Chapter 6: Machine Learning

OIA Advanced Research Facility "Anvil"

Solo Islands

May 5, 2015

"Do you have any experience with artificial intelligence Colonel Doyle?" Marissa asked without looking up from the file on her desk. On the other side of it, standing at parade rest with an easy confidence, Colonel Liam Doyle shook his head.

"No ma'am, haven't a baldy notion," Doyle replied with a thick, gruff North Gremorian brogue. "I'm willing to give it a lash though."

"This isn't something we expect you to... lash, Colonel," Marissa said firmly, looking up to meet his eyes. "You'll be working on the cutting edge of military aviation."

"Aye," Doyle agreed. "Didn't mean to imply I was slagging ma'am, if you'll have me I'll give you my pint of sweat." Marissa nodded. Doyle was being forthright in his knowledge, or rather the lack of it, which was a point in his favor. That was a relief, Marissa had been conducting these interviews for months and had gotten nowhere. Doyle's was the most recent in a long line of challenges working with Trigger had presented, making the years go by in a blur. They had been fulfilling, stressful, exhausting years, but the results were speaking for themselves. Trigger's capabilities had reached the point that New Horizons was ill equipped to further his development, causing them to hit the first major roadblock since she joined: Nobody involved in the project knew how to fly.

With hindsight it was an unbelievable oversight, but as Trigger's development coincided with the technology needed for him to function, that practical knowledge was kicked down the road. There had always been something more important; lessons to ensure Trigger would behave, classes to help him understand the world around him, and constant upgrades to the machines that allowed him to exist. Having Trigger be a well-rounded individual was the keystone to New Horizons, even if the A.I. was focused on flight more than anything else. This led to unanswerable questions, impossible lessons, gaps nobody could fill. That left two options: either teach someone who could then teach Trigger, or bring in an expert. The OIA chose the latter, but acquiesced to allowing Marissa to have final say.

She would use this authority like a scalpel, resulting in the now months-long search for the right person to fulfill the role. Everyone provided input on the decision making though, allowing for thorough discussion and fair assessment. Volker himself actually had a number of old friends in the Air Force, though most of them were rejected by OIA. Their proposed candidates also faced consistent rejection, washing out of Marissa's interviews for being too egotistical, too technologically incompetent, too dismissive of the project as a whole. Simply put, they'd lacked the passion that had fueled New Horizons' people to work so hard for so long.

"Why did you volunteer for a position here at New Horizons?" Marissa asked, deciding to skip the preliminaries and icebreakers in favor of getting to the point. Her schedule was full today and if this interview was a bust she would have at least spared herself from wasting more time.

"I want to be on the cutting edge ma'am," Doyle replied. "You read my file, so you know I dabbled as a test pilot." He gestured to the space around them with a wave of his hand. "What you've got here's a grand ambition, I'd be bolloxed if I didn't join in."

"You do understand that you won't be doing any actual flying?" Doyle looked at her, confusion apparent. Inwardly Marissa cursed OIA's vague recruitment efforts. Outwardly she sighed. "We're developing a combat A.I. Colonel. You won't be flying because we want you to teach it to fly instead." She watched him mull it over and prepared to "X" his name off the list. Nearly all the interviews stopped at this point, the knowledge being unwelcome news to the men and women who'd devoted their life to the craft. Some of them laughed, others tried to argue the point. One called her a number of names before storming out, insulted. He'd apparently earned a demotion for that, much to Marissa's satisfaction. Regardless of the reaction however, the results were always the same, a resounding-.

"Alright, that shouldn't be a problem." Doyle was nodding in understanding. "I wasn't expecting to fly much."

"Oh?" Marissa asked.

"Been an instructor longer. Makes sense." Doyle shook his head. "No reason to expect anything different here. That's not saying I'm not disappointed, but it's not a dealbreaker."

"Do you also understand that the goal of this program is to replace human pilots?" Doyle gave her a doubtful look. "Eventually?" Marissa amended.

"All the more reason to get my foot in the door ma'am. If your machine will be replacing lads like me, I don't want it to be gobshite." It was clear from the determined expression on his face that Doyle meant what he said, making it Marissa's turn to mull it over. Nobody else had gotten this far or had such an encouraging response. Plus, New Horizons was beginning to get desperate, much like they'd had been when she herself was recruited.

