Dark City - The Pub
“We have highly sophisticated, highly explosive, high altitude, hunter drones. Surely we can beat a few shambling, off kilter, interloping, junk bots.”
We’re back at the pub, planning the breakout. We have the place to ourselves. Everyone ran when Harkon walked in. They would have ran when they saw me, but she happened to go in first.
“The interlopers are spread out over the city.” says Harkon. “We can only beat them til we run out of hunters. Then they’ll overrun us.”
She’s lying.
I arch a brow. “They must concentrate somewhere. Where are they built? Where are they maintained?”
“At the prison. We could blow it to hell, but it’s filled with the people we want to save. And Big Cheddar. According to you.”
Hmm. A simple solution comes to mind. But Henry’s in there, and Soca’s at the table, so I keep it to myself. Call it Plan B.
“Okay. So we rescue the hostages first.”
“That’ll be tricky.” says Soca. “The Interlopers can see the hostages.”
“Also, they can see us.” adds Harkon. “Surely you’ve noticed.”
I have. It irks me. “Our camo’s scorching. How do they have better threat detectors than us? I realize it’s possible, but really? Never happened before.”
“They’re using a hybrid system.” says Harkon. “Subconscious Human Oversight. Like the Handshake Protocol.”
Very interesting. I don’t know what that means. Like, I understand each word, but not in that arrangement. Soca and Volt look similarly bewildered.
Soca eloquens our confusion. “Tha fuk?”
“There’s humans in the loop. Not as pilots. Too slow. They aren’t controlling the bots, just seeing what they see. When that’s a pattern, our brainwaves change. Happens in milliseconds.” Lily taps her brain scanning sticker. “This tells the d-bot to focus up - something important is happening. Sounds stupid, but it works pretty good. D-bots are generally more competent than humans, but they fail to notice unlikely events. This is a patch for that. It’s similar to how we find each other in dream games. Except those humans are looped into soundscapes, rather than visuals.”
Huh. That’s hard to wrap my head around. And I’m pretty sure I invented the handshake protocol. Dammit. I’m in this to my eyeballs. No wonder everyone wants to kill me. Probably shouldn’t mention that to Harkon.
Another thought occurs. “If there’s humans in the loop, let’s blow them up. Interlopers go blind. We rescue the hostages. Problem solved.”
Lily gives me a snarky look. “Why do you think they’re stuffing people in tubes?”
“Seriously? The people we’re trying to save are the same people trying to kill us?” Plan B is looking real simple.
“Nope. Those people are victims. Forced labor.” Soca points at me. “Don’t get any ideas.”
I smack his finger away. “Fine. What are your ideas?”
“Flood the building with bug bots. Chew through all the wires. Interlopers lose their hybrid threat detectors. We walk through the building with active camo. Rescue whoever we want. Maybe find Big Cheddar, and execute him gangland style.”
Incredible. I love this plan. It won’t work, but I love it.
I sigh. “The Interlopers are really good at squishing bug bots. Also, we can’t flood the building. We’ve got a hundred pounds of bug bots, tops.” I pause. “They do double in number every day. We could flood the building in a week or two.”
Soca shakes his head. “We don’t have a week. Henry will be dead in two days without his pills. Also, the election is in two days. We’ll lose if the Interlopers run the streets. Four more years of Big Cheddar in charge.”
“Fine.” Harkon sniffs. “We do it tomorrow.”
Soca and I exchange a look. “Uh… do what?”
“Invite the Interlopers out, so Volt can chew wires.”
“Do they want to meet you?”
“Oh yes.” Harkon takes a swig of soda in an empty bar. “I’m very popular.”
Her phone rings. It’s her father. She squints at it for a moment, then answers. “Oui, allo?”
“Why is there a giant monkey passed out on my lawn?”
“That’s an accelerated human. Give him a coffee when he wakes up.”
“It’s a giant monkey and he’s getting a boot in the arse when he wakes up. Where are you? Are you still with that lying old lady?”
“Yes.”
“You should stay away from her. She’s dangerous.”
I preen under his suspicion. This guy gets it.
“Where are you?”
“I’m at kkkhh, kkkh, sorry, you’re breaking up. Kkkh.”
Click. She hangs up.
“Why didn’t you tell him where we are?”
“I don’t want to see him.”
“Not everything is about you.”
We stare at each other. Soca stands. Slaps his legs. “Whelp. If we’re storming the castle tomorrow, I gotta do some shit.”
Harkon and I continue to stare at each other.
“Me too.”
“I, as well.”
We leave the pub. She storms off. I slink out.
I grumble to Volt. “Fucking allies off to do sneaky shit behind my back. Wish I had sneaky shit to do.”
I think I figured out something sneaky. Can you help me with it?
