Brobots Page 7

  ‘They weren’t the only country to do that though.’

  ‘No. But the robotic fighter contract was the biggest and the first.’

  Jared’s eyes were wide. ‘Wait. Does this …go all the way to the top? Or just some way there?’

  ‘I doubt it goes all the way.’ Yana smiled, adding, ‘Everybody knows military suppliers end up doing stuff in compartmentalized operations for pay that never sees the light of day and POTUS doesn’t even get to hear about.’

  Jared chuckled. ‘I didn’t take you for a conspiracy theorist!’

  ‘Not wearing a tin foil hat tonight. But check on me tomorrow and I may well be.’

  ‘Oh?’

  ‘Edward has some security in place for me starting right about now. Hence the secrecy coming here.’

  ‘Shit. Yana, this is huge! I can’t expect you to take this on!’

  ‘It’s not about you any more baby. This is for my career; my future husband. Or wife. Or puppy. Or something. Maybe it’s just ‘cause I’m hooked, Okay?’

  Jared leaned back in his chair and took a suck on a vape that he was currently addicted to. Then he looked a bit crest-fallen. ‘I guess that’s it for Byron, then.’

  ‘You’re too quick to conclude.’

  ‘Men tell me that all the time!’

  ‘In bed? Or after the date?’

  ‘Both!’

  ‘What men? You don’t have any men.’ A moment of silent coffee sipping passed.

  ‘Why do you say that anyway?’

  ‘This all works out, Byron will be free to go. Legit. Access to support. New, better battery. All of it.’

  ‘Fuck. And you?’

  ‘I get a pay check. A little nest egg whatever my superiors think of the material. Means I don’t have to watch my own back regarding employment for a while. Also means I have liquid funds which I may need to use to get out of corners fast.’

  ‘Whatever happens, Yana, I want you to know how grateful I am. You’re the best friend that anyone could have.’

  ‘Soppy.’ Yana rubbed Jared’s arm. ‘Like I say. DTFM.’

  DTFM? Oh. Doing this for me. ‘So that’s what Edward thinks. What can he prove?’

  ‘A fair amount, apparently. Otherwise why coax the first reporter who steps in the door with a “mutt” sign stuck to their forehead and the dazed look of a girl who needs to further their career? Or why a data drop.’

  ‘But I don’t get it. However high this goes up, why displace a solid US firm for an Italian one on a military contract? That has national security warning signs all the way through it, doesn’t it? Even with the new pact.’

  ‘The round up.’

  ‘Which round up?’

  ‘The one where we got back all our whistle-blowers and hackers from Europe overnight.’

  ‘Hack Tuesday?’

  ‘Which country did it start in?’

  ‘Holy mother of god.’

  ‘Which year was it in?’

  ‘Fuck.’

  ‘We get our whistle-blowers back. No more whistle-blowers for a few years. Sends out a warning sign across the Web. US goes back to its operations nice and quiet like with no civil disobedience. Gotta be something in it for the people who helped.’

  ‘Wait. That’s… too complicated for my gay brain. It means the root of all of this is an intelligence plan, right?’

  ‘Somewhere, yes. The intelligence community wanted to hit back at hackers because they have a habit of going public with material that undermines the global power balance and keeps the rich at the top. But most of the hacking against the US starts to be done by US citizens on foreign soil. Not Russians. Not Chinese. They need foreign help to bust the cells. Italy would probably have helped for free under NATO, but those days are gone – as are the days of economic prosperity for the EU. They want something back. Schematics get leaked for sentient tech. Italian businessmen set up a company; replicate Brobotics’ work. Next they bust the cells. Hackers go down. Americans will be delighted with their military toys. But for questions not to get asked about the return favor – the one where a fat juicy contract goes to Italy and not Brobotics, Brobotics need to appear incompetent or weak. That’s where Dartonia comes in. They use their secret handshakes to set up a firm to play the role of Construcsapli’s first customer. Screw them from the start. The market launch of the Sentients gets sabotaged. Dartonia complain. Construcsapli don’t get to reach profit. Then after a while "Oh, look! There’s another option for the US military in Italy." Boom.’