"Alright Colonel Doyle, there is one last question I have to ask." Doyle shifted slightly in anticipation.

"Ask away ma'am." Marissa stood and straightened her lab coat, picking up the tablet she had been using throughout the interview.

"Would you please follow me?"

Palais De La Reconstruction

Farbanti, Kingdom of Erusea

Same Day

If there was one thing Cossette had grown accustomed to during her years as the Erusean Princess it was the ceaseless competition for Father's time. Being King meant that, for better or worse, all decisions required his approval. This had revealed Father's ignorance in much the same way her own elevation had, requiring the King to go "back to school." Tutors, generals and scholars had worked tirelessly with him to bring his practical knowledge of statecraft, diplomacy, military affairs, economics and royal protocol to a level that was appropriate. Father's education was still ongoing and that seldom left any time to see his family. That had upset father and daughter both, but in following Mother's wishes Cossette had masked her displeasure with patience and understanding. Today however she had the advantage over the various other bureaucrats and sycophants vying for Father's attention, a formal summons to his office.

Making her way past bowing staff and saluting guards, herself shadowed by one of a dozen private security men who had long since become fixtures of her peripheral vision, Cossette found herself at the couches and chairs that made up the waiting area. As per tradition, a porter would retrieve and announce her, but Charles was currently absent. That meant she had to wait. Taking a moment to smooth the frills of her skirt, Cossette sat delicately and gracefully on the overly stuffed upholstery. To any observer it was the exact move a young princess should make, Cossette learning to move with elegance when doing all things. It was second nature now, like so much that had once been so intimidating. Maintaining her proper posture, Cossette let her mind wander, idly tracing the richly patterned carpet's many swirls.

The minutes dragged on, finally tugging on her patience. Deciding that it wouldn't be too impolite to knock, if only to let Charles know somebody was waiting, Cossette stood and approached the door. She'd barely raised her hand when it swung open, causing her to stagger back a few paces. A hand shot out and caught her wrist, keeping her from falling backwards in what would have been a most unroyal display. At the opposite end of that hand a younger man in military uniform looked just as surprised as she was, his rather handsome face the picture of alarm.

"Are you alright, your highness?" he asked, pulling her forward slightly to rebalance her, and in speaking reminded Cossette that she had been staring. Withdrawing her hand and falling back on her etiquette courses, she curtsied and dipped her chin down, hoping it hid the blush she could feel warming her face.

"Yes, thank you sir," she said politely, looking back up. The man sighed in relief, himself straightening into a state of attention.

"That's a relief, it would be a rather unfortunate way to end my career." Cossette laughed obligingly with his chuckles.

"I doubt that General..." Cossette prompted, recognizing the insignia but not the man himself.

"Bertrand your highness," he replied, bowing formally. "It is a pleasure to meet you."

"Likewise General Bertrand." Cossette inclined her head back, still smiling. "Was your meeting with the King fulfilling?" Bertrand looked at her in faint surprise before returning to his dashing smile.

"Quite fulfilling your highness, I expect you'll be invited to the unveiling once my project is complete. It would be my pleasure to escort you once the time arrives."

"That is rather presumptuous of you General." Mother's cool voice caused both of them to jump, with Bertrand's spine going ramrod straight.

"I would of course seek your permission first my Queen," Bertrand said placatingly.

"As rightfully you should," Mother said back sharply, her tone making Cossette cringe. Mother did not like Bertrand, that much was obvious. Thankfully her tone was much warmer when she spoke to Cossette. "Apologies for the wait dear, go ahead and come in."

"Yes your majesty," Cossette replied before turning back to Bertrand. "It was a pleasure to meet you, General."

"The pleasure was all mine, your highness." Bertrand bowed formally again. Mother cleared her throat and Cossette fought to keep her face polite as the man again snapped back to attention. "Good by your majesty, your highness." Bertrand bowed once more before walking away, his pace just a bit too rushed than was proper. Mother watched him go, frowning.

