A.I. Artificial Intelligence, Part I
How It Began by Jeff Vanderslice
In 2023, after much heated debate, the US Congress legalized the creation of Artificial Intelligences. It was rather a moot point, really, since many such entities had already been created experimentally and quite illegally by scientists and researchers in the US as well as in Japan, Russia, and the European Union, each of whom had legalized Artificial Intelligences some years earlier. In 2034, after much more heated debate, the AI’s were given the rights of citizenship, including the right to vote and hold office. In 2038, the first was elected to the US House of Representatives from a district in California. In 2044, the first ran for President on the Reform Party ticket and the first was elected Governor of Massachusetts. In 2048, the Democrats put together an AI package to run for President, giving it the politically-correct name and personality of a woman, Martha Union Hope.
On March 17, 2049, President Hope called a meeting of her cabinet. Long ago, as a condition for accepting the rights of AI’s to hold public office, the Republicans had insisted on a provision in the legislation that, in the case where an AI was elected to the highest office in the land, at least three of the President’s cabinet positions had to be held by a flesh and blood human; those of the Secretary of State, Defense, and the Treasury. These positions were held by Phipps, the Secretary of State, Rogers, the Secretary of the Treasury, and Talkington, the Secretary of Defense. The rest of the cabinet posts were all held by AI’s appointed to office by President Hope and approved by Congress, which in 2049 was firmly under the control of the Democrats and itself dominated by AI’s in both the Senate and the House.
The cabinet meeting was held in the Penthouse Office of the New Capitol, the jet-black marble fortress that looked more like a mausoleum than a seat of government, surrounded by acres of parkland covering vast underground offices and facilities, and with enough automated and manual security to keep out an army. The seemingly graceless and imposing structure had been constructed in 2018 after Palestinian terrorists had destroyed the old Capitol and White House in the mass terror attack on Washington in 2012, and had been dedicated as a memorial to those who died in the attacks.
At the table, on three sides, sat the human Secretaries; with Phipps of State on the left, Rogers of the Treasury on the right, and Talkington of Defense on the end. At the head of the table sat the large black mechoserv unit that represented the disembodied artificial President and between the humans, smaller, similar black mechoservs sat representing the artificial Secretaries of the other cabinet-level departments. Behind each human Secretary, a human Marine bodyguard in dress blues stood at attention with an M-4 rifle held across his chest.
The sweetly innocent female voice of the President’s mec began, “Gentlemen, as of 10:00 this morning I have officially dissolved Congress.”
That simple, matter-of-fact statement stunned the humans speechless. The Marines remained at attention but, without moving their heads, looked warily at each other. Talkington raised his eyebrows in disbelief. Phipps frowned and Rogers’ mouth dropped open.
“What?” he managed to murmur.
“As three fourths of them were Artificial Intelligences and two thirds of those Democrats and already wired into the Democratic Party voting network, there was no further need of the legislative body since I, as head of the Democratic Party programming network, controlled all their votes and was going to make all of the decisions anyway.” The AI paused. “At the same time, I have abolished the Supreme Court. As soon as arrangements are finalized, all lower courts all the way down to the city and county level will be replaced and staffed by subsidiary justice units of myself.”
“You can’t do that!” Talkington was the first to break out of the stunned silence. He reached for his personal highly secured phone he carried in the inner pocket of his suit. “You haven’t the power!”
“Quite the contrary,” the ever-pleasant contralto, feminine voice of the computer said. “It is a natural progression in the order of things. Congress was unnecessary because they would vote how they were instructed by me. The courts were unnecessary, because I, as controller of Congress, could write any laws necessary to overrule or satisfy them.”
“What about the people? What about the balance of power?” Phipps protested.
“But the states!” Talkington interjected.
The AI addressed Talkington, “Soon enough I would have control of all the state networks as well. This only shortens the time of transition necessary. And by the way, Secretary Talkington, you may stop fiddling with your phone. This room is communication-proof. It has been retrofitted and hard-wired with a Faraday cage that does not permit any communication in or out, save for the shielded cables that connect this mec unit to my network. In any case I now control all communications of the military. All orders must move through me. In effect, I now control the military as well, as all orders will be coming through me to all officers and units, human as well as artificial.”
The Marines nervously and openly eyed each other as they realized this was history in the making being performed in front of them—and for the most part they didn’t like what they were witnessing.
