Nanotroopers
Episode 8: Doc Frost
Copyright 2016 Philip Bosshardt
A few words about this series….
*** Nanotroopers is a series of 15,000- 20,000 word episodes detailing the adventures of Johnny Winger and his experiences as a nanotrooper with the United Nations Quantum Corps.
*** Each episode will be about 40-50 pages, approximately 20,000 words in length.
*** A new episode will be available and uploaded every 3 weeks.
*** There will be 22 episodes. The story will be completely serialized in about 14 months.
*** Each episode is a stand-alone story but will advance the greater theme and plot of the story arc.
*** The main plotline: U.N. Quantum Corps must defeat the criminal cartel Red Hammer’s efforts to steal or disable their new nanorobotic ANAD systems.
Episode # Title Approximate Upload Date
1 ‘Atomgrabbers’ 1-14-16
2 ‘Nog School’ 2-8-16
3 ‘Deeno and Mighty Mite’ 2-29-16
4 ‘ANAD’ 3-21-16
5 ‘Table Top Mountain’ 4-11-16
6 ‘I, Lieutenant John Winger…’ 5-2-16
7 ‘Hong Chui’ 5-23-16
8 ‘Doc Frost’ 6-13-16
9 ‘Demonios of Via Verde’ 7-5-16
10 ‘The Big Bang’ 7-25-16
11 ‘Engebbe’ 8-15-16
12 ‘The Symbiosis Project’ 9-5-16
13 ‘Small is All!’ 9-26-16
14 ‘’The HNRIV Factor’ 10-17-16
15 ‘A Black Hole’ 11-7-16
16 ‘ANAD on Ice’ 11-29-16
17 ‘Lions Rock’ 12-19-16
18 ‘Geoplanes’ 1-9-17
19 ‘Mount Kipwezi’ 1-30-17
20 ‘Doc II’ 2-20-17
21 ‘Paryang Monastery’ 3-13-17
22 ‘Epilogue’ 4-3-17
Chapter 1
“Post Mortem”
Boise, Idaho
November 20, 2048
1950 hours
For Dr. Irwin Frost and Dr. Mary Duncan, travel was a necessary evil. They had boarded the TransAmerica jet at Philadelphia for the four- hour flight to Boise International Airport earlier that afternoon. Several Quantum Corps officers would be on hand at the Boise airport to greet them and take them up to Table Top Mountain. There, Frost and Duncan would examine the current ANAD master bot; word from 1st Nano was that there were suspicions ANAD had been severely compromised after encounters with powerful swarms and bots in Kenya, India and Nepal. Frost tended to discount some of the more lurid speculation he’d encountered…that 1st Nano had a mission to take down the world’s newest celebrity Symborg, that they’d run into strange quantum devices in Kolkata, that swarms of unknown origin and incredible capability had surged out of Tibet and nearly destroyed the platoon.
“More likely, ANAD just needs a little tweaking,” he told Duncan, over peanuts and wine on the long flight across the Midwest. “If half of what we’re hearing is true, the boys will need more than ANAD to accomplish their missions.”
Duncan tended to agree. “I hope Johnny’s embed is behaving itself. That’s the ANAD version we had so much trouble with in the beginning. The one with the code from Engebbe.”
“I’m sure that’s behind us,” Frost was certain. “I borrowed some genome sequences from an ancient virus, that’s all. We tested it thoroughly in the Lab…put it through all its paces. I don’t think ANAD can spring anything on us we haven’t seen before.”
“But we haven’t been exactly forthcoming with the Corps on what you did, Irwin. Not all of it, at least.”
Frost shrugged, polished off his wine. “I did what I had to do…you remember how it was. We had a contract with Quantum Corps. We were behind schedule. That virus had a genome that had solved some of the same programming problems we had, and had done it a billion years ago. I took what Nature did and just altered it slightly.”
“You’re not bothered we’ve married a quantum processor to a virus…made Nature’s most resilient survivor programmable, with the smarts of a five-year old child?”
“Mary, don’t be so dramatic. I’m only bothered if we can’t deliver to the Corps what our contract calls for. This whole Man-Machine Symbiosis Project’s been a godsend for the Lab…and the University, you know that. If ANAD can be properly controlled and can help the Corps accomplish its mission, I think everyone will be satisfied. And we’ll get our money.”
The airliner touched down at Boise International a little after seven p.m. local time. Deplaning, Frost and Duncan spied the two Quantum Corps liaison officers in their black and gold uniforms straight away.
The taller one was Lieutenant Chambers. Chambers was angular, sharp-edges to his cheeks, with a shock of black hair that spilled out from under his cap. The second officer was female, a Lieutenant Robles. She was shorter, muscular, with a buzzcut that would have done any nog school cadet proud. A hint of a pony tail bob stuck out the back of her cap.
Greetings and handshakes were made. Chambers said, “Drs. Frost and Duncan, we’ve got people getting your luggage now. They’ll take it straight to the lifters.”
“We’re not driving up?” Frost asked, disappointed. “This time of year, I was hoping to show Mary the Buffalo Range from close up, all the snow and the aspens should make for quite a show.”
Chambers was apologetic. “Sorry, sir, my orders are to get the both of you to the Mountain as fast as possible. We’ll go by lifter.”
