Far enough in the desert that they could no longer see smoke from the coast or hear the quake sirens, Smits Perez parked his banged-up Airstream and climbed out on the roof. He heard the rattle of a martini shaker. His roommate, Trey Lowell, and their best friend, Stephanie Basque, were right behind him. We made it, Trey said. He poured the martini into a paper cup, opened a bottle of beer with a promotional Code Overload magazine opener, and passed that and a bottle of water to Smits and Steph.
I'd say we've all earned a drink. We were this close to graduating, Stephanie groaned, still in shock. What are we going to do now? When the others toasted, she lifted her water bottle in solidarity. Not graduating from Oxy is nothing, Smits replied. That entire section of L.A. is gone. We got out alive. A lot of people didn't. He sipped solemnly at his beer. This wasn't a celebration. This was a wake. Lucky thing you bought old Moonshot.
said Trey, patting the airstream's silver side affectionately. If you hadn't, we'd be heading for refuge south of the border with the other survivors, probably. I hope they're allowed to cross, Stephanie said. worry creasing her dusty brow. Smits nodded. It wasn't luck. I've been thinking of spending some time in the desert after graduation for a while. Plus, I like to have multiple plans in case of emergency.
The drive across L.A. and into the desert had been chaotic, and he was still reeling from everything they'd seen. The people they couldn't save. The sinkholes and the heat were far from the worst of it. The worst was knowing that his survival plan had been necessary after all. All of their burns and minor injuries were evidence of that. And it could get worse.
Staff, after looking below to check on their TA, Lakshmi Singh, who was resting with a concussion, asked, What if Bastion won't take us without degrees? They were all still young. and universities would probably reach out to offer in-kind transfers. But the fact was, Occidental College had been their testing ground for some pretty experimental stuff. And, just a month too early, Oxy was gone.
One earthquake after another until nearly everything was lost, including all their AI research. Bastion still wants us, Trey said. They're offering to create an incubator site, and possibly a new division. Smith let out a low whistle of relief. Trey had been on the phone most of the drive, doing deals, trying to get them somewhere safe.
They say IARPA has a new timeline, given recent events. We have only five years to get a terraforming plan in motion, not the 30 we thought. If we want to hop on for the ride, they'll take us. Won't pay exactly as much, but with time in, plus patents and options, that won't matter. Stephanie snorted. Anything to cut their offers down, satisfy the bean counters.
Smiths winced at Trey's pained look. Trey had already signed with the company. His salary was locked in, but it wasn't his fault the others hadn't signed before the college got wiped out. Stephanie could be sharp sometimes, especially under stress. Hey, at least we're actually going to have jobs, Smits said. Stephanie blinked, then exhaled. I appreciate you negotiating for us, Trey nodded, and they all relaxed for the first time since L.A. Realm Presents Machina
Episode 1 Tänk till exempel att leasingbilen pajar mitt på E4. Att jogga, lyfta or to load up the first best Elmoppe app helps a little. IF helps a lot. Welcome to IF-sacringar. With a whirr, Moonshot's generator automatically shut off, and the desert got really quiet. Using his phone, Smith stimmed the lights in the cab below.
With the moon just setting, the stars and planets shone bright for a few remaining hours. Smits cracked his back and stretched, then lifted his pride and joy from a large sack he'd brought up with him. It felt ridiculous that he should still have this when so much else had been lost, but it had been in the airstream. Smits had bought it in hopes of taking someone to the desert to go stargazing.
Of course, he'd never gotten out of the AI lab for long enough to find the someone. So now he had his two best friends, an antique Celestron telescope with a 90-millimeter refractor, a van... Essentially, that's what the Airstream was, a Scooby van for tech nerds that slept four, and enough NASA freeze-dried meals to last them a few weeks, plus an injured TA.