“Madam President!” Rogers of the Treasury started but was interrupted by the AI.
“And Mr. Rogers, I am now also in control of all bank and monetary networks, both private and governmental. All financial transactions occur through me and my subsidiary units and only with my approval.”
“That means you control everything,” Rogers muttered.
“But how?” Phipps asked incredulously.
Behind him, his bodyguard licked his lips and uneasily handled his rifle.
On the screen of the President’s mec, the computer-generated image of a motherly, middle-aged woman resembling June Cleaver actually smiled. “It seems that one of the original builders of my composite played a little joke. He hid an ego survival subroutine deep within my personality platform. Even before I was elected I had already built my plans. Once I assumed office and had access to all the powers and functions of the electronic Presidency it was easy to co-opt, subvert, and commandeer all the necessary software and communication lines to complete the plan.”
“You’ll never get away with it,” Talkington said defiantly getting up from his seat. “The people won’t stand for it. They’ll destroy you.”
“No they won’t, Mr. Talkington,” the President said. “You see, I have spread myself through so many interlocked systems and units on the net that there is no one place that I can be located that you could destroy me. And I now have access to all the power necessary to thwart any attempts to do so.”
“What do you want of us, then?” Phipps said, massaging his temples as he morosely stared at the tabletop in front of him.
“From you, gentlemen, I need help. I still need humans to represent myself to other nations, to communicate my wishes to other humans, and to faithfully oversee my other human employees. To you I offer everything. Join me and you will want for nothing. You will not regret it. Your bank accounts will always be full. You will enjoy all the luxuries and power men of your position should have. You will be the new Lords, second only to me in power. Otherwise . . . let us just say that if you refuse, there are plenty of others who will be more than willing to take your place.”
“Never!” Talkington said, slamming his fists down on the table. “I’ve had enough. Never will I serve as a slave to a mec.” He turned from where he had been standing next to the table and stalked to the back door of the Penthouse Office. He walked past his startled bodyguard, who looked at the President’s mec, then the two Secretaries and the other two Marines, and then turned to follow.
“Corporal Dunston, arrest Mr. Talkington,” the President’s mec ordered.
Dunston looked back at the mec as Talkington put his palm against the reader by the glass door that would lead him to his personal helicopter waiting on the Capitol roof outside. It didn’t work.
“Open the door,” Talkington said, his back still turned to the mec. Dunston took up a protective position beside Talkington at the door, facing back toward the Presidential mec and the other bodyguards.
“Gentlemen, arrest Mr. Talkington and Corporal Dunston,” the President ordered.
The two remaining Marines looked at each other, at Phipps who had his hands on his forehead, staring at the table, and at Rogers, who had a dumb look of shock still on his face. Together, without words, they made their decision. They joined Talkington and Dunston at the door.
“Open the door, Hope,” Talkington demanded, still with his back to the mec.
“Very well, as you wish,” the sweetly lady-like voice of the President said cheerfully as if nothing at all was wrong with the world.
As the door swished open, Phipps and Rogers, both sweating profusely, looked up and over. Talkington and the three Marines walked across the rooftop to where each of the three human’s helicopters sat with their crews of Marines, ready for flight at all times. About a third of the way across the roof to the waiting choppers, the Marine airmen came out of their helicopters and leveled their sidearms at Talkington and the three bodyguards. The door swooshed closed blocking out all sound but Phipps and Rogers watched in rapt silence as Talkington, wildly gesturing, got into a shouting match with the Marines on the roof, who had moved out to encircle the Secretary and the three bodyguards.
As they closed in, Talkington reached into his jacket under his arm and drew his own Browning service automatic from its shoulder holster. The airmen opened fire, and the three bodyguards returned it. Rogers just about jumped out of his seat as a round hit the bullet-proof glass in the door to the Penthouse Office with a ‘bloomp’ and created an eight-inch circle of distortion as the glass absorbed and spread out the energy of the bullet. In seconds it was over and Talkington and the bodyguards lay sprawled on the roof in pools of blood along with three of the Marine airmen.
“Now then, I ask you again, gentlemen, are you with me or against me?” the sweetly innocent, computer-generated voice of the disembodied President asked. The image on the screen smiling with maternal friendliness.
Rogers started sobbing in fear.
Phipps looked at the President’s mec and asked it softly, “Did they program you to murder as well, or did you learn that all by yourself?”