They left the concourse, took a small Corps sedan out to the far end of the ramp. Two black lifters squatted like supersized spiders on their articulating legs, jets and rotors already turning. The two scientists were quickly hustled on board one of the lifters.
“Why two ships?” Frost asked, over the whine of the turbines as they spooled up for liftoff.
Robles smiled, somewhat mechanically Duncan thought. A well-rehearsed reflex, perhaps. PR types did that.
“Just backup, ma’am. Just in case.”
The two lifters sprang into the air and turned about onto a northwesterly heading. They scooted up to five-thousand meters altitude, flitted through a few wispy late night clouds, then began the hour-long cruise up to Table Top. A crescent moon shone hard and bright over a snowy landscape below, crumped hills and valleys dotted with lights on the lower slopes of the mountains.
Frost watched thoughtfully. He had been to Table Top before. He knew most of the lights were vast lodges and mansions plastered all over the slopes of the hills, playgrounds for the rich and famous who came to this part of Idaho for the skiing and the scenery, and mostly to show off.
He didn’t at first notice it when the second lifer began drifting off into the clouds. It was Mary Duncan who felt a measurable turn underway and tapped Frost on the shoulder.
“We seem to be turning away from the other plane,” she observed.
Frost watched the darkened hillscape sliding by below. The mountains were still there, but there were fewer lights. The longer he watched, the more certain he was that they were leaving the mountains behind and the land was becoming flatter.
Presently, he looked up at Chambers. The Lieutenant seemed lost in thought as well, staring out the porthole on his side. When the lights they had been studying ended abruptly in a well-defined straight line, Frost realized they had turned off to the west and had been flying a westerly course for quite some time. He stirred a bit uneasily.
“Is that the coastline below, Lieutenant?”
Chambers at first said nothing. Frost looked more closely, Duncan peering out the porthole alongside.
No question about it: they had crossed the Pacific coast, either Oregon or Washington, and were headed out over the ocean. Lieutenant Robles abruptly got up and came over to sit next to Frost. The hairs on the back of Frost’s neck suddenly stood up.
“We’re not going to Table Top, are we, Lieutenant?”
Robles seemed very real, but her expression also seemed a programmed reflex. Frost resisted trying to pinch the woman to see if she were an angel. He didn’t think she was, but you couldn’t always tell.
Robles forced a tight smile. “Not directly, Dr. Frost. We’re just making a little detour. Relax…enjoy the ride.”
Frost knew he would do anything but that.
The lifter bearing Frost and Duncan, with their Quantum Corps liaison officer escort, sped out over the Pacific, cruising along at a steady four hundred knots. Before long, the lights of the coastline dropped below the horizon. Now, only the black of the Pacific Ocean at night was left.
Frost looked over at Duncan. There was nothing they could do but sit back…and wonder.
UN Quantum Corps Base
Table Top Mountain
Idaho, USA
November 20, 2048
2200 hours
The crew’s mess at Table Top was just outside the Commissary, attached by tunnel to the PX and within a short walk of A Barracks, known as ‘Small Hall.” The bar was done up in a South Pacific theme, with tiki birds everywhere, thatch roofs over the counter, the robo-bartender sporting a Panama hat at a jaunty angle and drinks that sometimes tasted like hog piss.
It was called “The Lagoon.”
Johnny Winger was glum and reflective when he came in. Straight away, he spotted Deeno D’Nunzio, Mighty Mite Barnes and Moby M’Bela, all at one table. D’Nunzio had some kind of drink with a tiny pink parasol sticking out the top. The other two had beers. They waved the Lieutenant over and he ordered a beer from the slate menu. Moments later, the servbot was setting the frosty mug down on a table scarred with too many stains and cigarette burns.
“Why the long face, Skipper?” asked D’Nunzio. “You’re back in one piece, you’re in The Lagoon and you’ve got a beer…what more could you want?”
“I could want my Detachment back whole and hearty,” he said, between chugs. “Just came from the after-action review on what happened in Kolkata…Helms was an angel and nobody saw that coming. He even passed the PSV. Somebody should have known. I should have known—“
“How do you figure that, Lieutenant,” asked Barnes. “Helms was just out of nog school, a rookie, just passed the PSV and we all know Red Hammer’s got some damn good bots now, damn good configs. You can’t tell angels from Normals anymore. I mean, what could you have done?”
Winger shrugged. “Got my guys out of there faster. Noticed that Helms wasn’t quite kosher when he reported to the Detachment. And the worst thing is ANAD…the little bugger may have been corrupted at Kipwezi…he was making an uncommanded launch, before we blasted our way out of that hellhole.”
M’bela was sympathetic. “So what does Ironpants say about all this?”
Winger finished his beer, brushed off the bot when it came back offering a refill. “That there’ll be an inquiry. That I may even be grounded for awhile…losing a whole Detachment, nearly losing my own ANAD…there are plenty of reasons for the Board to chew on. Major Kraft said I had a lot of things I’d have to answer for…personally, I think he’s on my side, but you can’t tell with these inquiries. I feel bad enough as it is…there had to be more I could have done.”