Steph had stashed some water out beyond New Jack City during her last bouldering expedition, so they doubled their water supply on the way to the coordinates Trey gave them as they left a drastically changed L.A. behind. Smits shook out the bag. Dust from what was left of California flew up from the cover, filling the air around Smits with miniature stars and a smoky smell. The dust, plus the desert at night,
smelled like a star's dreams, he thought. Everything he'd smelled lately had been much worse. And the way things were going? Rising water levels in the middle of the country, wrecking farms, flooding along the coasts, Miami already well into its new role as Venice 2.0, with the original Venice a full-time dive resort. This clean smell was a blast.
blessing. So, Trey, he finally said, why these coordinates? Trey sipped at his martini. Then he grinned. Because this is where we are going to build my company. The one that's going to save mankind. Our company. And humankind. Stephanie gently corrected him. Absolutely. Trey raised his cup. Stephanie chuckled and tapped the water bottle against it. How are we going to do that? Tell me again, not just the brochure copy this time, Smith said as he calibrated the telescope. Mars was rising.
As he'd done many nights, Smits imagined what the arid landscape of another planet, both before and after it was shaped to support human life, might smell like. He wondered if humanity would live long enough to know. We're going to make a startup company inside Bastion that will build the next generation of artificial intelligence. The ones that will get planets ready for us colonizing new worlds. Smits didn't say anything.
He sighted the moon, then a series of stations just off the moon, and finally the boy genius programmer. who'd once hacked JPL's navigation computers and left his initials hidden in a small printout that rode all the way out of the galaxy because he could, turned the old brass scope on Mars. There you are, beauty. The planet that might mean everything for humanity's survival looked back at its counterpart with inscrutable disdain. I'm up here. Come get me if you can, it seemed to say.
Don't you want to know where? Trey asked, spinning his glass. Where? Stephanie said. That old warehouse right on the horizon? No, not that old thing. We've got seed money to build a new eco-friendly high-tech desert shelter just over there. Trey pointed in the opposite direction from the small town and its far-flung warehouses that used to house replacement parts for Air Force test planes.
After a long look at Mars, Smits shifted the telescope lower to where Trey pointed, a blank spot in the desert. He listened to Trey describe the metal and glass hull of the newest AI startup. how he planned to negotiate their salaries up from Bastion's original post-disaster offer, and how three almost-graduates were going to save mankind. Let's make a pact, then, Smith said.
To get mankind to Mars. Together. Humankind, Stephanie said again. Now she was smiling broadly. I'll sign on. They shook on it. and Trey produced a tablet from his pack and flicked through options until a seemingly endless contract spooled across the backlit screen. The division's called DevLock, and we're the three primary leads. Founders. Stephanie whispered, and already her eyes were on Mars, not on Trey or Smits. The perfect team, Trey said. To us, Stephanie hoisted her water bottle, and...
To Mars. Smits raised his beer. Now. Oh, what a day this is going to be, Trey thought. Before dawn, Trey Lowell was intensifying his patented winner's workout alone in the DevLock Executive Gym. He had his favorite victory soundtrack looping on his earbuds. Queen, the Top Gun theme, an ancient Arctic monkey song. Hey, the Kid Reporter had called it the winner's workout, not him. But privately?
He liked the term. Cardio and weights. His fitness trackers registered that he was in top form, chirping happily as he finished his first bottle of water for the day. The water tasted slightly alkaline. Trey made a mental note to have facilities tweak the filters. As he drank, he took in the expansive desert view through the corporate gym's 180-degree windows, cantilevered just out from the static striders.
The latest high-resistance workout machines positioned in front of the thick windows always made him feel as if he was about to stride out over the desert like a giant. The night's star-pricked velvet purples slowly faded. as orange and yellow hues crested the distant Southern California Range, crossed the creosote-studded sands, and finally anointed DevLock's empty parking lot and mirrored building with light. This delighted tray.
A perfect sunrise for the day when his company's dreams became reality. No one looking at the building, shining like a gem in the desert, would ever mistake it for the empty swath of unformed desert it had once been. No one would know the company had weathered its fair share of betrayals and disillusionment over the past year either. Nor that Trey had been the most hurt of them all by those betrayals. Because today...
None of that would matter. Once he'd cleaned up and donned the pressed suit that awaited him in the executive locker room, White no-wrinkle cotton band collar shirt, gray slacks, handmade leather shoes, and ocean blue socks for color. All custom, no labels. Trey videoed with his mentors at Bastion, a big military hardware firm back east, updating them on the day's schedule. IARPA announcement.
press conference, then preparing the Habitat robots and their Mars Ready AI controller for the first challenge competition, which would be revealed at four. He was ready. Even better, DevLock was ready. Nice view, one bass the on-exec, a retired general, commented. Going to be able to see the tests from up there? It had been Trey's hope that the top floor of DevLock would give them a commanding desert view.
