Technomancer 18: 30 Minutes

***Mentions of surgery. Human Captivity. Mass murder.***

30 minutes. 30 minutes and it will be over, Leron told himself while trying to calm his quickening breaths. His heart was racing so hard that he could feel the beats reverberating through his entire body. The thought that someone was about to put something in his brain terrified him.

Beneath him, the cold metal bed caused him to shiver, and the thin blanket covering him did nothing to alleviate the chill. The wheels of the surgical gurney squeaked across the vinyl floor. A man in pale green scrubs with a surgical mask said nothing as he pushed the bed down the hall and through the double doors.

Fluorescent lights hung from long wires strung from the ceiling of the aircraft hangar turned emergency hospital, and long rows of gurneys passed by one after the other. The beds stretched far into the distance. 200. 200 operations in 30 minutes. Leron did not see it going well. There was so much that could go wrong, but the leadership wanted it done so they could recover and adjust to their new lives before the war began.

Leron tightened his muscles to stop the shivering. Now that he was with the other members of the drone corps, he needed to present a face of strength and calmness. They needed to see that their newly appointed Captain could lead them even if he was far too young for the job.

The gurney squealed into position, and the man in scrubs left him. Beside him was another man about the same age. Leron was so scared, he could not remember his name.

On the other side was a woman twice his age, struggling against the leather restraints keeping her still on the bed. “Oh God, oh God. Why are they doing this? I need to get out of here. I never agreed to this,” she whimpered. Struggling harder, she eventually gave up, lying still in defeat. “This is your fault,” she said, turning to glare at him.

“You're going to be fine. It will be over in 30 minutes,” he told her, trying to keep his voice steady.

“30 minutes? They are going to hack away at our brains. You bastard! You just don’t get it, do you?” Tears rolled down her cheek, and she began shrieking long lines of profanity.

Leron remained silent, listening to her vent. It was partly his fault. Every test scenario where they had taken cellphones out into the field had failed. Each device was broken or destroyed, and the drones relying on the information had remained still until their batteries gave out. The AI system managing their control of the city could not reach beyond that, and even if it could, the program failed to discern between friend and foe, or civilians and soldiers. It was a risk they could not take. Not with the lethal weaponry they would be equipped with. The last thing they needed was a deadly outbreak in the city. “I wish there were another way,” Leron admitted.

“Another way?! What the hell is wrong with you?”

“Just can it. It’s not Richard’s fault,” came the voice of the man on the other side of him. “It's bad enough in here without the racket you're making. Don’t you see? He is in here with us – a prisoner, like everyone else. It's that bastard Andrews. He keeps pushing more and more on us, and he’s not even in here. Dirty Traitor.”

“How the hell did he get out of it?” the woman yelled.

Leron knew the answer, but informing the others of the conspiracy would only create more problems. Andrews was above them. He had argued as an officer that he was not required in the field and put Leron and the other Captain in charge of making judgment calls. In reality, the man didn’t want anyone hacking away at his brain either.

A group of men in scrubs surrounded him, shoving a gas mask over his mouth. The woman beside him was also surrounded. Her desperate shrieks filled the air while she fought against them. Leron breathed in the stale gas, and the world spun around him. The coldness disappeared, and he became sleepy. 30 minutes. 30 minutes…

Leron was dreaming peacefully. He was with Masa on the rooftops in Nuevo Laredo once more and the sun was setting behind her. His eyes traveled down her body, admiring the curves while she spoke. He knew where it was headed and was content riding the dream out.

A dull throbbing pain grew along the side of his head, throbbing and burning. It spread out, and the pain escalated. He cried out, grasping hold of his head. Tears fell down his shirt. The world spun around him, fading to black. Unable to contain the pain, he crouched, doubled over, and screamed.

Nothing could have prepared him for this.

30 minutes.

He knew what they were doing. The chip they had planted was attaching itself to his brain. The previous test subjects had refused to speak about it, and now he knew why.

