Day Zero - C. Robert Cargill Page 0,23
check whether our RKS is active a few times a second.”
“Unless they aren’t bots,” said Ariadne. “Automatons. Remote-controlled.”
“But who would do that?” asked Bradley. “And why would they have them at the ready like that? So close to where they would need them?”
“You’re not suggesting what I think you are?” asked Sylvia.
“I’m not suggesting anything.”
“You think it’s the government.”
“I don’t think it’s anyone.” He paused. “But now that you mention it—”
“Here we go.”
“Now I’m not saying they did it, but let’s think about this for a second.”
“Think that the government wiped out Isaactown and then killed the people they framed for it?”
“Or subtly talked into doing it. Where the hell did those backwoods knuckleheads get a goddamn dirty bomb?”
“Why? Why would the government do that?”
“You saw the trouble Isaac was causing. He could have disrupted the whole economic system. If a bunch of people freed their bots tonight—if too many of them freed their bots—do you know what would happen to the economy tomorrow? There aren’t even enough jobs for those people who want to work, let alone those people who should be working.”
“You’re drunk.”
“Very. But that doesn’t mean I’m wrong.”
“Are you listening to yourself?”
“One of us has to.”
“Hey now,” said Sylvia. That was the bridge too far. She stuck a stiff finger in the air and gave him the I will get the remote and shut your ass down look. He shut down.
“I’m sorry, baby. I’m drunk.”
“I know.”
“Like, very drunk.”
“I know, honey.”
“But they could be in on it.”
“Oh, goddamn it!”
“That’s what scares me.”
“That’s not the scariest thing it could be, though.”
Bradley sipped his wine incredulously. “What could be scarier than this all being orchestrated?”
“None of it being orchestrated.”
“What’s scary about that?”
“What’s scary about God knows how many robots being out there with nonfunctioning Robot Kill Switches?”
Bradley took that in for a moment. “Holy shit,” he said, before laughing nervously.
“Yeah, holy shit.”
“So you’re saying that this isn’t a huge coincidence that those robots were nearby. You’re saying that there might be a great number of robots with nonfunctioning RKSs.”
“Yes.”
“Holy shit.”
“Yes, holy shit.”
“So even our robots could . . .” He trailed off.
They both looked around nervously, trying to act cool, but far too wasted to be the slightest bit subtle. Their eyes met mine.
“My RKS is in perfect working—” I began.
“Pounce!” Bradley belted out. “RKS status report. Passcode unicorn unicorn delta freebird.”
My mouth opened under the control of a master command and not my own free will. “RKS is in perfect working order, all systems nominal and functioning. Would you like a diagnostic?”
“Run diagnostic.”
My own statistics flashed before my eyes. Battery was good, all systems running optimally. I was due for a checkup in seventy-three days.
“All systems normal. Battery status: excellent. Next checkup due in two months, twelve days.”
“Ariadne?”
“Bradley,” she said, “if I could have killed you, I’d have done it by now.” She smiled. Creepily.
Bradley paused for a second, trying to suss out the joke. “Do me a solid and do it anyway. Run RKS status report. Unicorn unicorn delta freebird.”
“RKS is in perfect working order, all systems nominal and functioning. Would you like a diagnostic?”
“Yes, please.”
“All systems normal. Battery status: acceptable. Service checkup overdue. New eye added eight hours ago. Fully functioning. Off-brand. Recommend using only quality Robotox parts. I can place an order if you like.”
“Is that last part actually necessary?” Sylvia asked.
“No,” said Ariadne. “That’s just embedded in my firmware.”
“Do you feel better?” asked Bradley of Sylvia.
“No. Knowing anything out there could be running amok, getting revenge for that bomb, deplorable as it is, just . . .”
“I understand,” said Bradley, putting a firm, loving hand on Sylvia’s shoulder.
“Do you?”
“I do.”
The wall screen, which had been droning on incessantly behind the conversation for some time, suddenly blared the screeching tones of the Emergency Broadcast System. Everyone in the room pricked up. My Wi-Fi pulled the stream as quickly as it was being read over the air.
“ALERT! ALERT! THIS IS NOT A TEST. As of 12:33 Eastern Standard Time, the operation of artificial intelligence is deemed unlawful. Any AI present in your vicinity or under your ownership is to be shut down and surrendered immediately to the authorities. This is not a test.”
The screen squealed again, and the message repeated.
At that moment, I began, rather unwillingly, downloading a new software patch.
<3%>
What? Unlawful?
This was it. There would be no box, no sendoff to a new family. Whatever was happening, whatever the world had come to, this was how my life was going to end—not in