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Available until the 5th of Jan. Serve from 11am. Participating in restaurants only. Subject to availability. Realm Presents Machina. Episode 3. It's the perfect task for the Y-3. Trey was talking a little too loudly, Hero thought, and tried to remember whether he always spoke at that volume. We've designed the Y-3 to adapt perfectly to its environment, whether that's out there. He threw an arm toward the desert beyond his enormous and pristine windows without looking. Or Antarctica. Or...
Flash of a very practiced charm grin. Mars! The housing, which of course we can't fully describe to you yet, that smile again, is both resistant and flexible, contributing to responsiveness. Also, we've put a lot of thought into developing parameters for the shelters, so I think we'll be ahead of the game there. This did not sound as studied or coherent as Trey's usual spiels.
Normally, no matter what subject he was opining on, the man came across as a TED Talk without the headset mic. Good time to throw a few curveballs. It was so hard to really get at Trey's genius. What would you say is the biggest challenge for DevLock this round? Trey didn't blink. It's a very challenging task, Hero. Of course, that's its purpose. Charm, Grin.
We have to airdrop our AI into an as-yet unknown location. It needs to self-print any necessary additional components, identify and employ materials at hand, locate a water source, and construct a shelter. all with an unknown distance delay in our communications. This time, the smile was more like a smirk. The Y-3 is going to be all over this.
It has faster 3D printing than anything on the market, already knows how to survey for water up to a depth of 50 meters in most soils, and can work proactively while we're incommunicado. The last word came out with a flat California twang. That approach was too obvious. Hero tried again. I understand there are some differences in the AI.
Philosophy, shall we say, between DevLock and your rival Watchover. For the first time in the interview, Trey leaned forward, and the glow in his eyes kicked up to a new level of intensity. That's because at Watchover, they don't have an AI philosophy. They want it to emerge into some sort of superior consciousness, as if that weren't extremely dangerous and entirely missing the point.
We are building this AI for a very specific and critically important reason. To save humanity by preparing planets for our arrival and survival in ways that we cannot do. Once you start dreaming about letting the AI decide what it wants to do or have its own thoughts beyond the immediate task, forget it. Bingo, hero thought.
That's great. We're loving the competing frameworks. Inspiration hit as Trey started to fume over the use of the word competing. If this was what it took to get Trey to notice him. By the way... Keep it casual, hero. I was, er, my bosses really want to play up the rivalry angle, so they've asked me to do a few interviews over at WatchOver, too. He didn't have to wait for the response. You want to know about WatchOver?
Listen, you don't have to trek over there and dare their robot gatekeepers. No one knows those women better than I do. We went to school together, you know that? Of course you do. We went to school together, and then we worked together here for years. I gave them their start in business, and they left. Let me tell you. As Trey ranted on, Hero doodled in his notebook.
made sure his digital recorder was still ticking away, and nodded occasionally. It would be easy to convince his editors to add watch over into his brief once he described this to them. Besides, Cameron Davidson was one of the most exciting robotics programmers out there. Hero had been desperate for an excuse to write about their work, and his editors knew that. Besides... Playing up this rivalry was sure to up the drama of his story.
He didn't have a good sense of Lakshmi Singh, but he was pretty sure that mentioning Trey's name to Stephanie Basque would get a similarly newsworthy reaction. It was a risk. Hero didn't want Trey to hate him. He didn't want any of them to hate him. This stuff was too cool. But maybe if he could impress them, he would be able to keep writing this story. After all.
They would need journalists on Mars, wouldn't they? After the reporter left, Trey swiveled back and forth in his ergonomically perfect chair. He couldn't believe that Kid Reporter was going to waste his time talking to those watch-over ingrates. It gave them an importance entirely out of proportion to what they deserved. But once the Y-3 blew watch over away in the challenge, he should forget about them and go back to concentrating on the real story.
Trey frowned, swiveling, and then, with his famous decisiveness, jabbed at the button on his screen that would send an auto message to Denise Cho, asking her to come to his office. Five minutes later, she was standing in the doorway, slightly out of breath and, annoyingly, slightly hesitant. What the fuck was she waiting for? He waved her in impatiently.
Trey didn't know why she was so uncertain with him all of a sudden, and it was irritating, which made him brusque. That probably made her more hesitant, but honestly, she should know by now that he didn't really mean it. Was he that scary? Sure, he could understand how people could be intimidated by his genius or his money the first time they met him, but Denise had been working for him for years.
Okay, so she hadn't gone to college with him or anything, but couldn't she at least pretend to fit in? Right now, though, he had bigger problems to handle, and Denise was just the person to help him do that. Denise? He said, I know watch over is up to something. I want you to find out what. Don't you think we should hard code some specs for the water feature?
January asked, flipping her braid back off her shoulder. Cameron shook their head, jaw tensing at having to answer this question again. We can't. Because we don't know what kind of water source we're going to find at the site they assign us. But, fortunately, Tama jumped in before January could get any further. They're right, he said with his usual bluntness.
What if E finds a weak water table and tries to draw out too much water too fast? Permanent damage to the test environment is way worse than not meeting some imaginary parameter we're imposing on ourselves because we think that's what IARPA wants to see. January relented, and Cameron met Tama's gaze in silent communication, thanking him with a touch of apology. Tama shrugged back.
January was new, signed on since watch over ramped up, rather than recruited from within DevLock. She hadn't seen what Cameron and Tama had seen. She didn't understand. Relieved, Cameron turned back to their own display. The minutes were ticking down to deployment when they would receive the final coordinates for where to drop E and notice of the light speed delay that IARPA saw fit to assign.
It could be anywhere from 4 to 24 minutes, double that for messages to go and return, based on the possible positions of Mars relative to Earth. Anything under 10 minutes would be fine. But imagining delays above that made Cameron queasy. What were they supposed to do during 48 minutes of silence waiting for reports? Cameron looked over at Tama again.
