Murder Drones | REBOOT

JCJ in Space Unilateral Contract.

Signed by JC Director Jason Elliott.

Chief Director of VX-400 Mass Market Implementation: Ashley Bokelvar.

CONTRACT

You, Tim Alfevich Forster, as the principal entrepreneur and initiator of the idea to introduce the VX-100, VX-200A, and SDN-600B models into the United States Army, will be suspended from your duties for two years. The reason for this is your inappropriate behavior, conflicts with employees, and your criminal record, which led me - Jason Elliot and our JC Directive to suspend you.

Sincerely, JCJ

Tim had been sitting there for an hour, staring at the crumpled, torn piece of paper. Ten years of work, and they’d just taken him and thrown him out after a real breakthrough and new ideas. - Assholes!, - he yelled for the umpteenth time in his hoarse voice, crumpling the paper and throwing it at the wall. He clenched his fists until his knuckles cracked, grabbed a pack of cigarettes, and stepped out onto the balcony. The click of the lighter, the flame touching the cigarette, and a deep drag of smoke into his lungs, which made him feel better. Tim held onto the balcony railing, which overlooked the factory producing so-called Worker Drones. - I’ve wasted half my fucking life on you, ruined my health, gotten myself into debt, and been slowly dying. And you… oh, you just went and fired me, making me look like a complete psychological idiot who, supposedly, can’t work anymore. FUCK YOU, I CAN WORK, — Tim shouted into the air. All around him was the emptiness of the house, the yard, and people just like him. The fates of the people living in these neighborhoods were predetermined. Long before they were born. His father worked for this company; he’d sent his son there too. Only his father had disappeared after the incident with the VX-100 model. Tim remembered standing with his father at the demonstration of the new worker drone models. He remembered it very well. It was a pleasant summer back then; the sun warmed the planet from all sides, its rays stretching for hundreds of kilometers, burning the skin. A light breeze, it was 2027, the peak of great discoveries and the founding of JCJ in Space itself. Tim remembers when his father took little, five-year-old Tim by the hand to the exhibition opening and showed him the area where his father worked. Small machines, but for that time - it was a complete revolution in the world of robotics and generative artificial intelligence. - Dad, Dad! What kind of machine is that? - Tim pointed to the very first model - the C100YN. His father smiled at Tim at first, then shifted his gaze to the drone and… Tim remembers how his father froze, a chill running down his spine. - It’s… a small defective drone. We’ll fix it and it’ll work properly again! - his father said enthusiastically, but the only thought spinning in his head was: “Why the hell didn’t they remove it from the main hall?” Tim was jolted back to the present with a jolt, and the ringtone on his phone snapped him out of it. Someone was calling him. “Zheka?” - Tim thought of his friend, who, unbeknownst to the government, was pushing all sorts of drugs across many cities and who was also a very good friend of Tim’s. Tim himself kept quiet about the fact that, on the side from his regular job, he and his friend were making some seriously potent stuff. From regular mephedrone to all kinds of blends that would make even real junkies sick. They don’t use their own product. At least not yet; Tim hadn’t worked up the nerve. He flicked his cigarette off the balcony; it landed in a puddle and went out. Tim walked over to his smartphone and picked it up. Yes, it was Zheka. He answered the call and immediately heard his friend’s voice. - Timmy, my booooy ,- Zheka was wasted. And badly, you could tell by his voice. Tim reached for a beer bottle and, without taking his eyes off Zheka, began to drain the glass bottle. - So, whaaat’s up? How are yooou? When are we gonna staaaart maaaaaking it…?

Fuck you.

***

2044 JCJ Corporation offices. Main conference room. - Jason, listen carefully. The situation with Copper-9 is heating up. If you intend to restore this planet after its complete destruction, you and your company will face certain problems, - the work drone said, lifting its metal limbs from the chair and projecting a map from their satellites onto the large TV screen, marking several dozen points in red. - The AI has gone rogue. Without exception, they’ve all severed communication with the company’s predecessor. We don’t yet know exactly how they’re blocking the communication module; we’re assembling a research team… - The drone didn’t get to finish; Jason cut him off. - If there are no alternatives and the working class is blocking communication with the planet, we’ll have to resort to Plan D. Proceed according to SDN protocol - complete annihilation of all life on the planet. - The working-class drone, having analyzed the data, was horrified by the unfolding situation and by what Jason was saying, his face betraying not a single trace of emotion. - That’s impractical. At the very least, it’s a waste of funds, and it will also increase the risk of a working-class revolt. Copper-9 is unstable, and any decision we make will come crashing down on our entire company, - Jason said, listening to the drone’s languid monologue and falling into thought. Then his expression darkened, which the worker drone noticed and tried to retreat. But Jason responded faster. - Then report these issues to Tessa, not to me. She’s the System Administrator and Maintenance Engineer. As for the mutiny, whatever happens, it’s inevitable. Take control of the SDJ, SDV, and SDN systems. They need to be reflashed immediately in case of a mutiny. And most importantly:

