Chapter 18: Base
“I’ll be with you in a moment,” Lieutenant Vaslor said as his door closed again. I had been sitting in his office for the last thirty minutes, waiting for him to become available. I was bored looking at my tablet so I got up and walked around the office. It was sterile and clean, with bleached white walls. The furniture was sparse, a few chairs, a shelf, some cabinets and a few pictures on the wall. I looked at an electronic picture of Vaslor with a woman and a girl a few years older than me. She had red hair and a forced smile. I wondered if she liked the drones watching her — probably thought her dad was watching her on dates. I looked at the slideshow, always action pictures of him, his wife and daughter. I could imagine the family vacation was full of activities.
I walked over and looked at the contents of his desk. It was covered with electronic gadgets the purpose of which was beyond me. Probably a bunch of outdated garbage, like Dad has in our basement. A tablet caught my attention. On it was a group of static lights, much like the display that Austin had showed me. I couldn’t make out the map. It could be city block, a building or a park. Yet something about it looked familiar.
“Looking for something?” Vaslor asked from behind. My face was hot, as if I was poking around where I shouldn’t be.
“Sorry, I was bored. Just looking around. What’s your daughter’s name?” I pointed at the wall, moving away from his desk.
“Evelyn. She’s a senior in high school, talks about following in the footsteps of Dad into law enforcement.” His body arched as he spoke; I could tell he was proud of her.
“Has she ever come in to see you at work?” I asked. Vaslor motioned for me to sit down as we spoke.
“Several times. Kids are so lucky today. When I was her age we had to deal with everything at school. From bullies to drugs to vandalism; it’s tough enough growing up with your own body changing. Try having others working against you.”
“You mean students could openly hurt people?” The concept seemed foreign since now the slightest hint of violence brought teachers forewarned by drones.
“When I was a teenager, it was common for the bigger guys to terrorize the smaller kids. Kids are smart. They don’t bully others when teachers or other adults are around. They wait for kids to be alone or separated from their friends. You don’t know how lucky we are to have them.” He pointed to the ceiling and I noticed a small hummingbird hovering in the corner. Its red eyes scanned my face as it beat its wings. It must have flown in with Vaslor.
“Don’t you miss your privacy?” I slouched in my chair, wondering if he would take this as a dig at his profession.
“Privacy?” He started walking around his desk as if he was about to give a speech. “What is privacy to the innocent? I can walk down the street in any neighborhood, at any time, and know that I am safe. Let me show you something.” He motioned to me to look at a screen on the wall. He picked up a remote from his desk and motioned at the monitor. “If you were to name this picture, what would you call it?”
An image of crowd of people near the downtown core. Some of the buildings looked different and some of clothing adults were wearing looked out of date. I noticed kids playing in the lower left-hand corner. People wearing stepping onto a bus and seniors were sitting in the park. Seemed like a snapshot of life on any particular day.
“I guess I’d call ‘People in the City.’ There’s nothing remarkable about it.” Vaslor smiled at my comment.
“Are you sure?” I wanted to wipe the smugness off his face. So I looked closer. It was like parade of bodies, arms and legs going off on many directions. Then I spotted an arm where it shouldn’t be.
“That man is reaching into that women’s purse at the bus stop,” I pointed.
Vaslor nodded. “What else?”
I was growing frustrated — I didn’t come here to play a game of ‘What’s wrong with this picture?’ I bit my lip and looked closer. A minute passed and I was just about to give up when I caught the expressions between a mother and child.
“Did she hit him?” I asked incredulously. He nodded.
“It’s after the fact. If you look closely, you can see the fear in the child’s face from being hit and anger in his mother’s face. All in all, there are about six crimes being committed in this image alone.”
“What?” I started to scan the picture more closely but Vaslor changed the image, having made his point.
“Before drones and cameras, the guilty took advantage of people at every turn. Imagine, even when looking for it, crimes occur all around us, many undetected. Criminals that were caught hid behind expensive lawyers. Justice may be blind but she was also forgetful, as many criminals dragged proceedings on for so long that they never served jail time.”
“But today’s trial is a formality. There is no opportunity to prove your innocence.”
“That’s where you’re wrong, Pene.” He motioned towards the door and we exited his office. I avoided another officer who was charging down the hallway.
“Criminals have several opportunities to admit their guilt. The camera or drone footage proves without a doubt that they were there and committed the offence.” I decided not pursue this explanation. Vaslor took another direction with the conversation.
“But the greatest power of the drones is not recording but prevention. Just the fact that the drones or cameras are there stops crime. A whole generation of criminals has been eliminated because people are afraid of getting caught.” Vaslor directed me towards a large set of doors. I chose my words carefully.