And it had, but alas, the place IARPA had designated for testing the robot AI teams was still over the horizon. Not this time, Trey said. If, he chuckled, Once we make it to Antarctica, we'll be able to watch everything in real time. He smiled as the executives nodded on the other side of the country. He was fully confident that DevLock would make it all the way to the final trials.
But no one liked overconfidence, so he'd made sure to have perfect timing on the if-once statement. His timing had been perfect throughout, Trey had to admit. The IARPA tests would be more of a showcase of DevLock's technology than a challenge, really. All of Trey's backers would see their investment pay off as Trey's vision became reality.
It was important to wake up with the remaining cities on the East Coast, both to let them know he was on the ball and to show they couldn't get the jump on him, even out here in the desert. It was worthwhile checking in again as he left work, too. The message was clear. Trey never got tired of working. Trey was a machine. By the time DevLock staff began arriving exactly at eight, Trey had been at work for over two hours. That's what winners did.
Even more so, that's what geniuses did. Trey prided himself on being both. He'd remained up in the executive gym both for the quiet and to wait out the packet that was supposed to arrive by courier exactly at 9 a.m. desert time. He didn't want to pace in front of the staff. He'd been told plenty of times that made people nervous. Thank you. Thank you. Buy tickets at ticketmaster.se
Welcome to Sagas of Sundry Goblin Mode. It's a brand new fantasy series that uses tabletop roleplaying games to tell an ever-evolving story. Goblin mode follows a group of underdogs. Okay, more like underlings, who suddenly find themselves the masters of their own destiny. Before the packet dropped. Three DevLock executives gathered in Trey's outer office, along with the reporter embedded from Code Overload magazine. The kid reporter's name was Hiro Watanabe, and he was a risk, sure.
Having an outsider at the company, no matter how many non-competes and NDAs the kid had signed, meant the window for mistakes was even narrower. The reporter wore a life cam, and his fingers tapped the sides of his tactical pants rhythmically, entering everything in the Arudino left-right keyboards, stitched to the seams that were so popular right now.
But Denise Cho had pointed out how worthwhile it would be to have documentation of this historic occasion. And while Denise was conservative about most things regarding devlock business, on this point, Trey had to admit, She was completely right. The Kid Reporter had shadowed Trey and live blogged DevLock activities, from workouts to robot trials, all as a lead-in for today.
Today was why Watanabe was there, in Trey's office, with his iCam and his weird fingerwave keyboard that made him look like he was playing a theremin almost all the time. Because today was the day. Trey Lowell and DevLock would prove all the doubters, though there weren't many, and those who'd strayed along the way, wrong. Today was the start of the IARPA challenge that meant everything.
The Mars Artificial Intelligence Technology Test, Marsight, would result in the selection of an AI technology strong enough and fast enough to help terraform Mars, while still being docile and well-programmed enough to, well... Let's say Trey had seen the results of robots who'd slipped their tethers before, and it wasn't pretty. DevLock's AI did what they were told, and they looked great doing it. Everyone knew that.
It was all over the brochures. The strongest, fastest, and most obedient AI was also the best looking. DevLock's matte silver robot, the Y3RT. And in a few weeks' time, the Y3 would be the Marsite Challenge winner, and DevLock would have the IARPA contract, and Trey's genius would be acknowledged by more than some kid reporter. Humming happily,
Trey entered his office moments before the envelope arrived. He carried a platter, an eco-sensitive bamboo salver, custom-dyed in the company's colors, but in a subtle way, gray and white with just a touch of blue. On the platter, a carafe of coffee and three ocean blue devlock mugs. It was a nice touch.
He decided that bringing his lead staff coffee on such an important day would add to his reputation as a personable, down-to-earth boss. When he set the tray down, he nodded greetings at everyone in the room. Everyone except the reporter, namely Barath and Denise. The latter began to pour coffee into mugs and hand them out. Everyone got their coffee black, the way Trey drank his. Then a small whistle, the sound of one of DevLock's robots turning a corner.