  ‘I’m …not sure I want anything to do with having Byron in my house now. He was just a broken man who needed help. Now he’s a pawn in a chess game that I’m too small to play.’ Jared mused a little more. ‘The world is never what it appears to be.’

  ‘No. That’s true. You sound like you’re talking about your past when you say it though.’

  Jared just gave an ironic smile at that. Yana knew him too well.

  ‘Look, you’re not on the security watch yet. Having said that hon, keep your wits about you. Watch your browsing history. Sticky tape your webcam. Say nothing important over 10G. That kind of thing.’

  ‘Right.’ Jared wiped his brow. ‘Do that anyway. So what next?’

  ‘I wait for Edward’s file. Scan for leads. Substantiate those gut feelings. Then we can see about political deals regarding jailed hackers. Someone’s gotta know.’

  ‘I can’t help feeling though… Sorry, this is selfish…’

  ‘Say it.’

  ‘Well, if Brobotics is going south as well as Construcsapli, then what use is our reward for Byron?’

  ‘Maybe that’s a research job for you. Find out if those units can manage without software upgrades. If so, how long. If not, who can help. If I were you I’d start making friends with some robot rights groups too. There are a few; and if that dude does make it back out on the streets you’re going to need to know a bit more about the lay of the land on that side if he’s to have any kind of a life. I can’t imagine a sentient construction worker will stay sane as a housemaid in your pad all his life.’

  ‘Wait, though. Dartonia were founded in 1992. That’s way too far back for them to be a front, no?’

  ‘You’re far too trusting, honey. I already checked on that. It’s what their signs say. But it isn’t true.’

  ‘Huh. So they're post truth.’

  Fighters for Different Freedoms All

  On the pretext of a news story about the cost of hacker mischief to global security that Yana didn’t plan on actually writing she was entering a high-security prison to meet the famed Jules White. She’d paid for the trip out of her own pocket so she was definitely committed to that pay check now. In fact, the further she went with this, she reminded herself, the more she would need it to all come out.

  She didn’t have high hopes for the encounter. Jules was an irritating man to most people. Self-righteous; bright, but not bright enough for humility - a child dressed in a man’s body serving time for something he probably still had wet dreams about. Robin Hood on the one hand, everything that was wrong about geek culture on the other. But she was here. And he’d been there. Italy. 2051. Hiding out under a pseudonym. Running a website. Drip-feeding leaks to the world. And he’d gone down.

  ‘Well you’re brave or stupid.’ Jules was leaning back in a plastic chair holding the interview phone to his ear.

  ‘Nice meeting you too, Mr White. Probably stupid.’

  ‘You want me to say nice things? Tell people how sorry I am for what I did? Showed them the truth about how things run in our government, but they needn’t worry now? Make it all go back to normal? Or is that a cover?’ Jules chuckled to himself. ‘If it’s a cover then you’re in way too deep, lady. Think we can talk in private here?’

  ‘Okay. If that’s the tone of this exchange then it works like this, Jules. I ask you questions. You answer them. If you can’t answer, you can always …speak with silence.’

  The mundane questions came first. Yana had to make it appea
r run-of-the-mill at least. She’d devised some preliminaries – openers that would be the kind of questions she should be asking if she was writing the story she’d said that she was. For the later questions, the ones she’d really come to ask, she was hoping Jules was bright enough to have taken that opening hint. She felt that he did; his respect for her had altered quickly, signaled by the fact that he was now sat up in the chair holding the phone with care and watching her attentively from behind the glass partition.

  ‘Two more questions if I may, Jules. The Interpol operation that got you deported back here for trial. Initiated Italy side, or our side?’

  Theirs.

  ‘And how does the US military ensure national security when contracting mission-critical tech to foreign firms?’