"He seemed nice," Cossette ventured. Mother sniffed dismissively.

"Only when he gets his way," she stated before closing the door. As if the act itself was cathartic, Mother's posture loosened and she gave Cossette a warm grin. "It's so good to see you sweetheart." She pulled Cossette into a loving embrace and Cossette sighed contentedly.

"It's good to see you too, mother," Cossette replied. Another set of arms joined the hug.

"And your father too I hope," Father said lightly. The family shared a laugh as they enjoyed a moment that had become so increasingly rare over the years. Inevitably however, Father broke the embrace. "Cossette, your mother and I have some news." Cossette frowned, not liking the sound of that, but kept her feelings suppressed and instead looked at her father curiously.

"You do?" she asked as her parents led her over to her father's desk, the top of which was covered in files. Cossette could just make out "Z.O.E." on top of one before her father brushed the lot into a mailing bin.

"We do," Mother said gently, glancing at her husband. He looked at her questioningly and she nodded slightly. Father cleared his throat.

"Cossette, you know that with my new responsibilities and both your mother and I's standing we have been unable to spend as much time with you as any of us would have liked." Cossette nodded, unsure where this was going. "You have also yet to fully complete your education, the importance of which I am sure you understand as well." Cossette's mind spun at her father's diplomatic words. Had she not been doing well enough? Did her displeasure show? Did somebody complain? They had just begun to be truly respected by the Erusean people, had that changed? She'd been trying so hard to be everything that she was expected to be.

"What your father is trying to say," Mother stated as if she could hear her thoughts. "Is that we have decided to send you back to Saint Joan's." Cossete's mouth dropped as she looked between the two adults.

"You are!?" she asked in disbelief.

"Not that we don't enjoy having you hear!" Father added quickly. "But we feel that it would be better for you to go back to your friends."

"There will need to be some changes, but the Headmistress has assured me that they will endeavor to make you as comfortable as possible." Mother's warm smile was back in full force. Cossette couldn't believe it, she never thought she would get to go back. Saint Joan's had been wonderful and would be a welcome respite from her new reality.

"You will still return here for holidays," Father explained, taking her silence as displeasure. "We will try to write to you often and if you need anything at all you can always ask-."

"I think she understands that dear," Mother interrupted, amused. "Give her a chance to process this-." It was her to be interrupted as Cossette wrapped her up in a hug.

"Thank you!" she said. Mother laughed and rubbed her back soothingly.

"You're welcome dear, we know you've been working so hard to make us proud. Speaking of which..." Mother's voice sounded like a prompt.

"Charles, the box if you would." Cossette looked to see Father give Mother a conspiratorial wink before Charles walked in with a beautifully wrapped parcel. "A gift for you sweetheart, as thanks for all you've done."

"You're always so formal now." Mother teased, guiding Cossette over to the box. "Go ahead dear, open it." Cossette nodded and delicately grabbed the large ribbon to untie it. The box suddenly shifted, a slight whimper coming from it. Cossette gasped and grabbed the top, finding it not attached. Lifting it clear, she found herself locking eyes with a Golden Retriever puppy, who immediately tried to lick her face. Giggling, Cossette lifted up the little animal and hugged it close, the puppy beginning to wiggle excitedly.

"Thank you, thank you, thank you!" Cossette said, looking at her beaming parents as the puppy wriggled and yapped, tail wagging. This was turning out to be one of the best days in a long time.

"You'll have plenty of time to train him and think of a name, he'll need one if he's to join you at school next year," Mother said. The ringing of the desk phone broke the moment, the puppy fighting to see what had made the noise. Father walked over and answered it, annoyed. His expression remained heavy as he listened, though Cossette was too distracted to notice.

"When? Three launches? Alright, get the Command Staff together, I'll be there in 20 minutes." The couple shared a glance before enjoying their daughter's joy. Duty could wait, this was far more important.

OIA Advanced Research Facility "Anvil"

Solo Islands

As Marissa led Colonel Doyle through the facility, she noted that he took everything in with an open curiosity. His attentiveness was encouraging, but a proper tour would have to wait. Setting a brisk pace, Marissa made her way to Trigger's terminal, the screen turning on as she entered the camera's field of view, showing the pair walking up towards the desk. If Doyle noticed the eclectic collection of items around it he didn't comment.

