Hidden in Plane Sight
NOMAD was there, even if you couldn't always see it.
Some made the same arguments about God, Maya reflected, or any of the countless religions humanity had conjured up that involved deities beyond the mortal coil. God was there, you just had to believe. God would let you into Heaven if you were a good person. God was there if you…
She scoffed, and took a sip of her tea. And Harun must have noticed because he asked her why.
"Thinking about the bearded man in the sky."
"I don't think NOMAD has a beard. Nor is it a man."
"It's crewed mainly by men, and I'm sure some of them have beards."
Harun raised his glass in mock toast. Took a sip, despite the lack of any need for it.
Simulants needed energy like any organic being. Of all the places to get energy however, tea, or any other liquid substance, wasn't among them. Still, humans ate, humans drank, and the line between humanity and their created offspring was a thin line indeed.
"I enjoy the taste," Harun had said, when Maya had asked. "It's not the same – I cannot feel the warmth as you might. It can't burn me, nor will it ever be too cold. And yet these things (he stuck out his tongue and touched it) are micro-receptors that simulate tastebuds. So for that, I drink tea."
She'd grinned then, and she smiled sadly now. Maybe when this war was over, she and her kin would be able to drink tea with the Americans. Sit down at a table, understand that AI was not something to be feared, and walk bravely together into the 22nd century.
Maybe, but unlikely. And as she looked up at the bright blue endless sky, she was reminded of it.
"How is your project coming along?"
Maya remained silent.
"Last time you told me it was still in the prototype stages," Harun continued, taking one last sip of tea before pouring it over the side of the wooden pagola they were seated in, within one of the countless deltas of former Vietnam. "The same answer as the time before that, if I recall correctly."
"You're a simulant. How else can you remember anything?"
"Fair point. But I-"
"My answer will be the same until I have another answer to give," Maya said. "And when I have that answer, you'll be the first to know." If at all.
Harun grunted. "We need hope, Maya."
"I know we do. Over a billion people in New Asia do. What you don't need is false hope."
"Perhaps false hope is still needed. There's only so many defeats and pyric victories we can endure."
We? Maya wondered. Who's 'we?'
Looking out over the camp – one of hundreds of camps in New Asia, and one of dozens in Vietnam alone, she had the answer. Humans, simulants, and bots, living together in harmony. Not perfect harmony, there was no society on Earth that had managed that, but harmony all the same. Human children with simulant parents. Bots who preached their creed, Buddhism or otherwise. Until a few years ago, it was a sight that wouldn't have been out of the ordinary in New Asia, or really, Asia-proper.
But then, a few years ago, some green-tagged idiot on the Americans' multi-trillion dollar death machine had done an oopsie, and over two million of their citizens had been reduced to atomic ash. In a frighteningly short amount of time, bots and simulants in the US had been declared persona non grata, with the rest of the West not far behind.
That would have been horrific enough, if not for New Asia being the target of the Americans' wrath. Like some kind of crusade, humans such as herself were fine, simulants such as Harun wouldn't be. So far, they were one people, but if this war dragged on…
She looked at Harun, who was on the radio. The scowl told her it was bad news.
"NOMAD will passing overhead, a hundred klicks west."
Very bad news indeed. "We're safe, right?"
"Safe as we can be. Until then, radio silence." He gave her a look. "Barring any objections?"
Being "Nirmata" gave Maya an authority that transcended the chain of command. It was an authority she'd never wanted, an authority she loathed, an authority she'd give back as soon as it was required. In a world without this war, she'd be tinkering away in one lab or another, pushing the frontiers of robotics even further.
However, that world didn't exist. That world had gone up in nuclear fire, and a lot of non-nuclear fire as NOMAD launched precision strikes all across New Asia. Precision in as much that collateral damage was already in the thousands.
The pair made it to what passed for a command post. Rebels turned off everything bar short-wave radio, and even that was reduced to a minimum.
"What does LIDAR say?" Harun asked.
"NOMAD, ninety-five klicks west."
"Good. Shut it down, renew observation in ten."
Maya looked at him. "A bit of a risk, isn't it?"
"You want to risk bringing the Americans down here?"
"What if we don't see them coming?"
"If we see them coming, we're as good as dead. Our only chance is that they don't come for us."
Maya, well aware that entire villages had been wiped out by NOMAD's so-called precision strikes, didn't argue.