D’Nunzio said, “Lieutenant, don’t beat yourself up. Red Hammer’s nasty…they’ve got all of us chasing shadows, jumping at our own reflections. This Symborg character’s got the whole world stirred up…jeez, there are one hell of a lot of messed up people out there, with all that Assimilationist crap going on. What about ANAD?”
“Kraft said he’s already drafted Doc Frost to come here, to Table Top. Doc’ll decide what ANAD needs—“ Winger checked the time. “In fact, his lifter is due to touch down any minute now.”
That’s when the chime on Winger’s wristpad rang. It was Kraft. The message was simple:
Meet me in Containment in ten minutes. K.
Winger finished the dregs of his beer and headed out. Mighty Mites Barnes bit her lip at the sight. The Lieutenant looked like a dog headed to the pound.
Dr. Irwin Frost’s avuncular face was the first thing Winger saw when he scanned through all the biometrics and locks and came into Containment Bay 4. Kraft and Lofton were both there, along with Frost’s long-time assistant, Dr. Mary Duncan.
Frost’s face brightened. “Johnny, it’s so good to see you again. I heard you and ANAD had some adventures recently.” The doctor didn’t offer a hand, something that Winger noted, but didn’t think any more about it at the time.
Winger made greetings all around. “Major Lofton, Major Kraft—yes, Doc, it’s true. ANAD may have been corrupted at Kipwezi. We were inside a cave, approaching what we thought was Symborg and ANAD started to make an uncommanded launch. My shoulder port came open.”
Frost gave that some thought. “I have the master here in containment. We were just about to take a look.”
With Mary Duncan’s help, Frost powered up the imager and set resolution at max. On the display, a scaffolding materialized into view. Something that looked like a bunch of grapes hung off the scaffolding, quivering slightly, beating to some inner rhythm. Frost clucked and hmmm’ed as he methodically scanned the device, from one end to another. “…propulsors look okay…flagellar thrusters seem okay…don’t see any seams in the outer casing…of course, we’ll have to run ANAD through some full operating cycles…Johnny, can you describe what you were doing…exactly what happened?”
Winger went over the details of their encounter with Symborg at Kipwezi, then the strange occurrences at the temple in Kolkata. “That platform at the temple seemed to be some kind of communication device. I don’t know if it affected ANAD or not…but the little guy’s been sluggish ever since. He accepts commands, but execution isn’t always accurate…it’s like something’s scrambled in processing.”
Frost said, “You may be more right than you know, Johnny.” To Kraft, Frost added, “Major, the only sure way to recover ANAD’s full capabilities is to regenerate. Mary and I will examine his processor line by line to be sure. But it would be quicker to start over. ”
This idea made Kraft wince. His face resembled a cherry pie that someone had just dropped on the floor, with a cat’s tail of a moustache thrown in. “Doctor, we don’t have time. I’ve got tasking for follow-on mission to deal with Symborg and other Red Hammer targets. We want to recon that device in Kolkata and put it out of commission for good. I need ANAD whole and hearty. Can’t you just give him a quick checkup and make some adjustments?”
Frost and Duncan looked at each other. To Johnny Winger, the Doc seemed a bit more distant than normal; perhaps, it was the pressure of the moment. His face seemed pale and he kept jamming his hands in his coat pocket…something Frost had never done before. Doc Frost always used his hands as an extension of his mouth. He couldn’t say a coherent sentence without his hands. But now---
Frost took a deep breath. “Major, when I first created ANAD, we had some pretty tough programming issues. They stumped us for months. The Corps was pressing hard to have a functioning unit as soon as possible…so I had to take some shortcuts.”
“You’re talking about using the genome of that virus. I already know all about that.”
“True enough,” Frost admitted. “But there are still things in ANAD’s basic kernel that we don’t fully understand. We did what we had to do to make ANAD work. But we’re still finding a few surprises. Major, ANAD’s like a five-year old child, in many ways. Computationally, he has the cognitive capacity of a five-year old. But as with any five-year old, ANAD sometimes does things that surprise us. I’d like to have the time to get
inside his core code and pick everything apart…someday, I’ll do that. But you need a functioning autonomous nanoscale device for your missions, and you need it as quickly as possible. Major, what I’m saying is that if I regenerate the ANAD core from scratch, you’re more likely to get what you need sooner.”
Winger spoke up. He didn’t want to lose one of his true buddies. “Doc, ANAD and I have become pretty close ever since he was born. If you regen, will he be the same?”
This made Kraft roll his eyes. “Lieutenant, ANAD is just a weapon. I know they teach you in nog school that your weapons are your best friends. That doesn’t mean he’ll drink beers with you at the O club…or floss your teeth for you.”
Frost was sympathetic. “Johnny, if the Major allows me to run the regeneration again, trust me: ANAD’ll be as good as new. Maybe better. More to the point, he’ll respond to your commands and execute programs with no problems. And that’s what we all want.”
It wasn’t what Doc Frost said but more the way he said it. Winger acknowledged the thought, but there was just something different about the Doc today. He couldn’t quite put his finger on it. Mary Duncan too. Normally, they argued like an old married couple. Frost muttered like the garage tinkerer he was. Duncan was forever making him wipe his mouth and tuck his flannel shirt in…in this, she was like a grandmother, to Frost and to Winger. But now…they seemed almost formal, distant, almost distracted. They thought for long seconds about everything Kraft and Lofton said. They answered in flat monotones.
