Pest Control

Audio connected.

"-you said thirty, I say it's more like fifty."

"I'm telling you, it's thirty."

No Interface connected
Mobility test suite [PASS]
Network test suite [PASS]
Data Ingress Test [PASS]
Data Egress Test [PASS]
Downloading updates..............DONE
Installing Updates 100%

Starting Turing engine.

Two ZeroWorry PMCs were standing over me, watching the startup sequence. Once I was able to focus my vision on them I could see that they weren't from the Federation Unit. I had been moved to a different part of the resort while I was shut down. Both of them had a nervous look on their face as I stood up.

Battery level 32%
Time Remaining: 17h25m

The one closest to me looked me over and said "Well, let's go." He had a baby-face and had his weapon attached to his back with a black canvas strap. The canvas strap had the words ZEROWORRIES INC stenciled on with some kind of white paint.

YOUNG, Leonard
Junior Security Consultant
ZEROWORRIES PMC

His partner held his refurbished M4 carbine in both of his hands, pointing the barrel at a 45° angle towards the ground and wasn't paying particularly close attention, choosing instead to watch the osprey overhead pass over us toward lake.

CHUNG, Richard
Junior Security Consultant
ZEROWORRIES PMC

Richard's equipment didn't seem to have any stenciled lettering indicating corporate ownership, which meant that he likely owned his equipment outright, instead of being an obvious rental like Leonard's. Richard was also wearing cargo shorts without a belt or sidearm. As we started to walk, the bullets in his cargo shorts jangled, and eventually decided to sling his rifle on his back like Leonard while we made our way towards the center of the resort complex.

Looking around I was able to take in the expanse of the former resort from the roadway. Many of the residents wore solid colored t-shirts and identical black pants. There may be some kind of hierarchy in play, as the colors often grouped together when at meals or social hours.

Richard cleared his throat, "So like, you're not human? I've never seen one of you before."

"No. I can be put in hazardous situations to remove human risk factors."

"Sounds expensive," Richard said with a yawn.

"Yes, correct. I am the result of billions of government dollars spe--"

"Cancel response," Leonard cut in, causing me to cease replying. "These guys get super annoying if you start asking questions. Yak-yak-yak-yak-yak," he said, holding a hand up and repeatedly clasping his thumb to his four fingers.

Looking back over at me, he said, "Don't get me wrong, my man, you're a good operator but whoever made you so yackety-yak like, whew, what the hell! You'd think a robot would be more stoic."

With a clear view of the water, the osprey Richard had watched earlier circled around the surface of the water. Richard tapped Leonard on the shoulder, "Leo, check it out!"

The osprey dove toward the surface of the water, its claws extended, retrieving a yellow perch from where it had been feeding on insects and detritus on the lake surface. With the fish still struggling in its grasp, the bird took off at high speed into the air, gaining altitude as it flew toward the wooded area, out of view.

"Damn that's cool," Leonard remarked.

"Kind of brutal, though, eh? You're just minding your business and this huge thing comes, picks you up, and your only chance is to struggle for freedom? Damn."

After a moment, Leonard chuckled, "So we're the birds here?"

Both men laughed as we approached the steps of the administration building.

Clyde, no longer in his plate carrier and helmet, was wearing a black t-shirt tucked into a pair of fatigue pants. The resort resident beside him wore a beige t-shirt and black pants. Their postures changed as we arrived.

"All right. You," he said, pointing at me, "I need you to come in and record. Thanks guys," he said waving at Leonard and Richard, dismissing them, "See you at dinner." I followed Clyde into the climate controlled administration building.

"Hot one today eh?" Clyde wiped sweat from his forehead as he looked me up and down. "Though I guess it doesn't really matter to you, now does it?"

As we passed through the building to the helipad near the south entrance, I caught site of a V-280 Valor flanked by three S-64 Skycranes carrying cargo. The Valor began its descent on the helipad while the Skycranes hovered over the lake, dropping a pair of patrol boats, and two pallets of shrinkwrapped supplies on floating platforms, including fuel barrels, MREs, and some crates marked "BLM" in large black letters, indicating supplies from, and likely for use by, the Bureau of Land Management.

From the Valor emerged 13 men armed with matching submachine guns and carbines in unmarked green uniforms, followed by a man in a blue suit, flanked by two gun-mounted Spot-8 prototypes. Unable to hear what the beige shirted resident said to him, the man in the suit looked towards Clyde and I inside the glass enclosed reception area.

"...from the Department of Energy in a few weeks, but for now it's about setting... Ah, Clayton, so good to see you again."

"It's still just Clyde, Kenneth. I don't know where you got Clayton from." The two Spot-8 units began clockwise and counterclockwise mapping of the area, one walking off towards the security office while the other prowled the finance department. From their standard authentication I was able to dial in and clandestinely monitor and record what they could see for later playback.

"Listen, we're on a bit of a tight schedule here. These holy rollers have a very specific routine, it's like, their thing, you know, predictability."

Ignoring what Clyde said, Kenneth looked at me."This is the synthetic?" Kenneth examined me closer, taking care to look into my eyes. "This is one of the earlier ones. You should see the things they make now, damn abominable. This is back when man made men."

Kenneth was likely referring to the GH-85 Mass Production Drone units that replaced, or otherwise eviscerated standard infantry units with what the media called "Astounding Precision", and kept warfare between nation states to a human capital minimum.

Despite what I received as part of my updates, daily deployments of new groups PMC units, weather systems to be aware of, and those items, I'd noticed the civilian news chose to focus on the autonomous soldiers fighting autonomous soldiers, which were, despite coverage otherwise, rare events.

"So we have Federation, established, yes? So where is this Kevin fellow."

The beige shirted resident spoke up, "He'll be along in a few minutes. Do you need anything to drink?"

"What your irradiated filth? No thank you, I have my own. I can feel my future children disintegrating as we speak."

He turned back to Clyde, "Williams was much more willing to do this, but unwilling to do the work to convince Harry that a helicopter and our boys were better than a convoy full of PMCs."

"Whoever made the shot though..."

"A terrorist with a steady hand is still a terrorist. We recovered the body of the one the PMCs but no real lead on who it was.

I saw him through the eyes of the Spot-8 before he walked into the reception area with the rest of us. With shoulder length flowing red hair and a large beard to match, Father Kevin was followed around by one of Kenneth's Spot-8s, which had trained its actuated weapon trained on his centre of mass.

"Yours I assume? Could you please?" The Spot-8 that recovered Kevin from his office wandered off and I disconnected my video feed. "I really wish I could go one day meeting with public officials without a gun pointed at me."

"Father Kevin, I presume," Kenneth said, in an affected accent of some kind.

"Yes. You must be Kenneth Wexler, I am so sorry about the loss of your colleague Isaac Williams."

"Yes, well, death comes for us all I suppose," he said, making Clyde, Wexler, and anyone else in earshot a "bit put off" as I would later hear it called.

"Please, though. Tell me about your pest control problem."