Running along each of the two long walls was a series of bays, thirty on either side, with each bay holding what could only be described as a robot—seven-foot-tall metallic humanoid machines with two arms, two legs, large torsos, and bucket-shaped heads. The only feature on each robot’s “face” was a four-inch-long horizontal black slit.
Brodie and Taylor walked slowly down the rows of bays, surveying the machines. Their heads, bodies, and limbs were covered by silver metallic plates, and on the upper left corner of each robot’s breastplate was etched an identifying number—one through sixty. In the seams between the plates Brodie saw a nest of insulated wiring, rotors, and hydraulic cylinders. He stopped in front of one unit and looked closely at its hands—they were shaped like large human hands, with articulated fingers. Metal shackles ran across the robots’ four limbs to keep them secured in their bays, which made Brodie think of Hannibal Lecter.
Everyone assembled allowed Brodie and Taylor to survey the machines in silence. The only sound was the buzz of the vintage overhead lighting.
Finally Colonel Howe broke the silence: “These are the D-17s, designed by the United States Army in conjunction with DARPA, and built by Synotec Systems. The D-17s are a linchpin of the Pentagon’sThird Offset Strategy, which seeks to outmaneuver our adversaries in several technology sectors, including robotics and system autonomy. These prototypes’ current purpose at Camp Hayden is to engage in training scenarios with our Army Rangers, to prepare them and other elite light infantry units for the future of warfare.”
Well, thought Brodie, the future is what you make it. And the brass in the Pentagon were cooking up something pretty bleak. He looked at Colonel Howe and asked, “What are these things capable of?”
The colonel turned to Captain Spencer of DEVCOM. “The captain is better equipped to discuss the specifics.”
Spencer nodded and said, “The D-17s are fully capable of complex mechanical movements. They have hundreds of sensors for balance, depth perception, thermal and infrared imaging, hearing, and geolocation. Their outer plates are 3D-printed titanium alloy, which allows for a relatively lightweight machine with impressive agility and bullet-resistant armor.”
Taylor asked, “Do they possess AI?”
Captain Spencer replied, “Artificial intelligence is being discussed a lot these days, but that term is too broad to be useful. Some form of AI is in half the consumer electronics on the market, including your cell phone and smart speaker. So yes, these units are powered by a form of AI, but it is relatively primitive and algorithmic. Their processors are dedicated to situational awareness of their physical environments, and to making tactical choices to achieve an immediate and preprogrammed battlefield objective. They do not possess the capacity for high-level strategic thinking or any degree of creative intelligence. They can recognize faces but not the emotions present on those faces. They can recognize voices but not tones. The D-17s are not designed to replicate or even attempt to imitate the more complex and sometimes subtle decisions a human soldier is required to make in a combat zone.”
Taylor looked up at one of the metallic warriors. “With all duerespect, Captain, these sound like severe shortcomings for machines with the power to kill.”
Major Klasky stepped in and said, “We use specially modified sensor-equipped firearms for all our training exercises, Ms. Taylor. No D-17 has ever been in possession of a lethal weapon.”
Brodie looked at him. “The robotisthe lethal weapon, Major. By your own terminology, and as demonstrated by what happened to Major Ames.”
Klasky stared back at him, blank-faced. “What happened was an anomaly that runs entirely counter to these units’ programming and design. Their rifles are loaded with blank rounds and rigged to a state-of-the-art SIMRES system to engage in training exercises within a predefined and geolocated battlespace.”
Brodie had heard of SIMRES. It was the next generation of simulated warfare training systems to replace the older MILES systems that Sergeant Brodie himself had used in his warfighting days. MILES was essentially high-tech laser tag, with each soldier or vehicle that was engaged in the exercise wearing multiple sensors in different areas, and each weapon outfitted with a laser emitter on its barrel that was calibrated to simulate the range and accuracy of the weapon it was attached to. He wasn’t sure exactly how SIMRES worked, only that it provided more battlefield data and worked with more weapon types.
Brodie asked, “How do the machines understand what the goals of any given training exercise are? How do you communicate with them to alter their behavior?”