A few employees dodged the black glass rectangle speeding toward Trey's glass-walled office, a simple manila dossier clasped to its front by an extruded glass arm. The robot hovered above the gray and blue devlock carpet and then waited outside Trey's office to be summoned inside. Each office along the hallway was glass-lined, occupied by the three men and women in his office now.
when they weren't down in the robot pits or out in the desert testing AI controller shells for dust and weather resistance, signal delays, and more. And of course, no one really needed an envelope, since the IARPA declaration had also arrived in everyone's tablets by email. But Trey liked signs and signifiers, and this official opening of a sealed document was so much more of a moment than, say, clicking on a line of code.
Besides, the world, in the guise of the code overload reporter, was watching. Enter, Trey said, and the robot whistled again as it came through the doorway. He took the envelope, the robot's arm receded into its body, and the bot whistled twice before spinning and whooshing down the hall. The compressed air from the robot's jets made Trey's eyes feel even drier than the desert usually did. But as soon as the robot was gone, Trey forgot about it. He focused on the news at hand.
The envelope was suitably thick and reasonably circumspect in terms of how expensive it looked, paper being one of those things that was ever more expensive, no matter how much you conserved. And when Trey had it in his hands, the weight felt like destiny. He uncoiled the waxed string from its two round buttons, wondering why previous generations had ever chosen to do things this way.
as the reporter's cameras circled him from all angles. Trey spilled the contents out on his desk at the same time as his assistants called the documents up on their tablets. There it was. The iARPA AI Challenge, along with the names of all of his competitors. Worthy Souls All, Trey knew. He began to read them out loud. Four teams, including DevLock.
There were IAI Tech and Electric Bot, both in Boston. All four leads were old hands at this game, emphasis on old. Next, Stantec, the academic team from Caltech and Stanford. Doctors Daveed Prasad and Maggie Steen leading. DevLock, obviously. And the victory soundtrack that had been playing in his mind since early this morning at the gym skipped a beat.
There was one extra company name on the competition list. One company Trey had never expected to see darkened the bottom of that crisp white sheet of paper. Watch over technologies. Stephanie Basque and Lakshmi Singh, proprietors. The triumphant music dissolved into a soundless buzz of rage trapped between his ears. How dare they? Watch over. bask, and sing. How dare they? He'd saved them. He'd given them everything, had let them go when their visions diverged. And now?
Now they betrayed him again by pursuing his dream. That these two women dared to get involved in this most historic and important moment was terrible. What was worse? He hadn't seen it coming. Get me Iarpa, and then Bastion on a separate line, he roared, and everyone else get to work. We have a ton of road to cover today before the first task drops.
Three DevLock leaders and one reporter scattered to their workspaces, to their labs and research hubs. They moved as if their jobs depended on it, which they did. One employee at the outer office's edge, a young woman in an ocean blue shirt, blonde hair and a neat ponytail, her hand clutching a tablet with a sticker on it, a non-regulation sticker,
lingered in the hallway outside Trey's office. She moved too slowly by a fraction of a second. You, blue shirt, you're in what department? Trey roared. The shirt color really didn't matter. Everyone wore company colors. But everyone else in the area kept moving while this employee froze in place. She looked straight ahead, aware that turning around would only make Trey angrier.
Accounting and payments, sir. I'm seconded to the engineering department for... I don't care. You're fired. Sir, I just moved my family out here and... Like a finely oiled machine, the young woman's pleas were cut off as the head of human resources took the shaken employee's elbow and steered her to the exit.
A small robot cart appeared and began hauling the young woman's belongings from her desk. Human resources knew what to do, and knew Trey encountering the woman would only result in further firings. Trey slammed back into his office, closing the door on the open-all-the-time room and letting the glass walls of what his staff affectionately called the Shark Bowl go opaque.
How was it possible that Lakshmi and Stephanie, of all people, had gotten even the tiniest jump on him, Trey Lowell? It just wasn't possible. Trey began cleaning and organizing his desk again. so that he could think. Enjoy the world and all its terrors? Interested to learn more about unexplained entities and dark legends from across the globe?