  Just be the bigger fish. ‘Happy hunting, Yana.’ Jules hung up the phone, stood, and waited to be escorted back to his cell.

  “Ever closer military ties with our allies” Jana was repeating an old forgotten US presidential speech line back to herself as she left the interview chamber for the bright outdoors. Once there she was assaulted by piercing mid-day sunlight and a mild sandstorm. A long wait for a personed taxi car was spent sitting on a bench under a canopy. She kept her shades and hat on, giving no expressions. But her mind was busy.

  Why was Italy so keen to make its tin soldiers into US government-issue Joes? Protection? Another thought came to Yana’s mind. It wasn’t savory. There was a story going around social media every couple years. A conspiracy. The idea was that lines between countries were blurring at high level. Lines of assets, lines of security; senses of whose army was whose. On the surface, the US wanting ever closer ties made a lot of sense; both to the US and its allies since the demise of NATO and the UN.

  Underneath, though, it didn’t look like that. It looked like the military arms of elected countries becoming one unit: one unelectable, unaccountable unit. And that scared the pants off of most civilians. To talk about it was to raise specters, conjure ghosts, be talking nonsense, or simply be impolite. But it was happening. Yana could feel it. What would challenge it? Could a single reporter on a single story bring forward a public and democratic discussion about the whole thing? Could she? Was she the one to do it? Did she want to be the one? The only thing to untie this kind of international knot thought Yana to herself, is another knot.

  Yana was on a night flight to Rome within 48 hours.

  --

  Jared rang the doorbell. Jason’s place was a 1940’s town house much like his own. He could hear the dubstep bass booms from outside and wondered if anyone would answer. As the heavy wooden front door opened, hallway light spilled onto the street like a noir scene, as did the noise of the music and guests; plus the unsavory scent of booze, cigarettes and sweat.

  Steven, drunk, answered the door. ‘Oh, hey Jared!’

  ‘Hello Steven.’

  ‘Come in… this is… it’s good to see you! Are you well?’

  ‘Yes. Thank you. Is Jason here?’

  ‘The whole crowd. No Yana?’

  ‘No. She’s away.’ Jared moved past leaving Steven holding the door. Strange. Jared didn’t feel much for him any more. But it would have been nice for Jason to mention that Steven would be at the party. Jared took off his jacket and shoes and headed up the stairs, weaving through guests, to the lounge on the first floor.

  ‘Jared! You came!’ Jason shouted.

  ‘Hey buddy! I come bearing gifts!’

  ‘Alcohol table’s in the corner. Bites are on the far side.’

  Jared spent much of the evening talking with Todd and Mike. He wasn’t exactly avoiding Steven, but neither was he going out of his way to catch up. In fact he was quite happy to sit on the sofa with these guys and talk about mundane things. It had been a hard week at work, and coupled with the research he’d done with Yana he needed the party to be easy-going. Todd and Mike were vulgar, but fun. They were scene friends, really. Not close. Todd was a skinny runt with a limp wrist. Mike had a near-perfect body and an ego to suit.

  ‘Wouldn’t it be so great though if you could, like, get men with different flavors of spunk?’

  ‘I like it. Yeah! Like… strawberry.’

  ‘Or chocolate.’

  ‘Yeah, vanilla’s too obvious.’ They chuckled.

  ‘Hey, Jared. You’re one of those geek types into robots and stuff. Betcha’d like a robot man with different flavors too?’

  Children! ‘I like my men to be men, thank you. Not candy stores or vending machines.’

  ‘Speaking of which, did you see that Steven is here?’

  ‘He let me in.’

  ‘Awkward.’

  ‘Not really; it’s been long enough.’ Jared licked beer from his lips.

  ‘Did you hear he’s been dating someone?’

  ‘No. Is he here too?’

  Todd and Mike exchanged looks.

  ‘It isn’t a “he”.’