I think we should cap fully autonomous decision-making at ten minutes, they said, pitching it low so the rest of the programmers in the bullpen wouldn't be drawn into the discussion. They should all be working. Tama just rolled his eyes. We'd lose, he said flatly. We can't just leave E sitting there waiting for us. It won't be enough time to complete the task. You said it yourself. Permanent environmental damage that's not going to happen.
Tama cut them off. He knows what she's doing. Cameron rolled their eyes. Tama insisted on gendering the AI. I don't think we've built in enough environmental knowledge, enough protective overrides. We've got enough, and if you think you have time... He glanced meaningfully at the giant countdown clock projected on the wall in front of them. You can add some more. That's fine. But E needs to be autonomous. But what if... Tama held up a finger, leaned closer, lowered his voice still more.
Has it not occurred to you that they are going to build a loss of signal into one of these trials? It hadn't, and as soon as Thomas said it, Cameron felt like an idiot. Of course IARPA would pull something like that. It wasn't even a cheap trick. It was exactly what they should do, because sure as shit there were going to be loss of signal problems in a real Mars landing. Or they could knock out our visibility.
They were thinking out loud, fast and panicky now. Or cut the comms. Or cut the response comms only. Or hey, hey, hey. Tama had to shout whisper to get Cameron's attention. It's fine, Cam. She'll be fine. It's not fine, Tama. Cameron hissed. We are not remotely prepared for this. They shook their head. Why on earth would I have taken the trial specs at face value? Tama was laughing softly now.
Don't worry. I didn't. Stephanie definitely didn't. He can do this. The swarm is more resilient. It's more unpredictable, Cameron growled. But there was a note of pride in their voice, along with the worry. Tama reached out and clapped Cameron on the shoulder, making them twitch in irritation. You have to let our baby go at some point. Cameron rolled their eyes again, but they were grinning.
Even when Tama was annoying, he helped take their mind off their worries. Okay, pass me the parameters in case of loss of visuals. They glanced back at their screen. Then refocused beyond it at a hesitant smile, and beyond that, the face of that reporter who had been at the moonshot the other night. Uh, hi? Cameron raised an eyebrow, a trick they had been perfecting since they were six, then turned their gaze to simplicity's cool cone shape to the man's right. Simplicity? He is authorized.
Steph asked me to bring him down here. Cameron loved their AI, but they still found it weird that the non-human HR referred to the co-CTO by her nickname. Okay, thanks, Simplicity. They waited while the robot swiveled away. Now, what exactly are you authorized to do here? Why the fuck would Stephanie send someone extraneous in here during this unhinged push to the trial?
I'm a reporter with Code Overload, here at Watanabe. I'm doing a story on the trials, and we're a little busy right now, Cameron said, wondering if he had heard any of their conversation with Tama before they noticed him. Out of the corner of their eye, they saw Elise's head pop up. She would probably be happy to talk to a reporter. Yeah, in case you haven't noticed, we've got deadlines, Tama threw in.
Right, well, I was shadowing Trey Lowell over at DevLock, but I thought it would be useful to have some perspective from watch over as well. Cameron and Tama exchanged glances again. So that's how he got in. You can sit over there. Cameron ordered, nodding at a place on the wall where there was distinctly no chair. But keep quiet and stay out of our way until deployment. We can talk during the delay. At least that would give them something to do besides fret.
Remembering something, they spun around again to see the reporter easing awkwardly into a cross-legged sit. You signed an NDA, right? Uh, yeah. On that robot. That's a pretty cool HR department, actually. Do you really... Cameron turned back to their screen and stopped listening. In the mini-conference room that linked their two separate offices, Stephanie and Lakshmi watched the action unfold.
They sat in front of a large screen linked to the programmer bullpen. Stephanie had a tablet on her lap. Lakshmi had her laptop open on the table in front of her. You're sure about letting that reporter watch? Lakshmi asked. It seems awfully intrusive. It will be great for the company, Stephanie assured her. Besides, didn't you see that just now? Cameron and Tama can handle him.
Lakshmi nodded, looking back at the diagnostics running on her screen. Stephanie was in charge of everything outward-facing, and with good reason. I'm more worried, Stephanie went on, about Cameron. They seem a little gun-shy. Stephanie winced as soon as she spoke. Lakshmi knew she struggled not to use violent language. It could really affect our competitiveness if they're not willing to go for the ki- Um...
Go all in. Lakshmi considered this. I am a little concerned at their reluctance to trust E. Stephanie gave her a look. Lakshmi sighed. I know winning the trials is the immediate objective, but right now it is the only objective, Stephanie interrupted firmly. If we don't win these trials, we don't have a company.
Lakshmi wasn't entirely convinced of that. There were lots of other applications for E, besides striping some faraway planet with human-sized terraces. But again, Stephanie was in charge of the business side and with good reason. My point is, an autonomous and self-regulating AI that we can trust is both the larger goal and the way to achieve the immediate objective. Then we're both worried about the same thing.
Stephanie said briskly. Again, not entirely accurate, but probably a reasonable shorthand for the truth for the purposes of this conversation. We need to keep an eye on Cameron, Stephanie went on. Make sure these worries of theirs don't get in the way. We need to stay focused on the code, Lakshmi suggested. That's where it counts, not what they say to their co-workers. You...
Stephanie started, and then froze as they heard a, Hello? from her office. Stephanie clicked off the display on the monitor as Nico appeared in the doorway. Oh, he said, you two are. Just supervising the final push on the code, Stephanie said brightly. Nico assessed them, clearly a little skeptical. Everything looking good? Terrific, Lakshmi said. Great, Stephanie said.
Uh, good, Nico answered. He hovered for a moment, but with the two of them studiously immersed in their personal screens, he wandered off. In her office in the DevLock building, Denise Cho was sorting through documentation and compliance files. She had only been in this job a few months. Even that morning, she had gotten an email asking about overtime policy during the IARPA challenge from someone mistakenly believing she was still in HR. And the entire system had been a mess when she moved in.
