— William Shakespeare, ‘The Tempest’
Coordinated Neural Networking Companies
C N N C
Extended Capability Services
Human, AI, Robotic Team Solutions
Shenandoah Fields – Director
Ben Franklin – Operations Manager
Alice Berkeley – Technology Manager
Chapter 1
Remote Control Detectives
RC Rats Aid Police
2040
Industrial
Warehouse
New York City, NY
The industrial warehouse was filthy. Rats scurried away as a forklift off-loaded pallets from a semi-truck. Two men watched from an office upstairs. The visitor said, “There you go. Two hundred units.”
The other man tapped on a wrist-phone app. “Twenty thousand dollars is being transferred to your account.”
The first man checked his balance. “It was a pleasure doing business.” He left the office.
A dragonfly flew past him, hovering for a moment as dragonflies often do. He impatiently shooed it away with wave of his arm.
Suddenly police flash-bangs flew in through every window. Sirens sounded all around the building. A SWAT team secured the area.
Hours later the police had combed the entire building, finding additional contraband and a few more people in back rooms. When the property had been thoroughly searched, police began to leave.
Police admitted a civilian vehicle into the warehouse. The Hummer H1-X rode on it's wheels, with the quad rotors tucked away. An older man emerged, his long gray hair complementing his dark complexion. He placed an industrial carry-case on the grimy floor. Four rats and a dragonfly entered the box, nestled into form-fitting depressions in the foam inner lining. Different colored LED’s on each one’s back blinked, as the micro-‘bots shut themselves off. One rat-shaped depression was still empty.
The gentleman talked into the open comm link. “Alice, what’s your status?”
“Something’s going on in the basement. My bot’s odor sensors indicate sulfur and charcoal — perhaps gunpowder? There are voices, but I can’t make them out yet. The sounds are distorted by echoes, as if they are in a large warehouse.”
The police commander was standing nearby. “What’s happening, Ben?”
“One of the investigators discovered continued activity in a room downstairs.”
“Downstairs? With all respect for your team, Mr. Franklin, there must be a misunderstanding somewhere. The plans for this building say that water seeping in from the river caused the lower levels of this building to be under water. Perhaps your machine operator found another building’s basement. Is there a yew to double check their location?”
“Perhaps there is a
misunderstanding after all, Lieutenant Adams. Let me clarify. The
precise location of every robot owned by CNNC is monitored at all
times, in three dimensions, by sophisticated tracking systems. All
the sensory data from each robot is fed to the local command post and
to our data center. The voices were real, Lieutenant, and they were
located directly beneath us.”
The police officer considered the
situation. “If that’s true, we will need additional support. But
people are not going to budge over data from an RC toy, no matter how
high-tech it is. Just show them your data first hand, and that might be enough to convince someone.”
Just for an instant, Ben's face hardened, his eyes narrowing. “We can send you a video feed of what the robot sees. That, and a call from my boss will be adequate."
Adams wondered what the private investigator was hiding. That's the problem, he thought to himself. Private investigators try to do the work of real police, and half the time they just get in the way. Lieutenant Adams, NYPD, was not going to let any gumshoe take over this or any other police investigation. “That might be enough if the location data is included, Mr. Franklin. Let me check with the captain.” He spoke to his wrist-phone, already knowing what the answer would be.
A
while later
Adams reported, “Sure enough, the captain was skeptical. He wants
us all to stand down for a while he checks into it.” His face reddened
at the interruptions to professional police business that this civilian
was causing.
Ben spoke into his comm link. “Alice, everyone, take a break while the police get oriented here. We might have more work to do.”
At the CNNC remote operations building in California, Alice put her workstation in standby mode, and stood up to stretch, leaving the neural interface cuffs on her arms and legs. Her team mates did the same. It was awkward to switch back and forth between the 'bots and her own body. Maybe it was necessary to do that once in a while, though. Spending too much time as a rat could just about make a person forget they are human!
Twenty minutes later Ben's voice came over the intercom. “Okay folks, it's time to get back to work.” Feeling refreshed, Alice hooked back up to her workstation and the high-tech rat it was linked with.
Adams said, “Somehow the chief of police got involved in this. She’s taking your word for it, Ben. A support team will be in place within half an hour. Until then the chief wants your people to gather all the information they can without alerting anyone of their presence.”
“We can do that.”, Ben replied. Into his microphone he said, “Okay team, back to work. The police are asking us to perform reconnaissance while they get organized.” Looking at his own workstation in the Hummer, Ben waited for each team member's status light to go green. When everyone's status indicator showed they were ready, Ben got back to work as the team's leader.