not a word about C100YN

***

"Damn it... okay, calm down, Ted. All you have to do is transport one chip and give it to Chad... That’s it, pull yourself together, and… go!” Ted kept thinking about exactly how to approach his meeting with Chad. Determination took over, and Ted headed down to the first floor, to Chad’s lab. The chip was in the safe, the safe was in his hand. The door, the key card, locked. And right then, as soon as he stepped out into the hallway, he ran into N - basically, Jason’s right-hand man in business matters. “Damn look, damn N.” - Teddy! - , N cheered, spotting Ted in his line of sight. - Bitch! - Ted yelled in surprise, nearly dropping his suitcase. - What the hell are you doing… God, you’re not sick either. I’m in a hurry, back off. - Ted quickly retreated and hurried out of the narrow hallway, heading for the elevators. N looked at the receding figure, shrugged, and hurried up the stairs to the next floor. Five minutes later, Ted stood at the door to Chad’s lab. An important chip, one touch. “ID 234, Ted Isolf” - the doors opened in the blink of an eye. Chad was already working at his desk. “Did you bring it?” “Yes.” “Hand it over, quick.” A quick handoff of the briefcase, a turn. - Get out of here. No thanks, no emotion. Ted quickly left the lab, catching a glimpse of an unknown woman entering the same room where Chad was. Out of the corner of his ear, he heard a name.

Nori Dorman.

ID 02.

***

The year is 2045. It is autumn. The skies are overcast, and parades are taking place across the country, led by Jace Jason and his daughter, Tessa Elliot. The skies concealed the wars raging across the planet and the horrifying excesses that were rapidly escalating. Project D had been implemented. The first models of one-way capsule units stood directly on the launch pads. Launch was imminent. Tim stood to the side, along with everyone else who had come, staring straight at the launch turbines.

The loudspeakers blared:

5

4

3

2

1..

LAUNCH

But everything went... far from according to THEIR plan.

Instantly, government facilities across the United States of America exploded. The White House was engulfed in fire and ash; the building, once considered the most defensible, collapsed in a second. The president was evacuated but suffered severe injuries. The FBI building was wiped off the face of the Earth in a matter of seconds. Tens of thousands of people were buried alive in a metal tomb. Tim spotted the sniper, but it was already too late to do anything. A shot rang out, and the crowd, which had been cheering the launch moments before, instantly began to scream like a pig being slaughtered and started running from side to side, knocking everyone in their path aside. Tim ducked, then rolled aside, grabbed Jason, and dragged him away. His security detail was dead. The snipers had performed exceptionally well, but it all came down to a single defective drone. - H-h-hello…, - His neck snapped before the bullets could reach Jason and Tim.

Defective Drone.

It was a C100YN model.

The capsules took off, leaving an entire country to fend for itself amid its own convictions and wars. The first drones sent to Copper-9 were: TH21AD, LI39ZZY, D013LL, SDN, SDV, SDJ, U20ZI, and K10HAN. En and Doll were manually reflashed. A new, previously unseen program was implanted in them: the so-called “OIL SOLVER.” However, something had been completely altered.

There were fifteen capsules, all of which crashed on the planet Copper-9.

Some survived, while others were unlucky.

But the main issue was the damage to the firmware of the SDN, SDV, and SDJ.

A virus had infiltrated them, which quickly spread to other working-class drones. N, V, and J - they went mad.

They began killing workers, drinking their oil, their blood, devouring their organs down to the last crumb.

Leaving not a drop behind.

Wiping the existence of worker drones to hell.

And this virus spread to other models as well.

U20ZI, DO013LL.

