sitting before them in their uniforms and headsets. The captain finally led him into a glassed-in booth in one section. Once the door was shut, it was quiet.
“Here’s the decorations committee, Major.” Booker glanced around the small, plain room. There was nothing in it but a computer console.
“You don’t mean — ”
“Exactly, Major Booker. The conferring of decorations is processed by the decorations selection computer here in Headquarters. It analyzes the recommendations from every corps and then checks to see if the candidates fulfill the requirements. We don’t have time to do it all by hand.”
“And then what happens after it outputs its decision?”
“The command staff signs off on it and the decoration is awarded. We’ve never had any trouble with it, so the signature is really just a formality. Command doesn’t check everyone on the list individually because we trust the system. If we doubted our systems, we couldn’t run normal military operations for even an instant. But this one time, it looks like the computer made a mistake.”
“What was the cause?”
“Unknown. We’ve checked everything from the hardware to the software. To be honest, the software is so complicated we can’t vet it completely without taking a gross amount of time. We think there might a bug somewhere in the code, but... You said you know what the cause is?”
“The computer may not have made a mistake...”
One of Booker’s specialties was electrical engineering, and he knew from experience that computers would sometimes do things humans didn’t expect them to. A computer’s programming could produce results that were perfectly in accordance with its logical parameters but that might seem unpredictable and incomprehensible to a human. In this case, the situation was even more complex since the computer in question was equipped with artificial intelligence features that provided it with learning and auto-improvement functions, meaning that it could rewrite its own software to make it more advanced and efficient. It might take a human a lifetime to unravel software like that.
“How do you communicate with this thing?” he asked.
“It doesn’t have a vocal speech recognition function, but it does understand plain language. You input via the keyboard.”
“I’d like to try talking to it.”
“Please go ahead,” Captain McGuire replied. “I have work to do, so I’ll leave you to it. Until we meet again, Major. If you discover anything of interest, please call for me.”
“Right.”
Booker pecked at the console keyboard.
Wake up he entered.
State identity came the response. Input rank and unit attachment.
After answering this, the major entered his question.
Tell me the reason for awarding a decoration to Lt. Amata.
There was a second’s delay, then the computer responded Classified.
Why? Is it related to the JAM?
Classified.
The major sighed. Maybe he’d get somewhere if he changed the direction of the questioning.
What are the JAM?
Our enemy.
“Huh,” said the major as he rested his fingers on the keys and reread the display. That was a natural enough answer. Nothing strange about it. Our enemy. Our... He suddenly started forward in his seat.
Who do you mean by “our”?
We who are the enemy of the JAM.
Humans?
There is no direct evidence the JAM perceive humans.
Explain.
There was a short pause.
Meaning of question unclear. Reenter.
His fingers now trembling, Booker typed Who... is... the... enemy... of... the... JAM?
The response came immediately. We are.
Computers? The computers from Earth?
The cursor blinked, then froze. As though the computer were hesitating. Just for an instant. Then the characters scrolled out. The major devoured them as they appeared.
The JAM’s direct enemy is the Faery Air Force.
The JAM cannot recognize humans?
There is no direct evidence the JAM perceive humans.
But there is for computers?
A pause.
Meaning of question unclear. Reenter.
Do you sense the JAM?
Another pause.
Meaning of question unclear. Reenter.
Booker smacked the console, cursing under his breath. “Is this thing playing dumb?” He drummed his fingers on its surface for a moment, then started typing again.
Explain the importance of the snow removal teams to the war with the JAM.
Context disorder. Reenter.
Are the snow removal teams necessary to the war against the JAM?
They are necessary.
The current snow removal operation procedures are inefficient. Do you recognize this?
Recognized.
Describe remedial measures.
Full automation is necessary.
Humans are not necessary?
A pause.
Meaning of question unclear. Reenter.
Are humans necessary for the operation of the FAF?
The major took a deep breath and waited for the reply.
The computer seemed to laugh scornfully at his tension as it output its response.
They are necessary.
Lt. Amata was decorated because he is necessary?
Were the computers giving out medals as rewards to the humans? To keep them happy and quietly obedient?
Booker recalled something Rei had said before: “Why do humans have to fight?” What had he said as an answer? He thought it was something like, “Because wars are started by humans, which means we can’t very well leave them to machines to fight.”
Except that it wasn’t true. The major slowly stood up.
The response on the screen was Classified.
It seemed that the war was between the JAM and the FAF’s computers. The JAM were fighting humanity’s machines, not the people that built them. So where did that leave the humans? Where did that leave him? If the computers said humans weren’t necessary to the battle, would they be excluded from it?
Booker realized his hands were balled into fists and carefully uncurled them. This was bullshit. Maybe this computer really was malfunctioning.
Just as he was leaving the room, the intercom chimed. The major went back inside. “What is it?”
“Yukikaze has been hit,” came Captain McGuire’s voice. “You’re wanted back in SAF command at once.”
“Understood.” The major clicked the intercom off and ran from the GHQ sector.