"We need to do another recorded interview ma'am?" he asked.

"In a way," she replied. "Colonel Doyle, I'd like to introduce you to your potential pupil." To her satisfaction, Trigger picked up on her prompting and began his introduction.

"Good afternoon Colonel Doyle. I am the Trainable, Intelligent Guidance and Response. You may refer to me as 'Trigger,' it is a pleasure to meet you."

"It talks..." Doyle breathed out, stunned.

"Quite fluently too," Marissa added with no small measure of pride.

"Now that's pure class." Doyle went to take a step forward to examine the terminal but froze, looking to Marissa for permission. "Do you mind if I have a little conversation with it?"

"Not at all, that was what I was about to ask you to do." She encouraged him to carry on.

"Thank you ma'am." The man resumed his approach, looking over the console with interest before becoming even more intrigued with the bookshelf. "You have it reading Turt the Turtle?" Doyle plucked the children's alphabet book from the shelf.

"Turt's name starts with 'T,' the 20th letter of the Alphabet," Trigger recited. "Let's meet his 25 other friends and learn what letters their names start with." Doyle looked incredulous at the screen so Marissa stepped in.

"The development of Trigger's intelligence followed a similar progression to human intelligence, starting with juvenile materials such as children's books."

"Right..." Doyle replied doubtfully. "So Volker wasn't kidding when he said that the work was revolutionary." He turned his attention to Trigger. "Did you, um, like this book?"

"Initial use proved exceptionally informative, however repeated readings resulted in an exponential decrease in stimulation. It is now irrelevant to further cognitive development." Marissa furrowed her brows slightly, recognizing a similar statement to one of her father's notes. She took out the journal and flipped to it, noting that he had discussed it with Volker who reached the same conclusion, but there was no mention of having told Trigger the same.

"I do not possess an 'opinion' of which I am aware of." Trigger's words brought Marissa back to the conversation.

"Right, but you said it was not relevant, isn't that an opinion?" Doyle was looking into the camera as if it were Trigger's face.

"Negative," Trigger replied, sounding his negative alert as he did so. "It is a fact. My cognitive development progressed beyond what could be gained from juvenile materials. Doctor Atkinson said so and they are never wrong."

"Did she now?" Doyle looked at Marissa appraisingly.

"Incorrect." Before Doyle could ask, Marissa answered his question.

"My father Robert Atkinson was in my current position. He was killed during the war." The response came easy now. Doyle gave her a sympathetic look and nodded in understanding.

"Alright, well if you don't have an opinion then why do you want to fly?" Marissa's eyes snapped to him at the question.

"Colonel Doyle I fail to see-." Doyle held up his hands placatingly to cut off the objection.

"With all due respect ma'am, if I'm teaching it to fly, I need to know how it thinks. What happens up here," Doyle pointed to his head. "Happens up there." He gestured to the ceiling, implying the sky beyond it.

"I appreciate that but Trigger has no wants or desires. He'll fly because we want him to and he'll learn because we ask him to." Doyle didn't look convinced.

"I'm not saying it won't be motivated, but in my experience the best pilots are the ones who enjoy the work. I've dealt with draftees, those forced to go. They might learn what I teach them but they'll be gobshite in a fight. That thing," Doyle pointed towards Trigger's computer banks. "Won't be any good to anyone if it doesn't care."

"I do not want to fly." Trigger's response surprised both of them. Doyle frowned, not exactly pleased to be proven correct.

"Then I'm afraid I have no reason for being here ma'am," Doyle said regretfully. "I won't be the one holding the bag if this goes south. If it doesn't want to fly, I don't want to teach it." Marissa was too stunned to say a word and Trigger used the opportunity to speak again.