The Mischief of Rats
2040
CNNC Operations
Center,
Santa Ynez, California
Computer screens surrounded each of the seven workstations. Complex electronics populated tall equipment racks, located around the periphery of the room.
Settling back into her command couch, Alice reactivated the neural link app. It’s not that the feeling of her own body disappeared. It was more that she forgot about being human as she focused on operating the tiny robot.
An AI's voice spoke into Alice's ear buds. “Are you ready for systems check and calibration, Alice?”
Relaxing into the conformal couch felt nice. “All set, Annette. Let's do it.”
In her VR glasses, Alice saw a short walking path. At the end of the path was a cat tree with a peanut on it. Her part in the systems check was to simply walk over, climb up the cat tree, and hold the peanut.
Alice pressed her right
arm and left leg forward, without actually moving them, just enough
so that the workstation would sense the impulses in her nerves. The
workstation sensed her nerve impulses and would operate the Virtual
Reality rat-bot as if they were full-scale movements. It was the same
amazing technology that had made her able to walk again after so many
years.
Pretending to be a fuzzy little mouse was fun. But when
events got serious, like they were getting now, it could be quite
challenging.
Full-immersion tele-robotic linking was quite realistic, in Alice's opinion. Almost like actually being the 'bot itself! Although the different relative size could be disconcerting.
Darkness and dust surrounded her again. It felt creepy here in the sub-floor space. There would be spiders, termites, and rats! Alice was tough lady, but this was just plain creepy. She felt a wave of admiration for the biologist who usually operated this rat-bot, but who was busy accepting a Nobel Prize for the development of human-to-animal communication systems.
.
More voices echoed. The sound of a door closing. She pushed herself — her ‘bot — toward the sounds.
“Stand fast, Alice.”
“I
can’t Ben. It’s horrid in here.”
“We see her, Ben. Go ahead Alice. We have your back.”
Voices were coming from
just a few meters ahead. Over there by those real rats. Uh oh!
Soon the three of them were in the sub-floor, above the room where people were talking. Charlie put his rat'bot's ear against the plasterboard of the ceiling it was standing on. His workstation amplified and filtered the sound, which Ben patched into the group's comm system.
A man's voice was saying, “... we still need to install the weapons systems for each RC toy. That raid upstairs set us back, but we can handle it.
Another voice said, “When” -- [garbled] -- “destroy the” – [garbled]
Ben's voice came through. “Okay people. Lt. Adams suggested that we insert a surveillance probe. I agree. Charlie, this task is for the AI. Annette, are you ready?”
“Roger, Ben.”, replied the AI.
Charlie's rat'bot pulled it's tail inside, and a tiny flexible drill emerged. The robot sat upright, and made a tiny hole beneath itself. After the drill withdrew, a tiny flexible glass fiber extended though the hole into the adjoining room.
“All set, Ben. Cam control is all yours.” Annette held the robot steady while the team leader conducted surveillance.
The team of investigators relaxed at their workstations as Ben surveyed the basement. Video and sound were recorded, and were patched through to each team member's workstation.
----o----
It was a whole other warehouse.
Clean. Organized. Well lit. Dozens of industrial steel shelf units covered with toys.
RC cars, drones, and mini-robots populated the closer shelves.
Lt. Adams said over the comm link, “It's like a warehouse for toy stores. Thousands of RC toys. What would terrorists want with so many toys?”
Ben voiced his suspicions, but Alice knew. All too well. Memories flooded in. PTSD started to loom, but she pushed it down.
Alice's voice was like ice. “Lieutenant, you have on your hands a far bigger problem than you have any idea of.”
“What are you talking about, Alice? What's she talking about, Ben?”
“Alice, I'm with you on that. Our project at DARPA? Do you think he's involved?”
“Yeah. This has his name all over it. I'm scared, Ben. This is bigger than the police can handle.”
Adam's voice came up, not happy at all. “What d'ya mean, we can't handle it? What kind of insult...”
Ben cut him off sharply. “Adams. This is out of your league. Alice and I did some work for the government, long ago. We can't talk about it. But you're going to need help on this. This is way beyond the scope of any police force.”
Alice interrupted. “We need more information. See that desk on the other side of the room? Can we get in there, and access that computer?”
Fuming, Adams made a phone call. A few minutes later he was white as a ghost.
