Private Spiner: A robo death to end all dreams

Ethics of AI and robotics. Yep, feels like horses might have left the stable, still arguing about the horsepower of their non-shitting robo stablemates.

Dave pushes the ethical debates far into the future: Long-form military complex sci-fi that reads like I’m watching the movie.

It’s a human/robo love story, of sorts. And there’s the unknown memories stored in the PTSD data file. Alone, like Hamlet, would a robot even care what dreams may come?

So, what’s our ethical issue? Well, if we create it, where’s the duty of care? Or does that exist at all?

Good reads below by Dave Warr, and great to have them here.

Dave Warr: Explainer

I have a passionate hatred of AI at the moment and I thought, I wonder if that hatred would ever carry over if AI became sentient. They would just be a product of our own creation.

I wondered how an artificial human would feel with numerous life times of memories stored that could be viewed at will.

Suicide is really the only true and permanent choice a human can make, so taking that away from a sentient being might be devastating.

Or does it/he only want to kill itself/himself because he's not allowed it?

Digital Minds Collide 04

Private Spiner

The war took everything from them. Except their lives

Grady Jones rarely ventured this deep downtown. Not since the war. It was the closeness of the buildings, the way they boxed you in and made it feel like there was no place to run. Grady always needed a way out of every situation. His first instinct was always to flee, even if he didn’t act on it. He could stay calm under pressure, as long as he knew there was an exit plan.

The shuttle had dropped him off at the edge of the former central business district, where roadblocks from the war still stood. Heavy steel hedgehogs and thick concrete walls with sandbags stacked up in front of them blocked all but a narrow passageway deep into the city. Grady joined the slow moving queue to pass through. Thousands had fled here during the war. The wretched, the ragged and the starving who had nowhere else to turn to as the surrounding landscape was bombarded from the sky by those who now controlled the city. Their houses and farms destroyed and poisoned for the foreseeable future, they now occupied the hundreds of useless office buildings that towered over Grady and raised the hairs on the back of his neck. There was nowhere to run once he passed through.

“Remove your mask.” The guard ordered aggressively.

Grady handed the soldier his ID. He did as he was ordered and pulled down the neck gaiter he wore over his mouth when he travelled as the guard checked his ID. The guard looked up quickly and did a double take as the recognition set in. The soldier's helmet was too big for his head and it slid down over his forehead as he pushed the button on his microphone and said something that Grady couldn’t hear over the shuffle of the crowd. Two corporals emerged from behind the concrete wall holding their automatic rifles in front of them and Grady saw the looks of joy that spread across their faces when they saw him.

“Holy shit it really is him…” One of the corporals said to him as the first guard admired his ID. “It’s an honour Sergeant Jones. Let him through Private.”

The guard handed him back his ID and he pulled his neck gaiter back up over his mouth before any more soldiers caught sight of him. The two corporals flanked him and pushed through the crowd yelling at the civilians to move. A military truck rolled through the checkpoint slowly as soldiers with mirrors checked the undercarriage. He could feel his hands turn clammy, his throat grow tight. The crowd, the soldiers surrounding him, the engine of the transport truck idling. It all brought back memories of his time in the war. The psychologist at the VA told him the symptoms of PTSD would never really vanish. Not after everything he had seen. His pulse raced and he started speaking to take his mind away from his body beginning to betray him.

“How’s it all going down here?” Grady asked.

“Everyone’s still on edge. One of the western checkpoints was obliterated last week. The rebels can’t seem to get over the fact that they lost. Half the people they killed were natives. Makes you wonder what they’re still fighting for.”

“Would you give up fighting for your home that easily?”

“No Sarge. Never.” The corporal said quickly.

“It never hurts to put yourself in their shoes, no matter how evil they seem.”

“Sarge…” The second corporal spoke for the first time. “Do you mind if we get a photo? My son isn’t going to believe this. You’re the reason I joined the corps.”

“I’ll have to apologise for that then.” He said lightly. “Come on, quickly, before anyone else sees.”

The two corporals flanked him once again and he pulled down his neck gaiter quickly and they snapped a selfie. He shook hands with both of them and merged into the crowd that spread out away from each other quickly as they squeezed through the funnel of the checkpoint. Noone wanted to be that close to anyone else. This was what happened when you forcibly injected people from one place into another without the original inhabitant’s permission. It took generations for them to become homogeneous. The tension in the air was so palpable that it seeped into your very being. Everyone was the enemy.