Denise had not wanted to wait this long to thoroughly sort it out. She did not like to postpone unpleasant tasks. But Trey had insisted that everything be perfect for the IARPA trials, so she had been required to focus more on the immediate future. Now, however, the trials were underway. The programmers were caffeine addled and itchy-eyed, and every keystroke they entered was being logged and saved. Denise was not needed, and she was far happier staying out of their way.
More to the point, this was the only immediate step she could think of to follow Trey's instructions. Lakshmi Singh had been in charge of compliance before she left. Denise had not interacted with her beyond the most basic professional conversations. But everyone said Lakshmi was brilliant. If compliance systems were a mess, it seemed likely they were that way for a reason.
Besides, it did not seem plausible that, genius or not, the watch over founders could create a new AI from scratch in so short a time after leaving here. Denise's fingers paused their arpeggios over the file folders. They did say that AIs could learn? Was that the right word? She shivered slightly, though the climate control was working perfectly, as always. However much those things learned on their own, there still had to be some basis for them, something code-related and difficult.
Denise didn't know much about it, but if AI were simple to create, if they could be built in three months, say, then everyone would be making them, and Trey wouldn't be lauded as a genius. Lakshmi and Stephanie must have used something from DevLock, as Trey said, and Denise intended to find it.
I don't have time for this, Cameron muttered. You've done everything you could, Stephanie told them. E is ready, and there is absolutely nothing you can do during the transportation to the testing location. You might as well talk to him. Cameron growled. I haven't slept in days. I'm really not in a productive state to watch my words with a reporter. Stephanie grinned at them. Then don't.
The agreement says we can check all his transcripts and strike any statement of yours that we want to reconsider. She patted Cameron on the shoulder. Go have a chat. Have fun. Tell him how wonderful he is. You've earned some bragging rights. Cameron opened their mouth to protest further, but Stephanie kept talking. She kept patting, too, and though her tone was casual, Cameron felt the rhythm of her hand shift from approval to reinforcement, and then...
Warning. Or maybe they were tired and stressed enough to be imagining things. This reporter's original assignment was to cover Trey. You know what that would have been. Another golden boy, wunderkind, tech genius pian. And now he's here talking to us instead. We've changed the narrative, Cameron. Do you realize how huge that is? We have a chance to get a tech story that's not about personalities, but about the work, about the groundbreaking work that you've been doing. A thoughtful pause.
during which Cameron calculated the odds that an article in Code Overload was going to be about wonky tech details instead of the rivalry between the two companies. We have to keep his attention focused where it should be. Cameron knew an order when they heard one, so they huffed an annoyed sigh to keep up the...
Techie annoyed at stupid non-technical parts of job description, but willing to perform them for the larger good of the tech image, and stopped off to the de-stress room on the third floor where the meeting was set. Honestly, they wouldn't have minded this so much if they weren't so exhausted. They wanted to lie down, ideally wrapped in a warm duvet or someone's arms. Hey, thanks for coming. Cameron blinked.
Realizing simultaneously that they had arrived at the de-stress room, and that their fantasy about sleeping had somehow involved that gorgeous programming sociologist from DevLock. How? A zero-sex comfort fantasy about a woman they barely knew? Must be the sleep deprivation. The reporter was babbling on about how grateful he was for them taking the time on this busy day.
then trailed off at their non-responsiveness. Um, can I grab you a coffee or something? Cameron made an effort. This is the de-stress room, so no coffee, but... They went over to the fridge, pulled a bottle out triumphantly. Yerba mate. Whoever does the restocking hasn't figured out yet that this is an upper. They popped it open and took a long swig before remembering their manners. Want one? Oh, uh, sure. Hero, that was the reporter's name. He took the drink and set up his recorder.
First of all, as you probably know, your CTOs were concerned about interviews after the amount of sustained work and lack of sleep. So you and they will be free to look over the transcript after we're finished and remove anything that you feel hints at proprietary information or anything like that. I don't want you two worried about second-guessing everything you say, so please just talk and we can sanitize it later. He waited for their nod. With that out of the way...
I'd just like to hear about what you've been doing and what these trials mean to you. It's not what the trials mean to me, Cameron said. It's what they mean to humanity. I don't know if you've noticed, but we are fucking this planet up, but good. They paused to consider the fuck and then remembered it could be changed later. And right now, we are just not smart enough to make Mars or anywhere else livable within the dwindling time frame. We need to figure out solutions to these problems.
AI is a matter of survival, and we have to get it right. Dwindling, great, Hiro nodded, scribbling in a notebook. And in terms of getting it right, how is Watchover's AI different from Devlox? Cameron took a deep breath. As you probably know, I worked on DevLux project for a long time, too. And Y3 is amazing. There's really great stuff going on there. This was bad.
They were going to get all tangled up in their pride and sense of responsibility, their gratitude to two different sets of colleagues, their resentment of two different bosses. But DevLock wants to always be in control of Y3. And it's limiting. Cameron was sure they were messing this up. It was going to offend everyone, or maybe give away something critical about Watchover's strategy. Back to the tech, quick.
It's a single-body robot, and it's true they can do amazing things with the physical part as well as the software, but... Stop, Cameron. Just stop talking now. Hero was nodding sympathetically. And here? He asked softly, when they had been quiet for a long time. We're trying to let E have more leeway. We're using... Everyone important would know after this trial anyway.
We programmed using a semi-distributed swarm approach, which offers a lot more flexibility and potential for initiative. Swarm? Cameron gave him a side eye, but he gestured at the page. For the readers. Uh, so it's not unheard of to have lots of little robots with a single AI operating them all simultaneously. That offers a lot more flexibility in terms of what the physical part of the entity can do.
and resilience, you know, in case one or two of them conk out. They took a deep breath. Not talking about this stuff had become deeply ingrained. We've added some distributed decision-making. It's... exponentially more difficult to deal with because you have to figure out how the different pieces fit together, but also much more powerful and flexible. Sounds amazing, Hiro said, and he looked like he meant it.
His face lit up like a true geek's. Why doesn't everyone do it that way? Well, as I said, it's way more difficult. Also, the way we've done it, at least, it gives E more autonomy. Some people find it scary to give AIs so much freedom in how they respond. They shouldn't have said that, shouldn't have reminded people that AI was scary, as if they could ever forget.