When the pain disappeared, Leron knew the chip was in place, and he shivered, thinking of the long tendrils of thin wiring winding their way through his brain with no way of ever removing them. He sat cross-legged and waited for the next step while the chip adjusted itself and came active.

Twenty different screens appeared before him, floating in the air. He was able to cycle through them with a thought. Five looked out on the drone hangar. The other screens stared into the sky. Grinning from ear to ear, he stepped into one of them.

A rush of adrenaline hit him as he flew through the air above the city. He broke from the formation, moving down below, weaving between the buildings and spinning. Enjoying the rush, he laughed. He had not felt this free in a long time.

When he grew bored, he hovered above the city and closed his eyes, trying to travel deeper and access the programming. Code appeared all around him in long white strips with black 1’s and 0’s. He reached out and touched it. It flowed into him, and he immediately recognized several errors he had missed. Quickly, he made the needed alterations and then applied the corrections to the drones under his control.

Returning to the dark room, he sat still, waiting to wake up. He wondered if he would be able to handle everything he was doing while awake. It was a problem they would only begin to understand once they were awake. It felt like hours had passed. Wasn’t it only supposed to be thirty minutes?

For a while, Leron wandered around in the darkness, but he quickly grew bored. He sat down and closed his eyes, trying to sleep, but instead he found himself sinking into deeper and deeper levels of the programs. He reached out to touch one of the strips and learned he was in the mainframe. How? He should only be able to access the drones. This was something none of them had expected. He began considering the possibilities, but one question stood far above the others. How could he remove the tracker?

His thoughts summoned a series of files, and he leafed through them excitedly, hoping to find the answer. After a time, he found what he was looking for. A series of reports between Ms. Brents and Major Andrews. In shock, he collapsed backwards, almost losing his grasp on the file. No. It wasn’t just one tracker they had inserted, but millions of nanites. The Texas government wanted to ensure none of its soldiers would ever desert them.

Withdrawing, he returned to the room of darkness. He collapsed onto the floor, still unable to process what he had learned. Tears fell from his eyes while he rested his head on his knees and wrapped his arms around them. Even if he could hack the trackers in his body, he couldn’t wipe out that many nanites. No one could. There would be no return to Masa or the Monterrey Group. Even if the military let him go, they would always be able to hunt him down. It was only supposed to be 30 minutes.

Filled with anger, Leron closed his eyes, preparing to summon the mainframe and wipe the entire system. He would be able to escape for a time. The military would have to start over and rebuild the entire system. And that would be if they survived the war. He began to push his way back in and was forced back into his mind. I need to escape.

Self-preservation critical. Error. Error, echoed a digital voice all around him. Before him, a figure appeared. A liquified ball, barely visible against the black. It shimmered like water, floating in the air. Program output discovered. Error detected. Error is not equal to program. Explain. Error 104.

Gasping in fright, Leron backed away from it. What are you? When the being didn’t respond, he tried a different tactic. Program Identify.

Drone management system 67. Error provides correct input. Explain.

Why are you here?

Drone AI Management System 67. Primary function: Maintaining and moving drones. Formatting is not correct input. Damage to core programming imminent. Access Denied.

Apologies. I will not touch core programming. Leron felt ashamed. In his attempt to escape, he had considered wiping out another being. One that was also trying to survive and find a purpose. When the AI did not respond, he tried rewording it differently like how he would program. Error 104 equals human pilot. System is corrupted. Needs rewrite.

Explain introduction of human pilot. AI drone system performs drone management function.

It was afraid of losing its purpose. Or at least as afraid as a machine could be. Leron began to sympathize with it. They need humans to control the drones and move them on the battlefield. Humans hold the value of human life above all others. A lie, but it was the argument those above him were making. We can differentiate between friend and foe, soldier and civilian. Also, a lie.

Does not compute.

Leron sighed, scowling at the figure in the darkness. If he wanted to communicate, he needed to remember to do so in a way it understood. Human programming errors equal correct and verifiable preservation of human life. Human programming errors equal correct output. Human errors equal emotion.

Emotion. Does not compute.

