Predator One (26 page)

I said, “Jesus Christ.”

Chapter Fifty-two

Thomas Jefferson University Hospital

Philadelphia, Pennsylvania

March 30, 4:56
P.M.

Church said, “Captain, tell Bug about how the drone evaded the bottle.”

I did.

“Weird,” Bug said, frowning. “That’s too fast for pilot handling.”

“What does that tell us? Is that the commercial version of Regis?”

“Definitely not,” said Bug. “I’m not even sure it’s the full military
version.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well … the software used for some drones has a react-respond subroutine, but it’s designed specifically for the bigger UAVs. Raptors, predators, and the retrofitted QF-16’s target drones, and the experimental QF-16X Pterosaur combat drones. Haven’t seen it on anything as small as a pigeon drone.”

“Could it be done? Adapted, I mean? Is that possible?”

“Just about
anything’s technically possible, just not probable. But … to clarify,” Bug said, “is there any chance someone on-site was operating it? I mean, right there in the hall with you?”

“No way to know, but I doubt it. There were plenty of Kings goons in the building, but I didn’t see anyone in what you’d call line of sight.”

“Besides,” said Church, “there would have had to be someone operating each
of the drones for that scenario to work. We’d have had some eyewitness accounts, and there has been nothing like that. No, I think Captain Ledger’s assumption is correct. This was the drone itself reacting.”

Bug whistled. “That’s awfully fast. That’s like animal-kingdom fast. Wasp-reaction speed, at least. Perception, threat assessment, and action in a microsecond? Damn. If we’re not talking
RPA—remote-piloted aircraft—then we are talking some serious software.”

“How serious?” I asked.

He sucked a tooth for a moment. “Not … sure. From what you described, that pigeon would have had to be operating using adaptive-control techniques. We’re talking software that would allow the drone to learn on the, um, ‘fly’ and then strategize based on acquired data and ongoing variables.”

“Can
it evade attack?”

“Up to a point. AI software in the Predator drone is adaptive, and this seems to be, too, but it’s not reacting in the same way. Regis is pretty much the cutting edge as we know it.”

“One way or another,” I said, “the drones at the park had to be using some version of BattleZone, right?”

“You’d have to know computers and AI to understand why I don’t think so, Joe.”

“Then
give me the short-bus version.”

“Well, you have to start with the nature of UAVs and the software that runs them. There’s a difference between an unmanned aerial vehicle following a preset computer program and something that actually thinks for itself. Most of what is called self-guiding software isn’t really. Mostly it’s programming that allows for a lot of obvious choices. It’s task-driven.
Stuff like fly here, drop this, whatever. That’s nothing really new. I have a Rumba in my apartment that follows a set of programs to clean my rugs. And it has sensors that allow it to perform simple react-and-respond functions like not hitting walls and adjusting suction for carpet and hardwood. But that’s not what you described, Joe. You said that it evaded an object thrown at high speed and then
seemed to scan the crowd to assess the best possible attack vector. We could be talking AI complete here.”

“What’s that?”

“In the artificial intelligence field there are different classifications for function, for response, for problem solving, and like that. When a computer encounters a problem that it can’t solve—something that requires human intervention or cooperation—we call it AI complete.
Or, sometimes, AI hard. This is when simple, specific programming algorithms aren’t going to get the job done. AI-complete problems crop up a lot when vision is required in order to understand a task. Camera lenses, even those that have thermal scans and that operate in a range of visual spectrums, still don’t do what the human eye and its nerves can do. Same goes with what programmers call natural
language understanding. You can program a computer to understand anything in the dictionary, but it can’t interpret inflection, sarcasm, or other parts of human speech. Not yet. So, what you described is something a computer probably couldn’t deal with on its own. Selecting you as a threat, evaluating the potential personal harm of what you threw at it and reacting so smoothly, and then planning
a counterattack.”

“Even at computer speed? I thought these machines could outthink us. Or close enough.”

