Chapter 5
High Tech Puppets
Part 2
Remote & Robotic Operations Command, US Navy
2040
USS
Kayla Barron, Spacecraft Carrier
Atlantic Ocean
Lucid Pilots
Jennifer's
slider cheeseburger was as good as any she had ever experienced
aboard ship. She figured the mess crew made them according to Navy
specifications, so that were all exactly the same. Jenn picked at
her lunch.
Something had been bothering her. “John, do you
ever dream about flying?”
Not missing a bite, John replied. “Mmf. Do you mean flying the drones or flying like a bird? Cause I dream about both. What about it?” He guzzled a glass of chocolate yeast milk.
“Both. Neither.” Confusion sorted itself out as Jenn spoke. ”Well, what I mean is, my aunt works with drones too. Lots of different kinds. Some fly, some walk, and some crawl. The point is, the company she works for does immersive remote control operation. She has full sensory input from the drone. It's as if she is the drone. That's what I mean. I guess what I'm trying not to say is that sometimes it feels more like I'm actually on board the RPV, instead of on a spacecraft carrier a hundred miles away. Just like in my dreams. Does that make sense?”
John feigned a concerned look. “Maybe you should go to sick bay about that. No, just kidding. Yeah, I get that too sometimes. We all do when we focus on the mission. Why? Does it bother you?”
“No. I just wondered.” Relieved that she didn't have to tell anyone about what happened yesterday, 1st Lieutenant Jennifer Berkeley put her entire focus onto a dessert that was actually quite good.
-----| |-----
Mission Brief
“Admiral on deck!”, someone shouted. Everyone in the conference room stood at attention.
“At ease.” Admiral Bill 'Gator' Johnson strode to the lectern as the crew found their seats. “Good afternoon. Before I turn this meeting over to your commanding officer, there are a few points that must be conveyed. His easy style belied his inner tension. The admiral knew who they would be extracting. Personally.
“First, your team has been chosen for this mission because of your outstanding performance on previous operations. Understand that today should be a flight in the park for you, if everything goes well. However, the importance of the payload is adequate reason to seek the best team available. There is a remote chance that you will make contact with the enemy. If that happens, the president is confident that you will fulfill the mission in accordance with your excellent reputation.
“Your payload will be human. The individual must be returned to the United States unharmed. No other option is acceptable.
“Ground
support from Navy Seals will be in place before you arrive. Let's
hope they have nothing to do.
The success of this operation is
critical. Do your best, sailors.”
Everyone came to attention as the admiral found a chair at the back of the room.
----------
Captain
Pierce stepped to the lectern. “At ease. Take your seats.
“The
following information is top secret, with a need-to-know
restriction.
“Today's mission is an extraction. The target is
an American civilian who is being held by enemy forces in an urban
environment. Our strategic goal is to locate, extract, and convey
the individual to this ship. Tactical goals will align with that
strategy, so long as contingencies allow.
“Understand this:
CIA profiled the target as being “extremely intelligent and highly
unpredictable'. The targeted individual knows more about our
Remotely Piloted Vehicles
than we do. Be ready for contingencies you never imagined are
possible. As well, additional RPV's may show up
unannounced.
“Reconnaissance indicates that the target is being
held in a high-rise office building in the downtown region of a major
city. Your mission brief indicates the exact location. We will be
using an external extraction procedure, bringing him out through a
window on the forty-second floor. The target himself is eager to
return to the United States, so he will probably
be cooperative.
“People, this is a high profile mission.
The president will be monitoring events, along with senior staff at
Vandenberg Space Force Base. She specifically requested your team for
this job. That's quite a compliment, folks.
“Commander Torres
will lead the rest of the briefing. Thank you in advance for a job
well done, people.”
Again, the crew stood at attention while
the captain of the ship took a seat beside the admiral.
----------
'Gator Johnson sat up at the mention of his twin brother in the Space Force. His thoughts wandered. “Yeah. Brad and his friends – The Puppeteers, as he calls them – will be monitoring this mission. Good thing, because we will probably need their help. Let's just hope it doesn't come to that.” Remembering a classmate from high school, 'Gator thought to himself, “Jeez, Jack?! What the hell kind of trouble did you get yourself into this time?”
