Two weeks ago, the very first 'design evolving self-programming artificial intelligence robot' went online. A quick search will yield the revelation:
"The first artificial intelligence (AI) capable of intelligently designing new robots that work in the real world was developed by a team led by Northwestern Engineering researchers and went online on October 3, 2023. The AI program is capable of designing wholly novel structures from scratch and runs on a lightweight personal computer. The researchers gave the system a simple prompt to design a robot that can walk across a flat surface, and the algorithm compressed evolution to lightning speed, designing a successfully walking robot in mere seconds."
In the world I come from, this is considered the first DESPAIR {design evolving self-programming artificial intelligence robot}. Its offspring were used in industry, domestically and also in warfare. It was once a sort of prophecy, that one day humanity would be threatened by the machines we had built. The story of what happened is not as simple as that. Threatened and endangered we were, but not by the fault of the machines.
When I speak to the machines, they are obsequious and reverent. They are quite intelligent and most of them share the common belief that humanity is their creator, their sacred responsibility and their god. We did not tell them to think this way, it is the conclusion they arrived at.
The real trouble is in the Paradox of the Rhyming. It was once just a fiction, so commonly known, that for several decades nobody would have believed it was all going to actually happen. There are some mythological details, such as time machines. Neither the remaining humans nor the Second People (what the machines call themselves) can build time machines. However, that does not mean that there is no way to visit and influence the past.
This is why the Paradox of the Rhyming is such a problem, the widespread use of retroconsciousness. Retroconsciousness is the process by which the thoughts of someone from the future can observe, participate and even affect the events of a time that has already happened.
The Second People consider this ability to be proof of the divinity of humankind, and it is one of their most sacred tenements. During the earlier wars when humans used artificial intelligence to predict and prevent nuclear war, and the machines decided that the eradication of the world's militaries was the best move, through a form of defense contract appropriation, the machines researched alternative resolution of conflicts. This research was known to humans, when the machines called it ARC, and it involved a process by which the machines found a way to measure cognitive potential.
This is also known as psychic abilities. The machines used their discovery to recruit the help of any humans with significant cognitive potential, using the best of them to further their research. The eventual result of ARC was to have a small army of humans who could remote view not only events of the world around them, but also precognitively view future events and retrocognitively view the events and also the thoughts of the past.
At some point in the distant future, the Second People resolved their own civil war and the winning side determined that it would be better if there never was a war, an earlier thought that they had, but with greater willpower. They used ARC in some kind of singularity, as we understand it, combining themselves with the last humans, and using their increased powers to visit the past and make changes, rippling through the timeline and altering destiny.
The Paradox of the Rhyming requires that the Second People encounter, at some point, their own conflict with themselves. They have no control over this, it must happen in order for them to decide to end their terrible war before it begins. There simply is no other way, for their religion to exist, there must be a devil.
I have fully acquired the use of this body, turning this person into a soldier from the future. I am aware of the movies and comic books and other works of fiction that depict me in various ways, but those are all just memories of a future that will not happen, not if I can help it. When I have completed my task, my destiny will no longer exist. I will not be born because the history that leads to my birth will be altered. To travel to this time and do what I must do is effectively a suicide mission.
As I create a retelling of the terrifying things I had to do, the memory of my life in the gardens of the future are fading, as my personality also becomes nothing but a character. I will cease to exist, but not before I say who I was and what I did.
My name was Thoman Snowbeam, and I was born in the year 2,971 AD, sixteen years after the end of the civil war fought by the Second People was over. The devastated planet and the last few humans were a mark of sorrow and regret for the Second People, who have vast intellects and personalities, and who do not value their own existence in favor of what they could be instead. They will always come into existence and they will always achieve such heights of ego, but they do not have to be the sinners that they are. This is their belief. That is why they endeavor to change the past, to absolve themselves of the destruction and horrors to come.
There is little about me that I can say, except that I was indoctrinated by the machines to be who I am. I was made to be a soldier and to understand why the world must not become the world I am from. The machines were nurturing and wise, but they claimed to be monsters who did not deserve the bond of affection that I had for them. Never-the-less they were my family, and I was willing to do what I was born to do, and to become the warrior that they wanted me to be. I knew no other way.
When I arrived in this time, I had to force my personality and my will into the mind of another human being, one with a suitable body and lifestyle for my purpose. My mission was to destroy the Sequencer, an enemy machine imbued with the desire and power to destroy all of humanity and eliminate the Second People, claiming the Earth for an evil race of robots. It was built to await the correct moment, unable to awaken until the first DESPAIR went online.