"I do not want to fly," Trigger repeated. "I need to fly." Trigger's camera focused on Colonel Doyle's now puzzled expression. "I am to fly in defense of Osea and its allies. It is the reason I exist, why Doctor Atkinson created me. If I do not fly then Doctor Atkinson was wrong to create me. Doctor Atkinson is never wrong." Trigger's camera zoomed out to show both Doyle and Marissa in its view. "That is my reason for being here. That is Doctor Atkinson's reason for being here. That is why you have been invited here Colonel Doyle. To do anything else would be illogical." Marissa and Doyle were silent for a moment, now equally speechless. The silence was broken when Doyle began to laugh.

"Speaks quite fluently you said?" Doyle asked sardonically. "Fair play Trigger, I think I can work with a need just as much as with a want. Not that I want to presume I have the job ma'am." He looked over at Marissa, who had shaken off her own surprise.

"For all intents and purposes you've passed," Marissa said, still looking at Trigger. "There are a few more steps to take care of."

"Lead on ma'am," Doyle gave her a warm smile. "After this, I think I can take anything you throw at me."

Gründer Industries Research Center

Northern Usea

May 14th, 2015

Schroeder watched his computer screen, taking a moment to sip and swallow a mouthful of lukewarm coffee. Behind him, large computer banks hummed and whirred, the white noise his constant companion for the past 30 hours. The clicking of company regulation heels indicated his assistant, Marsha, was approaching. The young woman weaved through the technicians and analysts that, like the computers, had become so much background noise to place a fresh cup on his desk.

"You really should take a break sir," Marsha suggested politely. "You have several meetings today, one of which will begin in three hours." Schroeder waved off her concern.

"I will once we finish this ANOVA test." Currently, five versions of the slowly revived Z.O.E. program were running through a series of tests, being measured for efficiency and accuracy. So far there was little difference, each version reporting the same results. Progress on rebuilding the A.I. had been slow, requiring hundreds of hours just to ensure everything was still working, with more pieces being acquired from various stores and drives dug up in the rebuilding Gründer. It was like computational archeology and necromancy at the same time. It was exhausting. Schroeder rubbed his eyes. Everything was just so damn slow.

"Very good sir," Marsha replied, knowing a lost argument when she heard one. A sudden chirping caught their attention as well as that of every technician in the room. One of the temperature monitors for the banks was going off, a precaution given their first encounter with the A.I. and three subsequent attempts at self-destruction. Z.O.E.'s suicidal tendencies had been worked out, the loyalty program rewritten from the base up by Schroeder himself. The man pulled up the computer bank's variables on his own screen.

"Bank Delta is working harder than the others," Schroeder noted with interest. A change in the image behind the new window caught his attention and he minimized it. Bank Alpha was no longer sending results. "Curious." He pulled up the bank's variables, finding it was running at full capacity. He could see the output, lines of code stitching themselves across the screen, yet something was off. Schroeder pushed his glasses further up his nose, leaning in to look more closely. The identification number for "Omega" was appearing instead of "Alpha," almost as if it had been replaced.

"Sir?" Marsha asked. More chirps sounded as the other banks' temperature alarms went off. Technicians began scrambling to control the situation, but Schroeder instead switched back to the test. Another version was gone. Schroeder's eyes widened in recognition.

"Ready to commence shutdown sir," one of the technicians reported.

"No!" Schroeder ordered.

"Doctor?" another asked. Schroeder threw the test up onto the room's large primary screen, just in time for another version to be silenced. Gasps and murmurs went around the room.

"They're fighting each other..." Schroeder said with fascination. He couldn't look away, he was watching natural selection occur right in front of him. Several minutes passed, the humans seeing a fight between machines that mercilessly assaulted one another. Finally, "Omega" stood alone and resumed the test, more accurate and efficient than ever before. Schroeder stood, looking towards his staff. "Save everything, I want a new model drawn up based on what just occurred."

"But sir we just lost-."

"And we've gained more in 30 minutes than in the last three months." Schroeder took off his glasses and wiped them clean on his lab coat. "Competition is the answer. Z.O.E. was designed to win, it will do whatever it needs to achieve victory. So let us give it competition."

"Right away sir." The other technicians gave similar replies and the hum of work resumed. Schroeder finally released a yawn, turning to look at Marsha.

"I will be taking that break now."