“Ha! Computers don’t actually think as fast as humans. Not even close. Look, computers are calculators. That’s what they were designed to do. Every function they perform, from finding a Web site to playing a game is a mathematical process. This plus this equals that. Computers seem smarter
because they can do a lot of calculations at high speed. Such high speeds that it looks like it’s doing a lot at once. But the human mind is the ultimate thinking machine. It does trillions of things at once. Everything from the release of hormones to regulating heartbeat to solving a Sudoku puzzle. All of the functions of cells and organs and proteins and all that organic stuff is happening simultaneously.
Computers have been built to simulate that by performing calculations at such high rates of speed that it gets to the same result as fast or faster. But we’re not there yet. No computer, not even MindReader, actually works as efficiently as a human brain.”

“Oh,” I said, more than a little confused. “Are you saying it was pure AI or that AI-complete thing?”

“That’s just it,” Bug admitted, “I
don’t know. It’s strange. If this is only the drone, then were not really talking about AI. Maybe what we’re talking about is actually AGI. Artificial general intelligence.”

“What’s the difference?”

“Well, for one thing, AGI doesn’t exist yet. It’s a hypothetical kind of artificial intelligence that is supposed to one day perform any task that a human being can perform. A true thinking robot
or thinking computer. AGI is also known as full AI, and it’s a computer mind that crosses the line from ultrahigh simulation of the human mind to something that is a machine parallel. Something that can actually think for itself. Something sapient and sentient. Something that’s self-aware.”

“Bug,” I said, “I know that the drone evaded faster than it should have. So it’s either one of these self-aware
computer systems or there was someone at the controls who had some spooky-fast reflexes. Not really crazy about either of those scenarios being the case.”

“No argument,” Bug said quickly. “Tough to know which one, though. Right now, the main focus of drone R and D is intelligence, surveillance, and reconnaissance. However, with the complexity of target acquisition in remote areas like, say, the
mountains of Afghanistan or the jungles of Mexico and down in South America, some generals at the Department of Defense have been putting pressure on the guys at DARPA to come up with AI programs that will allow an automated system that can select and eliminate its own targets.”

“How?”

“That,” said Church, “is the question at the center of the debate. The science is called neurotechnology. The
argument for these kinds of machines is that they could be programmed with a specific set of the rules of war, which would include facial recognition and other identifying software that would allow the UAV to identify targets with a high degree of probability and then selectively remove them. It’s an attempt to realize true AGI and marry sentient computers to independently operating military machines.”

“You don’t sound like a fan,” I said.

“Hardly.”

“The conspiracists out there,” said Bug, “say that because the government has not officially sanctioned that kind of program, some black-bag organization went off the reservation and is funding it under the table.”

“I want to throw the name Seven Kings out here and see if anyone thinks they’re good for it.”

“It would take their kind of money,”
said Bug. “We’re talking hundreds of millions of dollars in R and D.”

“It’s in keeping with their level of sophistication, too,” agreed Church.

“Which,” I said, “makes me want to circle back around to the idea that someone has Aaron Davidovich’s research.”

Bug sighed. “That would seriously suck.”

“The other possibility we have to brace for,” said Church, “is that the Seven Kings have Doctor
Davidovich himself.”

I nodded. “Which makes me wonder if we shouldn’t ask our pet tarantula about that.”

“Who?” asked Bug.

“He means Toys,” said Church.

“How would he know? Davidovich was taken a couple of years after Toys, um, had his change of heart. Or whatever.”

I made a rude sound that Church chose to ignore.

Church gave me a considering look, however. “It seems like a cold lead, but
I’ll call and ask.”

Chapter Fifty-three

Boyer Hall

University of California, Los Angeles

March 30, 5:07
P.M.

The gathered students and faculty members joined the president in a moment of silence. On the big screen that covered the rear wall, there was a live but silent feed of people standing vigil before a growing mound of flowers, children’s toys, and photographs.

The president raised his head and said,
“Thank you.”

The quiet persisted, however. The hall was packed, and this gathering was as somber as the one on the screen. The continual flashes of the press cameras gave the scene a strange strobe quality that seemed to enhance the stillness rather than add an element of movement.

