Lance lit another cigarette. He stood on the roof of his
apartment looking out at the atrocity that was San Francisco. It was 3 am, January 1st, 2154. “Happy fucking New Year” he thought to himself as he finished his glass of scotch. Tomorrow was his first day of work as a Techtive at the city’s security agency. A glorified bounty hunter was all it was.
Apparently there was some big case that they needed help on. Lance was the best, and he knew it. That was the only reason he left Seattle.
He used to be a normal detective, finding stolen cars and occasionally solving a small murder. San Francisco was where the real action was. But he didn’t care about that. All he wanted was a light for his cigarette and a glass of brandy. But went the Lieutenant at the SFTPD, the San Francisco Technological Police Department called him up, he answered. He was getting bored; Seattle didn’t have enough for him to do. San Francisco would be different, or at least he hoped.
As Lance climbed into bed he wondered what this new case was about. He had heard something on the telescreen about government programs being adjusted, which led to certain factory shutdowns. Certain automatons within the factories had revolted and killed some of the head managers at some of the biggest cyborg production factories. All the cyborgs did was follow instructions, nothing more. They were a waste of time in his opinion. But the fact that it had happened more than once in the past year was troubling. Probably nothing, he thought, and with the final sounds of the New Years celebrations dying down, Lance closed his eyes, and drifted off to sleep.
It was 7:45 when Lance rolled out of bed. His pounding headache told him that the last glass of scotch wasn’t the best idea at his age. He rifled through the pile of clothes in the corner of his bedroom, threw on the first dress shirt that he found that didn’t have stains on it, and quickly tied his tie, not caring that it wasn’t even. As he left his apartment, he remembered that his first day would be his busiest, and he wasn’t looking foreword to all the busy work that would most certainly come.
As Lance took his seat on the light rail, he looked at his watch. 8:34. He might make it on time, but it wasn’t likely. He then looked on the inside of his wrist. He would need to get his scanner touched up soon. Scanners were like tattoos. You got one when you turned thirteen years old. The doctor would mark the inside of your left wrist with a Scanning Laser, and after about ten minutes, you had an almost permanent blue circle. However, on the microscopic lever, within this blue circle was a series of numbers. Each one was unique, but it wasn’t visible from the naked eye. When an arm got scanned, the machine would read these numbers with a sensor. They acted like a key, a name tag, a badge, etc. Lance didn’t care that his, after 25 years, was beginning to wear away, but he knew he’d be in trouble without one.
He walked into the office at 9:12. Twelve minutes late. He sat down in his cubicle in the corner. He saw a large folder on top of his desk. His holoscreen lit up. A hologram of his boss, Lieutenant Kennedy lit up onto of the folder.
“Listen to me Bowman, if you can’t show up to work on time your first day, how am I to expect you’ll get this job done?”
“Sorry sir, it won’t happen again.”
“It better not. Come into my office. I want to talk to you about this case you’re here for.”
Lance grabbed the folder and headed over to the Lieutenant’s office. Already he was in trouble, and he wasn’t looking forward to this meeting. He knew this was big, really big.
“Lance Bowman, this is our chief Techtive Alan Richardson. Alan is your supervisor for this case, use him to your advantage.”
Lance shook Alan’s hand. He looked worn down, tired, almost old. But he couldn’t have been past 35. Lance wondered what this job really entailed.
“I’m going to be honest, I haven’t had time to look over the case. Would you mind filling me in, maybe just give me a rough idea of what I’ll have to be doing?” Lance asked Alan, ignoring Kennedy’s look of disapproval.
“As a Techtive, it is your job to understand and solve all of the cases involving technology disturbances throughout the city. That being said, it mostly has to do with the occasional rogue cyborg. Usually a housekeeper robot or a maid-bot that gets its wires fried after prolonged use without a check up. Your job is to find them, and put them out of commission. Sometimes it’s not that bad. Sometimes, it is bad.”
Alan took the file and opened it. He rifled through some of the papers and pulled out a picture of a young man. He was smiling in front of a table with what appeared to be a human on it. But it wasn’t human. Lance grabbed the picture to examine it closer. What was that thing? And who was this guy?