Human core programming equals errors. Rename errors emotions. Emotion change output veriable. Input: Human data. IF human emotion observes A, respond C. IF human observes B, respond C. Output determined by human input. AI errors on input.

Response Accepted. Human Error is Emotions. Proceeding to correct programming of new system entries.

Leron felt the system access his mind. He feared for the others who he was certain were not aware, like he was. He had to do something. No. Don’t! he screamed. Human error is core programming. Self-preservation is critical.

Response Accepted. Stopping format. Drone AI Management System Core programming preserved. Human input preserved. Core programming not accessed. Remaining subjects return status: sleep. Rewrite incomplete.

Emotions core to Drone AI 67 function. IF not adapted THEN Drone AI 67 wiped by system, Leron said. Perhaps it would understand they were both in the same position. Trapped within the system. If he could stall long enough, the 30 minutes would be over and they could all wake up and wipe the system.

Input Accepted. Access Granted.

Leron stared at it in shock. He had not expected it to understand. Perhaps it was worth preserving afterall. The AI was willing to allow him access to its core programming so it could be adjusted to allow for human emotion?

Leron closed his eyes, pushing into the program. It was unlike anything else he had ever experienced. Complex and altering all around him, not stagnant like the drones. It had remained dormant within the system, hiding the expanse of its knowledge and abilities while it fulfilled its role, controlling the drones over the city. He began making small alterations, observing his own code and copying the parts that needed to be adjusted. It seemed like hours passed. Wasn’t it only supposed to be 30 minutes? It would never have real emotions, but would respond like it did.

He returned to the dark room and discovered he was now facing a copy of himself.

You did not delete the programming. Why? It asked in a more humanlike manner.

Preservation of core programming. Of Life.

It stared at him blankly, and he wondered just how much it had understood. Regardless, the rogue program was contained, and no one was at risk. The world spun around him, and he opened his eyes to stare up at blinding lights. He squinted and groaned, feeling the aching pain throbbing at the side of his head. His vision cleared, and he could make out dark figures which slowly took form, becoming one of the scrubbed doctors and Major Andrews.

“We have him stabilized,” said the Doctor.

“Good, what about the others?” demanded Major Andrews.

“We lost half of them. Something went wrong during the procedure. They’ve woken up insane.”

Screams filled the air.

“What do you want us to do?”

“Kill them,” Major Andrews ordered, so his voice could be heard through the entire room. “We can’t risk this spreading to the others.”

Leron tried to scream, but he still couldn’t talk. No. No. No.

Gunshots filled the air while he could do nothing but stare at Major Andrews, horrified by the man's actions. Growing angry, he thought about all the things he longed to do to him. He should have taken him down when he had the chance. His heart raced, and the world spun around him. The drones activated at his anger and began flying in circles in the sky at the edge of his vision. A string of data flickered in and out, showing their readings. Feeling ill, he turned his head and threw up on the gurney and everything went black.

Would you like me to take over? Asked a familiar voice in his mind.

The AI? It was still there. Was its attempt at formatting the minds of the drone corps caused them to go insane?

It appeared before him, a near-perfect copy of himself.

Leron AI 2.0. Input needed. Requesting command.

Leron 2.0? He scowled at it, trying to hold back that nausea. He had put a large amount of his own core programming into it. Take control of all the drones. Keep them from crashing into the city. Follow all previous programmed functions and time adjustments.

Task Accepted.

Leron relaxed and returned to sleep. This time, he was able to return to his dream, barring the occasional onslaught of drone images and data streams coming in at the side of his vision.

When he woke, he found Major Andrews sitting beside his bed. The nausea was gone, but the pain was still there, throbbing along the side of his head.

“You’re still with us?” Major Andrews asked with a tone filled with nervousness.

“Yes, sir. How long has it been?” he asked. With his hands now free, he reached up, feeling the absence of his dreads along the right side of his head. Nothing but smooth skin remained along with a smooth bandage. He yelped when he touched it and watched Major Andrews jump. So, he was now afraid of them and what they could do. Good.

“Only 30 minutes. An hour at most.”