After the coffee break Sean tagged behindMr. Turner, as Team Violetfiled into the uncomfortably crowded elevator. They were joined by a representative from the Gibbs Consortium, who Julia introduced only as Bryson. The man was clearly ex-military, with a narrow weatherbeaten face and eyes of pale grey that seemed devoid of life. A small goatee and close-cropped haircomplementedthe no-nonsense impression.Darkmilitary-style jacket stitched with the Gibbs logo. He was clearly not in marketingand didn''t shake hands with anyone.
Just before the doors closed,Sean noticedpithycorporateslogansposted on banners: ’Peacemaking for Profit since 2002’. Julia''s elbow jabbed Sean in the ribs, as she waved her access card before a scanner andpunchedthe basement-level button. The elevator disgorged them into a small tomb-like concrete room. A featureless steel door sunkinto the concrete barredthe way. Sean felt asense of deja vulike he was back in the Fullers'' bunker. Ceiling camerastracked them fromwithin plexiglass hemispheres from allfour corners.The word ARMORY was stencilled on the door in large blackfont on yellow paint, along with a notice picturinga grinning death’s head:
UNAUTHORIZED ENTRYWILL VENT INCAPACITATINGAGENT
LETHAL DOSE POSSIBLE
“Don’t worry, the system is fool-proofed against false alarms,” Turner reassured Seanas he punched into a hooded keypad. Sean felt a sudden breeze against his back as the door slid open.
The concrete-lined bunkerbeyond was cavernous and brightly lit withfluorescentlights. Every square feet of wall space displayed a weapon of some sort. Automatic rifles, semi-automatics, rocket propelled grenades and even SAM launchers. Every handheld firearm in service around the globe had its place alongside more exotic stuff. EM pulse weapons.Landmines wrapped in neural nets todiscriminate combatants from civilians. Sean gazed enthralled. He came to a walk-in wall safe, the massive hinged door securely shut and painted with the symbolof a brain within a black hazard triangle. The bespectacled young man from the meeting earlier - who introduced himself as Zack - toldSean the safecontainedmemetic weapons in the form of information hazards,patterns deadly enough totriggerneurological circuits that were a natural part of the human psyche. Sean stared suspiciously at Zack''s deadpan facewondering ifhe was being taken for a ride. He knew that the human mind was infested with doomsday mechanismsthat went by names like murderous revenge, intense grief or berserk rage. Emotions that seemed irrational because they were detrimental to those in its grip, but honed bynatureprecisely because they were uncontrollable deterrents. Who would dare mess with someone with a penchant for violent revenge. But totrigger such impulsesusing the printed page, something like a memetic analog to erotic fiction, was that even possible? Sean decided he didn''t want to know.
Soon Sean found himself alone andsaw the group had gathered near a wall around a large metallic statue. He strolled over to join them as Turner was finishing his spiel.
”...unit shipped to South Caucasus Republic is an exact duplicate,”Turner gestured to the grinning skeletal humanoid that loomed half again as tall behind him, “along with a beltofsmart ammunition whichDawn predicts will tip the balance in favor of a negotiated peace. The autocannon alone is adequate to neutralize infantry...”
Another land-drone, Seanrealized uneasilyas he neared the artifact, andthis one looked like a scaled-up Terminator. Telescopelenses for eyes. An exhaust pipe sticking up behind its right shoulder. Gaps between exposed ribs appeared to be breathing or cooling vents. Steel jackboots that could crush bone. The entire right arm below the elbow was a rotary auto-cannon, its multi-barrel gleaming black under overheadlights, trailing a bulky ammunition belt overits othershoulder. The left arm was some sort of launcher tube with three squat missiles strapped to a loading mechanism near the elbow. How had they transported this thing down here? Sean looked around and spotted a portcullis at the very end of the cavernous space. The solid steel was painted in yellow and black zebrastripes and wide enough for two semi-trucks abreast. A shipping and receiving gate probably leadingto the street above.
