Closer human-machine coupling and augmentation of human performance will become possible and essential.
I peer across the table at my friend. “How did you get ahold of this, anyway?”
“It’s in the public domain. Anyone can access it.”
“So all this stuff you’ve told me over the years about the experimental aircraft out at Groom Lake…” I can hardly believe I’m saying this. “It’s for real?”
He nods toward the report. “According to those Air Force documents — and other ones — the research is occurring as we speak. The military just doesn’t announce where they’re doing it. But one of the most secure military installations on the planet is Area 51. It’s also where they test their most classified experimental aircraft and drones; we know that too.”
I tap my finger against the pages. “So, it only makes sense that they would at least be doing some of these tests there.”
“Yes.”
Among conspiracy theorists, Area 51 is famously known as the place where the alien body, or spacecraft, or both, was taken after the supposed UFO crash in Roswell, New Mexico, back in 1947. According to Xavier and his friends, the Air Force has been studying the aircraft since that time, reverse engineering it, or at least trying to.
“How come you never showed me these documents before?” I ask him.
He shrugs. “You never took any of it seriously. I didn’t think you’d accept them as legit.”
“Okay, I’m taking you seriously now.”
“Glad to hear it. Despite what they say, you’re not an entirely lost cause.”
“Thanks.”
I go back to the Air Force document.
Augmentation may come from increased use of autonomous systems, interfaces for more intuitive and close coupling of humans and automated systems, and direct augmentation of humans via drugs or implants to improve memory, alertness, cognition, or visual/aural acuity, as well as screening for specialty codes based on brainwave patterns or genetic correlates.
Considering what Xavier has been telling me and what I’m now reading, I can actually see where he and his conspiracy theorist friends are coming from.
The military wants to augment humans with drugs and implants.
A specific, direct, and purposeful move toward transhumanism.
Earlier, Xavier had mentioned that Emilio had shown interest in Groom Lake, we found a military-encrypted USB drive in his things, and he was murdered and his home ransacked. All of it is interwoven somehow, I just have no idea how.
When I consider the military’s goal of augmenting people, my thoughts return to what Xavier and I were talking about earlier — enhancement and augmentation. It’s clear that the more we merge with machines, or with other species, the blurrier the lines become about what makes us human.
“Xavier, the Air Force is looking for ways to augment and enhance its soldiers. Well, it doesn’t take a rocket scientist to see the negative implications of all this. I can picture it now — you have unenhanced humans and you have augmented ones. How will they compete in sports contests? There won’t be any way of evaluating them, comparing them, making things fair.”
“And that’s not all.” He’s flipping through manila folders looking for something. “Follow with me here. Machines follow protocol. In a sense, they would be better than human operators who might miss something, make decisions clouded by anger or feelings of revenge. Or even just weariness. Machines don’t get tired in the afternoon and need a cup of coffee to stay alert.”
“But what happens when a drone makes a mistake and kills innocent civilians? Who do you hold accountable? I mean, you’re not going to court-martial the drone.”
“The programmers. The ones who came up with the algorithms. Or maybe the manufacturer of the drone or its computer system. It’s still a big question mark. Right now no one really knows. For the time being, killer robots are still on the drawing board.” He taps the Human Rights Watch document. “But not for long.”
That was a scary thought — that a computer programmer could be tried for war crimes for coming up with a certain algorithm.
Or what if he did it on purpose? Without human operators in the loop, all you’d need to do is hack into a drone — and that’s already been done.
“Reprogram a machine with different parameters or rules of engagement.” I’m thinking aloud. “And then if you started to get AI that could analyze data trillions of times faster than humans can…”
“Skynet.”
“Autonomous weapons.”
“A Terminator scenario.”
“Exactly.”
It’s more than a little disconcerting how well the pieces fit together.
It’s all just conspiracy theory stuff. They always find ways to “prove” their theories.
Yes, that might be true, but Emilio is dead.
But what did he have to do with any of all this? And how might he be connected to RixoTray?
Before I can reflect on that anymore, we hear from Charlene that she hasn’t been able to get anywhere with the FBI. It’s closing in on 11:30 now, and we need to be leaving soon if we’re going to have time to grab lunch and make the one o’clock rehearsal at the Arête.
After the break-in at Emilio’s house, and considering we have the USB drive that whoever was there was very likely looking for, I’m not keen on the idea of leaving Fionna and her kids alone here at the house.
I suggest to Charlene that we all meet at the Arête for lunch. Fionna can take her kids to the pool or to the rock climbing wall while we go to rehearsal.
I don’t tell Charlene all of my reasoning, but she agrees with the idea of meeting at the hotel to eat, and while we finish up the conversation, Xavier goes to the house to see if Fionna is on board with the idea.
Since the Arête caters to the affluent twenty-something single crowd, there are more bars and nightclubs there than family-friendly sit-down restaurants. In fact, there’s really only one choice.
“So, Jenny’s Grille?” I suggest to Charlene. We’ve been there countless times, so I don’t need to tell her where it is: just south of the main lobby, near the boutique shops.
“Sure,” she tells me. “I’ll meet you there.”
Xavier returns and informs me that Fionna and the kids will be right out. We gather up our notes, and when the McClurys appear, I pack the kids into the Aston Martin so they can experience riding in the DB9, Xavier climbs into Fionna’s minivan with her so he can fill her in on our transhumanism discussion, and we all take off for the Arête.
Dust of the Dead
Colonel Derek Byrne felt the SUV roll to a stop and heard a garage door rattle shut behind the vehicle.
“Te lo puedes quitar,” the man on his left said: You can take it off.
Derek untied the blindfold. They were in a dreary, abandoned warehouse.
The men opened the doors and ushered Derek out of the vehicle. The shorter of the men went for the suitcase and demanded that he, rather than Derek, carry it.
“Of course.”
Derek stood quietly with his arms outstretched, allowing the gigantic man to pat him down. When he found the spool of thick suture thread and the needle in Derek’s pocket, he frowned. “What’s this for?”
“Sewing.”
“Sewing?” He gave the colonel a scoff of disbelief.
“A hobby of mine. But if you don’t trust me to have a needle and thread, feel free to hang on to them. I’ll just get them back from you later.”
“You know what?” He pocketed them. “I think I will.”