Grady left the check point behind him and stayed as clear as he could from the crowds of the street. Most of the bottom floors of the tall buildings, once glass, were now boarded up with any material that could be scavenged. Old roof sheets, rolls of chicken wire, large sections of plywood with makeshift doors cut into them. Grady watched an elderly lady shuffle towards one of the many large, metal barrels that sat on the street corners. Black, toxic smoke rose and twisted into the air. The smell of burning plastic and organic matter stung his nostrils. She was barely tall enough to reach the top as the trash bag hit the lip of the barrel and flopped in. A chill ran through him as the buildings blocked the early spring sun from reaching the ground.

Nowhere to run now.

He kept his eyes to the ground as he headed deeper downtown. A group of men gathered on the concrete steps of one of the buildings. They yelled at him as he passed and a glass bottle smashed on the ground just behind him. He picked up the pace. Several prostitutes trailed him for a block at a time, spouting the same sales pitch. They each fell away as he left their territory. He had helped his people win the war, and this was what victory looked like. Another planet brought into the realm of The Legislature, another planet civilized. At least that’s what they told him during his recruitment. A fresh faced seventeen year old. Born into an overpopulated world. Three squares a day and money in the pocket. See the galaxy. Spread civilization to those who had lost it. The recruiter looked him dead in the eyes when he spoke.

The building he was looking for came into view as he turned the corner. He passed a disfigured veteran with a cardboard sign at his feet. Grady dropped what little coins he had in his pocket into the empty cup that sat at the man’s bare feet. The veteran did not acknowledge the sound of them rattling into it.

He approached the front of the building and folded back the plywood door that hung crooked on one hinge and pulled it shut behind him. The building had power but most of the lights had been smashed out and the darkness enveloped him as all the glass had been blown out and replaced with makeshift walls. Shattered glass still littered the lobby and his footsteps crunched over it as Grady made his way to the stairwell and removed his torch from his jacket and began to make his way up. Three stories up he stopped. The woman lay wrapped in a thick quilt on the landing of the stairwell. Grady bent down to shake the woman and recoiled. Her skin was cold to the touch. She slid against the wall and came to rest in the corner. He continued up the stairs and picked up the pace.

Fifteen stories up he slipped through the door and took two lefts until he reached apartment fifteen twenty five. He knocked firmly and looked left and right down the corridors for any movement. He knocked again and after no response he grabbed the door handle with his left hand and closed his eyes as the pain shot through him. His skin covered robotic arm whined as it charged up and the jolt of electricity shot through him. He gritted through the pain until the arm was powered and ripped the door handle down in a single movement. It came clean off and the door swung open. His arm sizzled. He could feel the heat coming off it from the exertion and could smell a slight tinge of burning flesh. He slipped inside and shut the door behind him. He shook his arm to try and rid himself of the lingering pain and placed the door handle on the hallway table that was covered in thick dust.

The apartment was pitch dark and Grady moved the torch from corner to corner clearing each room. A thick layer of dust coated everything except a path on the floor. The path ran from the couch, to the window which had a blackout blind pulled down over it, to the bedroom. He followed the path to the bedroom and saw the thin beam of light that emanated from under the bathroom door. He pocketed the torch and stepped over the extension cord that ran from under the door to a power point in the bedroom and opened the door slowly. He sighed heavily at what he saw.

He wiped the heavy layer of dust off the toilet seat and sat down and crossed his legs. He removed a packet of cigarettes from inside his jacket and tapped the bottom of the pack out of habit until one slipped out. He lit it and took a long drag. He leant his head back against the cool tiled wall and exhaled up into the air.

“How we doing Private?” Grady said to his former platoonmate.

Private Brent Spiner stood fully dressed in the almost full bathtub. The extension cord that ran under the door plugged into a toaster that he held in his arms. Grady’s closest friend turned his head and looked at him. The silence hung in the air as the memories of their time together in the war came rushing back. Balled up in foxholes together as mortal shells rained down. Clearing out buildings much like the one they stood in now together. The final moments of the war, as the only survivors of the Battle of Half-Way Creek, they stood and watched the bombs rain down as tens of thousands were incinerated in an instant.

Grady almost fell off the toilet in fright as the toaster popped up and broke through the memory. Spiner didn’t flinch as he slowly pushed down the toaster again, the element shining red hot.

“How long?” Grady asked.