“The president of the United States has authorized you to take charge of this investigation, Ben Franklin. I am to give you whatever support our humble police department can provide. Who the heck are you people, anyway?!”
Ben ignored the question. “Let's get in there. We need to know the extent of the capabilities of that robotic army. Shannon, do you agree?”
Apparently the CEO had been listening in the whole time. “Yes, General. While you look into the hardware there, we will check for satellite links. Let's keep this low-key for now. Don't let them know we are here.”
Alice commented. “Shannon, get us a conference call with General Johnson at Vandenberg, please. Secure line.”
A ring tone, then a hardened voice. “Johnson. Secure line.”
“Brad, this is Alice and Shannon. We are on a secure line. Got a situation. We need you to run the program for Operation 'Toys or US'. Get a feed going to CNNC. Tell the president to authorize full access for Brigadier General Shenandoah Fields.”
Johnson's Alabama drawl thickened. “Yes ma'am. Would you
like coffee with that, ma'am?”
“Sorry, General. It's just that we might have a national emergency on our hands.”
“Hey, back at you, Alice. Give me about five minutes to get this kluge set up. Do I get to know what it's about?”
“You'll have to ask the president, Brad. By the way, have you heard from Jack lately?”
General Johnson emitted a very loud silence. When he spoke, his voice was raspier than usual. “The data you need is on the way, Puppeteers.'
Alice cringed at the long-forgotten reference.
Adams blurted over the comm link, “Holy shit! General?! Of what? Some secret army? What the hell is going on here? Sir. Ma'am.”
Ben's voice was harsh, cold. “That is confidential, Lieutenant.”
Alice's words were just as opaque, if not as blank. “Sometimes things are more complex than they appear, Lieutenant Adams. We are concerned that the basement warehouse may be a threat to national security. At this time that is all we can say.”
Even as she spoke, Alice remembered. Back when they all worked for the Department of Defense. “The Puppeteer Platoon” was what their coworkers had teasingly called them. That was back in D.C., at the DARPA research center. Their team had been developing remote controlled robots as if they were high-tech marionettes, to be the virtual bodies of real people. For some people, that's the only way they would ever have a functional body. In fact, that technology was how Alice herself could walk again. How ironic.
Alice froze up at her
workstation. Rats the size of people were advancing toward
them!
Actually they were normal sized rodents. Thing is, her
rat'bot body was as small as the animals'.
“Alice. Hey Alice!” Ben's voice rang in her human ears.
“What? Huh? What do I do, Ben? This is creepy!”
“First, stay calm. If the rat senses fear, it might attack you. Now, say hello as if you are saying hi to an old friend. The computer will translate it into the rat's instinctive language.”
Alice felt like an idiot when she said hello to the disgusting creature. But then, while her rat'bot ears heard the varmint squeak and snarl, her human ears heard a high-pitched synthetic voice say, “Hi, stranger. Do you know where any food is?”
A man's adamant voice came over her headset. “What the hell was that?!”
Ben replied calmly. “Communication with the animals, Lieutenant. The biologist who normally operates that robot has extensive understanding about animal communication. She wrote the computer program that does the interpretation.”
“That's real science, huh? Not a bunch of tree-huggers making up fantasies?”
“It's real enough. That translation program has gotten us out of some dangerous situations, simply by communicating with animals that could potentially harm the robots and interfere with the mission. So far it has worked well.”
“Well go figure! Okay, I'll be quiet now. Thanks for the explanation, Ben.”
Alice got an idea. “Ben, can we try to bribe the rats to help us?”
“Sure, but what are you thinking?”
To the questioning rat
Alice said, “We think there is food in that room, but we don't know
how to get in there. Do you know the way?”
The computer did not
interpret her words exactly, of course. The English version of what
the computer actually said would be like, “Food there. No pathway.
Pathway?” Rats are smart, as rodents go. But their brains are
still rather small, you understand.
The real rats got excited. “Yes! Pathway there.” Some of the rats started to move in that direction.
Adam's voice came over the comm again. “Well damn! You mean that you all got a sewer rat to give you directions? Amazing.”
Alice was just as surprised her own self.
“Let's go, team. We
have work to do.” Ben Franklin's voice was eager, yet with the
reservation of responsibility.
The team of robotic rats followed the mischief of sewer rats into the dark places beneath the foul warehouse, into the pits of potential Hell.
If Alice was right, they would face a rat of a very different sort. A highly intelligent and extremely dangerous rat.
Her rat-bot danced like a puppet, as Alice's hands began to tremble.