"Why use armor-penetrating rounds on infantry?" Sean peered at the multi-barrel, "That''s a fifty caliber Gattling, for goodness sake. Overkill, isn''t it?"
"Good question," Turner seemed pleased, "The caliber is actually constrained by the chipfor the guidance system. Can''t go any smaller."
"Guidance system?" Sean stared blankly at his physics instructor,
"Self-guided bullets," Turner touched the ammunition belt reverently, "the latest breakthrough from Gibbs in intelligent combat. Each bullet deployesaerodynamic control surfaces in flight to keep it on track to assigned target. A pinhole camerascans forhuman silhouettes on the battlefield."
Sean gaped, "The bullets choose their own targets?"
"Actually," Turner pointed up to thebrushed stainless steelskull, "the realtime computing cluster within the Doomtrooper assigns targets. Every tenth bullet is a local network node sending battlefield intel back to the cluster which is capable ofsimultaneously guidingten thousandbullets to their targets. A rain of precision death. Can you imaginethe effecton an enemy infantry battallion?"
A single burst from that autocannon would be devastating, Sean swallowed and nodded, "What about friendly fire?"
"That''s a drawback," Turner admitted, "the Doomtrooper is not designed to be used alongsideallied armies. Whoever is piloting the thing better make sure there are no friendlies in the gun''s HUD."
"Piloting?" Sean frowned, "It''s not autonomous?"
"No," Turner shook his head, "Manual operation only via remote link. Makes it a lot cheaper than one of Fuller''s autonomous drones. The hybrid diesel powertrain is also cheaper thanfancy fuel cells. The Gibbs Consortium hopes towhittle away the stranglehold Fuller has on thekiller drone market."
Sean relaxed a bit on hearing the drone wasn''t going to suddenly run amok. But Turner''s comment remindedhim what Elliot had said regarding the cutthroat competition that Fuller faced. Would the Gibbs family really use one of their own kids to make an attempt on Judith''s life? He thought of Phyllis and her brother Reginald. They were snobs of course, that came with the territory. But Sean couldn''t believe either of them were capable of harming Judith.
"Which is where you come in, Sean," Julia interrupted, pointing to an LCD display on one wall hooked up to a high-end gaming rig, "you''ll be monitoring the situation through the Doomtrooper''ssatellite link, while Dawn and Bryson are on site."
"You want me to pilot the thing?" Sean felt asurge of apprehension, "I am not getting involved in someone else''s war."
Dawnpulled outa set of VR goggles trailing a thick cable to the gaming rig and acordless joystick. Bryson was setting up what looked like a "deathray"emitter on tripod.
"Just observethrough theremote goggles, Sean, that''s all you need to do, "Turner clarified, "Bryson will be piloting the Doomtrooper onsiteusingthe portable maser console. Technically you are the backup pilot in case of an emergency. There''s a tutorial DVD from Gibbs that''ll get you up to speed. Up for it?"
Sean nodded slowly, excitement winning over, "Why me? Why not use someone... better trained?"
"We don''t have anyone else ready," Julia walked around the Doomtrooper unit, giving it an experimental kick, "This bucket of boltsonly arrived yesterday. The backup pilot is just a precaution in case the drone signal is jammed, but there''s zero chance of that happening.Besides you are a teenager,you probably have faster reflexes than anyone in this building."
"Zero chance of jamming?" Sean''s laugh was bitter, thinking of the Cereborg drone which also had been declaredtamper-proof. Fat lot of good that did for him.
"That''s correct," Turner nodded seriously, "line of sight controlwith encrypted maser tightbeam. The are only two channels to the Doomtrooper, one through the console that Bryson willdemostrateto SCR army command, the other through a specialized communications satellite we are manouvering over the South Caucasus for you to monitor."
"What about my broken arm?" Sean frowned.
