Inga

In an apartment four blocks away from Dimitri Molenski’s enclave, three men were assembled around a bank of monitors and computer equipment. Two of the men stood, while the other, pale and sweaty, sat on a chair. The ID card on his pocket stated he was Tim Redfern, Genitix Robotics Technician.

Just a few hours before, he and his driver had been forced off the road on their way to deliver a custom made Sinthetica model to a customer in an exclusive part of Chicago. The driver had been killed with a double tap, two shots to the head from a silenced pistol, and Tim had been taken captive and forced to drive the van, with the body of the driver and the robot to an abandoned warehouse.

“You will install this in the machine,” the bigger of the two men had ordered, handing him a clear plastic sleeve containing a tiny interface card.

“What is it?”

“It is a computer card,” said the big man, simply.

“Yeah, I can see that, but what’s its function?”

“Never mind, you’ll find out soon enough.”

He had indeed.

Initially, he thought that the card had only allowed the men to track the robot’s movements via the handheld GPS unit they had. But since then, he had discovered it also let them see what the robot was seeing – to tap directly into its visual feed which was displayed in glorious HD color on the monitors in front of him.

But all of that paled into insignificance, compared to the primary and far more sinister function of the card. A function that allowed a user to remotely override all of the robot’s hard coding and give it orders.

With the muzzle of a gun against his temple, he had been informed that he would be entering new codes when they received a call to give them the all clear.

“What do you want it to do?”

“Simple, you’re to program it to kill everybody in the building.”

Tom had glanced at the three screens showing what appeared to be three levels of a very large building and surrounding grounds. He was in shock and didn’t take the time to count, but there appeared to be more than thirty heat signatures.

“That’s mass murder… I won’t do it.”

The big man chuckled.

“Not even for Rachel and Sarah and Bethany?”

Tom tried to stand and was pushed back into his seat.

“Who are you guys?”

“Easy. The less you know, the better. Your wife and kids are safe if you do as you’re told. If it makes you feel any better, most of the people the robot will be wasting are criminals anyway.”

It didn’t make him feel any better that they were criminals, but the fact was, he would do anything to keep Rachel and the girls safe. Seated between the two stone cold killers, Redfern doubted he would make it home to his wife and children.

He knew no matter what his abductors said; he had seen too much. Still, while there was a chance to get out of this alive, he decided to do whatever the two gunmen wanted of him, even if it meant breaking the law and being a party to murder.

The cell phone on the desk began to vibrate, and the big man snatched it up.

“Yes?” he said, then listened for a few moments and then terminated the call. “It’s time; Molenski is only a few minutes away from the estate.”

“Go ahead, do your magic Mr. Technician,” said the other, gesturing to the console.

Tom took a deep breath and began typing.