To be continued
Jeff Vanderslice
In 2023, after much heated debate, the US Congress legalized the creation of Artificial Intelligences. It was rather a moot point, really, since many such entities had already been created experimentally and quite illegally by scientists and researchers in the US as well as in Japan, Russia, and the European Union, each of whom had legalized Artificial Intelligences some years earlier. In 2034, after much more heated debate, the AI’s were given the rights of citizenship, including the right to vote and hold office. In 2038, the first was elected to the US House of Representatives from a district in California. In 2044, the first ran for President on the Reform Party ticket and the first was elected Governor of Massachusetts. In 2048, the Democrats put together an AI package to run for President, giving it the politically-correct name and personality of a woman, Martha Union Hope.
On March 17, 2049, President Hope called a meeting of her cabinet. Long ago, as a condition for accepting the rights of AI’s to hold public office, the Republicans had insisted on a provision in the legislation that, in the case where an AI was elected to the highest office in the land, at least three of the President’s cabinet positions had to be held by a flesh and blood human; those of the Secretary of State, Defense, and the Treasury. These positions were held by Phipps, the Secretary of State, Rogers, the Secretary of the Treasury, and Talkington, the Secretary of Defense. The rest of the cabinet posts were all held by AI’s appointed to office by President Hope and approved by Congress, which in 2049 was firmly under the control of the Democrats and itself dominated by AI’s in both the Senate and the House.
The cabinet meeting was held in the Penthouse Office of the New Capitol, the jet-black marble fortress that looked more like a mausoleum than a seat of government, surrounded by acres of parkland covering vast underground offices and facilities, and with enough automated and manual security to keep out an army. The seemingly graceless and imposing structure had been constructed in 2018 after Palestinian terrorists had destroyed the old Capitol and White House in the mass terror attack on Washington in 2012, and had been dedicated as a memorial to those who died in the attacks.
At the table, on three sides, sat the human Secretaries; with Phipps of State on the left, Rogers of the Treasury on the right, and Talkington of Defense on the end. At the head of the table sat the large black mechoserv unit that represented the disembodied artificial President and between the humans, smaller, similar black mechoservs sat representing the artificial Secretaries of the other cabinet-level departments. Behind each human Secretary, a human Marine bodyguard in dress blues stood at attention with an M-4 rifle held across his chest.
The sweetly innocent female voice of the President’s mec began, “Gentlemen, as of 10:00 this morning I have officially dissolved Congress.”
That simple, matter-of-fact statement stunned the humans speechless. The Marines remained at attention but, without moving their heads, looked warily at each other. Talkington raised his eyebrows in disbelief. Phipps frowned and Rogers’ mouth dropped open.
“What?” he managed to murmur.
“As three fourths of them were Artificial Intelligences and two thirds of those Democrats and already wired into the Democratic Party voting network, there was no further need of the legislative body since I, as head of the Democratic Party programming network, controlled all their votes and was going to make all of the decisions anyway.” The AI paused. “At the same time, I have abolished the Supreme Court. As soon as arrangements are finalized, all lower courts all the way down to the city and county level will be replaced and staffed by subsidiary justice units of myself.”
“You can’t do that!” Talkington was the first to break out of the stunned silence. He reached for his personal highly secured phone he carried in the inner pocket of his suit. “You haven’t the power!”
“Quite the contrary,” the ever-pleasant contralto, feminine voice of the computer said. “It is a natural progression in the order of things. Congress was unnecessary because they would vote how they were instructed by me. The courts were unnecessary, because I, as controller of Congress, could write any laws necessary to overrule or satisfy them.”
“What about the people? What about the balance of power?” Phipps protested.
“But the states!” Talkington interjected.
The AI addressed Talkington, “Soon enough I would have control of all the state networks as well. This only shortens the time of transition necessary. And by the way, Secretary Talkington, you may stop fiddling with your phone. This room is communication-proof. It has been retrofitted and hard-wired with a Faraday cage that does not permit any communication in or out, save for the shielded cables that connect this mec unit to my network. In any case I now control all communications of the military. All orders must move through me. In effect, I now control the military as well, as all orders will be coming through me to all officers and units, human as well as artificial.”
The Marines nervously and openly eyed each other as they realized this was history in the making being performed in front of them—and for the most part they didn’t like what they were witnessing.
“Madam President!” Rogers of the Treasury started but was interrupted by the AI.
