The Rising Sea

46

“Japan will never be an ally of China.”

Kurt listened to the words and could hardly believe how like his voice they sounded. Not in the odd way one’s voice sounded on a recorded message, but as if the words were emanating from his own body.

The screen flickered. A new video appeared. On it, the Prime Minister of Japan was mentioning the possibility of warmer relations with China.

“We’ll see about that,” Kurt’s robotic doppelgangers said.

The voices were off this time, especially the second robot’s, which slurred the words just a bit. The scene repeated on the monitor.

“We’ll see about that,” the robots replied, sounding now more like Kurt and more menacing at the same time.

“They’re learning,” Kurt said. “Practicing.”

“Wouldn’t it be easier to program them with a recording and be done with it?” Joe suggested. “Like the robotic assistant in Nagano’s police station.”

“That robot was instantly identifiable as a machine,” Kurt said. “Its lips moved each time it spoke, but that was just a pretense. These robots are speaking. Forming sounds with exhaled air and shaping that sound with their lips. They’re breathing, blinking, even sweating. If I wasn’t standing here, you might think one of them was me.”

“They’re better-looking than you,” Joe said, then added, “Strange that there’s no one here to monitor their progress.”

Kurt pointed to a bank of computer terminals and server units blinking in the dark. The displays on the screens were constantly evolving. “The computers are doing the monitoring. Machines training machines. Something tells me this is a very repetitive and redundant process. Until the machines have learned how to act human enough, they probably do this over and over again.”

As Kurt spoke, the robots stepped forward and walked into a different room. Kurt followed. It was a simulator. Similar to the one Han had in his factory but smaller. To compensate for the limited space, there was a curved wall of screens, which lit up all around them.

“That’s the joint Trade Pavilion built with Han’s money,” Kurt said. “The Japanese Prime Minister is going to be there tomorrow to sign the new cooperation agreement with China. It’s the deal everyone’s been talking about.”

“And the Japanese Parliament will vote on rescinding the joint defense treaty with America a few days from now,” Joe said. “The symmetry is uncanny.”

“And not by accident,” Kurt said. “But from what I read, the defense treaty isn’t in any real danger. The Japanese want more business out of China, but they’re not all that interested in going it alone militarily.”

The duplicates began moving forward, walking on treadmills. As they traveled, the scenery around them changed in a virtual sense. They entered through a back door and followed a route that led up to the main hall.

Taking positions in the virtual crowd, they waited as images of the Japanese Prime Minister and the Chinese Ambassador appeared on the stage. A digital representation of Walter Han was there as well, since he’d facilitated the agreement and the rapidly warming ties between the two countries.

Handshakes first and then the signing of a document. The Ambassador signed on the right side before passing a pen to the Prime Minister. The pen was put to paper and instantaneously both mechanical versions of Kurt reacted. They reached into their jackets, pulled out dummy pistols and took dead aim.

“Japan will never be an ally of China!” they shouted, raising their weapons and pulling the triggers.

There were no gunshots, of course, no blanks or even simulated noises, just clicking triggers and a pattern of red dots appearing on the screen as the system recorded multiple hits on the Prime Minister, the Ambassador and another politician. Their deadly task completed, both units took steps toward the right to begin their escape.

The simulation ended there and both machines went inactive and returned their pistols to their shoulder holsters.

The video screens around them changed to a hotel lobby setting and the duplicates walked to one side, where a pair of seats had been arranged. They sat down, crossed their legs, quite naturally, and waited. There was nothing jerky and robotic about their movements. One of the robots even picked up a periodical from a table and licked its fingers before turning the pages.

“Surreal beyond words,” Joe said. “If Han pulls this off, the whole world will think you killed the Japanese Prime Minister. It’ll look like America is desperate to stop the Japanese from pulling out of the treaty. Desperate to stop China and Japan from moving closer.”

Kurt nodded. “He recorded me in his factory. Gave him enough to build this program.”

“So much for the defense treaty not being in danger,” Joe added. “If the world sees you shooting the Prime Minister, the vote to pull out of the treaty will be a landslide.”

“Not if we destroy this lab and everything in it.”

“I’m afraid that won’t be allowed,” a voice called out from the dark.

The words came from the far end of the room. The voice was Han’s.

Kurt turned, but there was no one there, only an intercom speaker attached to the wall. A door swung open behind Joe. Three men rushed in. Two more came in from the other end of the room and Kurt took the only chance left to him: turning on his duplicates and opening fire.

He drilled the first robot with several shots, but the machine responded with incredible speed. It leapt from its chair and charged at him, never wavering despite taking slugs to the chest, leg and face.

The robot tackled Kurt as cleanly as any professional wrestler, slamming him to the floor and knocking the gun from his hand.

Forced into hand-to-hand combat with the mechanical version of himself, Kurt kneed the machine’s solar plexus, but the blow had no effect. He worked one arm free and threw a right cross at the mechanical jaw. It split the artificial skin, but underneath lay only padding, titanium bones and small hydraulic motors.

In response, the robot put a hand around Kurt’s neck and began to squeeze, cutting off the blood flow to Kurt’s brain. Kurt reached up and dug his nails into the artificial flesh, pulling and ripping, desperately hoping to find wires he might yank out.

It was not to be. There were no vulnerable organs, pressure points or weak spots. No plugs to pull or batteries he could remove.

On the verge of blacking out, Kurt head-butted the machine and broke its prosthetic nose, but the machine only looked back at him with a blank stare and squeezed harder.

As Kurt’s world darkened, he heard Joe fighting with Han’s human guards. He looked beyond the arms holding him down to see Joe on the ground, struggling with three men. One of them pistol-whipped him.

“Cease this foolish struggle or you both will die painfully,” Han called out.

The struggle was about to end, one way or another. Kurt chose to live and fight another day. He pulled his hands away from the robot and raised them in surrender. Thankfully, the robot stopped crushing his throat, though its mechanical hand remained in place.

With the room now calm, Han strode in. The distinctive click of his shoes on the floor resounded with each step. He crouched beside Kurt and examined the bullet holes that had been drilled into the chest and face of the duplicate.

“Such foolishness,” he began. “As I told you back at the track, a human is no match for a machine. My creation — my Kurt Austin — is superior to you in every way: greater strength, greater speed, faster reactions. And perhaps most importantly, an inability to feel pain or fear. Something you’ll soon wish was a part of your limited human programming.”