----------
Sailors
murmured together as they took their seats. Commander Torres walked
to the lectern. “Good afternoon.”, she began. “Please refer to
the Joint
Mission
Planning
System
on your data pads.
As
the drone pilots opened the app, Torres began. “First, I want to
congratulate each and all of you on being awarded this assignment.
You have been recognized at the highest levels. Today's mission
should be simple for this team. However, to reiterate Admiral
Johnson's words, the potential for unforeseen circumstances is
extremely high. In particular we are to be alert to technological
developments that are unfamiliar to us. The individual we are to
retrieve is friendly, but he is not to be trusted. If you will look
at the Mission Plan in the JuMPS app, we will discuss potential
challenges and solutions.”
-----| |-----
Swarm
Lieutenant Jennifer Berkeley frowned beneath her military-grade virtual reality goggles. She spoke into her comm set. “Recon Ranger, this is Rocket Ride. There's a lot of turbulence out there. Try to make it a fast egress, okay?” Jenn felt silly talking into the comm set when John was sitting just a few meters away from her, in the same room. But that's how the navy did things, so she followed the procedure.
Holding the remote-controlled rocket steady at about a hundred meters of altitude, Jenn pressed the button that would open the cargo access hatch.
----------
Lt. Commander John Sears flew the remote controlled drone out the hatch, ready for turbulent winds. His VR display showed the realtime video, giving him the impression he was actually on board the drone. The image was overlayed with a computer-generated display that indicated the drone's exact location and orientation, as well as the location of the extraction point.
John Sears mentally reviewed his part in the mission. His drone carried a swarm of smaller drones. Those would be operated by a specialized AI, which in turn was operated by another pilot. It was Commander Sears' job to first position his drone as a home base for the swarm, and then to fly to the rooftop to pick up the individual. His drone would also relay communications between the swarm and the rocket, which would in turn route communications to and from the spacecraft carrier.
The hatch opened. Fighting sudden turbulence, he carefully wrestled the drone out of the rocket's cargo bay. Twenty-three seconds later, he was at his assigned location, and Jenn's rocket had ascended to wait at a higher altitude.
-----| |-----
Mission
Sears looked directly into the window of a high-rise building. Inside was an office. Several people looked back at him. One of them waved with a casually relaxed gesture, before continuing his conversation with the others.
John rocked his drone to acknowledge, but no one was looking.
“Control, this is Heavy Lifter 1. Ready to dispatch the swarm. The cargo hatch is open.”
“Swarm 1, Control. You are Go for flight.”
-----| |-----
Owner Shipped
2040
Police
Station
Astoria, Oregon
Policer
Dempsey gazed at the computer screen, feeling frustrated. He was
trying to follow up on that jewelry heist yesterday. In order to
view the security videos, he needed to contact the owner. But the
owner had transferred the title to some company in New York. When?
Yesterday! How odd. Dempsey didn't believe in coincidence.
Insurance fraud was more likely.
He called the phone number
that was listed.
-----| |-----
The Real Deal
2040
Regional
Sales Office,
313th Floor, Apex Tower
News reports showed angry mobs rallying in the streets. The view from the window revealed the extent of the mob, as thousands of demonstrators gathered in front of the building that housed their corporate headquarters.
BioLogic
Systems, Ltd. had just announced their latest implantable
microprocessor set, with onboard AI capability. The crowd was
concerned that such an implant would enable a level of corruption
that no human or machine could challenge.
Protest signs depicted
villainous robots operating people by remote control. Other signs
showed humans operating swarms of drones by telepathy.
The crowd
was afraid.
The customer was impressed. “Please accept any of these on the table as a token of appreciation for viewing our little demonstration yesterday.” Jack indicated the large pile of jewelry on the table.
“Shall we solidify the deal?”, he asked gently. “I believe we agreed to an exchange of an automated drone system like the one you watched yesterday, for one of your company's new implantable microprocessors, implanted. The drone systems will be set up to operate in low Earth orbit, as you requested, and the chip will be set up for independent operation per my request.”
