoming strategies are stored.

Because they aren’t reacting to changing battlefield conditions but simply progressing through a linear track of ever-shifting tactics, there’s no way for the national guard to manipulate them into making fatal strategic errors. Because they aren’t receiving instructions from a remote source, we can’t stop them by jamming communications.

Presumably this is why radio and cell phone service is unaffected, more likely to save lives than cost any as families, couples and friends seek each other out amidst this national nightmare. It is not yet known whether the virus has afflicted NSA servers. If so, it will be able to track individual phones. It would be wise to leave your own phones turned off with the battery removed while not in use.”

Madeline glared expectantly at me. I was loathe to power down the Helper in my phone, but given the circumstances I could do nothing but oblige. Besides, I’ve still got Eric, Ellie and Hero 1. The weary voice on the radio, distorted by poor reception, concluded by assuring listeners that work towards decrypting the tactical archive would continue and that any new developments would be reported to us the moment they transpired.

“Shit.” I glanced over at Madeline and asked what was wrong. “Should’ve checked the gas tank before we took this truck” she answered, “It’s running on fumes.” Sure enough the needle hovered just a hair above empty. I cursed myself for not checking before we set off.

It was a tense few miles before Madeline spotted a sign advertising a gas station at the next turnoff. I fished the binoculars out of my bag on a hunch. “Slow down”. Madeline asked why. “We’re probably not the only people headed for a gas station. Some might be desperate, even dangerous. It’d be a good idea to scope it out before we pull in.”

She checked the rearview mirror to first ensure nobody was behind us, then slowed to about 15 miles per hour as the distant, brilliantly illuminated petrochemical oasis rose into view over the horizon. I wondered why it was still receiving power until I realized we must now be well outside city limits.

“We’ve got company.” The nocs were dollar store garbage but enough to make out figures milling anxiously here and there, refilling a parked Humvee. “Could be soldiers. They’re driving a tan Hummer, looks military. They might be able to help us.”

The unspoken corollary was that their ride could be stolen. We might be delivering ourselves, unarmed except for Madeline’s pea shooter, directly into the hands of a gang. Drug dealers or something. We debated our options.

For the time being, we stopped at the side of the road so Madeline could have a look. As the tank now read empty, continuing on to the next gas station in the hopes it would be unoccupied was off the table. “They have guns. Can’t make out any handguns but I see a few with what look like AKs. I don’t think they’d have those out, waving ‘em around if they meant to share that gas with anybody.”

No going back. The highway would take us straight into the darkened, overrun city if followed in that direction. The absolute worst place to be right now. “I have an idea.” At my request, Madeline backed the truck behind a modest hill. I then retrieved Eric from the cab and instructed him to get close, photograph the mystery gunmen, then return.

“I can do it. I’m a good dog.” Madeline smiled at the bulbous little bot. Always the charmer, Eric. And brave. So, flattened to the ground, I crept up the side of the hill and placed Eric atop it. “Go down the hill and approach slowly. Keep your body low. Do that wiggle walk you used to show me, the one that makes me laugh.”

He did as instructed, now waddling about on contracted legs. “That’s the one! Get close enough that you can just barely identify human faces at full magnification. Then stop, that’s a good distance. Take ten photos and thirty seconds of footage, then return to us.”

Ellie called out from the cab asking where Eric was. “I want to be with Eric” she whined as I gave some grim thought to the meager odds that he’d manage this without being noticed. “I will now descend. Descent in progress”, he declared as he started toddling his way down the hill.

I reminded him not to speak until he returned, then withdrew to the other side with Madeline and waited. To my great relief, about ninety minutes later I heard Eric’s voice again. “I will now ascend. Ascent in progress.” As soon as he reached the top, I grabbed him and pulled him behind the hill.

I got my phone out. Madeline motioned as if to stop me. “I need it to view the photos and video he took” I explained. She reluctantly approved, then crawled back to her prior vantage point and resumed monitoring the distant figures with my binoculars.

Once I booted up the phone, paired it with Eric over bluetooth and began downloading the pics and video from him, Madeline called me over. “Not now, it’s nearly done.” She insisted, so I set the phone down and joined her. She handed me the nocs.

When I peered through, the distant figures had all begun jogging in our direction. “Shit. Shit! Did they see us? They didn’t before!” My heart raced. Then it dawned on me. “Hold on” I whispered. Then, over Madeline’s confused objections I crawled back over to Eric.

Once I opened the finished downloads, everything became clear. They weren’t drug dealers or gang members. They were robots. Humanoid military drones, difficult to identify from a distance as they were dressed in kevlar armor and draped with bandoliers of ammunition.

Worse, most of them were plugged into the Hummer via extension cords. Using its alternator to recharge themselves, had to be. My assumption until now was that this, all of this, would be over in a few hours when the batteries of all the infected robots finally ran out.

It never occurred to me that whoever wrote this virus might’ve thought things through further. That he might be playing a longer game, having the affected machines seek out generators and gasoline so that when the power’s cut, they’d still be able to recharge.

My heart sank. What I hoped would be a chaotic but brief, survivable incident had just grown into a conflict I now realized would probably last for days, weeks or months. Madeline whispered harshly to shut the phone off, as if that would do any good at this point. I still complied.

She then began hurriedly packing everything back into the truck. “Wait” I whispered. She looked back at me as if I were insane. “Let them get close” I explained. “That way when we take off in the truck, we can put more distance between them and us when we stop for gas.”

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^{Stay Tuned for Part 14!}