“What you didn’t know at the time was that a new technology was recording the patterns of your mind. Your memories, your thoughts, but most importantly, your personalities. Your engrams have been imprinted on your SM- rifles.” He paused. “That means that your rifle knows you better than you know yourself.”
A lot of us must have given the sergeant an incredulous look, because he said, “I know you’re finding that hard to believe. But after you spend a fewhours with your rifle, you’ll come to see it’s the truth
“Your SM-rifle is yours. It knows you and you only, and it is bonded to you. Its sole job is to keep you alive and shooting. You and your SM-rifle are now a team. Which means…”
The sergeant paused for a moment, and when he spoke again, he spoke softly but strongly.
“Do not pick up another soldier s rifle. Do not lose your rifle. When you go to the latrine, your rifle goes with you. When you go to the shower, the rifle goes with you. When you’re not in combat, keep your rifles battery pack charged. When you go to sleep at night, you’d better be hugging your goddamn rifle like you’re a crybaby and it’s your teddy bear. Understand?”
“Yes, Sergeant!” we all shouted.
“Now, fall out and get to know your weapon.” He smirked.
The flat ground extended as far as the eye could see. Most of the other trainees scattered away from the sergeant and the truck. I decided to do the opposite; if I screwed up, I didn’t care if he knew it.
So I walked over to the area behind the truck and studied my SM-rifle.
I flipped the on switch. The SM-rifle hummed for a moment, and the tiny screen glowed blue.
Then it spoke.
“Hello, Johnny,” it said. The voice sounded calm, friendly, and gender-neutral.
“Um, hello,” I replied. “You know my name?”
“Indeed I do. I’ve been programmed with everything you know.”
That sounded freaky, but I let it pass. “Well, you know my name. What do I call you?”
“You may choose a name for me.”
“How about Sam? Short for Samantha.”
I swear to God the rifle chuckled. “You know that over seventy percent of soldiers pick Sam as their rifle’s name?”
“No, I didn’t. Does that mean I need to pick another name?”
“No, Sam’s fine. Want to get started trying me out?”
“So, urn, how do I load you?”
“You don’t. I don’t fire projectiles.”
“So what do you fire?”
“Let me show you. Sweep me around, please, until I can spot an appropriate target.”
“There’s nothing around for miles.”
“Let me be the judge of that.”
I shrugged, but followed Sam’s request. Aiming it properly, I did a three-hundred-and-sixty-degree turn. “Well?”
“Hm,” Sam said. “There’s not much to aim at around here.”
“That’s what I said.”
“Still, they wouldn’t bring us out here without a reason. Go ask the sergeant if there are any targets around.”
“I’m sorry, what? You want me to approach the sergeant?”
“Trust me, will you? Let’s go ask him.”
I stared at the rifle for a moment, then hefted it over my shoulder and walked over to the sergeant, who was supervising the return of the boxes to the truck. “Sergeant?”
He turned to me. “Yes, soldier?”
“My weapon suggested I ask you for a target to shoot.”
The sergeant smiled. “Of course. I suspect the others will be coming over soon.” He called to the corporal, who went into the back of the truck and brought out a bundle of wooden poles, each a little less than a meter long.
“Take one of those, stick it in the ground somewhere, and find a rock to put on top of it.”
I goggled. “Seriously, Sergeant?”
“You have a problem with my order, Recruit?”
“With all due respect, Sergeant, wedon’t even have an RSO with us.”
The sergeant smiled. “Your SM-rifles are all linked to know where each one is at all times,” he said. “It’ll serve as both the range safety officer and the drill instructor.”
“Yes, Sergeant,” I said. I grabbed the stick with my left hand and wandered off, further from the truck than I had gone before. As I looked for an isolated spot, I noticed a few of the other soldiers heading to the truck.
“You planned this, didn’t you?” I asked my rifle.
Again the rifle chuckled. “Kind of. Let’s move out a long distance. We don’t want to hurt
anyone.”
I walked for about five minutes, keeping the rifle in the sling to make it easier to carry. Just when I was about to stop, it said, “Here’s good.”
“I was just—never mind. Can I put you down while I set up the target?”
“Sure. Just keep me within reach.”
I nodded, although there was no one around to see me. I found a promising spot, set the rifle on the ground, planted the pole, balanced a rock on the end, and picked up my rifle again.
“Swing me around, please, so I can see the rock.”
I obliged, and then the rifle said, “Excellent. Let’s back up about five hundred meters.”
“You’ve got to be kidding. I’m not that skilled.”
“Don’t worry. I am.”
I shrugged, and walked, keeping my pace even so I could measure five hundred meters exactly.
Normally, I count my paces under my breath, but I kept quiet because I didn’t want to give the rifle any clues.
It didn’t matter. Once again, just when I was about to stop, it said, “Five hundred meters.
Perfect. Drop prone and face the target.”
I sighed and did so. I began reaching for the rear sight aperture but the rifle said, “Don’t worry about adjusting anything. I’ve already taken care of it.”
“You have? That’s… great.” I sighted the rock through the scope, aimed the rifle, and reached for the trigger.
“Wait,” it said.
“What?”
“Keep your muscles completely relaxed. You want good bone support. That will keep the sights on target.”
I tried to relax, but having my weapon practically ordering me around—well, it didn’t feel very relaxing. “Is this better?” I finally asked.
“Perfect.”
“So what do I do now?”
“You’ve fired other rifles before, haven’t you? Draw in a full breath, and then let it out halfway.
Then aim me and fire.”
I squeezed the trigger. The rifle snapped and sizzled, and kicked back with barely any recoil. A tiny bolt of orange fire emerged from the barrel and flew towards the rock. Within seconds, I heard an explosion coming from the target.
“Come on, let’s go check it out.”
I swallowed hard, stood up, and carried the rifle with me as I walked back to the target. When I got close enough to see it clearly, I stopped short.
The rock was completely blasted away, but the pole stood unharmed.
I lifted the rifle to my face and studied its sheen. “My God. What are you?”
“Your new best friend.”