“D’aww. I’d be honored. What’s the plan?”
First, you need to get on the roof of a tall building.
“Which one?”
Any of them. I found a pattern, but you can only see it from up there.
Alright. I look around at the skyscrapers that dot the city. Let’s do this.
Twenty minutes later, I’m on the roof of an apartment megaplex. It’s windy. The sea of drones twinkles around us. I stare into the neon technoscope, looking for Volt’s pattern. But I’m way off. Missing the point. Her little bug body hops off my shoulder and chews a bullet hole in the tar and asphalt roof. Skitters back out.
Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.
Stick your finger in there.
“Okay.” I do so. “What now?”
Pull.
I pull, and a square foot of asphalt pops out. Behold the cruelest treasure of all. 36 hunter drones. Glistening in oil. My god.
“You said I could go to any roof.”
Yeah. They’re fucking everywhere. It’s a pattern.
“I guess so.”
Check for a book. Sometimes there’s a book.
I look, and there’s a book. Plain brown cover. Wedged beside the hunters. I fish it out. In a small, old-timey font, the cover says:
TOTAL RESISTANCE
The War Fighting Manual For Those Left Behind Enemy Lines
Well, fuck.
“How did you find these hunters?”
I could smell them. Driving me crazy.
I give her a sharp look. “Have you been eating them?”
I wish. We’ve got ten minutes until Harkon’s dad shows up to smash us.
How exciting. I sit criss-cross-applesaucily. Get learned up on diplomacy’s last gasp.
> Welcome to Operation Gladio. Should the city be overrun, your mission is to stay behind and destroy the enemy from within. Wait until they rest, then never let them sleep again. Specifically, you must recruit civilians, identify the resources the enemy cannot operate without, then relentlessly attack those resources. Your weapons are confusion, fear, and explosives. This manual will cover the organization and tactics of resistance movements as well as the enemy operations used against them. CHAPTER ONE - THE BASIC RULES OF TERROR…
I read for a few minutes, then address the shadows near the roof access stairwell. “Interesting stuff. Though, I notice you’re not doing it.”
A huge form emerges from those shadows. He’s geared up. Helmet, vest, boots. “There’s been no enemy invasion. This is what we do to ourselves.”
“Your daughter would disagree. Big Cheddar being local doesn’t make him less of an enemy. And you could destroy the Interlopers whenever you want.”
“Then what?”
I don’t have an easy answer. He looms closer.
“Seriously, then what? I could kill the Interlopers. Hell, I could kill everybody. That’s easy. But what’s step two of this fucking plan? Operation Gladio wasn’t set up to make me dictator for life. I was to clear enemy forces so my allies could move back in. No allies, no point. Chekhov's Gun only has one bullet. I shoot my shot, then I’ve got nothing.
“But all that’s a red herring. My problem isn’t limited ammo. It’s the limits of force. There’s only so much you can do with threats and violence. It’s way easier to kill people than keep them alive. Sure, I can blow shit up, but where does that put us? This city’s in late stage Jenga. Barely hanging on. Everything’s crucial, no back-up. I bump any block, and the whole thing comes down.
“So, yeah. What’s the fucking plan?”
He’s close. I can feel the heat off him. It’s not bad. “Chekhov’s Gun?”
He leans back, Shrugs. “That’s what I call the apparatus. Most weapons of mass destruction are meant to be seen and not used. Mine’s supposed to be secret, but must be used if seen.”
“I barely saw it.”
His helmet nods. “Fair enough.”
“It could probably use an update.”
“It does not.”
“Fine then. I won’t bump your elbow. Except I’m emptying this stash. I need a few more hunters. Windfall tax.”
“Alright.”
“Look at me grabbing them. I couldn’t bend like this, like, before. Now folding in half, no problem.”
“Good for you.”
“Yeppers. This pose is called downward dog. Unless you’re getting railed. Then it’s elephant pose. Not sure what it’s called if you’re taking anal. Probably downward dog again.”
“Okay.”
“Is it?” I pop up, get in his grill. “I’m sending some strong signals here, bud. You should hop inside me.”
He shakes his head, but leans closer. “Lady, you are bad news.”
“Fuck yeah.” I take off his helmet. Press my tongue to his.
He’s a gentle but persistent lover. So am I. So is Volt, though she just watches. It’s fucking awesome. We pause to find an empty apartment, then violate it’s dubious sanctity. I am happy.
“Woof.” he collapses beside me. “That was fun. I forgot how fun. It’s been a while.”
“Samesies. Probably.” I snuggle in the crook of his arm. Stare deep into his chest hair. I could sleep.
That does not seem to be in the cards. The moment of mellow-tude hits my lover hard. An admittedly cheap dose of human contact has cracked his armor. And he begins to talk. It starts like a history lesson, but he’s agitated, like it’s personal.