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Embedded Reporter Life Log Entry 743 As I mentioned a minute ago, despite all the anticipation over the IARPA Mars AI trials, and all the development work that's led up to it for the past six months, Click to access my LifeLog archives. Trey Lowell has been straightening his desk for the past ten minutes. His office is immaculate. His desk is already pristine. He looks like he might murder someone, point of fact.
But if he does, I bet he'll do it in an organized way. Let's see what happens, shall we? Everything is so organized in here that the employees still present, compliance officer Denise Cho and programming lead Bharath Das, have frozen in place, unwilling to break their boss's focus as he sorts through the current situation.
Or, even more likely, they're unwilling to attract his ire. The CTO and founder of DevLock, one of this year's most outstanding breakout firms in the field of AI research, is pissed and has been so for a full hour. When I first met the man, you will recall, I'd been embedded with a different group of techies, taking a historic tour of Burning Man for vacation by Landship. The future founders of Watchover were there, too, plus the Moonshot Bar's owner.
And Trey Lowell? He'd spent the whole time working, doing deals, writing code. The guy never took any time off. Everyone knows firing people is what Lowell does to burn off stress. Some CTOs are like that. So far, only one person's been fired today, but I've seen it cascade firsthand, and so have you. Check lifelog entry 15, an interview with two DevLock programmers who signed with WatchOver. Remembering that junior accountant who couldn't recite DevLock's mission statement? He was gone.
cardboard box in hand before he realized he'd been fired. Everyone's holding their breath now. Except, you know, me. He can't fire me. I don't think he can, at least. Finally, Lowell puts his hands on the thickly printed page that is the only item left on his desk, stares once more at the participants' list for the challenge. He speaks slowly. How could I, ARPA, allow this?
With so much at stake and barely any time left, Denise, get me Wynn Mallory on the phone. And you. He turns his blue-eyed gaze on me and I almost freeze too. Yes, sir? You're done recording for the day, Watanabe. No, don't argue. I get to white noise you as needed per my contract with Code Overload on page 22, line... Christ, this guy has his own media contract memorized. Talk to you later, fans. and transmission.
Stephanie Basque watched Nico Shaw approach Watchover's rehabbed, gently rusting warehouse in the desert sun's glare. The man looked at everything on the way in. The corrugated, artfully deteriorating exterior. the desert bloom flora planted just a few days before, the employee car and bike lot's orderly state, the array of friendly robots at the door. Welcome, Mr. Shaw.
I have transferred your onboarding materials and onboarding documents to your tablet. Simplicity, Watchover's HR robot, said crisply a few beats after the atmospheric retention eco-doors had swept open. Shaw, the new watch over COO installed by the young company's angel investors, stepped through the entrance. The airlock doors slid efficiently closed behind him.
The man had chosen the day IARPA trials were announced to start work, and no amount of alternative suggestions had been able to dissuade him. Please confirm receipt at the points marked for your signature, Simplicity continued. Its tone was bright and welcoming. Simplicity, a white cone with a soothing blue-green glow at eye level. Wherever eye level was for the audience, watch over was all about accessible interfaces.
was one of Lakshmi's side projects, and it worked brilliantly, eliminating the need for a human resources department. Simplicity, as its name implied, helped Watchover focus only on the task before them. making the best AI for the Mars challenge. That was all that mattered. Shaw looked alarmed at the slim robot's approach. Yes, can you take me to the HR desk? I'm supposed to report to Human Resources.
Damn the HR desk, sir. Here at Watchover, I report to you. Simplicity beamed at its own joke. Shaw's eyes narrowed. The COO was dressed in a sharp checkered shirt, tie, and light sport coat over jeans and boots. His dark skin and close-cropped hair made him look young. His calloused fingers underscored his biography statement that he liked working with his hands and in the outdoors.
But Stephanie Newshaw was a boardroom professional who had owned and sold several companies already. He was here for one reason, to make watch over more professional in ways that soothed the angel investors. and fast. Trouble was, Stephanie and Lakshmi liked Watchover just fine as it was, constantly evolving, but always a little edgy. Taking risks was how they liked to work, and Nico Shaw, his profile stated, was a master of the acceptable risk. Stephanie was pretty sure that was an oxymoron.