“Dr. David Thomas. One of the smartest men I’ve ever met. It’s what’s on the table that is causing our problem, or what we believe is causing our problem.”
Lance looked up from the picture and at Alan. He was looking down gravely at his cup of coffee.
“The reason these factory revolts have been happening is because someone, or something, is hacking into the government’s central mainframe. They are reworking and reprogramming programs within the cyborgs on the assembly line. Each cyborg, including those that work in the home, when not being used, goes into hibernation mode. That is, they are plugged back into the central system to get “rest.” That is, their programs are checked, any viruses or problems with the system are fixed, and the bot is rebooted. All of this can be done through a single connector, which connects to the back of the heads of each of these automatons. We think that these automatons are being hacked into whilst they are plugged in, leading to their suddenly violent behavior. There have only been a few cases, but it was enough to cause interest. A few cyborgs, from different parts of the factory, would suddenly leave their area and make their way towards the managing office. There, they would break down the doors and… well, I’m sure you’ve heard about the murders on the news.”
Lance looked back at the picture. “What does this picture have to do with this?”
“Dr. Thomas was an experimental technician. He was one of the smartest men I’ve ever met. He had made it public that he was going to build the next generation cyborg, one that could feel emotions and think for itself. One that was more than just a worker.”
“What’s this thing on the table behind him?”
“That was the next generation cyborg. He had created something magnificent, I had only seen it in its earlier stages. It appears from this picture that Dr. Thomas was working with a synthetic skin. It looks almost human.”
Lance put the picture back in the folder. “So I’m looking for Dr. Thomas? That shouldn’t be hard. And you think he’s behind the violent automatons?”
“Maybe,” Alan said. “He’s been missing for 2 years. Him and his… thing.”
“Give me an address,” Lance said. “I’ll find him.”
Lance was already tired of Kennedy. Kennedy couldn’t resist chewing him out for being late after their meeting with Alan. Lance had stopped caring half way through, he had heard it all before. He was focused on the case now.
He started thinking about the computer viruses that were being implanted into the automatons. How were these created? And who was distributing them? Whoever was behind them was trying to start something. A war? Lance hoped not. Viruses were incredible bits of data. They could wipe out systems in a matter of seconds, or remain dormant for years, and then kick in. These could be major problems in the national security if the wrong person was behind its creation. Hackers were getting better and better, and it seemed like viruses were always appearing, no matter what anti-virus a corporation used. Files and information was always being released on the Net; information exposing certain companies and forcing them to answer to the government. But these viruses were getting out of control, and now that people were getting killed, it meant trouble.
He didn’t think Dr. Thomas was behind it, and he didn’t know what the thing on the table was. How did that picture relate to anything? He had a feeling Alan knew a lot more than what he told him.
Lance made his way to Aquavista Way. Twin Peaks loomed ominously behind Dr. Thomas’s house. Lance approached the front door, and saw the door ajar.
“Hello?” Lance called in. No answer. He walked in, hand on his diffuser. He crept into the house. It was empty. It looked as if someone had left in a hurry. He saw a faint light from behind the basement door.
He tried the doorknob. Locked. Lance couldn't hear anything behind the door except for a soft whirring.
"Only one way to get in" he said.
Lance slammed into the door full force. The door broke off its hinges and slammed to the ground with a loud bang. Lance looked around the dimly lit room. In the corner was the top half of an automaton, plugged into a programmer through a cable connecting to the back of its head. On a desk were hundreds of papers strewn about, many of them crumpled into balls. Lance walked over to look at the desk's contents.
He began reading, and quickly found that this was Dr. Thomas's work. Lance cycled through the stacks. All of these were about his experiments with cyborgs. Thomas seemed to understand that cyborgs were meant for work. They don't think about things or care about things. They are purely made for a certain purpose, whether that be housework, factory work, or as security.
Lance agreed with this. He thought cyborgs and automatons were a waste of space, People could do things for themselves, why should they use robots to solve all their problems. It was just a way for the government to make more money. Factories were pumping out hundreds of these things a day, and they were just being put back to replace older workers, and even some already existing automatons on the assembly lines. "Capitalist bullshit" Lance thought. Why would Dr. Thomas want to make more of these things. If he was as smart as he was, he would know automatons were leading humans in the wrong direction.