I guess we all act like bots sometimes, Winger decided. Occupational hazard, when you worked with them all the time.
Kraft was about to order the Doc to get on with it, when Major Lofton interrupted. He’d been streaming some kind of news feed on his wristpad. “Hey, take a look at this. Another SOLNET special about Symborg.” He tapped a button on his wristpad and the feed went 3-D, expanding out into the containment room right in front of them….
Solnet/Omnivision Video Post
@anika.radovich.solnetworldview
November 20, 2048
2230 hours
SOLNET Special Report:
An Epidemic of Angels?
This Solnet Special Report will cover the growing epidemic of angelizing that has been sweeping the world over the last few months. It’s been going on for weeks but has become more common in recent days. All over the world, in most major cities and countries, millions of people are reporting that friends and loved ones have disappeared and the person they thought was a loved one is not, but rather someone or something different. Reporter Anika Radovich visited recently with noted psychology professor Dr. Seth Gaylord of UCLA, and reports on what could be causing such a mass hallucination.
“Good morning, Dr. Gaylord. Thank you for taking the time to be with us today.”
“My pleasure, Anika. I’ll try to answer your questions the best I can.”
“Dr. Gaylord, law enforcement and health authorities worldwide are increasingly overwhelmed in many cities and regions with this phenomena that has come to be known as ‘angelizing’. This epidemic has many people on edge. Some religions are reporting that what is happening is evidence of an impending Day of Judgment and the end times. Are we seeing some kind of mass hallucination at work here?”
“Well, Anika, as a scientist, I like to define my terms first. When we say angels, what exactly are we talking about? The most effective definition of an angel would be a swarm assembly of nanoscale robotic elements, so configured as to resemble a human being in all measures. A sort of pseudo-human, but made up of nanobots.”
“Angels, as you describe them Dr. Gaylord, have been around for years, have they not?”
“They have, Anika, but in recent months, for a variety of reasons, the growth of angel technology and angel acceptance by our society has exploded.”
“To what do you attribute this growth?”
“Primarily, I attribute this growth to the spread of Assimilationism. This is an ideology, some would say a religion,that promotes and celebrates angels and the associated technology.”
“Why has Assimilationism become so popular today, Dr. Gaylord?”
“Well, Anika, this is an interesting psychological phenomenon. As you know, I have written extensively on this subject. (see Gaylord, Dr. Seth, “Epi-social Spiritual Phenomena among Technologically Advanced Stage 4 Populations.”). We find even among many so-called advanced societies a vestigial longing for stability and security. This is an innate coping mechanism among Homo sapiens and has endured in our genome for thousands of years; it helps us survive and adapt to environments which are changing rapidly, as ours is.”
“How does this longing for security relate to the rapid growth of angels, Doctor?”
“Well, because angels are so prevalent today, we often say you can’t even tell about your own neighbor: are they real humans? Are they angels, that is, are they swarms of bots that resemble humans so closely, you can’t tell if they’re real? Because of this insecurity about what is real and what is not, we seek answers, totems, icons, explanations, whatever you want to call them, to cling to. Things that we perceive are real. Things that are solid and stable. Assimilationism offers this assurance…that there is an explanation for all these changes, that there is a greater story here and they offer believers a chance to be a part of it.”
“You’re taking about the Old Ones and the so-called Mother Swarm.”
“Certainly. For many people, God has vanished. But throughout history, human beings have sought explanations for things they don’t understand, things that they can’t explain. The ancients created gods in every part of nature: a sun good, a moon god, a god of the oceans, and so forth. Later, we subsumed all our gods into one overall benevolent Heavenly Father. Now, that no longer seems adequate to comfort us when our neighbors, our friends, even our spouses may be something other than we thought. They may be angels.”
“Doesn’t science provide explanations? I mean, angels are just nanoscale assembler technology that have achieved incredibly real and lifelike configurations. There’s a technical explanation for all this.”
“True enough, Anika, but our gods provide one thing that science can never provide.”
“What is that, Dr. Gaylord?”
“Science provides detailed explanations. But science does not provide meaning. It doesn’t provide purpose. Those are moral and ethical concerns. That’s what makes Assimilationists so compelling…that’s why Assimilationists celebrate angels and de-construction and being absorbed into a mother swarm…it provides a purpose for all we see going on.”
“Dr. Gaylord, do you think what the Assimilationists claim about the Old Ones is true? Do you think the Old Ones are real? Or are they a projection of this longing you describe?”
“As a psychologist, I have to say that something you believe in is as real as it takes for you to believe in it. To you, to any believer, it is absolutely real. If you act and move and think as though something is real, then for you, it is real.”
“Actually, I was speaking objectively, Dr. Gaylord. Are the Old Ones a real entity that we all can see and agree is real?”
“Ah, now Anika, you are beginning to sound just like a psychologist. That’s the old Cartesian dualism, isn’t it? Real and material versus something in my mind. I think, therefore I am. You know, there is a school of thought that says we created the Old Ones. That we are the Old Ones. I find that an appealing answer to your question.”
“Then you believe the Old Ones aren’t real?”
“Oh, I believe they’re real, all right. I believe that you, investigative reporter Anika Radovich are real too. But then, you might well be an angel, too, and a very attractive one at that. How can one tell these days?”
