West of Nothing

15. Sputnik 2.0

When Major Zeus dropped in for status reports, he would sometimes bring along a fresh scientist or someone higher up the chain of command. As the latter may not have appreciated Shouter's shock-and-awe style of engagement, at the sight of a uniform the Indian youth would disappear into the Storeroom.

After breakfast, they were visited by a big shot with a Tetris-like array of bars on his left breast. He was accompanied by a woman in a navy skirt-suit so stiff she could have passed for a mannequin. The bigwig walked right up to the platform and rapped on the glass bell with a knuckle, as if expecting the X-Bot to jump to attention.

"So this is the little fucker that has the deputy secretary's panties in a wad. Doesn't look like much, does he? Then again, the real threats never do. For several years back in the 70s, the Soviets managed to wiretap top level security briefings at the Pentagon. Our agents discovered transcripts of entire meetings, written out verbatim word for word. We were chasing our fucking tails trying to find the mole. It got to the point where we were doing full body cavity searches. Imagine that, the CIA director with some ensign's fingers stuck far up his ass." He chuckled. "Know how the Russkies did it? Ashtrays. They put wiretaps in fucking brass ashtrays. Everyone smoked back then so every room had an ashtray in it. Who knows how many secrets the commies got before we figured it out. One of the best things we ever did to improve national security was to ban smoking from government buildings." Brief pause for effect, then, "It just goes to show how big threats can come in small packages."

This deserved and received a solemn nod from Major Zeus.

The bigwig went on to ask the sort of questions one might expect from a third grader, if said third grader had a voice as deep as James Earl Jones. These were mostly fielded by Skunkworks, who struck the right balance of straight shooting and old-school bonhomie, keeping the technical details to a minimum. Clearly, he had some experience talking to military command.

"What was that about?" Mason said when Major Zeus showed Tetris Master out, trailed by Military Mannequin.

"That was a pep talk, military style." Skunkworks said.

"That was supposed to be inspirational?"

"Motivational might be a better word."

Mason was not feeling any more motivated, and said so.

"Well, you should be," advised Skunkworks. "Four-star generals don't just drop in for courtesy calls."

"That was a four-star general?"

"Didn't you see the stars on his lapels? And not just any four star. General Dixon is an old friend of the president's and has close ties with the Department of Homeland Security. I wouldn't be surprised if our little project here winds up in a presidential briefing before it's all over. Which means we're about to start feeling the motherload of pressure. Folks like him are used to getting answers."

"Answers to what?"

"Who made the X-Bot? What's it do? How much of a threat does it pose to national security?"

"They really think it's a threat?" Mason asked.

"The mere fact it exists is a threat."

"Aren't you being a bit alarmist?" Doogie broke in. "It's hardly the first time some new technology has come along and changed the game. We haven't even established it's military yet. For all we know, maybe we crack it open and find an IBM trademark inside."

"That's not going to happen," Skunkworks countered. "Do you really think the brass doesn't know what Big Tech is cooking up in its R and D labs? I bet the NSA Chief has Mark Zuckerberg on speed dial."

"I still don't see what the big deal is," Mason said. "I mean, why get all bent out of shape over some cool new bug-tech? It's not like it's a giga-brain AI."

"Don't you get it?" Skunkworks said. "The X-Bot wasn't made by our side. Do you have any idea what that means? It means a second-rate foreign power has managed to leapfrog the collective ingenuity of the entire civilized world. No, not just any foreign power. The Chinese. They're the only ones with pockets deep enough and a chip on their shoulder big enough to pull off this kind of technological stunt. Our side is right to be scared. This could be Sputnik all over again."

Skunkworks rubbed his forehead as if to erase the deep worry lines. "Look, you all grew up in the age of Apollo—no, more like the era of Silicon Valley. For all of your lives, America has been the brightest kid on the global block, the one with all the coolest gadgets. You've never known what it was like to be in someone else's shadow. It pulls your sense of security right out from under you. I still remember when Sputnik launched. I was about seven at the time. That ping-ping-ping was a psychological nuke. People would be at the grocery store or pumping gas or out walking the dog and they would just stop and look up to the sky, as if there was a vindictive god up there with his finger on the big red button.

"That was the real start of the Cold War. All of our greatest technological developments trace back to that time. The moon landings, the U2 spy plane, DARPA, the ICBM and all the rest. We didn't make those things because we wanted to impress our neighbors or fatten the bottom line. We made them because we were goddamn terrified we were going to be wiped clean from the face of God's green Earth. It's why I decided to become an aeronautics engineer. I would spend hours staring up at the ceiling at night imagining swarms of Sputniks shooting death lasers from outer space and vaporizing everyone I knew. I thought the only way to save the free world was to build machines so powerful and smart nothing could ever threaten us again."