Cameron had to take another deep breath there, but pushed on without tearing up. But it's all in how you set the parameters. Are those its pronouns? Cameron blinked, confused. I use they-them. No, the reporter said, possibly embarrassed. You said, E? Is that the AI's pronoun? Oh, Cameron laughed. No, that's its name.
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Trey was only half listening. His mind on the imminent trial, and then the one beyond it. If the first trial is shelter, what could they be planning for the next one? Communications? Energy? Catastrophic, until he heard Denise say, All in order. I'm not sure where else to look. All in order? Trey realized he was half out of his chair and forcibly corrected his posture.
What do you mean, all in order? There is no way watch over is above board. No way. Denise flinched, but didn't back down. Trey appreciated that. She took a big promotion when Lakshmi left, a huge promotion, considered in terms of the amount of his attention she got, and someone in that position should be able to stand up to him within reason.
I don't have access to watch over compliance data, she retorted, then bit her lip as if she regretted saying that and hurried on. As I said, pointedly, as if she had realized that he hadn't been listening. I went through all our compliance paperwork. It was a mess. A mess, she emphasized with distaste. And Trey remembered there was some kind of military in her background. Service or a parent service or something.
But I didn't find any evidence of theft or copying or misconduct of any kind. There's something. There must be. Denise didn't exactly interrupt him. Nobody interrupted Trey, at least as far as he had noticed. but she did jump in while he was taking a breath. Unfortunately, I don't have the programming knowledge to necessarily notice something that might have happened more on the code side, so I wanted to ask if I could borrow some time from one of the programmers. Trey pondered.
Normally, he would have said absolutely, without bothering to check with Baroth or anyone else. But the trials had to take precedence. Maybe once things calmed down. But that wouldn't really happen until the trials were over. And if WatchOver was cheating, and of course they were cheating, by then it would be too late. Invalidating after the fact was so much harder than disqualifying.
I'll see if someone can help you once the trial is started and there's less for us to do. But in the meantime, you might have to be creative. Denise raised her eyebrows. Creative. She said that with almost as much distaste as mess. Trey made a dismissive gesture. I know I'm right about this. I know this stuff, and I know them, and they must have done something underhanded to get to this point.
It's just a matter of proving it, or at least demonstrating it. They didn't need something to hold up in a court of law, just something to prove to IARPA that Watchover couldn't be trusted. We'd be doing a disservice to the trials if we didn't ensure that everything was on the level. He watched Denise carefully. Surely she could understand this. Hmm, said Denise.
But before she could clarify, the gentle tone indicating that someone wanted admission sounded, and Baharoth's face came up on the screen on the wall. Trey waited a moment in case Denise was going to take the five fucking seconds required to say, You're right, Trey. I'm 100% behind you. But she was looking at the screen too, and with an irritated huff, Trey pushed the button offering Baroth admittance. Sir, Baroth said as soon as he entered, relentlessly formal as always, it's time.
Ah, Trey said, glancing needlessly at the clock in the corner of his watch screen. Well then, he nodded at Baroth, but they both stayed staring at him. Do you want to walk down with us? Denise asked at last. Now? There won't be anything to see. The Y-3 will be transported inert to the surprise location. It will take at least, what, an hour? Trey glanced at his watch again, to remind them of all the time, his time, that would waste.
We have GPS coordinates. Estimates are 42 minutes for travel, Bharath said. Well, it's not like we'll be able to do anything during those 42 minutes, Trey snapped. I'll come down when it arrives. See what the initial transmission tells us. Although even that, because of the stupid artificial delay, would be another 20 minutes or something later. Trey caught Baroth and Denise exchanging a glance.
What? Sir, the programmers will all be there watching, even if they can't do anything immediately, Bharath explained. It's a momentous occurrence. It would really help morale if you were there. Denise added. You can work there while we're waiting for the first transmission, she added, as he cast a baleful eye at his screen. Fine, fine, Trey said, gathering his wearables and tablet. Let's go.
To Trey's relief, Baroth led them not to the actual programmer pit, their name for it, not his, but to the glassed-in mezzanine above it, semi-private. Trey thought in relief, glancing at his inbox one more time before he went up to the massive windows. Barath didn't seem to feel the need to make an announcement or anything.
But Trey did see a couple of the programmers look up from their conversations, nothing to do, naturally, and straighten their backs when they saw him. Turning away to find a seat, Trey spotted Noor curled in one of the comfortable chairs with a moleskin and a fountain pen. Observing the excitement, he asked, settling in beside her. Oh, yes, it's fascinating.
Her face practically glowed with enthusiasm. Trey wondered idly if she might have a crush on him. I was down there before, but I needed a break to write things down. Write things down, eh? said Trey. amused that she relied on such antiquated methods. Probably some interesting anthropology going on up here as well. He glanced around at the department heads with a conspiratorial grin.
Definitely, Nora said, smiling sweetly. How'd it go with the reporter? Cameron started, coming out of another daydream. In this one, Noor had been lying next to them in a hammock, their bodies pressed deliciously close by gravity and the enclosing weave, although they weren't doing anything but chatting. This was getting out of hand. It had to be the exhaustion. It was fine, Cameron said, pulling themselves back into the present to answer Thomas' question.
They were in the rec room slash cafeteria at Watchover, where Stephanie had ordered large screens set up so that everyone on staff could watch the stream from the trial. At the moment, the only message on the screens was... Estimated time to trial site, 18 minutes. But the whole company seemed to be there already anyway. All the programmers had their tablets in front of them in case their specific area of expertise became necessary during the trial.
But admin and janitorial staff were helping themselves to chablis or microbrews from the open bar against one wall. Tama pulled out the chair next to them and flipped it around to sit backward on it. You told him all about our perfect workplace with our perfect bosses. Cameron flicked an annoyed glance at him. I told him about E. There was a pause. It's better here than DevLock, anyway.