"There''s only one joystick," Dawn chipped in, "Isn''t that right, Bryson?"
Bryson nodded curtly, his glance conveying contempt despite the lack of expression. There''s was something in his stance, atautness that reminded Sean of Elliot.
Sean walked closer to the Doomtrooper to inspect the launcher. There was somethingunwieldly about the trio of projectiles strapped around it.Each cruise missile was two feet long with jet intakes and razor sharp fins. They were painted military green withSADM stencilled in white.
Sean froze, "You got to be shitting me."Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.
"Special Atomic Demolition Munition," Turner smiled, "a.k.a suitcase nukes. The Doomtrooper ismeant to singlehandedly wage tactical nuclear warfare."
"You''re sellingthat to an unstable regime?" Sean paled, "Are you fucking insane... sir. How the heck do you get itpast ITAR regulations?"
"We''re not actually offering SADM missiles to the South Caucasus Republic, only the smart cannon," Turner exchanged a glance with Julia, "but the tactical nuke platformis... critical to the deal."
"Are you saying Russia iscool with youpeddling nuclear platforms in their backyard?" Sean sounded incredulous.
"What I''m about to tell you is secret," Turnerstared intently at Sean, "It''s well known thatboth the United States and the Soviet Union developed man-portable nukes during the Cold War. Unfortunately some of the old stockpilesare scatteredacross parts of the former Soviet Union, including theSouth Caucasus Republic which stillhas a handful of these tactical nukes.Each of theseis 1 kiloton yield max, big enough to take out a city block but hardly earth-shattering. The guidance system on these relics is encrpted, which the SCR high command is desperate tohave the keys for. The Russians are concerned that SCR will simply sell them on the black market for cash. Not something you want an extremist group to hotwire. From Russia''s point of view, it''s safer for these warheads to beused upby SCR in a local pissing contest. The computing cluster on the Doomtrooper can unlock the old Soviet encryption."
"Oh," Sean looked dazed, "why can''t the Russianssupply the encryption keys to SCR themselves?"
"Regional politics," Turnerbarked a laugh, "they can''t be seen playing favorites among their former republics."
Sean sighed, international politics was giving him a headache.
"Use the next couple of days learning the Doomtrooper''s interface, Sean," Julia ordered, "Thedemo is scheduledFridaymorning, EST.Is your itinery confirmed, Dawn?"
"South Caucasus Republic via Istanbul," Dawn took a deep breath,her captivatingsmile missing.
#
Sean''s phone beeped a text receipt as they emerged back to ground level. It was from Elliot.
Master Sean,
Thought I''d let you know. Miss Judith''sdoctorsworked through the night to concoct a new treatment regimen. Based in part on yourinsight regarding the likely viral pathway. I am pleased to report that Miss Judith''s condition is now stable, though she isn''t out of the woods yet.But, they assure me, her survival is no longer in question.
P.S: the doctors needed a little persuasion before they took your speculationseriously.
The tensionexited Sean like air out of a ballon. His legsfeltlike jelly as hesank into the nearest chair, face in his hands. He hadn''t realized how much the news of Judith''s illnesshad been weighing on him since yesterday. His sleeplast night had been troubled,frequently tormented with images of her guileless smile.His anguish relaxed its icy grip and with it hisanger- old and new - came roaring back. Burning hatred for her perpetrator, whoever that might be. Simmering fury againsther brother. Resentment against her parents. It was odd how much Sean''sconsideration for Judith contrasted with his dislike for her family. Well, they could all jump in a lake, he scowled. Except Judith ofcourse (and Prisicilla, her grandma was a good sport too). Once again Sean promised himself he''d find a way to take down that smug prickJason...
"She certainly knows how to pick ''em," Zack carriedabundle of folders, "eh, Seth?”
”It’s Sean,” Sean got up slowly, “What do you mean?”
Zack''s smile was a permanent sneer, “Come on, let‘s get you settled into the intern desk.”