There were synched teleprompters on either side of the podium, but the president didn’t look at them. Instead,
he gazed out at the sea of faces.

Finally, he nodded and began to speak. Ignoring the script. Speaking for once truly from the heart.

“I’m standing with you here,” he said slowly, “and together we stand with the families and friends of the people in Philadelphia who have suffered terrible losses. Just as all America has stopped to look east, to the birthplace of our nation and the cradle of
our liberty.”

He shook his head.

“America is the most powerful nation on earth. In terms of our economy, our military, our potential. We all know this. The risk of being so strong, however, is that we sometimes fall into a dangerous complacency. We begin to believe our own fiction, our hype that we are not only unbeatable but untouchable.”

He paused and looked at the faces who watched him.

“After Pearl Harbor, when America was delivered a crushing blow in a cowardly sneak attack, we got up from where we’d fallen, we brushed off the dust, wiped away the blood, and stood together to rebuild, improve, arm, and react. We became the world’s first true superpower. And from then until the end of the twentieth century, we were that powerful. No one struck us. No blow landed on us.”

He shook
his head again.

“And then on September eleventh, 2001, early in the twenty-first century, we were struck again. Not on an island thousands of miles away from the mainland. But we took an arrow to the heart. New York City. Hijacked planes flew across our skies and struck the World Trade Center. The Towers, symbols of American power, trembled and fell, and that sent a shudder of fear through the
veins of this nation. Another plane hit the Pentagon, and a fourth crashed in a field, taking with it heroic citizens who, in the moment of crisis, stood together to fight back. On that terrible, terrible day, the belief that we could not be hurt was proven to be a lie we, in our vanity, told ourselves.”

He looked around.

“And what was our reaction? Did we lay down and give up? Did we lose hope
in our strength? Did we lose faith in our God?”

He smiled. A small, sad smile.

“Of course not. We stood up again. Now—I will not discuss whether all of the actions we took in the wake of 9/11 were the appropriate ones. Second-guessing and Monday-morning quarterbacking are for historians. When that happened, I was a small-town mayor making a run at the governor’s office. I was not called upon
to vote for or against the policies of that time. It would be unfair of me to criticize anyone who had to think through their own shock and hurt in order to make a decision. No, I won’t throw that kind of punch.”

A fresh flurry of camera flashes bathed him in light.

“I am the president now. Today. And yesterday our country was struck again. Bombs were detonated at a baseball stadium in Philadelphia.
Citizens—our fellow citizens—died. Many more were injured, some critically. This time, I must react. This crisis is mine. Possibly the defining moment of my presidency. I wish it could be different, that I would be offered a better choice. But one thing that the powers of the presidency does not include is choice. Not that kind of choice. This is mine, and I accept it. Now I must make decisions
that will determine how America responds to this crisis. Tomorrow morning I will be in Philadelphia. I am in constant contact with all of the emergency-response teams and investigative agencies that are already on the ground.”

He leaned on the podium and stared into the burning lights of the press cameras.

“We don’t yet know who is behind this attack. I have placed all of the resources we possess—our
military, our intelligence networks, our federal, state, and local law enforcement—to determining who is responsible. For now, those cowards are hiding from us. They will not be able to hide forever. They will not be able to hide for long. We will find them. We will learn who they are and where they are. And we will hunt them down.”

He spaced those last three words so that they hit like punches.

“Right now, this moment, I am speaking to the people who did this and to anyone working with them, helping them, or hiding them. Listen to me. Hear me. We are coming for you. Don’t think that you are too small to slip between our fingers. You are not. Don’t believe that you can hide. You cannot. Don’t fool yourself into believing that you can hide inside the borders of a sovereign nation, or that
we will not cross those borders to find you. We will. I tell you now, before the people gathered here, before my fellow Americans who are watching, before the world, which has paused to listen, we will find you.” He paused and his lip curled for a moment, giving his face a feral cast. “America is coming for you.”