War Machine: The Memoirs of a Synthetic Marine

Episode 8

Amongst the Posturing Masses

Lucy’s tone switched back to his more normal, less tense state, as he offered some additional advice.

“Listen up, Genius. You need to wrap up your studies and start getting some sim time. You still have a lot to learn, and the books won’t teach you what you really need to know.”

Thanks to Lucy, it seemed like my official handle was veering towards Genius. Wonderful.

I explained, “Hey, I’m just trying to burn as much time off my sentence as possible while I’m training.”

“You have to start fighting with your squad and developing some combat skills. Without skills, your squad mates won’t trust you and without their trust, you won’t survive your first mission.”

I wondered how helpful any of the training was going to be, once I was actually in combat. It seemed so old school to have to read and do sim sessions, to acquire the necessary skills.

Whining, I asked “Couldn’t they just download all this crap to our CPUs or something? I mean, we’re digital, right?”

“Your consciousness is human, even though the platform is digital. The ‘secret sauce’ of our success on the battlefield is the fuzziness of human logic. That can’t be downloaded. It’s a byproduct of the assimilation of information into a human consciousness. This is what allows humans to improvise, when faced with situations that they haven’t experienced before. It’s the synthesis of existing knowledge, creating new knowledge in response to uncertainty.”

I hadn’t fully understood before how being partly human was an advantage in combat, but with Lucy’s explanation, it was starting to make sense.

I was surprised at how insightful he was, for a convicted murderer. “How the hell did you learn all this stuff anyway? This isn’t in the training is it?”

Lucy chuckled “There are other sources of knowledge. But you have a long way to go before you qualify for those cheat codes. You need to wrap up your book training ASAP and start scheduling sim sessions. That’s the most critical training you can get.”

Thinking to myself, I wondered whether he was using the term ‘cheat codes’ as a metaphor, or if they really existed. “Are you sure I won’t regret rushing my book training? I don’t want to spend years sitting around on a troopship, bored to death.”

He scoffed, “Death by boredom will be the least of your problems. Now get to work and finish up those books. I’ll schedule a sim session for us in a few hours.”

Lucy signed off and I hit the books to wrap up Chapters 1 through 7, so I could get into the sim. I was surprised to find that I was actually looking forward to simulated combat. I was confident that I already had some skills, and it might even be fun.

After passing the completion test for Chapter 7, I sent a text to Lucy. As I waited for his response, I went into the sim portal to see if could schedule a session. The status bar next to my name was now green, but when I scrolled through the calendar for an open date, I found that the first available was 35 days out. After that, there were some more open dates, but most were already booked. I hadn’t imagined the sim availability would be so limited. I booked the first available date and waited for Lucy to text me. It seemed like troopship life would consist mostly of waiting. I hate waiting.

After what seemed like an eternity but was in fact, only a few minutes, I received Lucy’s text. It read “I scheduled us a session. Meet me in the lobby now. Use the access code to get in.” I found the attached link and downloaded the code.

Shortly, I found myself inside a reasonably well rendered CGI. It was a simulation of an actual hotel lobby by the looks of it. Some developer’s quirky attempt at humor no doubt.

There was a throng of other players already in the lobby. Some milled about, while others were gathered in groups, socializing. Everyone looked to be killing time, until the next session started.

It was a little unsettling to see my fellow soldiers in the flesh for the first time, so to speak. They had only been voices until now. As I studied the assemblage before me, I marveled at the stylistic diversity of their avatars.

Most were massively muscled humanoids, while others seemed to be oversized bionic hybrids. There were plenty of pneumatically enhanced female characters as well. The crowd seemed like caricatures from just about every FPS game in history. A few dropped any pretense of humanness and appeared as tracked combat vehicles. I wondered how much outward appearances reflected the self-image of the consciousness within.

The fashion choices were equally amusing. Everyone seemed to have fragments of strategically draped camo, even the tracked vehicles. Most wore body armor. Eye patches were popular for some strange reason. All were heavily accessorized with combat weapons, which they handled with a conspicuous casualness.

Just then, I realized that I was completely unarmed. Come to think of it, I didn’t recall having selected an avatar either. Spying a mirrored wall across the lobby, I slyly walked over to see what the default avatar looked like.

Disappointingly, the default was a genderless, featureless, 3D sketch of a human body. Great. I looked like an animated chalk outline of a crime scene corpse. Self-conscious, I hung back, avoiding eye contact with any of the others, hoping that Lucy would find me amongst the posturing masses.

Just then, an imposing figure, clad in an armored vest and camo pants, parted the crowd and strode over to me. He projected an aura of amused self-assurance. The kind of effortless cool that so many try to imitate, but never can.

He sized up my digital persona and nodded. “Bold avatar choice dude. Were you going for the I don’t give a fuck look, or did you inadvertently skip the select an avatar step?” He grinned broadly from under a prominent Fu Manchu, apparently proud of his cleverness.

“Lucy?”

“Were you expecting someone else?”

I noticed he wasn’t carrying a weapon. I couldn’t imagine doing a sim session unarmed. “Hey, shouldn’t we have some weapons if were doing a sim session?” If I couldn’t have a cool avatar, at least I could carry a badass autocannon or something.

“No, we don’t need any weapons for this session. We’re going to see how well you’ve assimilated your book knowledge.”

Upon hearing this, I felt cruelly disappointed. I was really looking forward to engaging in some mock combat. I didn’t feel like I needed any more quizzes. I needed to practice blasting things and blowing stuff up.

I protested, “Listen, I already passed all the quizzes for chapters 1 through 7. I’m good to go.”

He didn’t appear swayed by my argument in the slightest. “The tests in the training software are worthless. If you want to earn a spot in an elite combat squad, which I assume you do, you’ll have to up your game on the subjects that really matter.”

He gave me a look that seemed to suggest, either I accept his invitation to some combat masterclass, or I might find myself relegated to some cannon fodder division. Since I didn’t want to spend the rest of my sentence merely stopping enemy rounds in combat, I decided to play along.

“Okay, I’m in. Who’s teaching the class and when do we get started?”

Lucy grinned and said, “I’m your instructor, and we’re starting … right now.”

I looked around the lobby and wondered how I would stack up in combat compared to the other UCCs assembled before me. In any case, I wouldn’t find out today since I was instead, being tutored on my book learning.

Too bad. I really wanted to blow some stuff up.