go over to Dr. Jeffrey Stein, professor of advanced robotics at NYU. Dr. Stein, thank you for coming on with such short notice.”
The feed cut over into a side-by-side shot of Reilly and a disheveled, wiry professor with a crooked tie speaking into a webcam. “Thank you for having me.”
“Professor, you’re the head of your department at NYU and worked for Murphy Advance Dynamics for fifteen years.”
“That is correct.”
“And were you watching the ceremonies in Isaactown tonight?”
“I can’t imagine who wasn’t. What we were watching was an evolution in human history. The point at which we as a species could be stepping forward into a radically different future.”
“So, in your expert opinion, could robots exposed to an EMP blast, packed together like that, at the range we are assuming it was generated, could they . . . could they survive such a blast? And if not in the short run, could we see the reactivation of Isaac or any of the others?”
He took a deep breath. “No, Reilly. Bots are things of plastic, wire, and metal. Their memories, their very personalities, are encoded on drives. Like us, manufacturing imperfections can lead to dramatic shifts in personality. At that proximity, an EMP blast that reached as far out as it did, well, only military-grade robots are designed to withstand such conditions.”
“So you’re saying—”
“I presume that every last one of them is gone and likely in no condition to be brought back.”
Reilly covered her mouth with her hand, forgetting for a moment that she was on camera.
“Even if you could replace their parts, they wouldn’t be themselves. They wouldn’t have their memories or perhaps even the temperaments they had before the explosion.”
“That’s literally thousands of robot citizens . . .”
“Gone, yes.”
Reilly touched her ear and she pulled herself out of slipping into melancholy. “Thank you very much, Professor. But now we’ve got breaking news.” We go back to the studio again. “Authorities confirm that there was in fact an explosion of a nuclear nature, most likely what is called a dirty bomb—a small, portable, homemade device with a very small yield, capable of generating a large pulse of EMP but not powerful enough to be of immediate danger to surrounding communities or even have any lasting radiation risk. We repeat, there is no threat of radiation risk. You at home have nothing to fear from this explosion. At this time, the cause of the explosion remains unknown and authorities are not ruling anything out. They promise to keep us updated as information continues to come in, and we’ll stay with you all night as our continuing coverage of the Isaactown tragedy unfolds.”
Bradley and Sylvia exchanged troubled looks.
“This is one of those moments,” said Bradley.
“What moments?” asked Sylvia.
“One of those where were you when moments. This . . . this is . . . it’s going to change everything. Tomorrow is going to be a very different day.”
“It might not be terrorism. It could have been . . . some sort of accident.”
“Those robots shouldn’t have had anything that could have done that.”
“They were running off their own power grid. That much electricity must come from somewhere. They might have built their own small nuclear power plant.”
“Maybe,” he said. “Maybe this is the Titanic and not 9/11. But if it is 9/11 . . .”
“Then we’ll deal with it.”
“I’m gonna level with you,” said Bradley. “I’m too drunk to handle this right now. I’m going to need you to be the adult in the room tonight.”
“Asshole, I’m drunk too.”
“Yeah, but you’re better at it than I am.”
“That’s true.”
“So what do we do?”
Sylvia thought for a moment. “This is going to be a rough night. We need more wine.”
Chapter 1001
Claiming to Be Wise, They Became Fools
The hour following the announcement of the attack was as frenetically confused as the moments that preceded it. The streams were each an endless series of talking heads trying to make sense of the chaos, no matter their political bent. The left-leaning channels all pointed to right-wing “human lives matter” extremists, arguing that heated political rhetoric no doubt led to the attack, while their right-leaning counterparts were careful to distance this as the work of either a foreign terror group or a dangerous loner.
When someone claimed responsibility for the attack, it came as a complete surprise. When the people claiming responsibility turned out to be members of the First Baptist Church of Eternal Life from Okeechobee, Florida, it was far less of one. Most people had heard of them