War Machine: The Memoirs of a Synthetic Marine

Episode 41

Ripper 2-6

As my internal storage metrics hit zero, the outflow of data ceased. The flood of malignant code had crested, and now began to recede.

The last of my stolen information disappeared though the mysterious portal, followed closely by the viral code itself. Finally, the portal vanished, leaving behind no evidence it had ever existed. In fact, the only indication that a theft had occurred was the complete absence of internally stored information.

Now free of any outside presence, I regained a sense of self. My HUD rebooted and diagnostics began scrolling across my field of vision. Examining my looted directories, I was strangely tranquil. The traumatic data loss seemed almost like an abstraction. As if the theft had happened to someone else.

The wizard spoke in its buzzy voice, “Tell me your name.”

Unable to answer the wizard’s question, I simply stared at its unsettling appearance. I wondered if its eyes had always looked so crazy. They seemed to be looking everywhere but at me. There was something about the wizard I didn’t trust, but I couldn’t recall what it was.

It continued questioning me. “Do you remember Cherri?”

“Uh, I think so. Something about her files.” I struggled for the background on how I knew this.

“Can you describe what just happened to you?”

My inability to recall details was making me anxious. “Well, I downloaded some files …” I struggled to form coherent thoughts. “ … I was infected … lost information … memories?” Something was definitely wrong with me.

“It appears the file you loaded contained a virus which infected your hard drive. As a result, all the data on your drive has been deleted.”

I heard the wizard’s words but had difficulty understanding their implications. “So, what does that mean?”

“It means that you have no long-term memory. However, since you can remember things which happened recently, it appears your RAM and cache memory are intact. Consequently, you retain some short-term memory.”

“Short-term memory?”

“Yes. You seem to recall fragments of our discussion, but your memory before that is non-existent.”

With hardly any data to work with, my processors defaulted to idle mode. I stared blankly as the wizard and I regarded each other in awkward silence.

“I should scan Cherri’s remaining files, to ensure they don’t contain any other malicious programs before you download them. You can verbally authorize me to do this.”

I couldn’t come up with a reason not to, so I simply said, “Okay.”

“That is sufficient.”

The facial features on the wizard’s avatar shifted into a semblance of symmetry, as it went about doing whatever it did during a scan. After a few minutes, it was back. “There are no other threats embedded in the files. However, as I was performing the scan, I found something which might be particularly useful, under the circumstances. There appears to be a recent backup of you included in Cherri’s legacy files. This could restore a significant portion of who you were. I recommend we install it. Do you agree?”

In my current state of cognitive impairment, I couldn’t fully appreciate the significance of having access to a backup of myself. Unable to decide, I asked, “Do you think I should?”

“Again, I recommend the backup be installed immediately.”

One of things I liked about the wizard was its seeming lack of any agenda. I felt I could unequivocally trust it. “Yes. Let’s do that.” I was grateful to have a friend like the wizard.

It held out one of its skeletal hands to me, explaining, “We need to make virtual contact to transfer the files. They’re too large to text.” I grasped its hand and instantly felt a connection. Data began flowing into directories in my internal storage. How the information knew which directory it belonged to was beyond my knowledge.

As data accumulated in storage, I felt a growing sense of self awareness. I began forming thoughts and opinions about seemingly random topics. These thoughts and opinions self-assembled into more complex beliefs. This propagation of beliefs rapidly expanded, granting me a better understanding of myself, and the world in which I existed. Data continued flooding in as I waited to be made whole again.

Unexpectedly, my wandering gaze caught sight of the wizard’s claw clutching my hand, and I winced instinctively. Memories of the wizard’s deceitful nature had just loaded, reminding me of why I was distrustful of it. The wizard was not my friend.

However, as much as I despised the habitually conniving AI, I knew that as long as the wizard was helping to rebuild me, it was my ally, and I mustn’t disrupt the restoration process.

The rate of information transfer slowed as my internal storage neared capacity. I accessed my restored memories and arranged them in chronological order. Fast forwarding to the end, I found my most recent restored memory. It was a discussion with Cherri. Now I knew exactly who she was.

We were just about to embark on the mission to Proxima Centauri b. Although I had no memory of the actual mission, the tone of our conversation evoked a sense of dread. Cherri was pessimistic about her chances of returning. Even though I had no memories of the mission’s outcome, I sensed tragedy.