“The original Operation Gladio was during the Cold War. A bunch of 1950’s dudes buried ammo and bombs around European cities. If the Commies ever rolled into town, a few of the lads would stay back and make them wish they hadn’t. It didn’t work out so great.
“First, the Commies never did come knocking. Which gave the gladiators too much time to think. Imagine being a freedom fighter pretending to be a mailman, who ends up being a mailman for 25 years. They got a little restless.
“Eventually, they got to thinking - what's the difference between a foreign commie and one from home? Is a trade union not a collective? Is socialized medicine not socialism? If I’m supposed to blow up communists, why not start with local leftist politicians?
“And so, they did.
“After a couple decades of government funded terrorists randomly killing progressive politicians, the USSR fell apart, and Operation Gladio got exposed in the media. I don’t think anyone went to jail, but that particular group of right wing insurgents lost their funding, and the concept of Stay Behind Units lost favor.
“Until hunter swarms and the Flash War.
“The Flash War is more of a fear than a reality. At least so far. As far as I know. The concept is based on a Flash Crash, from economics. In the old days, a stockbroker would have prices in mind for certain stocks. If they hit those prices, he would buy or sell them as appropriate. But this took time - not long, a minute or two - and in that time the price could still move. So the stock you meant to sell at $1 got sold at 98 cents instead. Not a big deal, but if you’re a billion dollar hedge fund making millions of trades a year, that shit can add up.
“Enter automation, and algorithms making stock trades in milliseconds. Thus capturing the 2% you were losing in real time trades. Unfortunately, the other hedge funds automated as well, and sometimes your algorithm will get in a death spiral with their algorithms. If your program is set to undersell the competition by 1%, that usually turns out fine. Unless their program also has plans to undersell you. Then both programs work together to tank the stock at the speed of light. If this rapid and monumental loss of value spooks other programs into selling their stock, the effects can ripple outward, and crash the entire stock market in under a second.
“This actually happened a few times, until they put a dead man’s switch on the stock market. After that, if it lost more than 10% of it’s value in under a second, all trading was suspended, until the humans can decide if everyone going broke is what they actually intended.
“Of course the military saw parallels between Flash Crashes and the automated death systems they were setting up. With self targeting hunter drones, it wasn’t hard to imagine a war being over in seconds. Which is fine if you win. Less so if you lose. Having a dead man’s switch partitioning part of your forces - keeping them in reserve so you could reassess your strategy before you blew all your ammo - suddenly seemed like a good idea. But who would be the human assigned to this reserve force? It couldn’t be regular officers, they probably died in the Flash War. Same with politicians. It would have to be a secret operative, hiding among the civilians.
“And so, Operation Gladio was reborn.
“The first instinct was to recruit brilliant, aggressive, soldiers and give them versatile, regenerative, force multipliers. But that didn’t work so good the first time. So the operation was scaled back to ambitionless, isolated, dummies with single shot systems, and a few simple rules.
1. Finish the Flash War, but don’t start one.
2. Don’t attack your own countrymen. Even if they suck.
3. Live a simple, non-violent life, if possible.
“Then everyone went to sleep.”
He’s been gradually tightening up during his history lesson / confession / modus operandi. Going from relaxed to his normal agitation. He now blows past that to talk about his daughter.
“I didn’t mean to make Lily an unstoppable killing machine. She was just lonely, and sad, and I thought, maybe a hobby? Something we could do together? I taught her what I knew because that was all I knew. I wasn’t trying to recruit her.
“But the world had gone to hell, and… I thought it would empower her. Like we weren’t just surviving, but were protectors, with responsibilities. I thought it would give her a sense of direction. I didn’t train her all at once, and each little step made sense on it’s own, but altogether I fucked up bad. Because it worked too good. It gave her direction and ambition. Aggressive brilliance. And she started to wonder, what’s the difference between foreign dictators and our homegrown kleptocrats?
“But there is a difference. We have non-violent ways to reign in our own countrymen. Democracy is what we’re fighting for, not what we’re fighting against. Even when it sucks.”
He leans up to give me an intense glare.
“I know you want something sketchy from Lily, but that doesn’t worry me near as much as what she wants from you. Rescue your friends, or win the election, or wake everybody up - I don’t care. Lily can help. Hell, it may be good for her. But don’t help her find Big Cheddar.”
Umm… says Volt. As usual, through my cochlear implant. While you were busy, Harkon showed me that old picture of Janet Wheeler and Victoria Cheeseman. She told me to forget about chewing wires at the prison, and to focus on finding them.
“Right.” I push him back down and cuddle into my new favorite hairy chest. “I wouldn’t worry so much about your daughter. She's got a few things figured out. But I promise, I will definitely keep her from Big Cheddar.”