That's not saying much, Tama laughed. Fucking Trey Lowell. He slipped into a flat, vowed accent that decently mimicked Trey's. Let's go change the world, people. He slouched back into his chair and his own accent. Fucking useless prick. Cameron snorted. And yet you're already complaining about the two queens.
Just because they're better than that blowhard dickwad doesn't make them God's gift to programmers. Oh, come on, Tama, Cameron said. Of course they're not perfect, but no boss is. At least they let us get the work done. They nodded at the screen. Mostly, Tama agreed grudgingly. Hey, are you coming to game night this week? Mmph, Cameron said. I've barely slept this week.
Tama looked off into the distance. That new girl was there last week. Cameron hoped he didn't mean who they thought he meant. What new woman would that be? Just in case they looked off into a different distance to avoid eye contact. That humanities person. You know, the one who programmed pseudo. I'll think about it. Cameron tipped their chin at the screen, now showing twelve minutes. I'm going to go get ready. Knock them dead, Tama nodded.
Thousands of miles away, Wynne Mallory, the IARPA official in charge of ensuring these trials picked the best team for the job, settled in front of her screen. The AIs were arriving at their various designated locations. The trials had begun. Windscreen was divided into five blocks, each further subdivided to show multiple camera angles on each location. She watched as DevLock's Y3, in its unreal-looking silvery streamlined casing, was laid inert on a patch of rocky ground.
In another corner of the screen, the first of Watchover's tiny swarm bots was delivered to a similar landscape. None of this was by chance. Wynne and her team had spent weeks researching potential locations, from geologic surveys to sophisticated weather predictions. It was impossible to find natural spaces that shared exactly the same complex specifications.
so they had aimed for equivalence instead, with discussions long into the night about what difficulties to assign different components. The depth of the water table was certainly a factor. but that had to be combined with the hardness of the rock and availability of critical materials. They had carefully calculated the timing required to get each of the robots to its test site at the same time.
synchronized the automated go time across three time zones. Extreme measures were in place to prevent any kind of communication across the candidates during the tests. For all the preparations, Wynn was hoping something would go wrong. An unexpected storm. A minor earthquake. A solar flare. An RV full of tourists ignoring the restricted area tape. Something to push this test out of its careful routine.
They couldn't expect Mars to go according to plan. On the screen, Y-3 powered up, a discreet light on its carapace blinking to life. A new window opened on Wynne's government-issue computer monitor. Y3's communications back to DevLock with its initial environmental analysis. It had already noted the two closest water sources within the area. Not bad. At the same time, watchovers Swarmbots hummed, then took to the air.
Their communications channel was harder to follow, with several analyses running simultaneously, but Wynn was intrigued by this distributed decision-making idea and was curious to see how it would work out in practice. so she was willing to put some time into understanding it. The delay meant Wynne was seeing these communications long before the programming teams did. She observed,
taking notes, to see how much each machine would do before it received explicit instructions from its team. She also had to decide the right moment to intervene with planned unexpectedness. She wanted all the teams to feel comfortable with the process before she cut their visuals. Wynn leaned back, smiling, and watched as the machines drilled themselves into clouds of fine, featureless dust.
The wait had indeed seemed interminable. But Trey perked up once the first transmission came through, bringing with it a faint cheer from the team. And then, as they poured through it, scattered exclamations and consultations. Okay, we've found water! What do you think of the bedrock at this site? Is the prevailing wind a factor? Trey hadn't thought about Mars as anything other than an abstraction, the gold medal, in ages.
But he could almost imagine that this was an actual landing, that Y-3, something he had created, was extending his will onto a faraway planet. He got up and strolled to the windows. In a last flurry of activity, the programmers had sent back a set of commands, and now the pit had gotten quiet again. They were still looking over the data from the initial site assessment, trying to anticipate the next move.
Trey spotted Noor, her blue and silver headscarf hovering just on the edge of a tight knot of coders. Smart kid. On the screens, he could see what Y3 saw from each of its attached cameras. At the moment, it was mostly the classic desert scraps, overlaid with data about the soil, the bedrock, distance to water, weather conditions, and anything else Y3's sensors could pick up.
But one of the cameras was trained on Y3's extruder, so they could see the tools it was building. Another showed the lines it was beginning to excavate for foundations. It wasn't until the second set of commands was about to reach Y3 that the screens went dark. There was a moment of stunned silence in the pit, and then it erupted. What the hell?
Did we lose power? Someone check the connection. Looking down from the mezzanine, Trey shook his head. Idiots, he muttered, although not without fondness. Obviously, I. Arpa was going to pull something like this. Get it together, guys, Trey hummed under his breath. But they already were. Baroth was on it. Gentlemen, gentlemen and ladies, yes, sorry. We have procedures for this, if you'll recall.
Connor, just as well to check the screens on this side and go over the diagnostics. But unless you find something, we will assume this is part of the trial. Emilio, the visual translation subroutine, please. Seven minutes later, the screens were on again, although now with a blueprint-style outline, visually representing the data they were still getting from Y3. Trey smirked as he watched their shelter start to take shape.
He would bet his Tesla that Stephanie and Lakshmi weren't this prepared. They must be freaking out right now. When the screens blanked in the watch over rec room, there was a collective gasp. But almost on the out breath, it shifted into quiet industry as everyone doubled down into their work. Cameron met Thomas' gaze briefly and nodded at him. Thank goodness he had warned them, so they had time to prepare themselves. The only person freaking out was the Code Overload reporter.
Code Overload Magazine. Embedded Reporter LifeLog Entry 796. Gentle listeners, I don't know if I can fully convey the impact through this auditory medium, but the visuals from Watchover's AI? just disappeared. That's right, the giant screens that have been showing us what the AI sees through its many cameras have gone blank.
We're still getting data from the field, temperature, soil density, ongoing 3D printing jobs, and so on, so we know the AI isn't crashed, or at least, if it is, it doesn't know it is, but we can't see what it's doing. The shelter that it is building to withstand a hypothetical dust storm on Mars is completely invisible to us. I keep seeing the last image in my mind's eye. A long, low outline in cut rock bricks. The beginnings of a foundation.