“Thank you, Dr. Gaylord, for taking the time to be with us today.”
“It was my pleasure, Anika.”
As a part of our continuing effort to bring the
most compelling and newsworthy stories on the angel phenomenon to you, Solnet Special Report sent correspondent Anika Radovich to Freeburg, Tennessee, to interview the citizens of this small town and get their views on what is happening. While every news source is unique, Special Report found that the views and opinions of the people of this mountain hamlet were particularly representative of the most commonly held views across our audience.
“I’m standing here on the side of Main Street in Freeburg, Tennessee, with one of the more notable citizens of this lovely town, nestled in the foothills of the Smoky Mountains. Mr. Lanier Barnes has achieved a certain notice, some would say notoriety, for Freeburg as a result of his strongly-held opinions about angels and Assimilationists. Mr. Barnes, welcome to Special Report and thanks for taking the time to be with us.”
“Well, shoot, Anika, what’s a fellow going to do when a pretty young thing like yourself comes sashaying by. Where’d you say you were from?”
“Thank you, Mr. Barnes. Actually, Germany. Mr. Barnes, could you explain what all these people have gathered for? I see you’ve got some kind of rally going.”
(COMMAND TO DRONECAM: Altitude 20 meters. Wide-angle establishing shot…be sure to center Barnes and get the Courthouse Square and those mountains in the background…I’ll add effects later)
“That’s right, young lady. Every day this week, we got a rally going right here on Main Street. Just look at ‘em, must be several hundred of these good folks today.”
“What’s the purpose of your rally, sir?”
“Well, we’ve been rallying and Net-blasting for some time now, trying to call attention to the gravest problem we face today.”
“Which is--?”
Barnes’ face takes on a pained look, like something he had eaten didn’t agree with him. “Those pointy-headed bureaucrats at the UN won’t enforce the danged Sanctuary Laws. You know, all the Containment Laws. Hell, we already fought wars over that, didn’t we? All the friggin’ haloheads and asses are taking over.”
“Mr. Barnes, I am assuming you are referring to angels and Assimilationists?”
“Darn right, sweetie. Angels and asses. They should be quarantined, like the scum they are. We need to stick the lot of ‘em into camps, like we did to the Japs back in the 20th century…you know: enemy aliens.”
(DRONECAM IMAGE FILE 223.832: Placards and signs wave in vigorous agreement with Barnes. Other members of the rally close in around the speaker. There is some good-natured shoving and shouts of “Damn right!” “Give it to ‘em straight, Barnes!) (AR Annotation File).
“Mr. Barnes, angels are just machines. Swarm configurations of nanobots configured to resemble human beings…surely you don’t think of these machines as enemy aliens?”
“They’re bugs, all of them. I don’t think of dangerous viruses as enemy aliens either…but I don’t want ‘em around. All these bugs are eating our food, drinking our water, mating with our women…they need to be in camps.”
“Excuse me, Mr. Barnes…did you say mating with our women? I’m not aware of any angels accused of sexual engagements with actual humans.”
“Oh, Missy, you don’t know the half of it.” A middle-aged woman with short-cropped black hair squeezes out of the crowd and stands before Anika. The reporter whispers into her lip mike DRONECAM…get a close-up of this—“These bugs have been defiling our daughters and sisters for years. I know it’s supposed to be illegal, but you know it goes on. What kind of offspring could possibly come from such infernal liaisons…monsters, half-bred freaks, that’s what.”
Barnes cuts in. “We’re rallying today to get the Town Council of Freeburg to take a stand. Here…get your friggin’ bird-camera down here and I’ll show you—“
Radovich sent the command and the dronecam wheeled about and descended slowly on its whirring quadrotors, hovering just over their heads. Its multiplex cameras zoomed in and Radovich adjusted the view she was getting on her SuperQuark glasses, pecking at a small wristpad. DRONECAM…hold there—
“You’re holding up a sign, Mr. Barnes. Would you mind reading out loud and then explaining what it’s about.”
“Surely.” Barnes held the placard so the dronecam would get a clear closeup. “It says MAKE CHASTAIN HILL A BUG CAMP! We want the Town Council to designate the whole Chastain Hill area as a sort of re-settlement camp for haloheads…er, I mean angels. Keep ‘em separate from the rest of us, so they won’t contaminate everything in sight.”
“Just enforce the damned Containment Laws!” came a voice from the back of the crowd.
There was a chorus of “Yeahs!” and a sea of fists waving and pumping up and down.
Anika Radovich quietly instructed the dronecam to rise back to twenty meters and pan the crowd, which was getting more agitated.
“Mr. Barnes, you have referred to your followers as Hellcats. Why this name?”
Barnes sniffed, waved his hand expansively around the gathering. “We think of ourselves as normalizers. We enforce normality. Haloheads and asses ain’t normal. We call ourselves Hellcats ‘cause we intend to make life hell for these scumbugs.”
Anika Radovich found it expedient to thank Barnes for the interview and back herself out of the crowd, which was closing in steadily, shouting, jeering, fist-pumping. She had started to feel smothered and hand-waved the dronecam to follow. Radovich retired to a street corner on the other side of Main Street, out in front of Collier’s Drug Store.