But she put a bright face on to match simplicities and stepped into the corridor next to the HR robot. Welcome, Nico. It's nice to finally meet you in person. Nico Shaw gave her a relieved and slightly chagrined smile. His eyes sparkled. I know I should expect robots at an AI research and development firm, but somehow I thought human resources would contain, you know...
An actual human. Stephanie began to explain hers and Lakshmi's philosophy about HR, but stopped quickly when Nico's smile faded. She knew how to read a room. That was why she was here and Lakshmi was waiting in the conference pod. Lakshmi wasn't Watchover's public face. She would rather send a robot. Stephanie could work a crowd, read a room, do everything except occasionally not lose her temper. That last thing was what had gotten watch over their new COO, one Nico Shaw.
And Stephanie was determined to prove to everyone that both she and Watchover did not need Shaw for very long. She would keep her temper. She'd be bright and goddamn bubbly if she had to. Let's go meet the team then, shall we? Did you sign all the NDAs? Shah lifted his tablet so Stephanie could see the multiple signatures. May I?
She liked to ask before engaging someone else's tablet, and when Shaw nodded, she waved her hand near his screen, sending the data toward Simplicity. Thank you. Your credentials have been accepted, Simplicity beamed. Welcome Nico Shaw to Watch Over. Please select your staff picture. Several images of Shaw, all well-lit and flattering, appeared on Simplicity's side.
In them, the COO's expressions ranged from unconvinced to amused. Shaw tapped the amused one. A whirring sound and a port opened in Simplicity's side. The robot generated Shaw's badge on a centimeter-thick piece of 3D-printed holographic lucite etched with his photo and access icons. Watchover's logo, a honeycomb of shifting colors, sparkled inside the translucent background. Nice, Shaw said, shifting the still warm badge from hand to hand.
Stephanie smiled, happier now that the first round had gone well. We'll go through the main workspace and the robot testing labs to the conference room. You'll meet everyone along the way. Stephanie began, but motion outside the doors caught her eye. Follow me. Unscheduled perimeter breach. Simplicity now spoke in a very unfriendly monotone.
The robot's cone turned pitch black, and it moved toward the door, even as the eco-barrier burst open without decompressing. Trey Lowell had shoved his way through the entry. Stand down, simplicity. Stephanie said before the robot used any defenses at its disposal. Trey didn't even blink at the robot or at Nico. He kept striding towards Stephanie, his face a block of anger.
And they said I can't hold my temper, Stephanie thought ruefully. She almost wished she'd left Simplicity in full battle mode, the way Trey looked. I guess the IARPA notification arrived? She asked the air. Came over the servers just an hour ago, yes. Lakshmi said, through Simplicity's speakers. She'd been listening the whole time. Hello, Trey. How dare you!
Trey said. Betray me like this. Where is your application? I want to see the code. You stole it from DevLock. I know you did. Stephanie sputtered. How could Trey... after everything, accuse me of stealing his crap code. She was about to say as much when Lakshmi appeared in the hallway, eyes blazing. You have a lot of nerve coming here and accusing us.
Trey faced his former TA, ex-employees, and co-founders on an attack footing, his face growing redder. Then, amazingly, he took a deep breath. Look at you two. Mad as hens. Stephanie thought she might explode. Get out, Trey. We have work to do. She was extremely aware that Nico Shaw was standing right behind her, taking everything in. She could not lose her temper. Trey chuckled.
No matter what code you're using, you have no idea the scope of what you're attempting. And trying to get up to speed at this late date? Trey shook his head, as if they were all still back at school. Who do you have in your pocket, Stephanie? Some stray eggheads from MIT? Stephanie didn't say a word. Trey knew exactly who she had. All of his best programmers. She bit her lip.
Lakshmi made a shooing motion with her hands. You have no idea what we're capable of. Get going, Trey. Back to your corporate castle. Nico looked back and forth from the two women, Stephanie tall and blonde, Lakshmi petite and dark and very intense, to Trey. Golden California surfer tan, blue eyes, crisp haircut, and so very obviously minted a boy genius from birth that he gleamed. Nico folded his arms and took another step back.