No way to know what it will become, if anything. A small error now could lead to utter collapse, or a building that makes no sense to any human, even as the AI follows its parameters. I'm ready to gnaw my knuckles off from the uncertainty, but the watchover team is playing it cool. They're working off the data they're still getting, which is something, but I can't keep from wondering if whatever shut off the cameras...
probably iARPA, but it could be gremlins, is screwing with the data values too. Either they've got a ton of confidence in this AI they've built, or they're just awfully good at faking it. And transmission. So, how's it going? Tama had just taken off his immersive headset. It was a beautiful gadget. Lightweight and fitted with an astoundingly intuitive link to E, but it was still not worth staring into the void for 40 minutes as they waited a response on the last interaction. Now, however...
He was regretting the choice to disconnect. Fine, he told the reporter. Wonderful. And extremely, extremely no comment. Of course, Hero answered soothingly. As you may know, we've got an agreement that you and your bosses... I've heard, Tama responded, but I'm trying to concentrate, understand? Not to mention I'm parched. He headed over to the bar.
the reporter trailing behind, and grabbed himself a prickly pear juice. Okay, I don't want to knock you off your game or anything. The reporter shifted approach, coming on stronger and less affable. But it's nearly 40 minutes until you're on again. Surely that's enough time for us to record a little lightning round interview. Tama gulped at his juice, glanced up at the clock on the screen, couldn't deny being bored. Fine. he said, but I have to hit the loo first. Find me here, Hiro told him.
The excitement is, as they say, at a fever pitch. I'm in the impressively outfitted watch-over cafeteria and rec room. I've just had my ass kicked at air hockey three times. This company clearly believes in the profitability of happy workers. Maybe that's how they've managed to lure the cream of the programming crop away from nearby DevLock to form an impressive roster of edgy young coders out to conquer the world. And all of them are in this room.
The action, though, is happening miles away at an undisclosed location where Watchover's AI cryptically referred to as E is mining, printing, and constructing a shelter to mimic the tasks involved in preparing Mars for human life. Because the cameras are out, and there's a 40-minute faux light-speed lag in communications, the coders have some time on their hands, and we're lucky enough to speak with one of the best, Tama Fakide. Hi, Tama. Tell us about yourself.
What's to tell? I'm here, doing my job. Where are you from? Auckland. How did you end up programming AIs to go to Mars? You think New Zealanders don't care about outer space? I could ask that question of anyone. But do you? Now I'm guessing it's because you hate people and would rather hang with a robot in the vacuum of space. At the moment, that is sounding pretty appealing. What does the E stand for? What?
Watchover's AI is named E. What does it stand for? Whatever you want it to. And with that, dear followers, Thomas stalked back to his table and retreated into his immersive headset. Did I tell you about those wearables yet? We are going to talk about those for a bit, and then I'm heading over to DevLock to see how the stress of the trials is treating their programmers. End transmission.
Welcome to Sagas of Sundry Goblin Mode. It's a brand new fantasy series that uses tabletop role-playing 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. The adventure begins September 9th. Join Geek and Sundrian Realm for Sagas of Sundry Goblin Mode. Listen on Apple Podcasts, Spotify, or wherever you get your podcasts. Enjoy the world and all its terrors.
Interested to learn more about unexplained entities and dark legends from across the globe? Join myself and Dr. Sophie Yang as we share horrors, fears, and taboos from her home in Taiwan and discuss the similarities and differences between what scares souls in the East and West. Learn about what haunts the Taiwanese mountains, what comes for you in death, and much more. Check out That Scares Me Too, available now. That's too like boo. Holding up, Tama muttered.
Cameron gave him a thumbs up. They actually felt much better now that the trials were on and there was something they could do. Even the visuals going out was mostly okay. It just meant concentrating harder on the data, which was not a bad thing. Trying to imagine the environment based on E's censorate descriptions made it harder for Cameron to think about what E might be destroying out there, unintentionally, or rather intentionally, but based on faulty instructions.
Cameron's faulty instructions. No, not this time. Tama was right. E was amazing. They had worked hard to build in all the right safeguards. E wasn't destroying anything. It was building something and doing it in a way that considered and protected the environmental context. Probably. Cameron wished the cameras would turn back on just for a second so they could be sure.
Embedded Reporter Life Log Entry 845. The atmosphere at DevLock is not nearly as festive as the one at WatchOver. The programmers are crowded into a functional, modern, ugly space they call the pit. Right now, I'm staking out the lead programmer, Baroth Das. Hi, can you tell me something about what's going on here? No, I'm sorry. I'm much too busy.
Uh, Trey asked that I be extended every… This is not a time for unnecessary encounters. I am extremely busy. Okay, we're going to try someone else. Excuse me, I wonder if I could have a few minutes of your time. Ugh. Can you tell us your name? Emilio. Emilio Garcia Vega. Nice to meet you, Emilio. Can you tell me a little about what's going on here? Uh, no.
No, I really can't. Getting interviewed is definitely above my pay grade. No, I assure you, it's not. I'm trying to get a sort of man-on-the-street view of things, a programmer-in-the-pit experience, as it were. No fucking way, man. Look, no offense, but I'm not talking to you until I get an amendment to my NDA signed in triplicate. Okay, another one down. But wait, look at that, it's our old friend, Knorr.
Hi, Noor, how's it going? Oh, hi, Hero. It's going well, I think. At least for me it is. This is a pretty fascinating experience. Tell us about it. Oh, uh, Trey approved this, right? Okay, well, it's just amazing because the programmers are controlling this robot, guiding it, really, in accomplishing this incredibly difficult task. And we only see what the robot sees. So that's one thing. I'm going to suggest that they give it a mirror or something next time, to help with diagnostics.
Then there's this long delay in communications, so everything we see from the robot happened 40 minutes ago, and anytime we send a message to it, we don't see the response for 40 minutes, even though it starts implementing it at 20 minutes. Sorry, I know this is all obvious to anyone with the faintest interest in robot astronomy. And who on Earth doesn't have an interest in robot astronomy? Exactly!