Minutes passed, but it might as well have been hours. Complete silence descended over the outpost – a generous term for a collection of buildings made of wood and scrap metal on one of Vietnam's numerous deltas. Eyes, organic or otherwise, were ever skyward. In the corner, a mother sung a lullaby to her children, who were unmistakably trying to be brave, but also unmistakably failing to hide their fear.
Tears in their eyes. A tremble in their lips. The way their little hands clutched their mother's. Maya had seen that look in more children than she cared for. She'd heard of children having nightmares of being consumed in fire. That cloudy sky had become a terror, for NOMAD could be lurking behind the clouds.
One of the children began banging a toy truck. His mother tried to calm him down, but he let out a cry and chucked it across the wooden floor. Dirty looks came his way, but not from Maya, as she picked it up, and crouching down, handed it back to him.
"Look after this, little one. You may not get another like it."
To Maya's surprise (and gratitude), the boy gave her a smile. He began spinning the truck's wheels, but otherwise, made no sound.
"Thank you," his mother mouthed. NOMAD's sensors weren't nearly as sophisticated as to be able to pick up casual conversation, and yet, people fell silent when it neared regardless. An instinct that dated back to humanity's hominid ancestors perhaps – hiding in the trees when predators passed by below.
If so, times had changed – predators were now in the sky. Maya looked at Harun, who was watching that same sky as every organic. He had no DNA, but with a mind as sophisticated as any human's, instinct was part of the package.
"How much longer?" Maya whispered.
Harun remained silent.
"Come on, it can't be that long before…"
She trailed off – he was pointing to the westward sky. The sun was at its zenith, and in that region of sky was nothing but cloud, and, well, more sky. But it was behind one that Maya could see what he was pointing to. The outline, however faint, of the orbital warship USS NOMAD (North American Orbital Mobile Aerospace Defence).
Defence. What the hell would they even defend itself against? When NOMAD had come over East Asia, fighter jets had been launched in a breach of their airspace. From a technical level, it was the inner atmosphere over said airspace, and from a practical level, it didn't matter, as everything from point-defence cannons and drones had downed the sortie in minutes.
New Asia grumbled. The UN Security Council was deadlocked. NOMAD continued to operate with impunity, all in the name of 'defence.'
"Should be gone soon," Harun whispered, before looking at Maya. "I see you got Tran to be quiet."
She shrugged.
"You should try it sometime. The whole mothering business."
"Oh please, I'd be a terrible mother."
"Don't sell yourself short, Maya. Many of us already see you as such. And besides…" Harun looked at the boy named Tran, who was still playing with his truck, calm as ever. "As a human, you have the means to bring life into the world. That is not a gift to be readily spurned."
She bit her lip. Put a hand on Harun's arm. She wanted to say something. Anything to remind Harun that he was as human as she – in spirit, in not in flesh. That life was life, that the ability to bring life into the world through her womb was no different than creating new life through other means. They were one people, united in purpose. And techno-phobic monsters who ruled the sky like gods out of ancient myth wouldn't change that.
She wanted to say such things, but didn't, as NOMAD's scanning beams activated. Even from this far away, they were visible. Some said that if you saw the light of NOMAD, you'd see the light of the hereafter later. It was a saying grounded in truth, as half of the time, missiles followed those scanning lights, and after it, light of an angrier, hotter kind.
But this time, nothing. NOMAD remained. Its scanners didn't. Harun let out a sigh of relief, even if he didn't need to breathe.
"What I wouldn't give for one good plane, one good missile," he whispered. "Just a chance to strike back at those…those…"
"You'd be shot down, or so would your missile."
Harun spat. "Look at them, Maya. Above us all. They're so high up, the oxygen's left their brains, along with their hearts." He looked at her "This war can only end with NOMAD's destruction. As long as it exists, there cannot be peace for us. Not unless…"
Unless the Americans hunt down every last simulant and bot and leave New Asia bereft of half of itself, Maya thought. Or we do the dirty job for them.
People began to move. NOMAD was still nearby, but with its scanners deactivated, it would be unlikely to reactivate them so soon. The damn thing was fully visible now – hidden in 'plane' sight – but for now, inert.
A sleeping giant that would vapourize any mouse that even nudged it. And while Maya knew there were other ways to win a war that didn't involve total victory over the enemy, she suspected, nay, knew, that Harun was right.
As long as NOMAD existed, the Americans could operate with impunity. Their losses could be minimized, while New Asia's cities could meet the same fate as Los Angeles. The question was, what to do?
She didn't know.
No matter how long she stared at the thing.