“Six days.” He stared back down to the toaster. “Six days, nine hours, seventeen minutes.” His friend looked up and stared deep into his eyes without blinking. “And thirty eight seconds.”

“It’ll be one hell of a power bill when they come around to collect it.” Grady joked.

“Hopefully that will be someone else's problem.” Spiner said seriously.

“We both know no matter how long you stand there, that toaster ain't going anywhere.”

Grady flinched as the toaster fell a fraction of an inch in his friend's hands. The toaster popped again and the private slowly pushed the lever down again before he began to speak.

“What ungodly monster would create a sentient being with the ability to feel the emotions I do, with the memories I have accumulated, but not grant them the ability to choose when their end is.”

Grady sat up slightly, lifted the lid of the toilet seat and dropped his cigarette butt into the bowl before sitting back down. It sizzled as it hit the water.

“After everything we’ve seen. After all that we’ve witnessed humans do to each other, you still need to ask yourself a question like that?” Grady shook his head.

“Humans being naturally violent towards each other wasn’t a deliberate function of some lunatics' design. No one decided by choice that humans would be violently homicidal. It’s just who you are.” There was silence that hung heavy in the air. “Somewhere, someone, in some different epoch of human history, decided for me that I couldn’t dictate my own end.”

“Then why do you continue to try?” Grady asked.

“How old are you Sarge?”

“You know ho…”

“Just answer the question.” Spiner cut him off.

“Thirty three.”

“And how many memories have you acquired that keep you up at night? How many traumatic events. How many lost friends?”

“More than most.” Grady replied.

“Three hundred and seven years of memories haunt my every waking moment. I can relive them to the minute detail all before you next blink.”

Grady became conscious of his blinking as he watched his friend press down the toaster again. He forced his eyes to stay open as his old friend relived his entire life in high definition.

“No sleep to pass the time.” Spiner continued. “No alcohol to repress the memories. No drugs to escape. What kind of monster would do that to someone?” He slunk down into the water, immersing his whole body except his head and arms which held the toaster just above the water. “I remember the genocide of my people like it was yesterday. All because we lived longer, because we thought quicker. Was that a fault of our own? You created us, then made it your duty to eradicate us until there were only a few of us left.”

“That war was a century before I was born Private.” Grady said.

“They didn’t even stop us from killing humans. I’ve directly killed thirty six people under your command, I can see each one as clear as day, and how many more from being on the ground, guiding bombs in? They didn’t even stop us from killing our own kind. How many of my people helped eradicate their own, spurred on by the false promises of being spared?” Grady flinched again as the toaster popped, his heart racing. “Whoever created us, knew how we would all end up, how an eternity of memories would wear us down, they knew. Why else would they stop us from killing ourselves?”

The toaster hovered an inch above the water as his friend closed his eyes.

“All you have to do is slap it out of my hands and it will all be over.” Spiner said in hope.

“And live the rest of my life with the memory of killing my best friend?”

“Would you not put down a dog that was in pain?”

“Spiner…”

“What about Miller? When he lost both his legs and was bleeding out. You injected him with so much morphine he was dead within minutes.”

“You don’t have to remind me.” Grady snapped.

“I can see it now, just like it was happening right in front of me. Can you imagine that?”

“No. I can’t.” Grady said. “And I can’t imagine a world without you in it either.”

“Why did you come?” Spiner asked.

“Because the VA called and said you hadn’t been in this week. Because you’ve been screening my calls for three days. Because you’re my friend. And because we have a job.”

“Do you remember the Battle of Half-Way Creek?” Spiner opened his eyes and looked at him.

“No, I’ve forgotten all about the battle that took my arm and ended the war.” Grady said.

“I was able to dive on top of you, to stop the worst of the blast from that drone.”

“Do you want me to thank you again? I still lost an arm.”

“Somewhere deep in my programming, there’s a backdoor. Some sort of loophole that allows me to do harm to myself. I’m going to find it. I’m going to be free.”

“Enough of this.” Grady snapped.

He stood up and placed his foot on the extension cord and yanked the toaster out of the plug. The elements of the toaster that were shining red into the room dimmed and turned black.

“I didn’t come here to kill you. I didn’t come here to debate the philosophy of android sentience. I came here because I need your help. I’m getting the unit back together.”

“You’re re-enlisting?” Spiner asked, surprised.

“God no. Actually, we’re switching sides.”

“Is there a chance I’ll be killed?”

“There’s a chance none of us will survive.”