Memoir: Teenage Tech
2003 - 37 years prior
Bob's Hobby &
Craft
Needles, CA
“Shannon, you have a customer.” The boss's voice crackled over the intercom.
The
young repair
technician set her soldering iron on it's holder, and went to see
what fascinating new technical adventure lay ahead. The robotics
teacher at the technical school on the reservation had suggested that
she apply for this job. It was a great choice!
On the service counter was a remote controlled model of military fighter jet. The wrinkled old cowboy standing there looked impatient. “Come on, Bob. Where's that technician?”Shannon spoke up. “May I ask what's up with your RC, sir?”
The man looked down at the polite teenager. Her round brown face emphasized a bright smile. He figured she was another customer's kid, so he explained in simple words. “Sometimes it tries to turn left a little bit when it's not supposed to.”
The kid talked again. “Might be a loose solder joint on the bias control, there on the hand controller. It you wiggle it while it's running, you might see the ailerons jiggle. That would probably be where the control is attached to the board. If it is, we won't need to order parts. Just solder it. Got the soldering iron warmed up already, too!”
The customer stared at the child who had just lectured him about this highly technical equipment. Then he stared at the store's owner. He stared at the airplane on the counter. Eventually his mouth began to work. “How? How did that little girl...? No brat kid is gonna work on my RC squadron! These are top quality military aircraft.”
Bob cut him off sharply. “Verne, we go back a long way. But in my store, you mind your manners. Now, you know I never talk about the war in Viet Nam.” Bob's face grew serious. “Now listen real careful, Verne. Her grandfather saved our entire squad from an ambush. He was a chopper pilot. One of the best. You have respect for his grand daughter, and I mean that. Now this here is Master Sergeant Sid Fields' granddaughter Shannon. She's a certified technician, and she can fix every sort of RC that this store carries.”
The man's face wrestled with itself for a while. “Fields, Sid. Chopper jock back in the 'Nam. Best crew chief our squadron ever had. How he got his wings is a story all in itself. I'm alive because of that man.”
Verne's face did some more contortions. He covered his tracks. “Look, I was going to say that this young avionics technician has potential. If she's right about that diagnosis, she can be the crew chief for my entire squadron, same as her grandfather was."
Turning back to Shannon, Verne explained. "Miss, your grandpa was a true hero. Sgt. Fields did his job well, only took chances when he had to, and got along with everyone who wasn't shooting at him. The reason I know this is that I was his commanding officer. That was a very impressive diagnosis, young lady. How about if we go ahead and try your idea?”
They did, and the ailerons did jiggle as she predicted.
An hour later, Verne was a
happy customer. Shannon had found a couple other minor issues and
had them fixed in minutes. His RC airplane was ready for the big
competition next weekend. As he
paid the repair bill, Verne paused. He knew that kid had all the
cards stacked against her, on account of her race and gender. “Hey
Bob. Here's a little something for the kid's college fund. She's
gonna need all the help she can get, but I guarantee Shenandoah is
gonna be someone important someday. And here's a tip for the extra
work she did. Tell her thanks. And, uh, let her grandpa know that if
he needs a job dustin' farms to give me a call. Next time you're at
the tavern, we got some catchin' up to do. See, if you're talking
about master-sergeant Sid Fields, and you are...”
His face
fought with itself some more. “Look, Sid Fields was my crew chief
in Viet Nam. I'm alive because of that man. How he got started
flyin' gunships is a story in itself. So if that's Fields' grand
daughter, she's born for avionics. If she's as good of a crew chief as
sergeant Fields was, then that young technician has a lot of potential.
We gotta
talk, Bob. See ya at the tavern.” Verne left.
Later that night, Bob talked with his wife about the child's $210 tip. “What does he expect me to do. Cathy? Hold this money for the kid until she grows up? And frankly, two hundred bucks ain't gonna pay for much.”
Cathy replied instantly, as if the obvious was obvious. “Start a college savings account for her. Maybe there are some matching funds available through the reservation. Who knows? Add a little here and there, and it will help. Verne's right, you know. Shenandoah is destined for success in robotics. She's that good at it.”
The next day Cathy, Shannon's mom, and Shannon opened a college savings account. Cathy set up a monthly contribution from her own account. It wasn't much, but it would add up over time.
Shenandoah Fields' self confidence blossomed that day!
It would be a turning point for her entire life.
Some folks might say it improved her life.
© Copyright: Jan Zenith, 2023