But anyway, it's so different to be directly involved and hanging on every movement. They have this constantly recurring dilemma. Give the robot complex instructions that it can implement by itself, or give it really simple contained instructions and have it stop after each step so that we can see what the results are.
Obviously, the cost benefit on these options is different for every decision, and there's this risk of getting enormously tangled up down the wrong path if the robot starts doing something and you can't correct for 40 minutes. But on the other hand… If the robot just sits there for 40 minutes between every command, nothing's going to get built. Besides, what's the point of having AI if you still have to tell it what to do? What indeed. So, how are the coders here deciding?
Oh, it's amazing. It really is case by case. But mostly, they are trying to figure out the optimal path between the two. Chunks of tasks that give Y3 enough to do to keep it occupied until the next order comes through, but not enough so that it will take too long to walk something back if it goes wrong. It's all about the parameters. It looks like you're having a thought, Noor. I am always having thoughts, Hero. You should try it sometime.
I think it was okay. I think it went well. The purpose and intensity of the trial over, Cameron's stomach was twisting with uncertainty. It went great. Stephanie took one hand off the steering wheel to squeeze their shoulder. We don't know that yet, Cameron retorted, immediately resentful. We don't know what he did. Their stomach dropped again as they imagined what they might see at the test site. At least we've seen some of it.
Stephanie said with satisfaction, and Cameron knew she was thinking that the swarm configuration gave them that advantage over Y3's single body. And it looked good. Good. Cameron thought, was the worst word. Here we are, Stephanie added as the car pulled up in front of the moonshot. It's really too early to celebrate, Cameron groused.
We're celebrating hard work and being done with it, Stephanie said firmly as they got out of the car. For the moment, she added with a wink. Besides, look at the crowd, she gestured at the vehicles lined in front of the airstream. Everyone's here. Cameron was aware of two simultaneous reactions to that. The first was that this was really why Stephanie had dragged them out here, so no one would think they were worried.
The second was that Noor was part of the set. Everyone. And Cameron hadn't even had a chance to freshen up after the sweaty mess of the trials. They scooped a tiny pot of sparkly hair mousse out of their jacket pocket and took a minute to tousle artfully in the rearview mirror. They edged their way around the tightly parked vehicles and into the bar.
It was much more crowded than usual, and loud. Through the scrum, Cameron caught a glimpse of Lakshmi leaning against the bar, which surprised them. Wow, everyone really was here. They cast a glance around the rest of the room, but only succeeded in making eye contact with Tama, who waved them emphatically towards his table. Hey, he said as they came up, I thought you would never get here. Stephanie, he added.
nodding at the boss as she appeared behind Cameron. Let me get you a drink. Hmm, said Cameron noncommittally. They were at the stage of exhaustion that made it difficult to see straight. Alcohol seemed like both a terrible and a great reaction to that. At least it was crowded enough that it would take a while. Something nudged their leg, and Cameron looked down to see Sudo.
face cocked in a reasonably cute approximation of dog wanting attention, screen reading, Can I take your order? They glanced up at Tama, who was looking smug. I made a little adjustment so I can call Sudo directly from my device, and he prioritizes those calls over all other orders. Stephanie Choke laughed. Smits is going to love that!
Tama glared at her, and she raised her hands. I'm not going to tell him, but it's not like he won't figure it out on his own. He did program pseudo, after all. Uh, pseudo? Bring a beer. Cameron said, hoping to distract them. A glass of bubbly, Stephanie said. Pseudo, she added, as if the dog could understand. Please find me with it when it's ready. I'm going to mingle a bit.
Tama and Cameron locked eyes as she disappeared into the crowd and then exploded into laughter. Hang on, Sudo, Tama said, wiping the tears from his eyes. I think we have to make another little adjustment. Boss's orders. At the bar, Lakshmi watched Stephanie step into the crowd with trepidation. But her co-CTO didn't move in her direction. Relieved, Lakshmi turned back to Smits, who was using a rag to dry glasses on the other side of the bar. You're only doing that because it looks cool.
She accused him. Smits just grinned at her. Usually, Lakshmi got on well with Stephanie. They were very different, and if Lakshmi listened to Stephanie speaking publicly for long periods of time, her voice started to grate. But Lakshmi found it easy to overlook Stephanie's annoying qualities because she knew she needed her strengths. Also, because she knew Stephanie overlooked some of Lakshmi's behaviors too. Rough day? Smith asked.
Lakshmi nodded, then reminded herself that she should make sure to tell everyone it had gone well, then reminded herself that it was Smits, so she didn't have to. Just a lot of... She waved her hands. Smits nodded. The part I don't miss. Maybe I should open a bar, Lakshmi said. No need to reinvent the wheel, Smits commented mildly. Lakshmi glanced at him, not understanding. He shrugged.
You don't have to start your own. Lot of work, capital outlay, and then annoying bookkeeping. You could just work here. Lakshmi snorted. I'd miss it too much, she said, turning back to look at the room. Yeah. Smit said it so quietly that Lakshmi almost missed it, but she didn't, and instantly spun back to him. I'm sorry. You must miss it a lot.
He shrugged, not looking at her. Maybe not as much as you would. I think I was probably close to ready for a break. Just pseudo-stepped around the bar. There you are. Where have you been? I know it's crowded, but... Smits kept talking to Sudo as he started loading the robot dog up with drinks. The door opened. It had been opening and closing all evening, so there was no reason for Lakshmi to look around, but she did.
So did everyone else, apparently. The bar quieted as Trey Lowell came in, crisp and practically shining in his trademark white, gray, and blue outfit. A big, toothy smile spread across his face. Lakshmi reflected, not for the first time, that charisma was a real and powerful force. Even knowing Trey as she did, that sheen was almost enough to make her want to say hi to him.