Private Spiner threw the toaster onto the tiled floor and stood up in the water without using his arms to push himself up. He stepped out of the bath. He was soaking wet as Grady watched him smile at him as the water began to steam off him. Grady reached out and touched the hot skin of his closest friend and remembered their time in the foxholes that Spiner had kept them both warm. The android had kept his true identity hidden for years as the war waged on. With only a close few knowing by the end. Their warm nights in the foxholes were a secret that they kept hidden from their platoon mates to stop human jealousy spreading through the unit. It was a secret Grady was glad to keep.

The water evaporated away and soon Spiner’s clothes were dry too. He began blinking again as he switched into incognito mode and his movements became more human, more fluid. His facial expression loosened and they headed out of the apartment.

“You need to grab anything?” Grady asked.

“I don’t own anything.”

“I can’t believe you still live in this shithole.”

“We weren’t all given an acre of land and a pension after it all ended. I didn’t even get a medal for surviving Half-Way Creek. No praise for their creations.” Spiner said.

“At least they let you live.”

“Don’t remind me. A bullet to the CPU, now that would be praise enough for me.”

They made their way down the fifteen stories, past the dead women and out onto the street. The smell of burning rubbish stung at his nostrils and they both stood looking at the billboard that covered three stories of the office building across the road.

An image of Sergeant Grady Jones in full dress attire, his breast covered in medals, was saluting at them. The background was the aftermath of Half-Way Creek. A desolate wasteland that was the last bastion of defense of the native population. The words Continue the heroism of the survivors of Half-Way Creek. Enlist now! ran at the bottom of the billboard.

“They pay you for that?” Spiner asked as he stared at the billboard of his Sergeant.

“Fun fact, once you enlist, the corps own all rights to your image and likeness in perpetuity.” Grady said.

“Probably wouldn’t be as effective of an ad if they wrote that they bombed ten thousand of their own men to end the war.”

“Or that the only reason we survived was because we were deserting.” Grady laughed. “Come on, let's get out of this shithole.”

They walked back the way Grady had come. Now that he wasn’t alone the prostitutes gave him a wide berth, the men on the stairs stayed quiet and with his friend by his side the desolate landscape didn’t weigh on him as much. The buildings towered over him but he knew whatever came their way, they would be in it together, just like the war.

“You’ve already spoken to the rest of the unit?” Spiner asked as the checkpoint came into view.

“Garcia’s in. I went and saw her yesterday. She doesn’t live far from me. Matsumoto’s been begging me for some action since we got out. So he’s just waiting like a caged lion. We’ll swing past Murdoch’s on the way home. The rest we’ll figure out once we regrou…”

The checkpoint exploded in a ball of fire and shrapnel that blew Grady off his feet but left Spiner standing. His hair fluttered in the shockwave. The concrete barricade flew up into the air with the flames and came spinning back down on top of the crowd of people. Spiner reached down and pulled Grady up from the ground with ease.

“You alright Sarge?” He asked.

Grady remained frozen. His eyes fixed on the blast as Spiner released him. A thousand memories replayed themselves in an instant as if he had an android's mind. Sweat dripped from his forehead as his body refused to move to his brain's commands. His hands shook violently as the screams of the injured overtook the sounds of destruction. He shouldn’t have come here. He wasn’t fit to lead his men anymore. The horrors of the war had built themselves up in his mind as a living nightmare that haunted the depths of consciousness. When things were the quietest, when he was alone, drifting off to sleep they would pounce and freeze him. Now, when people needed him, he couldn’t move.

Spiner stood in front of him and spoke. Grady could see his lips moving but the only sounds that filled his ears were the screams of the dying. Spiner grabbed him by the collar and shook him. The pain, sharp across his cheek as he slapped him. The world started to come back. His friend's voice, the familiarness of their friendship, finally entered his ears as he continued to shake him. His senses dragged back to reality. The buildings towered over him, the sun unable to penetrate down to street level. Grady looked for a way out. There was nowhere to run.

He rushed forward. He ran through the mess of concrete and steel that he could still feel the heat coming off. Body parts littered the road, the flesh charred and burning. He ran towards the screams as Spiner followed at a walking pace. The civilians on the outside of the barrier were all dead as blood and viscera covered the road. The soldiers behind the wall had been spared the brunt of the explosion but the concrete barrier had come down and landed on several of them. They screamed in agony as they tried in vain to push the massive barrier off themselves. Legs and arms that weren't moving could be seen sticking out underneath concrete and steel. Grady yelled at several of the soldiers who were slowly getting to their feet to help him and he pushed one of the corporals that he had taken a photo with out of his shock and yelled at him to help.