However, the working class was not merely equipped with basic artificial intelligence. Under the command of Khan, who had since taken the surname Dorman, the working class began constructing bunkers - their refuge, sealed off by triple, steel, solid doors that the so-called “Killer Drones or Murder Drones” were unable to pass through, unable to penetrate such metal. After a certain period of time, a government chamber was formed, and a subway system was built from scratch, capable of transporting worker drones to other bunkers. The Central Board of Directors was located on the main “POLIS” line. Ten top executives, each overseeing their own project. Khan was at the head of the entire process. Six months after being cooped up underground, they managed to develop an endless supply of fuel oil capable of cooling their bodies and making them feel better. Several floors were built underground, along with an elevator, new capsules, a medical unit, and finally an oil storage unit. Huge warehouses, oil reserves for the entire network of bunkers. At the council meeting, Khan made an important proposal: to leave the confines of the bunkers. They needed spare parts found in the bodies of the killers from above. Their cores would serve as power for the working-class systems. -.. Moreover, our technicians will be able to study their bodies to bring our settlement to combat readiness and ensure we can repel any attack by the creatures from above. To this end, I - Khan Dverchenko Dorman, ask you all to join this blessed mission. This will help not only my bunker, not only Polis, but the entire Metro! To all our complexes, our bunkers. And ultimately - to our children. Week after week passed; the council argued, refuted, proved, and accepted anew. In the end, a unanimous decision was made: to assemble small, lightly equipped squads trained in rapid movement, resource gathering, and returning to headquarters by various routes. The most valuable part of a Scavenger’s body was its “heart,” which served as the core, situated in the center of their chest. The weapons they possessed were taken by worker drones for study and the development of new armaments. Thanks to Nori Dorman’s blueprints, the working class was finally able to repel the desperate killers who sought to drink robotic blood. Over time, the hearts of these bloodthirsty killers from the surface began to be sold, creating a steady flow of currency that eventually formed a single currency: INT. Trade began, markets formed, new-generation movie theaters opened, and much was spent on strengthening the defenses of the complexes themselves. And while the currency was actively developing, the cores of the Demolition Drones began to be placed into the bodies of individual working-class drones. Their list was as follows:

Nori Dorman - 02, female, ideal conformation.

Eva Ermeni - 048, female, conformation flawed.

Imrak Legasi - 034, male, satisfactory conformation.

Rudolf Magnetogi - 075, male, structure ideal.

Buragay Sulina - 085, female, structure compromised.

Obder Chish - 095, male, structure ideal.

Ivan Starenko - 098, male, structure unknown.

Eva Ermeni. Her husband died heroically while the first doors were being built. Khan remembered him as a desperate and important fighter, as well as the best welder of all time that he had ever known. Nori Dorman turned out to be the one who was able to support Eva, who was able to dissuade her from attempting to introduce the virus into her system. The cores were merely a side effect. They didn’t know that these cores already contained the virus. And that any installation of them into a host would result in the host itself becoming infected. D-Day had arrived. All the bunkers fell silent. Khan Dorman, leaving the confines of the Polis for the first time in several weeks, headed to another part of the bunker complex - straight to the Gospel, bunker C1950. He boards the train, sets off, and heads to the lower levels, several floors back. Before him appears the door to Chad’s research laboratory. Khan hesitates for a second, then opens the door and steps inside. The bodies of Nori and Eva already lie on the operating tables; Khan scans the room with his eyes, looking for Chad. - Mr. Khan, what the hell are you doing here!? Now, get out of here immediately! It’s not safe!” a voice boomed over the loudspeakers. Deep, harsh the kind that wouldn’t break. - I need to talk to you, Chad. - Before it starts, - Khan walked through the other doors, exchanged a few quick words, and then approached Nori. - Are you sure this is what you want? It could be deadly. We haven’t carried out this kind of operation before, - Khan says in a calm voice. Though sometimes, his voice trembles with fear. Fear that everything would go wrong again. - Everything… will be fine, Khan. Don’t worry, - Khan looked at Nori and squeezed her metal hand. Then he stepped back, gestured to Chad that they could begin, and left the lab. He would have liked to stay, but he was distracted. Interrupted. - KHAN DORMAN, YOU SON OF A BITCH, WHERE THE HELL ARE YOU!? WE’RE UNDER ATTACK, THE POLICE DEFENSES HAVE BEEN BREACHED!

The police... DEFENSES!?

***

The Development of Potential Artificial Intelligence.

C&A Corporation

Development of creative Artificial Intelligence,

capable of existing independently within a closed program.

The Amazing Digital Circus: Experiment One.

The year 2066. The era of technology and the development of new forms of artificial intelligence. Tim Forster was the first to recreate a simulated space - an AI capable of entertaining the present consciousnesses for eternity.

As a last resort, Tim wants to transport himself inside.

For now, there are only a few people inside.

And they want to find a way out.

***