He contemplated the HR bot instead, wondering at the fact that Watchover had weaponized the thing, making it do double duty as a security bot as well. Trey, however, blinked. taking in the full scene in Watchover's entryway, including the extra observers. Programmers were leaning out over the balconies of the building's different levels, watching him.
You know I'll take you to court the minute I find a single line of code that's mine. He said this loudly enough that everyone in the balconies could hear him. You won't find it, Lakshmi said. I've already called Wynn Mallory to report you to IARPA, Trey said. Tension was so thick, Nico thought the warehouse would start to compress in on itself, like a can with a vacuum inside it.
Of course you have. Stephanie bit each word in half. She looked like she was ready to say more. Trey arched an eyebrow, waiting. Nico had heard about Stephanie's temper. And Trey didn't seem especially amenable to calm either. He was practically trying to bait Stephanie into yelling at him. But Nico also knew how technical trials worked. If I may, he asked Stephanie.
She looked surprised to be asked and then nodded. You may. I'm guessing that you being here means two things, Mr. Lowell, Nico said. No one was going to get any work done with this man in the hall, and the IR buck clock was already ticking down to when the first challenge would be issued. You've already filed your complaint with Wyn Mallory. You've been told there's no evidence for it, and you've also been told the trials will go forward as planned.
If this had been anything other than the case, Watchover would have been notified, and Trey would not be standing irate in its entryway. Stephanie glanced at Nico and gave a small nod of thanks. And you are? Trey said, his entire shift of conversation the only answer Nico needed. The CTO of DevLock sized up Nico with an appreciative eye toward his suit. I'm the new COO at Watchover, Nico said calmly.
This kid wasn't going to get a single minute more of Nico's time than necessary, and Nico was happy to let him know it. Fine, Trey said. We'll see. We'll all see. and he spun on his heel and stormed back out the door. A moment passed as the airlock repressurized and the verdant greenhouse that was Watchover's interior resealed with a hiss. Perimeter secure, Simplicity said, its color shifting gradually back to white. Lakshmi eyed the HR robot. You didn't, she finally said. Of course I did.
Stephanie smiled. You fed Simplicity Trey's bio data and tagged him as a threat? Nico looked at the two co-founders in alarm as Lakshmi confronted her partner. You think this is a game? Shah took a deep breath. I have to agree. This is dangerous. There have to be legal implications to... He couldn't quite say it at first, but he pressed on. Weaponizing your HR drone.
I know programmers punk their managers with desks that set off alarm bells and laser lights on approach, but this is not okay. Lakshmi smirked a little. Happened to you, did it? Nico shifted uncomfortably. This isn't a game. The investors. It's the most serious game in town, Mr. Shaw, Stephanie replied. But don't worry. She held up a controller.
We had emergency override on simplicity the entire time. As Nico breathed out, relieved, Stephanie grinned. Let me show you around our labs. Later, we'll go to the moonshot and you'll see the less serious side. Okay? I'm a little worried, now that I've met Simplicity, about what something called a moonshot will do to me, Nico confessed. Lakshmi appraised Nico's confusion, waiting a beat before she filled him in.
The moon shots, a bar, Mr. Shaw. Neutral territory. Once we're done for the day, we'll go there and figure out what the other side knows. Meantime, while we are waiting for the first challenge to drop, we'll take you to meet the swarm. The swarm? Nico recalled the logo on his new badge. No one had said anything to Nico Shaw about bees. Code Overload Magazine Embedded Reporter Life Log Entry 744 Things have definitely cooled down here.
Ice cold. Like I'm coming to you from a freezer where I'm watching two devlock techs as they're cold trialing the AI core. We've been in here for hours. So far, things aren't going too well. I probably don't mean at DevLock, since I'm totally still here, even though I haven't seen the CTO or his upper staff since this morning. And even though it was suggested I lock myself in this soundproof cold room.
suggested with a nod to contract line 47, and so, of course, I went. Here, everything's going pretty well. The AI core is working smoothly, except during the signal lag. The programmers and Barath are having a hard time getting the random lag structure to work across cold logic.
Plus, whenever they put the core in its custom Y3 shell, which is a carbon fiber and chrome alloy that has some really cool extensibility that I can't tell you about yet, non-competes are a bitch, really. The thing box a little. Well, more than a little. Okay, in truth, everything literally keeps freezing up, especially the AI.