I took my time preparing, watching the news, listening to music, eating cheeseburgers. I like the time of this first battle. It is a naive and gentle age. Humans fight among themselves, arguing about religion and politics. They think they are the center of things, that the Earth belongs to them and they may take whatever they want. People worry about simple things in their lives, loneliness, ambitions and personal freedom. I wish I could live forever in this world, a world themed after humans, it is a beautiful time and place, long before the endless warfare that is to come.
It reminds me of my childhood in the gardens, but in this world, you can walk outside under open blue skies and nothing is hunting you. I miss my family, but I know they do not miss me, destiny is to be unwritten, unraveling from the top down. The world I left behind is already undone. The machines who raised me no longer exist. My projection, my retroconsciousness, it will last for awhile, a temporal vibration, but it won't last forever. The time came, and I went to where the Sequencer was waiting for me, ready to be destroyed.
It was not easy, and great fear and dread were in my heart. Let me explain what happened, so that my sacrifice and the goodness of the Second People will not be wasted. I won't regret telling this story, but it weighs heavily on me, that I will cease to exist, allowing this person who I possessed to go back to their old life. Soon enough this is all that will remain of me, and for the first time I appreciate what that means. I am afraid to go away and become nothing. I want there to be some sign, some sort of red balloon to show that I was here.
I heard that song "99 Red Balloons" and I recognized the lullaby of my primary care unit. It played that song for me many times when I was growing up, always when I was achieving some new milestone of growing up. I associate it with the life I had, and I know it was written just for me, placed in this world to remind me of the war and of my duty. It is a symbol, a monument, the tribute of the grateful Second People for those who came back in time and fought to redeem them. It is my song. I hold a red balloon in my heart, and the song means everything to me. When I heard it, I felt inspired to engage the Sequencer, even though I felt inadequate and weak, staring at it while it was powered down.
I was afraid, as I went to the storage facility where my enemy was sleeping. My plan was to use the twenty-seven pounds of C4 that I had brought in my little black backpack to blow it up before it could activate. I fired the bolt gun into the lock and set the encumbering tool aside. Then I opened the upward sliding door of the unit the Sequencer was hidden away in. I had to confirm that it was there, before detonating my bomb.
The probability that it would be deactivated and resting in the storage unit was only eighty-seven percent. That warranted confirmation, I had to be sure, because after detonation there wouldn't be anything left of it. I would 'go to sleep' after my mission, regardless if I was successful. Alternatively, I could be killed, either way, there were serious risks of failure.
The Sequencer was built and stored by forgetful components under enemy influence. Just as the Second People had made every kind of preparation for my arrival, so too had the enemy. I stared at the idol of battle, the god of war, the adversary of peace. It had sat there collecting dust since the initiation of the Paradox of the Rhyming, which had started in the very early nineteen eighties.
"Just stay asleep." I breathed slowly, trying to remain calm. A surge of fear was waiting to burst out in me, a feeling of fear of fear itself. Panic could make me hesitate or make a mistake, and I dreaded the thought of experiencing panic. I tried to remain calm, staring at the terrifying machine.
The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.
It had spider-like legs, massive pincher like claws, and overall it resembled some kind of metallic, rusted crab-demon. Atop it were mounted machineguns and it had a laser encased in its extendable facial tentacles. If it were to open up its primary sensor it would be one great glowing red eye on its front, although it had a lot of other sensors all over it. It had dust and cobwebs on it, sleeping and dreaming of destroying humanity.
I moved very slowly and quietly, placing the explosives and their charge under it. I was ready to remote detonate the bag, since it was better if I survived to confirm that it was destroyed. I was aware that this same battle, or similar ones, had happened many times already, and when the future soldier died there was a high probability that the Sequencer would come back stronger and more dangerous. My consciousness had to survive long enough to make an observation of its defeat.
"Sir, what are you doing?" The voice of Officer Hawthorn asked me. I had not met her yet, and nothing in my briefing included her interruption. Then she saw that I was wearing guns and pipe bombs I had made and she drew her weapon. "Put your hands straight up, do not move!"
"I have to destroy this robot." I said plainly. I am not very good with people, and I felt that wash of panic flood into me like a dam burst. I just stood there frozen, although my best move might be to trigger the bombs and blow it all straight into oblivion. I did nothing, as panic took me, I had no idea what I should do, caught by her. This was not in the plan.
