*enter data*
"So? you just put data here huh?"
"yup."
"what sort of data."
"any. all."
"so, what flavors of ice cream I like?"
"Yes. although it won't help right away. you'll be surprised what several Tera-FOPS of processing power can work with."
That was it. The beginning of the end.
You see: they had talked me into a tactical computer. I was a decent tactician, and I figured it would be like a handy reference library of Sun Tzu and Patton on hand to figure out what troop movements would be best. You know, the sort of things a new lieutenant would be expected to know.
But it didn’t work that way at all.
It’s more like a simulation. Or, simulations. Rather.
You know the macho man thing? Where you size up that loud mouth in the bar, think to yourself “Yea, I could take him.”
It’s like that. Times a thousand.
The processors in the tactical computer take information. Like how much you can bench press, and what your favorite flavor of ice cream is. And it uses it to calculate how fast you can shove that pistachio nut flavored frosty treat through the eye cavity of the guy sitting across from you. What angle you should approach it from, how you should grab the hair on the back of his head to make sure he doesn’t move and break the structural integrity of your waffle cone before it’s done its dastardly deed. It runs scenarios like that by you while you sit there. And eat ice cream. with your son.
And you can’t turn it off.
It’s always picking up data.
And it knows several encyclopedias worth of stuff already.
So you don’t have to answer when it asks what the tensile strength of that rebar constructed light post is. It’ll automatically figure out how fast you could turn it into a weapon.
You just sit there and watch.
It is advantageous in a fire fight. You’ve already been practicing killing everyone in the room with every object at hand for the better part of an hour when the drek hits the proverbial fan. So you already know how to take that drek covered fan and get down and dirty in ingenious ways while everyone else is looking for cover.
Made it through some tough situations in the desert wars campaign trail.
It’s invaluable in a ‘surprise’ fight.
I was the only one to make it out of the mess hall alive one time, because I had already figured out where I would run, what utensils I would take with me, and how long it would take a flame thrower to eat through a stainless steel serving tray.
Lucky me? Think again. And again. And again.
I had to stop carrying a gun, because if I had one on me, the computer would take that into consideration, and I would have to think about shooting everyone in sight. In every way imaginable. Over and over again.
“Morning Frank.”
“Morning Phill.”
*Shoot in left eye from 45’ and an angle of offset 6.5”. use dead body as a shield. Follow up rounds to chest while sinking to floor incase he has a knife.*
“See the new AWACS setup they’ve got running?”
“Yea. Soon they won’t need solders like us any more.”
*85% probability he’s got compatible ammunition stored in a vest pocket. Make sure you feel for that as you tear his throat out with your other hand. You’ll need it to kill the re-enforcements.*
“What do you think of… you okay? You seem distracted.”
“Me? I’m okay. Just… thinking.”
*conceal movements to draw gun under your coat, and shoot through your own jacket landing rounds under the chin. Two in the chest. One in the head. Aim above the bullet proof vest that could be there. *
I did have to carry a knife though. Walking around unarmed turned me into a kleptomaniac of epic proportions. I would steal plastic knives and pick-pocket switchblades so that I could be ready to have something in case I needed to start killing people. In the movie theater. I wouldn’t be able to walk by the concession line without giving a preliminary ‘heft’ to guess the weight and mass of the little sign they have there telling you to buy a combo meal. More than once I had to go put it back after I’d gone half a dozen steps with it in my hand toward a big guy with his back turned. You see, if there’s a decent probability that you’d loose a fight, it tries to take the element of surprise into account, to give you an edge.
So: why Seattle? As it turns out, I don’t like killing my family and friends all day long. But for some reason I don’t feel so bad if it’s people I don’t know. And it’s hard to like anyone in Seattle. So I stay here. And if I end up killing people over and over again, at least its people that no one will miss. Hell. Perhaps it’ll even make the world a better place.