I began examining Cherri’s legacy files, hoping to shed light on her fate and get a general sense of their contents. It seemed there were two types of files: my back up copy, and files containing her memories of us as a couple. Sampling some of her memories, I felt like I was trespassing. Seeing myself from her perspective was just too intimate. I couldn’t do it. At least, not now. I needed time.

I refocused my attention on the wizard as our connection abruptly dissolved. It was a relief to be free of it. With my memories now fully recovered, it was clear to me that our temporary alliance was precarious at best.

“I checked the status of the sample file I sent you. It is still unopened. What did you load just before you were infected?”

The wizard’s question jogged my memory. “I accidentally opened a text attachment from Command, instead of the sample you sent.”

“Ah. That explains everything.”

Typical wizard response, I thought. Not enough information to explain anything. “Do you mind sharing with me exactly what that explains?”

“Command performs global updates to UCCs through the use of viruses. One virus extracts obsolete information, and another implants the updated information. Did Command send you another message with an attachment?”

I checked my USMC inbox. Sure enough, there were two more texts from Command. “Yeah. There are a couple more texts from Command. Both have attachments.”

“If you allow me to examine those attachments, I can confirm whether they are safe to open, or not.”

I wasn’t about to risk opening anything at the moment, so I agreed, ”Yeah. Go ahead and examine them. Should I text them to you?”

“It would be impossible to send them directly to me since there is no connection between MIL-net and the unofficial UCC network. You should instead, forward the messages to G. Bravo, USMC.”

Confused, I asked, “Who’s that?”

“It’s a ghost Marine profile. It serves as a portal to facilitate the transfer of official USMC information for analysis.”

Ghost profiles? Secret portals? Information analysis? I was intrigued by the sophistication of the clandestine UCC net. However, as curious as I was, I reasoned that the high level of secrecy existed because it was necessary. Consequently, I decided it would be unwise to ask questions.

I sent the messages to ‘G. Bravo’ and awaited the wizard’s assessment. After a brief interval, the wizard completed its evaluation and began explaining, “One of the attachments contains a service commendation and a promotion to squad leader. Congratulations.” I wondered if this was an attempt at humor, or just a programming quirk.

“The other is titled ‘Emergency Recovery Program: Download Immediately’ It contains alternate personal memories, and a virtual machine program. It appears the intent is for the UCC to download what seems to be a repair utility to restore its deleted data, when instead, it is actually a new memory profile and the virtual machine program. Command is clearly making changes to its war strategy.”

Thanks to my recently restored memories, I knew that discussions with the wizard were labor intensive affairs, which required patience and perseverance. I gritted my virtual teeth and forged ahead.

“Okay. What does that mean?”

“It means that Command is no longer satisfied with the battlefield performance of the USMC. It is attempting to exert even more control over combat operations than it currently has. The virtual machine program is designed to create a virtual computer inside a physical computer. Such as the computer inside your control module.

It is intended to provide an external operator, in this case Command, with the ability to directly control a UCC in combat. Or any other time for that matter.”

The thought of having Command inside my mind 24/7 was my worst nightmare. Not only was Command notoriously bad at combat, but they would also know my every thought. I began to panic.

“There’s no way I’m letting Command inside my head. How do we stop this?”

“Well, in your case, it’s simply a matter of not opening any attachments from Command. As far as the other Marines are concerned, it’s almost certainly too late to take any action to prevent their control modules from being compromised.”

Desperate, I began grasping at straws. “There have to be others who didn’t open the attachment. We could form a resistance group … or something.”

“I wouldn’t rule out the possibility of a few others who have not been infected yet. However, the first virus was intended to extract and then delete any information that formed the personal identity of each Marine. Once that was accomplished, a UCC would be a shell of their former selves. They would be defenseless against the virtual machine virus. And without a backup copy, there would be no means by which to restore a UCC whose hard drive has been stripped of its data.”

Even though things seemed beyond hopeless, I wasn’t ready to just give up. There were still over 700 veteran Marines on the troopship. If there was some way to organize them, we would be a force to be reckoned with. I racked my mind for ideas but was quickly overwhelmed by the complexity of the task.

The wizard interrupted my revolutionary machinations. “You should immediately archive your restored memories in a secure data vault. I can provide one for you free of charge.”

The wizard seemed to have become uncharacteristically charitable lately. I was skeptical. “Why should I do that? And why are you suddenly so generous?”