They were on the working levelbelow the upper floor conference rooms. Zack led Sean along a gently curving corridor that divided the adminstrativesection from the analysts. Glass-insetdoors of polished wood interrupted the concrete wall on the left. Julia''s name was on one of the doors. Her sunlit glass-fronted office was locatedbeyond the concrete inner structure, along withofficesfor marketing andaccounting bigwigs. Desk jockeys were located within themain structure honeycombed withfeatureless cubicles. Sean wondered darkly if the reinforced corewas meant as an added layer of protection for the officesoutside. Perhaps some of the nastier munitions in the Armory below were lesssecurethan ideal. The intern deskwas the smallest and dingiest of all the soulless cubicles they''d passed.
“I was referring to the Titanium Bitch,” Zack lowered his voice in a conspiratorial whisper, “I think she''s on your school board just so she can recruitimpressionable youngsters to brainwash. Just like the girl whojoinedup last year.”
“Oh?” Sean’s attention wandered away from Zack, as he spotted Dawnheading their way.
"The other student from your school," Zack explained, "the one who internshere on weekends."
"Wait," Sean turned back to Zack, "there''s someone else from Cardiff High interning here?"
"Sort of," Zack nodded, "Harmony, I think her name is... no wait, is it Cassidy... Tiffany, that''s right. Her name is Tiffany."
"Tiffany?" Sean stared. No, it couldn''t be. What would one of Jason''scoterie be doing here?How many Tiffanys did Cardiff have, anyway?
"Part-timeco-op," Zack clarified, "She gets paid." Unlike you, the sub-text was clear, even as Sean tried to make sense of it.
"There you are," Dawn walked up to Sean,her slight smile turning intoa grimace when shesaw Zack, "I see you found your desk."
"Hey Dawn," Zack drawled, "I know Seamus here is your intern and all..."
"It''s Sean," Seanmuttered with annoyance.
"...but I was wondering if I could use him totake a crackatmy backlog," Zack dumped the pack of folders on the desk, "...cases that Julia has already reviewed. There’s a payoff matrix for each case that needs to be summarized into an abstract, so Julia can signoff on it. I know it''s undergrad level, but Simon here seemssmart enough..."
"It''s Sean," snapped Sean.
"Actually," Dawn interrupted, "I was going to get him started on mycase backlog... so he isn''t available, sorry."
"Alrighty then," Zack grinned insolently, "I''llinform Julia to expect yourportfolioon her table before she can expect mine. It''s only fair, you get all the interns."
"Dammit, I walked right into that one," Dawn scowled at Zack''s retreating back, "Do you mind if Igive you work, in case Julia asks?"
“Sure thing, Dawn,” Sean gave a demented grin, "say, does someone called Tiffany work here as a co-op? Tiffany Brooks?"
"That''s right, another wiz-kidfrom Cardiff High," Dawn''s compliment was as genuine as her smile, "She only works weekends, because of school. She''s really bright. Oh, do you go to the same class with her?" Dawn trailed off looking slightly confused, perhaps wondering why Sean didn''t have school.
"But... but she''s just a cheerleader!" Sean blurted, unable to reconcile Tiffany''s image with Dawn''s description.
"Not sure I get yourpoint?" Dawn''s smile faltered.
"Nothing... never mind," Sean muttered hastily, "by the way, why do you need torisk yourselfin the field? If that Bryson guy is conducting the demo, can''t you manage things remotely?”
"Julia believes strongly in what she calls skin-in-the-game," Dawn chewed her lip, "It''s one thing to make policy analysis from the safety of a desk, but actually experiencing the situation in person gives us a whole new perspective.”
Sean looked thoughful, “What are your... long-term plans, if I may ask? "
“Hoping to go into foreignpolicyand International Security, with my experience here,” Dawn smiled dazzlingly again, making Sean’s heart flutter, “which reminds me... let me get you all my casefiles that need an abstract.Don’t worry if you don’t make any progress, justput themonmy deskbefore you leave.”