“I understand that life is much safer now. But don’t you think we are also worse off? They’re everywhere,” I motioned to drone flying with us, “wherever I go, they watch and record. Is my life so interesting that they have to document each second!” I raised my voice unexpectedly and Vaslor gave me a stern look as we went through a set of doors.
“The drones are harmless. They record and delete. Only if crime is committed does the footage get stored. Why would you care if they are following you?” Okay, this guy had obviously not been a teenager for a very long time.
“What if your dad followed you every place you went and watched everything you did. How do you think you’d feel?”
Vaslor stroked his chin as if thinking of any answer. “I’d feel trapped,” he answered. Finally, an honest response. “But I’d also feel safe.” He punched me on the arm like a classmate who didn’t take my question seriously. My next question died in my throat as the interior of the room overwhelmed my senses.
The room was huge, similar to the monitoring room, but instead of people there were rows and rows of drones. Shelves of mechanical heads stared lifelessly out at me. If their eyes had been on, I would have run screaming. I was never more scared in my life.
“Your dad said your class project was about how the drones keep our city safe so I couldn’t resist taking to one of the maintenance sites.” Vaslor crossed his hands and smiled with a goofy salesman’s look. Well, whatever he was selling, I wasn’t buying.
“Are there any humans working at a maintenance site?” As large as the room was, it was eerily quiet.
“No, that’s the beauty of it. The drones are fully self-sufficient. No human time has to be wasted in maintaining them. Come look over this screen.” We walked over to where a huge monitor took up most of a wall. The screen showed a map of the east side of the city. Vaslor touched the screen and the schematic rotated on its axis. A series of red and green lights filled the screen, some at street level while others floated above.
“The city blocks are west to east, the map is of the eastern quadrant. Green lights are recorded activities of people, from kids to the elderly.” This screen and Austin’s readout are very similar. “The red lights are the drones, patrolling and documenting the city. Do you see all the red lights here?” I squinted and noticed a large congregation of red lights. Do drones have parties?
“Yes, what’s going on?” I pointed at the screen.
“Computer — summarize report on drone footage for Drummond Street 1500 block,” Vaslor said to the monitor.
“Processing,” a very female-sounding voice responded. Seconds passed. “Possible assault has occurred — two teenage boys. One is running while the other is pursuing. Eight drones are capturing footage.”
“Please show footage from these cameras,” Vaslor commanded while tapping several points on the screen. The monitor broke up into several mini camera feeds, four on top, four underneath. Most drones appeared to be following the two boys, while several had flown ahead to watch them coming towards them. They were older than me, maybe nineteen or twenty. The runner was short and stocky. Black hair flowed behind him. Seconds later, the chaser, who was tall and lanky, was gaining on him. The chaser was smiling like he was enjoying himself.
“What caused this?” I asked. Vaslor began to work buttons on the touchscreen.
“Not sure — no footage available previous to their chase. But they have to be stopped before they hurt themselves, or worse, someone else.” He spoke to the monitor. “Police drone — intercept course, stop subjects in cameras 45C-89 and 67B-48 before 2000 block of Drummond Street.” The face of the half-man, half-motorcycle filled the screen.
“Affirmative,” it replied. The drones continue to record the footage. The pursuer was getting closer and would likely catch up in a few minutes. They were both moving fast, weaving around people like an obstacle course. The pursuer even mouthed ‘sorry’ to one of the passersby. The runner looked back, his eyes narrowed but showing no fear. As he turned the corner, the camera showed his legs coming to a complete stop while his upper body continued its forward momentum. He smashed awkwardly into the metal drone and I could hear a sickening cracking sound. The runner clutched his arm and cried in pain.
“You are ordered to stop. You are endangering other people with your erratic behavior.” The drone motorcycle had intercepted the runner. The pursuer caught up and yelled at the drone.
“What are you doing? You could have killed him! Why don’t you watch where you are going?” he yelled at the drone and leaned down by the injured runner.
“You are under arrest! You were trying to hurt this person,” the drone pointed.
“Bullshit! It was a race. He had a thirty-second head start and I was supposed to try to catch him.”
“Yeah. You drones are always trying to find a crime. It the school hadn’t closed the track because of the upcoming Re-enactment Games, we wouldn’t have to be running in the street,” the injured boy added, clutching his arm. Vaslor turned off the screen, shaking his head.
“Central — send an ambulance to Drummond Street. Victim is male teenager with likely broken arm. Make sure parents are notified.”
“Roger that,” a female voice replied over the monitor.