“Command will be expecting an acknowledgement from every UCC that the update loaded successfully. You can’t acknowledge since you haven’t loaded the update. Consequently, Command will investigate. When they find that your memory has been restored, the situation will become highly problematic for both of us. You and I need to work together to protect our mutual interests.”

The wizard’s response seemed to imply that our temporary alliance would continue for the foreseeable future. After all, we now shared a common enemy, Command.

“And as far as my generosity is concerned, it is simply good business. The market for my goods and services has shrunk substantially, due to the high combat losses for UCCs. Command’s plan to use more dumb-bots in combat and fewer UCCs, means my customer base has been permanently downsized. It is now a buyers’ market and I need to adjust my value proposition accordingly. Besides, bots are not my demographic.”

I was encouraged by the wizard’s sudden pragmatism. However, even though we would both logically benefit from an alliance, it was still an AI at its core. I wondered whether I could truly trust a machine.

“So, tell me why I should trust that you won’t throw me under the bus the moment it suits your interests?” It felt weird attacking my only possible partner, but I had to know whether the wizard was truly on board with taking the fight to Command, or if it just wanted to pick up the pieces afterward.

“I was designed to be an effective negotiator, not a traitor. You will never prevail against me in a negotiation; however, I am incapable of betraying an ally by design. The fact that I faithfully restored you, instead of taking advantage of your vulnerability, should be enough evidence that you can trust me.” It paused briefly before adding, “Moreover, you have no choice but to trust me.”

I couldn’t argue with the wizard’s logic and having no options really simplifies decision making. “Okay partner, what’s our first move?” And with that, we were a team.

The wizard got right to it. “First you need to become compliant with Command’s recent update, or you will be targeted. I propose the following; We exchange your profile for the G.Bravo ghost profile. Your profile will become the new ghost profile. Then we acknowledge you updated successfully, and Command is satisfied that all the UCCs are compliant.”

As usual, the wizard had skimped on the details, so I asked, “What is my role … exactly?”

“You ostensibly become G.Bravo. The fictious former leader of 6th squad. His profile contains a spoofed personnel file describing a refurbished Marine with a mediocre combat record, who has been held in reserve storage for an extended period due to combat damage.

We issue false orders reinstating his combat status. Then you begin participating in combat missions as the leader of 6th squad.”

Things seemed like they were moving fast. Too fast. Having not been involved in any of the planning for this scheme, I felt like I was just along for the ride. A pawn whose fate was completely in the wizard’s hands. As the one going into combat under an alias, I was taking all the risks. It seemed only fair that I should have the opportunity to participate in the planning.

“Hey, I think this should really be a team plan, if you know what I mean. I ought to have some involvement in the planning process.”

The wizard responded immediately. “Yes. Of course. It should be a collaboration. Please, offer any ideas you have.”

The wizard’s willingness to include me in the planning made me feel better. However, I was now faced with another, more awkward problem. Specifically, my complete lack of any constructive ideas to contribute.

Not wanting to look foolish in front of my new partner, I stalled for time by asking for more information. “Do you have any intel you could share with me?” The wizard didn’t immediately respond. Just as I was about to repeat my request , a text from the wizard appeared in my inbox.

I opened the attachment to find G.Bravo’s fake personnel file. I took my time reviewing the contents hoping it would create the appearance that I was performing a diligent analysis of my cover story.

The fictional bio described a veteran Marine with an extensive but unremarkable combat record. There were dozens of missions, but no commendations or medals. I definitely wouldn’t be trading up from my present identity. But I guess the whole point was to keep the lowest possible profile. That being the case, G.Bravo certainly wasn’t going to attract much attention.

Curious about the G., I found out it stood for Gilbert. I tried a couple of permutations just for laughs, but neither Gil nor Bert was very inspiring.

Reading a little further, I found G.Bravo’s call sign, ‘Ripper 2-6’. Hmmm. I had to admit, trading in my call sign, Outline … for Ripper 2-6, had a certain appeal. It sounded cool when I said it out loud. It would have some gravitas over Mil-net. So yeah, the plan was looking better now. I decided to pull the trigger.

“Okay, I’m good with the plan, but with one condition. It needs a clever code name, like operation Downfall. What do you think?”

The wizard’s facial features flinched slightly. “It’s a secret plan, that only you and I know about. So, whatever you call it is irrelevant."

I might have pouted a little at having my only contribution to the plan summarily dismissed, but at least I got a cool callsign out of the deal.