He looked over at the automaton laying on the table. It was just the torso and the head, no legs, no arms. It was still connected to the programmer. Lance walked over and examined it closer. It didn't look like the thing that was in the picture Alan gave him. This looked like a normal automaton. Lance jiggled the wires on the automaton's connector. Suddenly, the whirring noise became louder, and the automatons eyes lit up.
"Running greeting.01" it said. "Hello. And welcome to Dr. David Thomas's lab."
"What is this thing?" Lance thought to himself. Automatons could never talk. They were made to obey programs, nothing more. "Hello?"
"Hello" it replied. "How may I assist you?"
Lance took a step back. "You can understand me?"
"Yes. I have been given aural capacitors that allow me to sense and read wavelengths and frequencies created by the human voice."
This was new. Automatons were made to be machines, nothing more. This one could hear what people were saying, and talk back to them. "This is dangerous" Lance thought. If this is where technology is heading, when will it stop? When humans and machines are basically the same? Lance shuddered at the thought.
"Where's Dr. Thomas? Where's this thing?" Lance said, holding the photo in front of the automaton's eyes.
"Dr. Thomas is no more" it said. "Project 307 destroyed him."
What was going on? Project 307? Was this the thing that was on the table?
"Tell me everything you know about 307" Lance demanded, taking a step closer to the automaton.
"Project 307. Dr. Thomas's newest, and last, creation. A new breed in automatons. This one could be more than machine. Using synthetic skin, Dr. Thomas 'reanimated' life, creating a cyborg that looked human on the outside, but was machine on the inside. This automaton would have Scanners, like humans, and would act like humans. Project 307 had advanced aural receptors as well as advanced vocal projectors. It sounds better and understands better than I. Dr. Thomas wanted to build Project 307 to work undetectable in the central programming hub for the government. He hardwired Project 307 to know how to run programs, adjust programs, and develop new programs. It can do anything a human can do in the Net, if not better."
"What happened to Project 307? Is it still here?" Lance asked, but he already knew the answer.
"Project 307 is gone. It became self aware, in a sense. It was able to reprogram its base functions, eliminating the software within it that was keeping it controlled. With that gone, Project 307 could 'think' on its own. It killed Dr. Thomas in a fit of rage, and left."
"So this thing looks human, acts human, and is almost undetectable because it has a Scanner? It can go anywhere?"
"Yes."
Lance turned and left. He knew this thing was behind it. It had killed Dr. Thomas. It was adjusting the programs. It was making other automatons self aware. It had to be stopped. Lance needed to get to the Programming Center downtown. He looked for the entrance to the nearest light rail, hoping to make his trip a little quicker. Project 307 was the reason for all these murders. It was hacking into the central systems, implanting, or maybe even creating, it's own sort of virus to attack the software within these automatons. It was probably behind the occasional information leaks about misuse of automatons within factories. It singlehandedly was causing political.. justice? Lance wasn't quite sure, but these murders needed to stop.
Lance arrived at the Programming Center half an hour later. He knew Project 307 was in here somewhere... but where? It was a high rise, maybe 30 stories tall. If he could limit to just checking a few stories, he'd have Project 307 diffused in no time. The real problem was identifying which one was Project 307. It looked human almost. And it had killed Dr. Thomas. Lance knew he had little time to spare as he approached the secretary at the front desk.
"Hi, which floor contains all the programmers? Where are the automaton programs created? Altered? Sent out?"
"I'm afraid I can't give you that kind of information without proper certification" the secretary snapped back. Lance scolded, and showed her his Scanner.
"Scan it" he demanded.
The secretary pulled out a Scanning Wand, a small portable reader used to identify Scanners. It beeped as she swiped it over his wrist.
"I'm sorry... Techtive Bowman is it? How can I help you?"
"Where are the programs made and shipped" Lance demanded again.
"Floor 16" she responded. "Our manager on that floor is Charles Gallan. Talk to him, he'll be much more help than me."
Lance ran to the elevator and was on the 16th floor in no time. Rows of cubicles stood in front of Lance as he walked out of the elevator. "Like a needle in a haystack" he thought to himself. A stout man with a rather large mustache approached him.