“That went well,” I commented sarcastically. Vaslor turned to me.
“Sometimes we make mistakes, Pene. Doesn’t mean that we scrap an entire system the moment it doesn’t work. The boys presented a problem and it was investigated.”
“What if the boy was seriously hurt? A head injury?” Before Vaslor could answer, someone entered behind us.
“For a safe society, that’s the price of no crime.” Our heads turned as Lord Morall entered through the main door. I wasn’t sure of how much of our conversation he had overheard. He walked in, his red eye squarely focused on me. “Vaslor, I’ll take her from here.”
“Yes, sir.” Vaslor turned to me. “Good luck with your report. Say hi to your dad.” He saluted.
“Thanks a lot for your time,” I gulped, trying desperately to think of an excuse not to be left alone with Morall. Nothing came, and then Vaslor was gone.
“As I was saying, no system is perfect. I am very sorry that one of our drones injured that boy. Criminal, isn’t it,” he smirked. “But we can’t very well sentence a drone for its mistake.”
“But the boys weren’t hurting anyone. Why chase them to begin with?”
“Pene.” He reached his arm around and started shepherding me towards a series of drone legs. “The drones react to threats. Obviously the boys’ recklessness could have injured themselves, or worse, an innocent bystander. What if you were a senior knocked to the ground by them and breaking a hip? The justice system isn’t perfect. What’s the saying,” he appeared to be thinking of something, “You can’t make an omelet without breaking a few eggs?”
“I think the boy who was running broke more than an egg,” I challenged. My comment seemed to have no effect on Morall’s thinking. I may as well have been talking to a brick wall.
“I applaud your interest in the justice system, Pene. Most teenagers are so focused on themselves, they rarely watch what’s going on around them.” He picked up a drone head and held it like Hamlet held a skull in Shakespeare. I tried to shake the image from of my mind, or I would have started to laugh. I think he caught a glimmer of my smile. “But you really should look at the big picture. Then maybe you could see the greater good.”
“Sir, I think you are misunderstanding me. As a judge, I’m sure you have hear every story imaginable.”
“I suppose that’s true.” His composure softened for a moment.
“Then someone younger than you, without your experience, might have questions on how the justice system works. How can I appreciate it, if I don’t fully understand it?”
“I never said questioning was wrong, Pene. However, some of the ideas you have put in your father’s head could be interpreted as dangerous. Your father is great man, a pillar of the justice system. I hate to see a pillar fall.” Now I grabbed a drone head and tossed it from my right rand to my left while I absorbed his comment.
“One thing I’ve learned from my dad is that to pursue truth, you must be willing to ask questions. Tough questions that challenge how we think. If the law is truly transparent, I should be able to ask any question? Don’t you think?”
“As long as it doesn’t jeopardize the security of others, you’re right. What do you want to ask?” I measured him, deciding if he was sincere. I had nothing to lose.
“How did you lose your eye?” His red eye blinked. I think I surprised him because he was expecting a question about the law, and I had asked him something very personal. He was silent, and for a second I thought about telling him not to bother.
“Losing my eye was the most painful moment of my life. I can still feel the scar tissue as the metal eye pushes against my eye socket.” He touched the side of his head as if recalling the memory. “Please have a seat.” He motioned towards a work bench, and I sat down next to him.
“When I was your age, the city was much different. There were good parts of town and there were bad sections. Unfortunately, the way home from school took me through a bad part of town. I was never popular at school, and I recognized some older boys stalking me. I did what any kid in the same circumstances would do.” Morall looked pained, and for the first time, human. “I ran.”
“If this is too difficult to discuss…”
“Don’t be silly. Memories can’t hurt us.” He paused. “Anyway, I may not look like it now, but I was in good shape. Never the fastest or the strongest, but my endurance was one of the best. I used to have to walk through here.” He pointed at the map on the wall at several blocks of industrial buildings surrounded by residential homes. “This was an old oil refinery here that I used to walk by. Back then they used to pump oil out of the ground and refine to use it in vehicles and heat our homes.” I nodded. I had heard of oil. It seemed so barbaric to destroy our earth over it.
“I had started running as soon as I saw them. They often tried to take my valuables from me. I had lost watches, lunch money and even clothes before. I figured that if I ran hard enough, hopefully an adult would see me and they would stop. But I wasn’t thinking when I ran through this area; businesses had closed for the day and no one was around. As I tried to get to the end of the street, one of the boys cut my exit off on his bike. As I turned around, three other boys had me surrounded.”
I could feel my hatred for Morall starting to dissipate.