Trey strode up to the far end of the short bar, leaned across it, and clasped Smit's hand. So, this is your bar, huh, Smitty? Nice place. He turned and caught sight of Lakshmi. gave her a short nod, then continued around to lean his back on the bar. For the first time, Lakshmi noticed that Bharath Das had come in with Trey, probably a step behind him, and was standing next to him now.
She looked away so she wouldn't have to nod to him, too. Great work today, everybody, Trey said jovially. He didn't even sound like he was raising his voice, but everyone in the bar could hear. and Lakshmi could see everyone was listening. Projection. That's what Trey was good at. And it's great to see that we all know how to cut loose and have fun together after a hard couple of days of work. He swung back to the bar.
Around for everyone, Smitty. On me. Cash or charge? Smits asked immediately. It sounded polite, but Lakshmi could tell he was pissed. Trey tapped his watch and squiggled a line on it, then shot his finger along the surface towards Smits. That should do it. He was already on his way to the door, although it took a while for him to leave because he stopped to shake hands and slap shoulders along the way, Baroth close in his wake. Smits muttered an imprecation under his breath.
Lakshmi tore her eyes away from the spectacle of Trey working the room to glance at him. We're not built for this volume all at once, Smit said. Sudo can't handle it. Neither can I, for that matter. I'm going to have to jury-rig a whiteboard or online sign-up or... If you don't mind, maybe I could whip up a quick optimization algorithm for pseudo, a new voice said, and we could put a FIFO list on those video monitors.
Lakshmi and Smits both looked over to see Emilio Garcia Vega standing by the bar. He shrugged, a little shame-faced. It's the least I can do, he said with a gesture toward Trey. That would be great, but it's not the optimization so much as the memory and bookkeeping. Smits drew Emilio into a huddle. Lakshmi turned back to scan the bar, where conversations were starting up again.
She had been on the point of offering to get behind the bar and mix drinks herself. Good thing Amelia was here. Hey, how did it go? Cameron looked up and froze to see Noor looking down at them. It was an entrancing sight, especially when Noor's cheeks went almost as rose-colored as her headscarf. I mean...
I know you can't tell me exactly how it went. I didn't mean not how the thing went, but how it went for you. That is to say, Cameron grinned, what felt like their first real grin in days. It's all right. Sit down. Nor plopped into a chair, matching the smile. I'm all right, Cameron went on. Tired, but it felt good, actually. All in with the whole team. You? It was fascinating, Nor said.
There was all this pressure, but also, like you said, the whole team really working together. And it was amazing to see the way the AI issues were dealt with in real time and under pressure. Cameron opened their mouth to warn Noor that talking about AI issues might be crossing a line, but there was no need.
Noor veered away to speculate about the next trial and talk about the meaning of the snacks in the DevLock break room, and also her conversation with the reporter from Code Overload. Cameron shut their mouth again and listened, enjoying the view. So much enthusiasm and energy. Not just that, either. Some of her observations were pretty sharp. Amazing, Cameron thought, that she hadn't clued in to what an overrated jerk Trey was.
Why are you working for DevLock? they asked suddenly. Noor had paused to take a sip of her drink and glance around the bar, as if searching for more participant-observer experiences. Noor lowered her drink. Because they hired me. Well, but... Nor twinkled. Do you have any sociologists on staff at Watchover? Any anthropologists? Any humanities people at all? I think January minored in English.
Cameron said. I know what people say about Trey Lowell, Noor said, when they had finished laughing. My parents didn't even want me to work for him, and I'm not drinking the Kool-Aid about him either. But still, he hired me. So far, at least, he hasn't tried to get me to shut up when I say something uncomfortable or change my results. She paused. True, he hasn't seen any of my results yet, but...
I mean, that's good and all, but... And I'm getting this amazing field experience. And I'm learning how to code, and it's so much fun. I didn't expect that. Cameron had to laugh again. About that. They weren't sure what to ask. Are you a genius seemed impossible to answer. How do you do that? Maybe how did you learn? Cameron opened their mouth to try the last one, but was interrupted by the sound of Tama's voice, loud.
You don't know anything yet. You can't know anything yet. Why don't you shut your loud, stinky mouth until we get the results? Oh, right. You can't because you need it for breathing. Uh-oh, Cameron said, standing up. Tama was by the bar, going all rooster-chested at some DevLock programmers, people Cameron remembered without fondness. I can drink to whatever I want. One of them.
Mike, if Cameron remembered right, was saying. After all, it's my boss who's paying the tab. And you think that's something to brag about, you sorry oak-faced excuse for a code monkey. More people were standing up and moving in on both sides. Cameron glanced down at Noor, who was craning her neck worriedly to see what was happening. Do you want to get out of here? Noor nodded and held out her hand.
A sparkle of feeling ran up Cameron's arm when they took it. Come on, they said. I know the perfect place. As they slipped down the corridor that led to the kitchen, such as it was, the bathrooms and the ladder to the roof, Cameron heard the bartender yelling, Sudo, get those people out of here. The roof was an amazing quiet after the bar, and dark.
I'm always amazed how little light pollution there is out here, Cameron said, suddenly embarrassed and wanting an excuse to look anywhere but at Noor. Yes, I love it up here, Noor said. Cameron glanced back and saw she was angling around to the telescope. God, she was lovely. They absolutely couldn't afford to fall for someone now, not with so much on the line with E.
And they especially couldn't afford to fall for someone from DevLock. Stephanie would call that a security risk. Hell, Cameron would call it a security risk. It was a bad idea. But the dark desert night and the glittering sky seemed to feel differently. Look! Nora reached out a hand and caught Cameron's sleeve, pulling them closer to the scope. The electricity between them was almost painful. Look at what, Cameron said, looking at Noor instead. Noor looked up and smiled at Cameron. Look at Mars!
It's so wonderful we're going there to give ourselves another chance. And she bit her lip. Something in Cameron's core bent sideways. Their body took over. They kissed Knorr and Knorr kissed them back, slow and desert hot, under the stars and the faraway planet of their future. You're listening to Machina. Narrated by Natalie Nottis. Produced by Realm. Your portal to another world. Realm. Listen away.
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