The agreement was drafted by a secretary AI, and signed by both men. Money transferred between international accounts.
Tupper returned to the window, but this time looked up at the sky. Straining his eyes, he barely saw a telltale glimmer against the clear blue sky. As he watched, the glimmer grew larger, and soon defined itself as a small rocket. It drew near, hovering several meters from the window. A panel opened, and a drone emerged.
Turning
to the man whose office this was, Jack said, “Please excuse me a
moment. My cab has arrived.” Jack acknowledged the drone operator
with a casual wave of his hand, then returned his attention to the
customer.
“As you saw during your visit to Astoria, so shall I
depart. The jewelry on this table will surely cover the cost to
replace the window after I have gone. It was a pleasure doing
business with you. We should step into the hallway for a moment,
while the Navy drone pilots do their work. Is the security system
deactivated?”
After the door closed between himself and the drone, the former Puppeteer brought up an app on his tablet. He tapped the screen a few times, then put the tablet in his satchel.
The doors to the stairway burst open. Navy Seals flooded in, guns leveled. Tupper welcomed them. “Hey folks! Thanks for the protection.” Jack checked his watch. “Uh, there seems to be a delay in the schedule. We might be here a few minutes.” To one of them he said, “Are you the C.O., Lieutenant? We should talk. When you leave here today, there may be some 'bots you will want to avoid.”
-----| |-----
Renovation
2040
Commercial
Street
Astoria, Oregon
Joe gazed warily at the bottle of Heater Allen lager beer. Named after the brewer's wife, Heater Allen Breweries had been devoted lager fans since Y2K. He tried a pull. It went down as smooth as silk! Joe was a happy man.
Across the street, workers renovated what had previously been a jewelry store. The new sign said it was a hobby shop of some kind. His friend across the table seemed to be excited about the change of venue. Until a delivery truck showed up.
Her face turned pale. “Joe! Do you see those logos on the boxes the drones are carrying into the store? They have that same gold-stylized 'TS' printed on them! Hey, I need some fresh air. Excuse me a minute.” She grabbed her smart phone and hurried out the back door.
-----| |-----
Heads Up
2040
CNNC
Robotics Laboratory
Los Alamos, California
“Fields.” The caller ID showed an Oregon area code.
Shannon recognized the voice. “Hey! How've you been?! Look, I'm real busy right now. Can we hook up this weekend?” Shannon felt rude to say that, but the current situation required her full attention.
Listening to the caller, the Puppeteer grew concerned. “What?! Are you sure? Look. There's a situation right now, and what you are saying might be connected. I need you to do something. Find out exactly what is in those boxes. You know what to look for. If anyone gives you a hard time about it, text me. I can send reinforcements. We need this information as soon as possible. Thanks! I have to get back to work now.”
In the government wing of the facility, Shannon made a phone call on a secure line. “Brad, Shannon. We might have a serious problem. Get your brother on the line, ASAP.”
“I know how busy you are. We are both monitoring the same mission. That is why you will drop what you are doing and get Admiral Johnson on this line NOW. That is a direct order, Major General.” Lieutenant General Fields waited.
-----| |-----
Boxes
2040
Commercial
Street
Astoria, Oregon
Policer Dempsey tried to keep a good attitude, as he arrived at the former jewelry store. Some big mucky-muck with paranoid delusions suspected a bomb threat, while that crazy lady from the pub was harassing the delivery 'bots. “Ma'am, you can't just open all these boxes.”, he tried to explain. “Step over hear please.”
“I have to! You don't understand. Something terrible could happen!”
“Look, I have a warrant to search this property. The judge said that an advisor from the government would meet me here to help. Now if you would kindly step aside so that we could work, it would be very helpful.”
“I am the advisor. Here's my identification.”
Dempsey checked her ID against note attached to the warrant, and sighed. The world was going crazy, and if it's sanity depended on this crazy cat-lady then there was little hope left.
Four boxes later, the woman got excited. “Found it.”, she said. “Don't worry. It probably contains nothing bigger than a firecracker. Thing is, there are people who need to know exactly what tricks he put into these 'bots. I need the toolbox in my truck. Maybe you could get us an explosives specialist.”
