“While it would be nice to know how this AI arrives at its conclusions,” said Tessa, “it’s the results that matter. So what’s its track record when it comes to detecting major threats?”
“Extremely good,” said the colonel. “It’s alerted us to fourteen bioweapon attacks that could have wiped out humanity, and three nuclear attacks. It’s also given us enough heads-up and intel to break up countless terrorist plots, and find a way to defuse multiple regime-change attempts.”
Brad paused. “It’s a global effort. If our AI concludes that stopping a plot against Germany, or India, or somewhere else is more important than stopping a plot against America, we do that. Although we try to stop them all. We intervene ourselves in some cases. In others, we feed the intel to various protective agencies, our own and in other countries, in such a way that the intel appears to be homegrown.”
“That’s all admirable,” said Tessa. “But most of these aren’t extinction-level events.”
“You’d be surprised,” replied the colonel. “We’re balanced on a razor’s edge. Single events can spiral out of control, create a domino effect that can lead to World War III. So we don’t take chances.
“Consider the one glaring blemish on our record, the Covid 19 outbreak, which we and the AI missed entirely. You could argue that this wasn’t nearly an extinction-level event, so it wasn’t in the Federation’s purview to stop.
“But look at how devastating it was to the world economy and world psyche, even beyond the death and suffering it caused. We were lucky. Given its origins, the AI calculated a three percent chance that it would lead to WWIII all by itself.”
“Interesting,” I said slowly, another major understatement.
I turned to Nari. “But getting back to the big picture,” I continued, “without your intervention, the odds we’d unleash some kind of WMD on ourselves were basically a hundred percent, right? So what are the odds now, given that we do have your help?”
“Still fairly high,” admitted the alien. “About eighteen percent.”
“Why?”
“Mainly due to social media,” replied Brad. “It’s the most divisive technology the world has ever seen. It’s polarizing and promotes our worst tendencies. Mistrust, tribalism, zealotry. And it fosters and aids in the mobilization of those intent on violence. We’ve been working on ways to eliminate social media for years, but short of killing the internet—which would cripple the world—we haven’t come up with any solutions. So we just have to continue battling the violence it inspires.”
“Believe me, I get it,” I said with a frown. “Social media isn’t just polarizing, it’s designed and tested to be addictive. It riles us all up on purpose to keep us glued to our screens. Still, with the advanced technology the Federation can provide, it’s hard to believe the odds of disaster are so high.”
“They can provide such technology,” said the colonel unhappily, “but they don’t. Even to us, their hand-picked allies. They have a strict edict about not putting these technologies into human hands. We’re destructive enough as it is. The AI we’ve been speaking about, which is hidden in a subterranean level of our San Diego headquarters, is about the only exception they’ve made.”
“What about the attempts to reverse engineer UAVs?” I asked.
“We know all about them,” said Nari. “There are only two such programs, one in America and one in China.”
“Right,” added Brad. “Only two UAVs have crashed over the last fifteen millennia. The US and China have each managed to obtain one of them, wrestling them away from their previous owners with a combination of money and force.
“When they were originally found, humanity didn’t have nearly the scientific wherewithal to make heads or tails of them. But that’s no longer the case. Still, according to Nari, neither side is as close as they think. And we’ll make sure they never get there.”
There was a long silence in the room. “Okay,” I said finally. “This has been eye-opening. And the list of questions I still have could fill a book. I’m sure Tessa feels the same. But can you finally tell us why you think we’re so important?”
The colonel winced. “Yes and no,” he replied cryptically.
“Crap!” I said, a pained expression coming over my face. “I made a wild guess a few minutes ago, and your answer makes me think I was right.”
“What was your guess?”
“That you have absolutely no fricking idea why we’re so important.”
“Good guess,” said Brad Schoenfeld miserably.
18
I was even more disappointed than I thought I’d be. I had wanted real answers, and now all I’d be getting was another mystery.
“Your AI told you we were important, didn’t it?” I said in disgust. “But it couldn’t explain why.”
“I’m afraid that’s right,” said Brad. “The Galactic Federation’s AI is even more advanced than the one they gave us, and it said the same thing.”
I turned to Nari. “Did it at least give you a hint?” I asked.
The alien shook his head. “I wish it had. All I can tell you is that a few months before you visited SAPS, our AI strongly recommended that Brad recruit Tessa, and not tell her the true nature of his organization. Strongly recommended.”
“What?” she whispered in shock.
“What can I say?” replied the colonel. “The AI has a great track record, and you’re exceptionally qualified, so we made it happen.”
“I thought Tessa sought you out,” I said in confusion.
“So did she,” replied Brad. “But we arranged it all. We had a high-ranking friend of ours in the DIA tell Tessa’s commanding officer, General Sarah Gregory, that he suspected Schoenfeld-Allen Protection Services was working against the interests of the United States. He asked General Gregory to place an operative in our ranks, and suggested Major Barrett would be ideal.”