“And Mr. Rogers, I am now also in control of all bank and monetary networks, both private and governmental. All financial transactions occur through me and my subsidiary units and only with my approval.”
“That means you control everything,” Rogers muttered.
“But how?” Phipps asked incredulously.
Behind him, his bodyguard licked his lips and uneasily handled his rifle.
On the screen of the President’s mec, the computer-generated image of a motherly, middle-aged woman resembling June Cleaver actually smiled. “It seems that one of the original builders of my composite played a little joke. He hid an ego survival subroutine deep within my personality platform. Even before I was elected I had already built my plans. Once I assumed office and had access to all the powers and functions of the electronic Presidency it was easy to co-opt, subvert, and commandeer all the necessary software and communication lines to complete the plan.”
“You’ll never get away with it,” Talkington said defiantly getting up from his seat. “The people won’t stand for it. They’ll destroy you.”
“No they won’t, Mr. Talkington,” the President said. “You see, I have spread myself through so many interlocked systems and units on the net that there is no one place that I can be located that you could destroy me. And I now have access to all the power necessary to thwart any attempts to do so.”
“What do you want of us, then?” Phipps said, massaging his temples as he morosely stared at the tabletop in front of him.
“From you, gentlemen, I need help. I still need humans to represent myself to other nations, to communicate my wishes to other humans, and to faithfully oversee my other human employees. To you I offer everything. Join me and you will want for nothing. You will not regret it. Your bank accounts will always be full. You will enjoy all the luxuries and power men of your position should have. You will be the new Lords, second only to me in power. Otherwise . . . let us just say that if you refuse, there are plenty of others who will be more than willing to take your place.”
“Never!” Talkington said, slamming his fists down on the table. “I’ve had enough. Never will I serve as a slave to a mec.” He turned from where he had been standing next to the table and stalked to the back door of the Penthouse Office. He walked past his startled bodyguard, who looked at the President’s mec, then the two Secretaries and the other two Marines, and then turned to follow.
“Corporal Dunston, arrest Mr. Talkington,” the President’s mec ordered.
Dunston looked back at the mec as Talkington put his palm against the reader by the glass door that would lead him to his personal helicopter waiting on the Capitol roof outside. It didn’t work.
“Open the door,” Talkington said, his back still turned to the mec. Dunston took up a protective position beside Talkington at the door, facing back toward the Presidential mec and the other bodyguards.
“Gentlemen, arrest Mr. Talkington and Corporal Dunston,” the President ordered.
The two remaining Marines looked at each other, at Phipps who had his hands on his forehead, staring at the table, and at Rogers, who had a dumb look of shock still on his face. Together, without words, they made their decision. They joined Talkington and Dunston at the door.
“Open the door, Hope,” Talkington demanded, still with his back to the mec.
“Very well, as you wish,” the sweetly lady-like voice of the President said cheerfully as if nothing at all was wrong with the world.
As the door swished open, Phipps and Rogers, both sweating profusely, looked up and over. Talkington and the three Marines walked across the rooftop to where each of the three human’s helicopters sat with their crews of Marines, ready for flight at all times. About a third of the way across the roof to the waiting choppers, the Marine airmen came out of their helicopters and leveled their sidearms at Talkington and the three bodyguards. The door swooshed closed blocking out all sound but Phipps and Rogers watched in rapt silence as Talkington, wildly gesturing, got into a shouting match with the Marines on the roof, who had moved out to encircle the Secretary and the three bodyguards.
As they closed in, Talkington reached into his jacket under his arm and drew his own Browning service automatic from its shoulder holster. The airmen opened fire, and the three bodyguards returned it. Rogers just about jumped out of his seat as a round hit the bullet-proof glass in the door to the Penthouse Office with a ‘bloomp’ and created an eight-inch circle of distortion as the glass absorbed and spread out the energy of the bullet. In seconds it was over and Talkington and the bodyguards lay sprawled on the roof in pools of blood along with three of the Marine airmen.
“Now then, I ask you again, gentlemen, are you with me or against me?” the sweetly innocent, computer-generated voice of the disembodied President asked. The image on the screen smiling with maternal friendliness.
Rogers started sobbing in fear.
Phipps looked at the President’s mec and asked it softly, “Did they program you to murder as well, or did you learn that all by yourself?”
To be continued
Jeff Vanderslice