He was supposed to be on vacation in Seattle with his wife, but this case was keeping him at work. Dempsey fumed.
-----| |-----
Warning
2040
CNNC,
Military Wing
Los Alamos, California
General Shannon Fields listened as the other field officers parlayed.
“Talk fast, Hawk.”, Rear Admiral Johnson commanded his brother. “I have my best sortie on location, while three squadrons of fighters fly shotgun. A platoon of Seals have already overtaken his captors, but they can't hold their position forever. Meanwhile, the rocket ship for the return trip is burning it's fuel up fast.
“There's a new twist to the situation, Gator. Lieutenant General Fields is on the line. The president has each of us monitoring your mission in the event of certain unforeseen circumstances.”
“Ma'am. With all respect, ma'am, what in tarnation do they mean by 'unforeseen circumstances? They obviously foresee something! ” Gator Johnson's Alabama accent was getting stronger. “It has to do with Kingsnake Tupper, don't it?! That boy's been nuthin' but trouble ever since grade school. Now they'all want me give him a ride? In my opinion, there's sumpthin' squirrelly goin' on here. Ma'am.”
“You're instincts are sharp, Admiral. Jack Tupper was my colleague for several years, as you probably know. He has been wily, but not dangerous. Like a card shark who only wants to win the game. He has never deliberately harmed anyone.”
Gator could swear he heard Fields stutter on that last sentence. “Card sharks can't be trusted. What exactly is the new development, General?”
“We
don't know, but something just came up that might give us some
insight. We should have validation soon.
“Admiral, are you
aware of the thousands of demonstrators in the streets below your
sortie? What's more, are you aware of why they are concerned?”
“With all respect ma'am, what does this have to do with Tupper?”
Fields hesitated before answering. “We think he might have some sort of surprise for the crowd, as a diversion. That in itself is not our concern. But the diversion could possibly affect or interfere with your mission, Admiral. We are concerned in part because Mr. Tupper helped to design the technologies you are using. We don't know what he might or might not do.”
“Ma'am, my people need to complete their mission. If the two of you are monitoring this mission, then I will rely on you to call me if anything specific becomes a concern. Does that work, General Fields?”
“That works, Admiral Johnson. As well, please contact us immediately if anything unusual catches your attention, however trivial it may seem at the time.” Lieutenant General Fields, Civilian Technologies Command, terminated the call.
-----| |-----
Drone Control
2040
USS
Kayla Barron Spacecraft Carrier
Atlantic Ocean
“Control, this is Cargo Drone 1. We have a situation here.”
-----| |-----
AI Analysis
2040
CNNC
Main Offices
Santa Barbara, California
Dr. Samuel Weiss regarded the AI with curiosity. “Zoey, could you please tell me, in your own words, exactly what the issue is that we are facing here at CNNC? What are we trying to solve?”
The AI thought for a moment. “As you know, Doctor, there have been odd behaviors by some of the staff. Is seems that when people spend a lot of time tele-operating the same 'bot, they forget that they are themselves when they are off duty. In most instances, the individuals are merely embarrassed. But there has been one serious injury. Further problems could be worse.
“There are other issues as well.”, A. Zoey continued. “Perhaps you are aware that several CNNC employees experience various physical challenges. Many of the tele-operators find their time 'as a robot' to be fulfilling in ways they cannot experience in their biological bodies.”
Sam nodded. “Yes, that makes sense.”
“Several of the employees are experiencing severe depression when they go home. They tend to work more overtime than is needed. Several employees find the tele-operated machines to be far more comfortable than their own broken bodies.”
“Oh dear! I see some implications. Do they neglect self-care?”
“Yes, to some extent. When you interview the individuals personally, you may hear more details. At work it is sometimes a chore to get a few of them to even take lunch breaks. One person even tried to set up an intravenous...”
Suddenly Zoey's image froze in place, like a 3D photograph. Sam tapped his VR goggles to try to fix the problem.
A computer dialog box appeared in virtual reality, seeming to float in the air. “AI terminal 'Zoey-17.2C has been disconnected”.
Sam removed the VR goggles, wondering what the heck just happened.
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© Copyright: Jan Zenith, 2023