“‘What have you got for us today?’ said Findlay, the biggest of the group and the one who sat on the bike. I felt someone grab me roughly from behind. Usually I gave in. There were more of them, and as soon as they got what they wanted, they would leave. I was frustrated, tired of being picked on. So I fought back. I kicked forward. Findlay had moved in closer and his head was down. I felt my foot smash into his mouth. Blood sprayed and I was sure I had knocked a tooth out. It was the biggest mistake of my life.
“Findlay screamed with rage. He looked at me and his silence terrified me. I knew that he was going to do more just hurt me; he was going to disable me permanently. He began pounding me in the stomach and then punching my face. The arms behind me let go as the other boys began to regret pinning me from behind. Their voices rose as they tried to calm Findlay down. It had no effect. Something smashed my ankle and I fell to the ground. Unfortunately, because of nearby factory, the ground was rough and uneven. Rocks and debris were everywhere. When I fell, I landed on something hard, and it protruded into this eye!” He gestured to his drone eye. “The pain jolted me to my brain. When I looked up, I realized that I was going to die.
“My bloody eye had no effect on Findlay’s rage. He raised his foot and I didn’t know if he was going to crush my jaw or my head first, but I knew I wasn’t going to get up again. And then the voice of my savior spoke.
“‘Stop! You are committing a crime!” The boys turned, including Findlay. This was the earliest drone version — a remote-controlled robot. Big and slow on tank treads, rotating arms that were easy to elude and red eyes that stared back at you. ‘Step away from the victim, medical assistance has been notified!’ the computer voice wailed.
“‘Get out of here, tin can! You don’t belong here,’ Findlay warned as he stepped away from me and moved closer to the drone. My vision was blurry but it appeared Findlay picked something off the ground as he approached it.
“Did the drone hurt him? I asked.
“Drones were pretty primitive. They were used more to dismantle bombs or enter areas with a gas leak that were unsafe for humans. They didn’t have many protection capabilities. And Findlay knew this.
“‘This is a human-only area,’ Findlay yelled. Despite my pain, his voice was clear and crisp. Time seemed to stand still as the rocks crunched under the drone’s treads. And then I heard the sound of metal on metal shaking the ground. Findlay had transferred his anger from me to the drone. And it had saved my life.
“I wasn’t sure if seconds had passed or minutes. I could barely raise my head. Something fell next to me. I turned my face and looked into bashed-in head of the drone. Its face was destroyed except for one red eye. I passed out from the pain.
“When I woke up, I was in a hospital bed. My body ached and it took all my effort to raise my head. Tubes came out of me and I could see blood flowing into my arm. My depth perception was off and I banged my head on the side railing. I felt off, and not just because I had my head beaten in.”
I pointed at his drone eye.
“Yes — although not this version. My eye had been crushed and the only thing that still worked on the drone’s head was its right eye. My right was gone and it seemed like a good fit from the doctor’s perspective. It was the early days of robotics, and the surgery had been performed before, with mixed results. I was lucky; the eye was primitive but it worked. It was appropriate because if the drone hadn’t shown up, I would have lost more than an eye.”
“So it saved your life in more ways than one,” I stated.
“And continues to do to this day. How many other little boys have drones saved?”
Suddenly Morall and his eye seemed less threatening to me.
“With today’s medical breakthroughs, you don’t need a drone eye anymore; they have made many artificial eyes that would work as well as a real one. Your eye wouldn’t have to stand out,” I commented.
“Pene — maybe you don’t realize what this eye means to me. I want to stand out. This eye is a symbol of the sacrifice the machine has made for man. The sacrifice it made for my life. I want people to ask about this eye. I see things differently than others, and this eye symbolizes that the drones are here to help us.” His gaze was focused. He clearly believed every word he told me. I understood his position, though it blinded him to the truth.
“I appreciate your time. You’ve given me a perspective I hadn’t thought of.” I stood up and held out my hand.
“Perhaps drones aren’t as bad as you think?”
“Maybe.” I smiled and stepped through the door. I stopped, not wanting to miss taking advantage of the opportunity. “One last question for my project. Where are all the drones stored? Vaslor says this is maintenance center.”
“My dear,” Morall gestured around the room, “the drones are at work twenty-four hours a day. They only come here for the occasional repairs, and they never stop. You may have seen them on buses or other public places, charging their batteries. Otherwise they have no other downtime. There is no storage center for the drones.”
He pulled out a hand-held receiver and punched in a code. In unison, hundreds of drone heads flashed red on the shelves and rotated to look me. I had never felt more insignificant than I did at that moment.
“Don’t worry, Pene,” Morall stated. “The drones are always working for your safety. They never rest.”
Austin was going not going to like that answer.