Robopocalypse by Daniel H. Wilson Read Free Book Online Page B

then that don’t happen again anytime soon.
    It’s, like, reverse guerrilla warfare.
    I don’t understand. Why don’t the insurgents simply kidnap the unit? Bury it in the desert?
    That happened, once. Second week on the job, some yahoos sprayed SAP One with bullets, then threw him into the back of an SUV. The projectiles mostly tore up his clothes. Put a few dings in his casing, but nothing major. Since he didn’t retaliate, these guys thought he was damaged.
    That was their mistake, ma’am.
    A Raptor drone locked onto the event seconds after SAP went off route. The guys in the SUV sped across the desert for maybe two hours before reaching some kind of safe house.
    Least, they thought it was safe.
    The Raptors waited until the insurgents were away from the vehicle before asking their executioners for permission to launch Brimstone missiles. Once everybody inside the safe house was cooked and the Raptors double-checked for squirters sneaking out the back door, good old SAP One climbed into the front seat of the vehicle and drove it back to the base.
    SAP was missing about eight hours total.
    It can drive ?
    This is a military-grade humanoid platform, ma’am. It grew out of the old DARPA exoskeleton programs. These units move like people. They balance, walk, run, fall down, whatever. They can hold tools, speak sign language, perform the Heimlich maneuver, drive vehicles, or just stand there and hold your beer. About the only thing SAP One can’t do is peel off those damn stickers the kids love to tag him with.
    And SAP won’t fight back, no matter what. Those are his orders. His legs have been sheared off by mines. He gets shot at every couple of weeks. The locals have kidnapped him, thrown rocks at him, run him over, shoved him off a building, hit him with cricket bats, glued his fingers together, dragged him behind a car, blinded him with paint, and poured acid on him.
    For about a month, everybody who walked past him spit on him.
    SAP couldn’t care less. Mess with SAP and he just catalogs your retinas and you get put on the list. Insurgents have tried everything, but all they ever manage to do is ruin SAP’s clothes. And then they end up listed for it.
    SAP’s a machine built to be strong as hell and meek as a rabbit. He can’t hurt anybody. It’s why he works .
    It’s why he worked , anyway.
    I’m sorry, but this doesn’t sound like the army I know. Are you telling me that we have humanoid robot soldiers who don’t fight ?
    There’s no difference between the general populace and our enemy. They’re the same folks. The guy selling kebabs one day is the guy burying an IED the next day. The only thing our enemies want is to kill a few American soldiers. Then they hope the voters make us leave.
    Our soldiers only storm through town every now and then, like a tornado. Always on a mission and with a target. It’s tough to kill an American soldier when you never see one, ma’am.
    Instead, the only viable targets are SAP robots. They’re the only two-legged robots in the United States armory and they don’t fight. I mean, killing is a specialized profession. Killing is for scuttle mines, mobile gun platforms, drones, whatever. Humanoids just aren’t that good at it. SAPs are designed to communicate . See, that’s what humans do best. We socialize.
    That’s why SAP One never hurts anybody. It’s his mission. He tries to build trust. He speaks the language, wears the clothes, recites the prayers—all the crap that army grunts won’t or can’t learn. After a while, people stop spitting on him. They stop caring when he comes around. People might even like him because he’s the police, only he never has his hand out for a bribe. On some days, SAP’s feet barely touch the ground because he’s getting free cab rides all over town. People want him nearby, like good luck.
    But none of this social engineering works without the trust built up from having a peaceful sentinel walking the streets, always