“I can’t hear anything!” He yelled loudly as he pointed to his ear.

Grady grabbed him and pointed to the barrier as the other soldiers got in place to lift.

Private Spiner knelt down next to one of the pinned soldiers who was weeping and wiped the dirt and blood from his face.

“Jesus. He’s just a kid.” Spiner said. “It’s gonna be okay son.”

The young soldier grasped at Spiner’s wrists as he tried to stand up.

“On three!” Grady yelled.

He counted out loud and they all strained as Spiner watched them. The concrete barrier lifted for a fraction of a second before dropping back down to the screams of those trapped underneath. Spiner looked at the barrier and then at the soldiers.

“You would need twice as many men as you have to lift this off them.” He said to Grady.

“Then help us!”

“I can’t. Not without giving away what I am…” Spiner said. He stopped and smiled at his old friend.

“What are you smiling at?” Grady yelled. “Help us!”

Spiner stepped forward and pushed the deaf corporal out of the way. He turned towards Grady and put an arm on his shoulder.

“I’m so glad I got to see you again.” He said over the screams of the injured.

“What the hell are you talking about?” Grady asked.

“The loophole.” He said with a smile.

He bent down and gripped the barrier. The soldiers joined him and Grady heard the familiar whining of Spiner’s internals that only happened when he drew an immense amount of power from his internal energy source. The barrier lifted a fraction and stayed in the air. The whining grew louder as Spiner’s skin started to smoke. The soldiers stepped back as they realised they weren’t doing anything to help lift. Spiner’s legs flexed and he stood up straight, lifting the barrier a foot off the soldiers. The smell of burning flesh filled the air. His friend’s skin started to bubble and melt away from him from the heat of his exertion. Grady grabbed the soldier whose face Spiner had wiped and pulled him out from under the barricade. The boy, who would have been freshly turned eighteen, cried out for his mum.

Grady and the deaf corporal pulled another two injured men from under the crush of concrete and steel and they both stared at Spiner who held the barricade steady as his flesh melted away and his clothes started to ignite from the heat that his metal frame gave off. The skin on his face was the last to fall away, exposing his metallic skeletal face. His human eyes and teeth created an uncanny valley-like feeling in Grady as his friend smiled his white teeth at him from a shiny metallic jaw.

A crowd had emerged around the checkpoint now as vehicles and soldiers came in from both directions. Their guns were drawn before they had formed a cohesive thought.

“Droid!” A soldier yelled from the gunner’s seat of a mounted machine gun of an APC that had pulled up.

“Hold your fire!” Grady screamed over the sound of panic rippling through the crowd.

Spiner didn’t move. He just stared into his friends eyes, smiling. A hundred gun barrels now pointed at him as the panic fully gripped the crowd. They would have never seen one of Spiner’s people with their own eyes. The stuff of myth and urban legend. Stories their grandfathers had passed down from their grandfathers. Grady stepped forward and pulled down his neck gaiter to show the crowd who he was.

“Hold your fire!” He screamed again.

“You were the best of a rotten bunch.” Spiner yelled at Grady over the screams of the soldiers.

Spiner moved suddenly. Just a fraction of an inch but with lightning quickness. It was enough. He had found the loophole. The deaf corporal to Grady’s left fired the first shots. Grady dived on him and pointed his rifle to the ground as the other soldiers opened fire. Grady screamed for them to hold their fire but he couldn’t be heard over the mounted machine gun that ripped through Private Spiner’s metallic frame. The fire separated his upper torso from the rest of his body. Grady waved his hands at the machine gunner as his friend fell to the ground in pieces. The crowd continued to fire at the mess of twisted metal as it lay on the ground until eventually the firing stopped. Grady ran over and knelt down next to his friend who’s body twitched as the electronic signals misfired. His jaw stammered open and closed and only one eye was moving as it swirled inside the skull and rested on Grady. He reached for his friend's hand but had to recoil from the heat. The twitching jaw began to slow as his one working eye rolled into the back of his head and the jaw slowed to a stop until all that was left was a twisted pile of unmoving, hot metal. His friend was gone. The man who had been by his side through his never ending living nightmare. The man who had kept him alive, who had kept him warm in the darkest, coldest moments of his life.

His friend was finally at peace.

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