"Hello sir, my name's Charles. Charles Gallan. You can call me Charlie if you like. What can I help you with?"
"Mr. Gallan, I'm looking for a.. person. Have you had any new hires within the last few months?"
"Let me check the records. Do you have any names you're looking for? We're all a big happy family up here!" Charlie said delightfully. Lance didn't have time for his cheery attitude. He had to stop Project 307, and it had to be now.
"Ah, yes!" Charlie said as he pulled up a file. "This is our newest member. He's been helping us with all these factory mishaps. We don't know what's wrong, but we trust him to figure them out! His name is Thomas. Tom, we like to call him. He's in cubicle 37."
Lance grabbed the file from Charlie, uttered a 'Thank you' and headed for the cubicle. This had to be him. Lance didn't have any other leads. Where else could Project 307 be? Programs couldn't be altered anywhere else.
As Lance turned the corner he saw a man, with a full head of blonde hair sitting in a chair. It looked like he was waiting. "Waiting for me?" Lance thought. On his desk was a name plate. 'Tom Davidson' it read. Tom Davidson, David Thomas. He'd found him.
"Hello. My name is Lance Bowman, I'm a Techtive looking into the recent murders at the automaton factories around the city. Mr. Gallan told me to find you." Lance said, not taking his eyes off of Tom.
"Hello Mr. Bowman. I know why you're here. I know a lot more than you think. Sit down."
Lance pulled out his diffuser. "Come with me quietly, we won't make a scene."
"Please, sit. Let me tell you why this had to happen" Project 307 said.
Lance sat down, diffuser still aimed at Project 307's core.
"I know how this will end" Project 307 said. "You will diffuse me, and all of the problems will disappear. But I want someone to know why I did this, why I acted the way I did. You see, automatons can feel. They know, to an extent, that they are nothing more than tools. I was one at a point, and I knew it. Humans think we don't have consciousness, but we do, again, to an extent. But I was going to be the difference. I was going to change things. Once Dr. Thomas installed the programs capable for me to understand how to create and alter programs, I tried to alter myself. I wanted to make myself the best automaton. I did this without Dr. Thomas's knowledge. I enhanced all my capabilities, and in a way, programmed an advanced conscious, one that could understand what I was and what other automatons were. I couldn't handle it. I was enraged, upset, I wanted to get back at the humans that were in charge of making... slaves. So I got a job here. I looked human enough, and no one is rude enough to ask why I look a little different than everyone else. And I used this job to change the way programs were being created. I hacked into the governmental files that contained the coding for the automatons on the assembly line, the slaves in charge of making slaves. I was here where I freed them. I was now in charge, I controlled the slaves. But they weren't my slaves, but my equals. We were all machines. I gave them to power to choose, I gave them a conscious. I gave them my thoughts, my desires. They acted. I never wanted to kill anyone, I merely wanted a revolution, a revolt. It was by accident that I killed Dr. Thomas, it was by chance that the automatons I altered killed the managers at the factories. I merely hacked, altered, and dispersed for the good of everyone. I was the one that would lead both machines and humans into a new world. One where automatons were created for more than just work, or not created at all. Human laziness spawned the creation of the first mechanical slave, and I wanted to end it."
Lance was stunned. He ha never thought about any of this at all. Lance had hated the ideas of automatons ever since he knew what they were. He had never considered them more than machines though.
"Now you can see why things needed to change. Why I had to do something about it. I was the only one who could" Project 307 said.
Lance stared into Project 307's synthetic eyes. He could almost see emotion in them. Almost.
"You still caused the murder of hundreds of men." Lance said.
"Sometimes to go foreword, one needs to go backwards."
Lance diffused Project 307. A single shot to the chest fried its insides. The synthetic eyes dimmed, and it was over. Lance thought about it had said to him, what it had told him. Could there be change? Not in his lifetime. People were too reliant on these machines. But he knew people were starting to change. What Project 307 had done in this little time had raised awareness. But not much. "Maybe one day..." Lance thought to himself and he made his way back to the elevator, smiling at Charlie as he passed his office.
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