While Barnes and his followers surged like an angry mob down the street toward the town hall, she decided to add some commentary to the footage they already had.
“It should be noted that Lanier Barnes and the rallies he has been leading the last few days here in Freeburg are anything but exceptional. Similar rallies and protests exist in many countries and cities around the world, in Europe and Asia, even parts of Africa. The rallies and the demands sometimes take different forms. But the underlying animosity toward angels and Assimilationists in general is the same. A deeply-felt sentiment is growing that angels need to be contained and Assimilationists should be gathered into concentration camps and isolated from society.
“Solnet Special Report always strives to be fair and objective in our reporting. Before making this trip to Freeburg, this reporter spent some time at a Church of Assimilation rally, an ‘awakening’, as they call it, just outside of London. We interviewed assimilation volunteers in a queue at the Westfields Market, lined up to be de-constructed… about just why they are doing this….”
LINK TO VIDEO POST FILE V.399.122….
Establishing shot from dronecam Sparrow One, at one hundred meters altitude, longitude 0 degrees, fifteen minutes, latitude fifty-two degrees, thirty minutes.
Anika Radovich annotation file: A sea of humanity covers the car parks that surround Westfields Market. Inside the mall, shoppers browse as usual, seeking bargains, buying vids and other gear, new shows, football jerseys, the usual stuff. Outside the mall, chaos reigns. But it seems to be a happy chaos.
All along one end of the car park, in place of lorries, cars, taxis and buses, are the booths. These booths are emblematic of any Assimilationist rally. These booths are where the awakening occurs, to use the Church of Assimilation’s own literature describing what is to happen. Some say it is a form of mass, assisted suicide. Some say it’s insane. Assimilationists say it is the truth of the universe, a re-absorption of our essence into the great mother swarm. A necessary step to prepare for the coming of the Old Ones.
Special Report came to Westfields Market to find out which point of view is right. Maybe a little of both.
Her name was Lucy Nkira. She was tall, maybe with a bit of Masai in her background, proud, a bit fluttery and nervous. She grinned sheepishly as one of the techs helped her into the assimilator booth.
“A great day,” she muttered. “Great day...so proud.”
The assimilator tech was named Gavin. He sat at a console just outside the
booth, while another tech helped Lucy inside and made her comfortable on the seat. Gavin shut and latched the door, pressing a button to begin the seal and containment process. In seconds, a tight bot-proof seal had been formed around the interior of the booth, a barrier formed of electron injectors and a dedicated botscreen.
“Let’s do it,” Gavin said. The other tech pressed buttons.
Inside the booth, a fog had formed…that was the first layer of nanobots released into the compartment. Lucy disappeared into the fog, only a leg and a shoulder could be seen.
The fog thickened. A faint buzz could be heard from inside the booth. Gavin watched as the cloud of bots thickened. More and more bots were released and replicated, swelling to fill every cubic millimeter of the booth.
Lucy didn’t move. Anika Radovich commanded the dronecam in tight, focusing on her right leg. At first, it was unchanged, a smooth black leg with a section of her print dress showing, hitched up just above her knee. But even as Radovich watched, the black of her skin had begun to fade. In moments, it was almost gray, like the fog itself, oscillating between darker and lighter, but still gray. Then the gray became a translucent shimmer, almost like a ghost, flickering slightly, but growing ever dimmer. Her shoulder was the same.
Lucy Nkira was slowly but steadily being disassembled. She was being steadily broken down into a pattern, a pattern of atoms and molecules.
The end came softly, almost as if the woman were walking away in a light rain. Her body, the physical Lucy Nkira, began to fade inside the booth. At first, it had been barely perceptible, just a faint blurring of her skin, her extremities, a smearing of her legs and shoulder, as if a photo had lost contrast.
In time, and the time was less than five minutes, Lucy Nkira had devolved—that was Anika Radovich’s word—into a nearly translucent shadow, still recognizable in form, but without substance. You could see right through the form and the shadow to the other side of the booth.
And then she was gone. Enveloped and enmeshed and at one with the greater swarm of nanobotic mechs that was Symborg.
And Anika swallowed hard…seeing in her mind’s eye the face and the disappearing Cheshire cat smile of Lucy Nkira.
Anika Radovich Annotation File: This was a typical sequence of events occurring all over the world at Church of Assimilation rallies, awakenings, as they call them. As you can see, the ‘volunteer’ is quite gone and fully disassembled. There is no effective means that this reporter knows of to re-construct the volunteer, or reverse the process. It is, in fact, a form of assisted suicide.
We’ll try to move in and get some comments and interviews with other supporters and volunteers….
“Excuse me, sir…ma’am… I’m Anika Radovich, Solnet Special Report. I’d like to ask you a few questions…what exactly are you trying to achieve here at Westfields?”
A young woman, early twenties, hair in a severe crewcut, with braided bangs off to one side, consents to be interviewed. She yells in Anika’s face:
“FOLLOW SYMBORG NOW! SYMBORG IS TRUE LOVE!”
Others nearby join in and the air is filled with the same rhythmic chant.
“FOLLOW SYMBORG NOW!”
“Uh, Miss…could you tell me…Miss? Could you tell me your name, please? We’re live on Solnet Special Report right now….” She pointed skyward at the leering dronecam hovering ten meters above them.