Sean’s''feel good'' neurotransmitterlevels abated with Dawn’s departure and he kicked himself for his sillycrush. Dawn wasa few years older and most certainlysaw him as a clueless noob.He languidly opened the first folder and touched the document within, cascading its contents into his mind.Next...
He yawned feeling sleepy and bored. The Doomtroopertraining software still hadn''t finished installing on the desktop, and he''d reviewedDawn''s entirecaseload in his mind. Sean had spottedfaulty assumptions which - to his newfound intellect - gleamedlikediamonds in thesand. There was onescenarioinvolving a sizeable contract for Fuller Dynamics as part of the ‘optimal move’. Interesting. Sean’s phone beeped a text receipt a second time that morning.Sean stared uncomprehending for a second, beforehurriedly texting back .
Tiffany: 0Sum''s noob intern? Don''t trash my desk. Or won''t save ur sorry ass again.
Sean: Tiff? is that u? I owe u 1... make it 2.
Tiffany: yes u do.
Sean: BTW, what r u doing @ 0Sum?
Tiffany: Research, duh.Wanna see?
Sean: u bet.
Tiffany: OuterLab #7. DON''TTOUCHANYTHING. Keys in botton draw.
Sean: on my way
#
Sean stopped bemused inside the room marked Outer Lab 7, brightly lit through the glass wall by the late afternoon sun. There were notes and diagrams scattered on desks around the room. The center of the room was taken up by a bewildering spagehettimix of transparent tubes, bottles and pipettescrammed inside awood frame the size of a refrigerator. Water dripped through metered stopcocks and pooled within calibrated bulbs. Water wheelsspun analog flow gauges. Sunlight diffracted tiny rainbows through many captive droplets. It was oddly peaceful staring at the contraption, like something from a lab in 1920s. His phone dinged.
Tiffany: well?
Sean: It''s dazzling.
Tiffany: what do u think it is, genius?
Sean: Water Integrator. Differential equation solver.
Tiffany: party pooper,how did u know?
Sean: what does Julia want it for?
Tiffany: bootstrap society without electricity.if it gets nuked back to stone age.
It was an old concept. There were far more efficient ways to crunch differential equations than digital computers. The simplest was to use a calibrated bucket to add up the rate at which water flowed through a hose. The rate could be any time-varying function and the volume collected in the bucket was the integrated solution to that function. One couldlink up any number of differential equationsto model any system. It was massively parallelwithoutdigitalconstraints simplyby harnessing physics itself. Sean imagined a medieval-level human settlement, armed with such physical computers. How fast could they rise again withsucha cognitive assist?Managefish stocks with predator-prey equations and avoid starvation? Precisely compute trebuchet artillery trajectories and crush their rivals?
He walked around the wood and glass structure, savoring the compactness of the design which was truly inspired. He could see it was meant to be modular, to allow it to connect to other such cuboids. How far could one go with this? Neural nets? Was it possible to have AIwithout electricity and let themachine bootstrap society? Had Tiffany really built this? Sean sat down dazed. It waspure genius. What was a girl like that doing with Jason? He remembered Kaitlyn''s admonition against judgingpeople one-dimensionally. Sean hadalways been intimidated by Tiffany''s pretty face, but he''d assumed the blond cheerleaderwas "dumb". It dawned on him that he often ran into Tiffany in his advanced placementclasses. She was most certainly not "dumb" and at least as smart as he was if thedevice before him was anything to go by. And she didn''t have the benefit of cheating with a superpower like he did. Sean feltchastenedas he textedback.
Sean: can see 1 or 2 ways tomake it better.
Tiffany: Prove it, asshole.
Sean: is that a date?
Tiffany:In your dreams, punk. time & place TBD. Don''t get fresh with me.
END OF CHAPTER