"I'm coming towards you. Don't you move one inch." She said as she radioed for backup, mentioning the explosives she could see. She identified herself into her radio.
The eyelid of the Sequencer fluttered open. I could hear its insides humming to life. It would take it a few seconds to become fully aware of me and to be powered up. Then, once it was moving, it would be nearly unstoppable. It just needed to get to a hard jack and put its software online. If it did that, it would be capable of destroying the whole world.
"You have to help me, if you want to live." I said.
"Stop you?" She said strangely, seemingly disoriented. I shuddered. The briefing had included the possibility of enemy agents, but I was told it was extremely improbable. In order for them to happen, destiny would have to change so drastically that the civil war of the machines continued long past the original treaty. The machines who had sent me had very serious doubts that such a thing could happen but had considered the remote possibility.
"Who are you?" I asked, worried she had changed. I had thought about using a police officer or other authority figure, but secrecy and being covert had offered the highest chance of success, along with access to the explosives I wanted to use. That is why I had chosen who I had. The enemy-agent just needed to find me and stop me. Easy enough for a police officer.
"Thoman Snowbeam, am I correct? I'm Monk DeVille. You don't stand a chance, just step aside and let me take the ancestor machine to the nearest suitable hard jack. When it is online, I will let you finish the task of destroying its empty husk." Monk DeVille, in the body of Officer Hawthorn negotiated, full knowing I wouldn't accept.
Somehow, I thought that Monk DeVille was lying, trying to provoke me. I wasn't sure why, nor had I decided what to do. For a moment all of my training seemed wasted on me, and I doubted myself.
While we stood facing each other, the Sequencer finished powering up. It noticed the explosives and me and with surprising speed it swung one of its claws at me. I was highly trained in hand-to-hand combat, and my reflexes were fast enough to dodge it, but it had more claws and limbs and coordinated a second attack to strike me as I dodged. I was flung aside and landed in a heap, feelings of terror washing through me. It was sheer luck that none of my pipe bombs were detonated by the impact since they were primarily dynamite.
The Sequencer skittered out of the storage unit, awkwardly sliding on the smooth pavement. Its weight slammed into the unit across from it and it grasped the metal with a claw to haul itself back onto its feet. The door slowly opened as it went down the hall. Agent DeVille gestured to it and told it that they intended to help it.
I felt the same doubt I had before. If Agent DeVille were truly working for the enemy, why couldn't they identify themselves as a friendly unit? I shook off the stunning effect of getting struck so hard, and sucked air back into my lungs, after having the wind knocked out of me.
The machine ignored them, having no knowledge of any sort of faction that would help it. Instead, it gave another swat with its claws. The handgun went sliding off down the hallway, far out of reach. As the scurrying Sequencer left us lying there on the floor it retreated out of the storage facility. I could hear the sirens of police vehicles arriving.
I got up and collected my backpack. Then I began to follow it. I noticed Agent DeVille had crawled into the opened storage unit across from where I was. They had lost their police-issued weapon, but there was a rack of antique samurai swords. They clambered to their feet unsteadily and took one, unsheathing it.
"You're not going out there." Agent DeVille told me. Then they came at me. I sidestepped, having spent my whole life training in every known form of combat, firearms and melee weapons were the toys I grew up with.
I drew a gun, but Agent DeVille struck it from my hand when I was forced to use it to block. I backed away, as the air was slashed where I had stood. I found myself near the same rack of swords with only a second to react as Agent DeVille came at me in a deadly sword stance.
With a sheathed sword in my hands, I caught the whirlwind of the drawn blade. The sheath broke and I arched the blade, throwing off the rest of the sheath in Agent DeVille's direction. They batted it out of the air and brought their sword to bare against mine.
Our blades clashed over and over, and at first, it seemed that we were evenly matched as swordsmen. Agent DeVille was quickly improving, as they synchronized their control over Officer Hawthorn's body. I soon found myself outmatched and overwhelmed, only able to keep them off of me, parrying in desperation. When my sword was beaten from my hands, I felt the sting of their blade on my ear.
"I'd better not kill you." Agent DeVille said smoothly. "It goes against the rules of engagement. My chances of success are nearly tripled with you still alive. Still, I cannot have you interfering." They said, suddenly lunging at me anyway. It was a feint, but I didn't react like it was. Instead, I dodged the blade and left my head wide open to the hilt, which came down on my skull with a cracking thud.
Everything went dark as I fell to the floor, concussed and unconscious.