DevLock's programmers are so frustrated, they've dragged the company's greatest innovation down here, bundled up against the temperatures. Nope, the greatest innovation's not a robot. Her name is Noor Venable, and guys, she's really cute. Ah, okay, so it turns out that Noor hates the word cute. Sorry, sheesh, I was joking.
Okay, not so much with the jokes either. Anyway, Nor is a social-something-humanities-type person. Um, yeah, she calls herself an anthropologist. And, get this, she's taught herself enough code… To hang with the AIs. As if AIs could hang. Like some movie version of a little kid crushing on one of those creepy Teddy Ruxpin antiques, or Will Smith and his 50th movie based on a Philip K. Dick story. I'm serious though, it's really cute that she did this.
Ah, shit. She hates me now. But I'm watching her code, and it's not clean, not by far. She doesn't comment shit. It's like watching a kid code, but a lot faster. A hell of a lot. Damn. She's basically explained to the AI the concept of lag, and it's actually effing parsing her lines. No freaking way. She's reasoning with a thing, and damn, chums.
The AI's churning through different time delay problems now, like, no worries, man. That was pretty great. I'm wondering if I could ask her out. No. She says no. Okay. Anyway, Noor seems to have somehow pinpointed at least one of the problems with the AI core. And while I don't really grasp what she did, some sort of hand-wavium that she claims is like coding, but okay, okay, sheesh, take a joke.
Anyway, this puts DevLock on really good footing for the first challenge, which will be a construction build. But no one knows how much delay is going to be built into the signal send receive path. It all depends on where IARPA says Mars and Earth are in relation to each other. And that's the random number for this first challenge that will make spoofing autonomy difficult. You heard it here, first script, kiddies.
Alright, I'm tired of freezing my tail off. Everyone's double-checking their code, it's after three, nothing newsworthy is probably going to happen until tomorrow. But listen, friends, it's not just about the competition. I know we get worked up about code around here, but this IARPA challenge is about all the marbles. Go big, or game over, so to speak.
You've seen the news this week, and there will be more and worse next week or the week after. We need these AI. We need Mars. And these are the people to help us get off this rock. If they can just keep their shit together. I don't know about you, but I need a drink. I'm headed to the moonshot. End transmission. You're listening to Machina, narrated by Natalie Nottis. Produced by Realm, your portal to another world. Realm. Listen away.
What's up everyone, it's Noah Daniels. Hey y'all, I'm JJ. Hey guys, it's Kat. We're your hosts of The Real Hauntings Podcast. We bring on guests who share their first-hand encounter ghost stories and supernatural experiences. Now on to the trailer. I've been warned to not tell this story, but I think because of the way it ends. it's okay to tell this story because some people say that with certain entities to like speak of them or talk about them or in any way like portray them as powerful
will attract them to other people. The creepiest thing about it to me is a lot of times it would wait for me to notice it. Like it would just lay its arm out like this and then I'd be like, where is it? Where is it? And then I'd see it and then it would just slither back. For more information on the Real Hauntings, Real Ghost Stories podcast, make sure you check out real.fm to learn more about our podcast and many other amazing podcasts.
Hi, this is Rob Benedict. And I am Richard Spate. We were both on a little show you might know called Supernatural. It had a pretty good run. 15 seasons, 327 episodes. And though we have seen, of course, every episode many times, we figured, hey, now that we're wrapped, let's watch it all again. And we can't do that alone.
So we're inviting the cast and crew that made the show along for the ride. We've got writers, producers, composers, directors, and we'll of course have some actors on as well, including some certain guys that played some certain... pretty iconic brothers. It was kind of a little bit of a left field choice in the best way possible. The note from Kripke was, he's great, we love him, but we're looking for like a really intelligent Duchovny type.
With 15 seasons to explore, it's going to be the road trip of several lifetimes. So please join us and subscribe to Supernatural Then and Now. Machina is written by Fran Wild, Malka Older, and Curtis C. Chen. Produced by Marco Palmieri. Executive produced by Julian Yap and Molly Barton. Audio production, sound design, editing, and theme music by Amanda Rose Smith.