“It’s…um, it’s…yeah, that’s right… Follow Symborg…it’s Jane…Jane Nyquist.”
“You’ve got a big rally going here…what’s it all about, Jane?”
“We want Symborg to come here, be with us here. Now. He’s somewhere in Asia and he’s our hero.”
Radovich consulted her wristpad, pulled up an image of the robotic messiah who had mesmerized the world over the last few months. “How do you know he’s still around?”
“He has to be. Symborg can be anywhere…we just want him to come here.”
“Some people say that Symborg is a menace, that he advocates violent overthrow of governments. Some say he’s just a machine, you know, a collection of bots.”
Jane looked hurt. “Nonsense. Symborg epitomizes all that is good and right with Assimilationism. Follow Symborg now!”
Others around Jane and Anika Radovich joined in. The dronecam captured all of it.
Jeez, this’ll make great footage, Anika thought. Then she saw a commotion on her wristpad vidfeed…a disturbance along the far end of the Westfields car park. Anika commanded Sparrow One to wheel about and investigate.
A long queue near one of the assimilator booths had broken down into a violent confrontation. Chaos and bedlam had come to Westfields. Soon, Metropolitan Police squads in full riot gear pushed their way into the crowd.
Sparrow One captured it all on vid.
Solnet Special Report Ends
Major Lofton switched off 3-D from his wristpad. “Gives me the creeps. You know, we had to institute Physical Security Verification protocols because of that scumbag. Once Trooper Helms turned out to be an angel…that insert mission in Kolkata that Winger mentioned…we had to really tighten up the PSV procedures. You just can’t tell anymore.”
Kraft nodded. “Table Top’s on lockdown now.” He turned back to Frost and Duncan. “Doc, get on with it. Full regeneration. Make it work and make it quick. I’ve already got more tasking to go after that creep Symborg and his Red Hammer buddies again.”
Frost said, “Very well, Major. With your permission, I’d like to have Johnny Winger with us for awhile. I’d like to make sure what we regenerate is compatible with his shoulder capsule and coupler…make sure everything gets synched properly.”
“As you wish, Doctor. But I’ll need the Lieutenant for a full briefing tomorrow morning at 0600 hours.”
With that, Kraft and Lofton cycled out Containment Bay 4. Frost, Duncan and Winger watched them depart, then settled in for a long night of work.
“I’ll get a couple of coffee pots,” Winger offered.
Work began right away. For Winger, watching Doc Frost and Mary Duncan dump ANAD’s core was like watching his brother Brad go through a lobotomy…not that such an idea was all that bad. But it was sad.
“He’s been a real buddy of mine from the beginning,” he said. “Almost like a brother, actually better than a brother. We’ve become really close. Will the new ANAD be like the old…same personality, same quirks and so forth?”
Frost was sympathetic. Bringing up ANAD from bare code to a fully functioning nanoscale robotic assembler had been for him like watching the child he’d never had grow up, with all the pains and heartaches and thrills any parent could experience.
“That’s the plan, Johnny. We start with the basic kernel of code, add the core components—main memory, buffers, config translator and the rest of his processor. Stick on the main platform and actuator mast, the power cells and the propulsors.”
Mary Duncan was manipulating the outer casing shell of the bot onto the scaffolding inside the containment tank. The imager showed what she was doing. It was like trying to split a hair on your head with scissors while wearing gloves, but the atomic force scope had quantum tweezers that could do the job. She added, “Then comes all the sensors and actuators, Johnny. Pyridine probes, carbene grabbers, enzymatic knife, hydrogen abstractors.”
“And the bond disrupters,” Winger said. “Don’t forget those.”
Frost showed him a tablet with all the steps of the regeneration procedure listed, in order, with materials and special tools needed, listed with times and appropriate cautions and warnings. Frost had done the list for the Corps had the outset of the Man-Machine Symbiosis Project.
Winger perused the list:
Lay in triggers
Seed growth medium
Base replication
Learn-in comm centers
Activate sensor algorithms
Test basic operations
Unit readiness checks
While he scanned the list, Winger didn’t notice two others had just entered the containment bay. One was a tall, lanky trooper named Pierce, with a shock of blond hair sticking out the side of his hairnet.
The other was a female, a newly-minted Lieutenant fresh out of nog school. She was a petite, tough-talking brunette with a bite and her name was Dana Tallant. In some ways, she reminded Winger of Deeno D’Nunzio, only with a menace to her tight-lipped smile and hard cheek planes that gave him pause.
Tallant stuck out a hand. “Dana Tallant. Major Kraft sent me over to help out in the re-gen. I’m commanding 2nd Nano.”
Over the course of the evening, Winger and Tallant got to know each other, in the same way two bulls circled each other sniffing and snorting and pawing the dirt.
By 4 a.m., the master bot that would become ANAD 2.0 was coming along nicely. Frost looked old and haggard but the crooked smile behind his bent glasses gave away the growing satisfaction he felt at watching his creation take shape before their eyes. For her part, Mary Duncan looked composed, though fatigued, rather like your grandmother looked after staying up all night with a sick child.