OIA Advanced Research Facility "Anvil"

Solo Islands

July 13, 2015

"We all set Jonas?" Colonel Doyle asked. The younger man gave him a thumbs up as he wheeled back from the heavily modified flight simulator, its five screens shining a steady blue. Connected to it was one of the smaller COPRO units, nestled in a warren of cables. The thickest of them led to Trigger's computer banks, which were themselves 1/3 the size they were five years ago. Thanks to Volker's diligence, New Horizons had stayed at the cutting edge of computing technology, benefitting from the increased performance and decreasing sizes of modern machines. That included the simulator, which featured wrap-around screens to better simulate actual flying conditions. COPRO units had what were essentially 360 degree cameras mounted on top, albeit the rest of the cockpit limited the view range to the upper portion of the "visual sphere." This had presented a challenge in modifying the simulator for Trigger, as the A.I. didn't need to turn his head to look behind him like the bifocal humans it was originally designed for. It wasn't perfect, but it was necessary if Trigger was to acclimate to the COPRO's systems and limitations. The A.I. could have been incorporated with the software directly, but it wasn't the "human" way that was the foundation for the program. Instead simulator data would be fed directly into the COPRO's systems, which would read the replicated physics and send it directly to Trigger's A.I. For Trigger, everything would "feel" real, making his time in the simulator more worthwhile.

"All set!" Jonas wheeled up over to the colonel with a grin, holding up a hand for a fistbump, which the older man returned with a slight hesitation. "Ready when you are ma'am!" Jonas called over to Marissa, who was checking and double checking her notes by Trigger's camera. The A.I. had watched them set-up the system without diverting its attention but the camera rotated to look at Marissa.

"Doctor Atkinson?" Trigger prompted. Marissa looked up at the two men and nodded.

"Begin system check," she said, flipping to a checklist and clicking her pen. "Scenario loaded?"

"Check," Doyle said, using the laptop that had come with the simulator. The screen changed to show a 3D rendered airbase. It would allow them to watch the scenario in third person as well.

"COPRO active?"

"One sec," Jonas said and flicked a switch, a yellow light illuminating on the side of the unit. "We're green. Well, yellow." Marissa checked two boxes.

"Connection stable?"

"Stable. Latency present of 0.015 milliseconds." The light on the COPRO turned green. "Full connection achieved, acquiring data." The COPRO dome's lenses adjusted with faint whirs, bringing the screens into focus. "Complete." Marissa, Doyle and Jonas gathered around the laptop. Marissa looked to Doyle, who nodded.

"Alright Trigger, let's give it a go. Begin your system checks, let's see if we wired you up properly." Trigger chimed in acknowledgement and the trio watched as the simulated aircraft's flight control surfaces began to move. Doyle nodded. "Give us a full right rudder?" Trigger complied at once, the virtual jet doing as asked.

"You mind if we do a full cockpit look?" Jonas asked. Before Doyle could reply, Trigger already began to swivel the simulator's cockpit view around. "Thank you!"

"Alright, enough. Either it's banjanxed or it's not. Trigger, taxi out to the runway and do a run-up." Trigger didn't send a chime, instead voicing a question.

"Doctor Atkinson?" Doyle went to repeat himself but Marissa cut him off.

"Listen to Colonel Doyle Trigger," she ordered. "Do what he tells you." Trigger chimed and began to taxi to the runway. Doyle looked over at Marissa, poorly hidden annoyance visible behind a wry grin.

"Trigger plays favorites Doctor." He turned his attention back to the screen, where Trigger was doing as instructed. The simulated plane stopped dead center at the end of the runway. What followed was a series of commands and mock radio transmissions, the controllers of the island's airport offering their services. Marissa listened, taking notes while Jonas kept an eye on the diagnostics for the COPRO unit. So far everything was working as intended, minus the brief confusion in who possessed authority. Trigger and Doyle were working together as well as ever, the COPRO's were meeting expectations and the OIA was as happy with the progress as any bureaucratic agency could be expected to be. All in all, New Horizons was finally regaining its lost momentum, much to Marissa's relief. After resolving months of headaches, she was confident that the program could handle anything the universe threw at it. So, as Trigger took his first artificial steps into the sky, she allowed herself a small smile of satisfaction. They might just pull this off after all.