  ‘Yeah. I’m not surprised. All the more reason to have left him.’

  ‘You knew he was bi, right?’

  ‘I did. Which is of course fine. But… can we not talk about him please?’

  --

  ‘So this firm…Dartonia. You tell me they may be a front of some kind?’

  ‘That’s what the papers from Brobotics suggest yes. Or at least, every one of their board members is ex-military; which is highly strange for a civilian construction firm. And then there’s their founding date.’

  ‘It’s not enough to point a finger.’

  ‘No. But it’s enough to raise suspicion. Which is why I came to you.’

  Yana was sitting across the table from Giulia in the café just down from the office they’d met at. Giulia was the policy officer for the Italian Party for Greater Democracy (PID). Giulia had been blogging for years on her own time about a global conspiracy concerning the military of several countries and the emergence of the pacts; something Yana had to admit she’d hardly given time of day to very much in these last years. She was about serious news; and usually local news at that. She created stories; filtered information. She didn’t have time for ‘noise’. But now this wasn’t noise, and she was all ears.

  ‘The PID is sitting on some evidence that we haven’t known what to do with. It’s important. But it isn’t strictly within our political bounds to make it public. So…we haven’t; at least, not yet. Our concern is…’ Giuliana struggled for words so Yana filled in the gaps:

  ‘…that it won’t do your party any good?’

  ‘Yes. We are mainstream, but we are not a majority party here in Italy. We are not strong enough to rattle cages; not like we would if we were in power I have to tell you!’ Yana smiled politely.

  ‘I seem to be making a habit of collecting things people don't know what to do with. Shoot. What does this …evidence… prove?’

  ‘It proves that the Italian leading party in 2051 wanted to actively participate in a coalescing of international military assets and strategy without democratic debate. Our evidence proves that a high-level meeting, in Switzerland, took place between all the military officials from each country, along with some respective political leaders, and others from industry, from everyone now signed up to the international pact on the sharing of technology and assets. It took place in 2039. There is a photograph, and a memo.

  ‘The leaked memo about the meeting shows that the wheels were set in motion for a combined army developed without governmental accountability. Such an army does not exist today, of course. But it could exist now that the pact is in place. The first step was certain maneuvers to make each part, each country signing up, look like a good trade in each country’s national interest. In the case of USA, ‘hack Tuesday’ was the cover story. We cooperated with you on the biggest hacker crackdown in recent years. In return it made sense for you to reward us with a contract to build you some robot soldiers. Collaboration. Everyone is happy.

  ‘In reality, as you know now of course, we initiated ‘hack Tuesday’ ourselves; not to put the
pact on the political table - but rather to justify why it was already there. It was a simple step towards the pact. But there had never been two sides to it, really. There was only ever one.

  ‘We had some public opposition of course. But nowhere near as much as if it had come by surprise. The question for me is what is the “unelectable unit” or “sinister cartel” behind it all. That part I haven’t been able to figure out yet; because it seems inseparable from the political leaders we had at the time, the military leaders, and …well… who can go there. The memo has the names. But it doesn’t have the motive. If another team is above it, we still don’t know its shape. Even if some could talk, a lot of them by now are dead.’

  Yana smiled at Giuliana. ‘I mean… it feels frightening that there appears to be a plan going forward so that several western countries have a combined shared singular military. It feels too big; and to me it also feels un-American. Who chiefs that monster? You know? If it’s not an elected leader – or several round a table – then who!’

  ‘Di preciso.’

  ‘But there’s no evidence that we know of – yet – that it actually is frightening; that it actually is unaccountable or undermines our separate democratic systems. Who within our systems doesn’t know?’

  ‘Quite. More coffee?’

  ‘Uh…are you having?’

  ‘No! Quite full!’

  ‘No thank you, then. I just… don’t think I’d get anywhere if I pursued this story that far up the tree; and besides, I think I may be able to have enough of a story here to run with as it is. With your added evidence, that is.’