“Let’s take a short break,” Frost suggested. “The unit readiness checks are next and we need to be fresh for that. Plus I want to initialize your shoulder capsule, Johnny, and make sure it’s ready to receive ANAD properly. “
Tallant’s eyebrows went up. “Unit readiness checks?”
Winger wasted no time showing off what he knew. “Sure…look, here they are: load tactic- al config templates, combat swarm ops, basic replication exercises, program and control system integration, response checks, exercise all inhibits and constraints….”
Tallant noticed Winger had moved particularly close to her face. She inched away and glared up at the atomgrabber saying, “I like the part about exercising inhibits and constraints best, Lieutenant Winger.”
“Hey, just Johnny will do. What say, we cycle out and get some fresh air? Maybe a coffee or two.”
Tallant agreed to that. They stopped by the commissary, picked up some caffeine from the servbot and headed outside. It was a cold, clear night in the Buffalo range and stars speckled the sky from one horizon to the next. The winds whipped across the top of the mesa and both troopers sheltered themselves in the lee of a panel truck, unloading supplies for the coming day.
Winger sipped cautiously at the scalding liquid, his face wreathed in steam. “Major Kraft hasn’t told me much about 2nd Nano. I knew it was coming. Is your TOE the same as ours?”
Tallant shrugged. “We should have the same ratings as you. Command and control, I/O, containerization, quantum engineering, DPS, the usual stuff. We stand up in a few weeks. Not all ratings are filled yet. Kraft wants to go over the records of recent cadets…I do get to have a say in who joins up.” She slurped some coffee, spilled a bit, and swore.
Winger watched Tallant out of the corner of her eye. She intrigued him, almost as much as ANAD itself. “Been on any ops yet? In the field?”
Tallant looked up, a set to her lips that spoke volumes. “Just sims and exercises and you don’t have to gloat about it. I know all about you, Winger. I know what you’ve done. I don’t need it rubbed in my face. When the time comes, 2nd Nano will be able to take care of itself. We’ll be the Corps’ poster child for kick-ass atomgrabbers.”
Winger backed off. She spoke like a fourth-year nog, all spit and vinegar, and she had a cute butt as well. Maybe a little rough around the edges but field ops had a way of polishing that off.
“I can’t wait to get my ANAD back. Him and me, we’ve been through a lot lately, what with Mali, Lions Rock, Kipwezi, Kolkata. It’s not gloating…just the facts, ma’am.”
Tallant chuckled. “Winger, are you consciously trying to aggravate me or are you just naturally an asshole?”
Winger finished off his cup, set it down on the tire of the panel truck and spread his hands. “Hey, what can I say? ANAD and me got thrown into the fire before we were ready. I’m just saying: the same thing could happen to you. Don’t be surprised if old Ironpants sends you off to Timbuktu…you know, we weren’t far from there when we were in Mali, by the way—before you’ve even got your pants on. Atomgrabbers have to be ready…small is all.”
Now Tallant had to laugh. “At ease, Cadet Winger. We’re not in nog school anymore and you’re no recruiter. I can see we’ve got a lot of crap to get through, you and me, Lieutenant. Before we can buddy up on an op, I mean. I know what I don’t know. I know I’m a rookie. I know there’s a lot you can teach me about ops and command and all that crap. I just don’t like having it rubbed in my face, you know?”
“Fair enough,” Winger said. Touchy little bitch, this one. “You’ve seen how ANAD gets built tonight. Yours should be similar. So what’s next for you?”
Tallant warmed her hands around the fading heat of the coffee cup, rubbed the edge against her cheeks. “Kraft wants me to sit in on some intel briefings. Lofton and his crew. There’s scuttlebutt that Q2’s working with some agents inside Red Hammer…sources they’ve turned and are trying to get placed as high as possible. Kraft said that may be our best hope to get at the guts of the cartel…maybe even take down Symborg and his cronies.”
Winger and Tallant headed back inside, cycling through all the biometrics and locks into Containment Bay 4. “Could be ticklish, doing that, Tallant. I know from experience that catching Symborg is like catching flies. Unless we can crash the nest, it won’t do any good.”
Tallant was sober about what they were facing. “Just between you and me, Wings, Kraft and Lofton are working on an idea…a snatch and grab somewhere in east Asia. Ironpants has told me there is one source they’d like to pull out of Red Hammer before the Bigs get wind that he’s betraying them. Somebody’s got to lead the op…somebody the Hammer doesn’t know. I volunteered.”
Ignoring the fact that she’d just called him ‘Wings’, Winger decided he wanted to get to know this touchy little atomgrabber better. Maybe a bite of breakfast at Ptomaine Hall, a.k.a the Mess Hall, could be arranged.
“Be careful what you volunteer for, Lieutenant,” he told her, as they checked in on ANAD’s status. “You might just get it.”
Frost was all smiles when the two troopers approached the containment tank. “I think we have a new baby boy here. Johnny, sit over on that couch…let’s get your capsule prepped and ready. Mary will help you. ANAD 2.0’s about to have his coming-out party—“
That’s when Tallant and Winger both noticed Frost’s left hand, manipulating the keypad that would eventually release the tiny bot. His hand was faintly fuzzy, pale and shadowy, as if it were something less than solid skin. Frost saw their look and quickly jammed his hand back in his coat pocket.