Klasky replied, “The short answer is that we don’t alter their behavior.” He pointed to the bays. “For security purposes, the D-17s are air-gapped. This means they have absolutely no network connectivity. Data cannot be sent to them or erased from them remotely. The only wireless capabilities they do have are low-bandwidth cellular transmitters to communicate with each other during exercises, and a GPS chip for tracking purposes.” He added, “Each storage bay has a hardwireddata link to allow direct access to each unit for diagnostics or reprogramming, but they are rarely used. And the bots’ objectives and rules of engagement on the battlefield—what we refer to as the doctrine statement—have not been altered since our training at Camp Hayden began.”
“And what,” asked Brodie, “is the doctrine statement?”
Major Klasky looked at Brodie. “Neutralize the enemy.”
Captain Spencer quickly interjected, “As we said, the AI running these units is relatively primitive. They are early prototypes. The intelligence necessary to, say, distinguish a civilian from a combatant, or to identify when an armed adversary is surrendering, is beyond their abilities. But testing those capacities is part of the larger roadmap.” He continued, “Personally, I do not believe that any lethal autonomous weapon will be able to reliably distinguish between combatants and noncombatants, or between active aggressors and surrendering soldiers, without possessing what we refer to as AGI—artificial general intelligence. That is machine intelligence equal in capacity to human intelligence. Estimates of when AGI will be achieved range from ten years to fifty years to never. This is a long game.”
Maybe not that long, depending on what Brodie and Taylor’s investigation turned up. Brodie noted that Captain Spencer seemed defensive of these abominations, while Major Klasky appeared more matter-of-fact about their uses and shortcomings. Which made sense, in a way. Klasky was the direct commanding officer of the platoon leader, Captain Pickman, and oversaw the platoon’s logistics, personnel, and operations. He was focused on his job, which was to keep the wheels greased and everything running smoothly, and he would be doing that whether at Camp Hayden with robots, or at another facility running standard training with strictly human soldiers.
Captain Ed Spencer, on the other hand, was intimately involved in the design and testing of the bots. This was his project, and at least partly his brainchild, and now something had gone terribly wrong andone of his creations had killed his boss. Brodie wondered what Captain Spencer’s relationship had been with Major Ames. He’d find out.
Taylor was stopped in front of one of the bays, which was empty. “Was this the unit that killed Major Ames?”
“Yes,” said Colonel Howe. “Unit twenty is currently being kept at another secure location. The Rangers have given nicknames to the D-17 units, based on the uniform numbers of baseball players.” She turned to Corporal Ewing. “Who is Number 20?”
“That’s Bucky, ma’am. For Bucky Dent.”
Colonel Howe managed a strained smile, like she found this pretty stupid. “Right.”
Bucky Dent had been the starting shortstop for the Yankees in the late seventies and famously hit a three-run homer to beat the Red Sox in a division tiebreaker. Brodie was pretty sure the guy was still alive, and probably didn’t deserve the dishonor of being the namesake of one of these murderous freaks. Maybe Red Sox fans would disagree.
At any rate, GIs made up nicknames for just about everything, so it tracked. Brodie wondered how it felt to be hunted down by Mickey Mantle and Willie Mays.
Taylor stared at the empty bay, which contained four closed shackles. “Did Bucky let himself out of this enclosure?”
Captain Spencer shook his head. “That would have been impossible. The units are stored in a low-power state and can only be fully turned on with a physical hardware key that must be inserted into each one. Without the key, they’re expensive paperweights.” He walked to the wall on the far end of the room, where a metal safe deposit box was welded into the wall about five feet off the ground. “The keys are stored here. Like the elevator, the safe can only be opened by a combined keypad entry and fob activation. Select members of DEVCOM control the fobs, and none of us know the keypad number, which is changed daily and known only by the officer corps and the Rangers on sentry that day.” He then pointed to a large computer console next tothe safe. “The same security protocol is in effect for the bay controls, which physically release the units from their holding bays.”
Brodie looked at him. “This all sounds well thought-out, Captain. So maybe you can tell us how all these safeguards failed your commanding officer.”