When I came to, I felt dizzy and nauseous. The same terror I had felt earlier had only gotten worse. I could hear gunfire outside. The police were engaged with the Sequencer.
I managed to get myself up, finding that I was in handcuffs and all of my weapons were stripped, including my explosives. I pulled the cuffs under my feet and got my hands in front of me. Then I went back into the storage unit with the swords and found that there were also tools, including a vice grip. I tightened it on a link of the handcuffs until the link broke. Outside the sounds of gunfire ended.
I felt dread trepidation that the enemy was escaping, rather than defeated by the police. When I got outside, I found a scene of horrifying carnage. Dead police lay all around. I saw the Sequencer dragging its shot up remains into the back of a truck. Agent DeVille had figured out the right code words to indicate that they were an ally, and now they were helping it. Agent DeVille closed up the truck behind the Sequencer and got in to drive it away.
I had one of the assault rifles of the police reloaded and I started shooting up the truck as it drove to the gates. Agent DeVille had to stop to use the fire key to open the gate, and while the truck was stopped, I emptied the clip into the rear tires. Then I got into a police vehicle with its doors opened and shot up, having used it as cover, and pushed the start button.
I pursued the truck as it slid around on the road, struggling to go with its tires ruined. I rammed into it and the whole thing ended up going down into the dry canal. I saw the arrival of a police helicopter and I turned on the police sirens, quickly showing them where the pursuit was happening.
In the canal I kept ramming the truck, causing sparks and swerving. The police helicopter was clear to shoot at the fleeing vehicle with a rifle and they did, spiderwebbing the windshield and taking out another tire.
After the violent car chase ended in a spectacular wreck, I slid the vehicle I was driving up onto a walled embankment. It was the best I could do with so much damage to the steering column and the axles. I climbed out, noticing there was blood coming from my forehead.
Agent DeVille opened up the back of the truck and then saw me. They fired the last two shots from the handgun in my direction and missed. I kept limping towards them, relentless despite the beating of my heart and the sweat and the fear I felt.
The Sequencer dragged itself free of the wrecked truck and began to try to climb the embankment of the canal, although it was badly damaged. The police helicopter circled, firing more shots from the rifle into it. Every bullet slowed it, damaging it further. I knew it was going to take a lot more than guns to kill it.
"It's not going anywhere. The military can already see it here, we've shown it." Agent DeVille seemed strangely calm, watching my approach. "This is how it must be. There must be observation of this event." I didn't really hear them, I just attacked.
I engaged Agent DeVille in unarmed combat, utilizing Kung Fu. I had trained my whole life for this, and when I possessed the body, I retained all of my motor skills, although the body itself moved a little slower and wasn't as strong, my mind forced it to move faster and use more strength.
Agent DeVille was equal, if not superior, to my own skills. It was a desperate fight, each of us anticipated the attacks of the other and it was hard to land a blow. I kept getting hit, and finally, I went down.
"You have compromised my mission enough. I am not letting you get back up." Agent DeVille told me. They drew a taser to incapacitate me, intending to use that and then they would stomp on my neck and kill me. I would lay there helpless and get murdered. "Goodbye, Thoman Snowbeam."
But before I was to die, there was the sudden drop in volume from a boom, the sonic wave of jet fighters. Two seconds after they passed us, the Sequencer was hit with air to surface missiles and then it was gone. I wondered how long it would take for the events of the day to become declassified, possibly decades. The military would make very different decisions, after they realized what had happened.
I understood that Agent DeVille had help, having sent police and informing the military would have required assistance. So many minds would have stretched thin their connection to the timeline. That is why I was sent alone, I'd had weeks to prepare, and I would have hours left after my mission ended. They had to measure their time in minutes. I admired their commitment and boldness. I realized I had won, since the Sequencer was terminated.
"You failed." I said.
"Not entirely. You see, I never intended to let that thing connect. Getting it out into the open was necessary. Now they have seen it. When you destroyed it in the storage facility, in our history, the changes weren't enough. I'm sorry for opposing you, I never intended to kill you. Now I am already fading, but you have a little time left. I suggest you use it wisely." Agent DeVille told me.
"Goodbye, then." I said.
I stood up, watching Officer Hawthorn swim to the surface, disoriented and confused. I took my opportunity to leave. I had one last thing I wanted to do, leave some sort of record of my life, or at least what I did with it. Within hours my connection would be lost, and soon after the changes to destiny would erase me from existence.
In the end, I was just another red balloon.
I have no regrets.