At What Speed, Emergency?
“Nine one one, do you prefer a human or A.I. response time?” The human’s voice is beamed directly into his consciousness. It is a woman’s voice, either middle-aged or a young smoker, coldly clinical in the way that can seem bored when the stakes feel high to the hearer, as they currently do for him. Speaking at regular human pace with zero A.I. assist feels like slow motion to him at this point, and he hates to waste two seconds on a sentence when the threat is so close, but that’s how it works, so he settles for speaking quickly.
“Max A.I. assist. I am equipped with a ten twenty four time magnification implant, request one thousand ex conversation speed. Initiate.”
He feels the emergency services A.I. connect, and time slows back down to around his normal pace. That is to say, time in the outside world stays as it always does, but his brain accelerates to 1000 times its normal speed, and is able to interact with the police A.I. at that speed while feeling like normal conversation from his internal perspective.
He is standing in his bedroom, beside his bed, wearing a silk nightgown that matches his silk sheets and complements perfectly the gentle hue of his velvet winter-season comforter cover.
He woke upon hearing a noise in one of the rooms outside. He has a security system in place that most banks would envy, but somehow there is someone in the next room anyway, and possibly several someones.
He woke in 1000x time, which was his custom, what he considers his normal speed. Within three thousandths of a second, even though only a few of the actual sound waves had reached his ears, he has recognized the presence of the danger sound and initiated a call to the police.
There was a slowdown of almost three seconds while his implant connected to a sluggish public network to place the call and wait for the human-manned police emergency line to pick up. During those three seconds, the sound from the other room stopped, as if the home invaders had heard him rise from bed, and then more purposeful footsteps, what sounded definitely like two sets now, started moving with purpose towards his bedroom.
“This is the Alton Springs Police Emergency Line, how may I help you?” This new voice is the smooth, featureless, even A.I. drone that he is used to.
“This is Waler Wiggins, authorize location fix, there are at least two attackers in my home, I need defense assistance and authorization.”
The exchange of those two sentences is backgrounded by a single footstep hitting the floor and ringing out from the next room. The invaders are still approaching, and he is still standing by his bedside in what would appear from an outside perspective like a paralysis. The disadvantage of slow time is that it makes actually moving your body in the outside world all but impossible—you pretty much just have to lie or stand where you are.
“Good evening, Mr. Wiggins, I’m sorry to hear about this intrusion into your home,” says the A.I. voice into his brain, “I’m prepared to assist you in obtaining defense authorization. Do you have identification on the intruders?”
Waler’s implant is continuously connected to the Home A.I. that controls his home’s security and other systems. He does a quick scan now and finds the entire security system has been disabled. No camera views or other scan modes are available for the house’s other rooms.
“My security system is disabled, so no identity fixes, but the fact that they were able to disarm it indicates a high level of competence and thus a high level of danger,” he says as another footstep hits the ground just outside his room now. “I am three to four seconds away from possible assault and in genuine fear for my life, thus satisfying the…” he pauses for a moment as his implant looks up the relevant case law and displays the references for him. “…Marburg test under Code twenty-four-point-thirty-A. I can send a body scan with adrenal levels if you need to confirm the authenticity of my fear.”
“Yes, Mr. Wiggins, please send a full neurotransmitter scan for our records. On receipt of such documentation, I will summon the judicial A.I. for a ruling.”
It takes four agonizing tenths of a second for his implant to sample his brain chemicals, do a basic assay, and transmit the results down pipe to the police A.I. In that time, the door to his bedroom bursts open and he sees one of his potential assailants standing in the doorway.
The intruder is unkempt, with a thick, untrimmed black beard shot through with gray, wearing a faded army jacket and several layers of sweatshirts and trousers underneath that give him a thick, soft, substantial appearance. He has dark eyes that flash in the low light of Waler’s bedroom. Those eyes find Waler’s face and narrow, then the intruder charges across the bedroom at him in the slowest imaginable motion, a quarter-inch at a time.
“Scans received, thank you Mr. Wiggins,” intones the police A.I., “You are now connected with the on-duty judicial A.I. for your county.”
“Good evening Mr. Wiggins,” comes the judicial A.I.’s voice, which sounds exactly like the police A.I. except female. “I have been briefed on your request. It seems you are in a difficult situation. Condolences.”
“Thank you,” says Waler, “but what I need is legal authority to activate Skyguard.”
“Skyguard is a last resort method,” says the judicial A.I. calmly, “only for use in defense of life. Have these intruders given any indication they intend to do more than rob you?”
The intruder is finishing another step, only three steps away now. There is a strange juxtaposition between the fact that he is moving very slowly from Waler’s perspective, yet the physics of his movement are the physics of running, almost leaping across the room.
“Just the look on his faces indicates clearly that—“
“Precedent states that subjective interpretation of facial appearance from slow time is not enough to establish violent intent,” the judicial A.I. interrupts to say. “See Bohmer vs. U.S. as well as Hardy vs. Jarvis. You would be exposing yourself to criminal charges by activating Skyguard on that basis. Do you have any other evidence?”
“I need my attorney,” says Waler, who had simultaneously initiated a call to his attorney on retainer when he called the police. His attorney had almost certainly been asleep, but Waler paid extra for the right to wake him, and like Waler, his attorney was set to wake in 1000x time.
As if on cue, the feeling of his attorney’s presence enters Waler’s mind.
“Ah, just a moment, here is my attorney now, I’ll connect him.”
Waler uses his implant to bring his attorney into the conference call with the police and judicial A.I. His attorney is Melvin Cralm, a famous criminal attorney in the area with a high-pitched, almost squeaky voice that contrasts with the smooth A.I. voices.
“Ah, hello? Hello? Waler, what is the problem?”
“I’m standing in my bedroom, woke up to an intrusion, in meat time, at least two of them, the first is already in my bedroom about three steps away from me and closing fast. I want to use Skyguard but the A.I. are saying I could be prosecuted.”
“Nonsense!” Melvin’s voice rises in pitch even more than usual, as it always does when he’s agitated. “Judicial A.I., did he send brain scans? What did they look like?”
The first intruder’s booted foot hits the floor one more time, and now he’s only two steps away from Waler, who remains perfectly still, almost paralyzed, staring dumbly at the intruder, who starts to raise his arms from his sides.
In the bedroom doorway, a second intruder appears, sees Waler, and curls his mouth into a snarl.
“Mr. Wiggins did send brain scans, Counselor,” the judicial A.I. explains with infinite patience, “they showed elevated level is adrenaline and cortisol, but—“
“Then that’s it! That’s all he needs! Campion establishes that. This is a home is castle state, he doesn’t have to establish external facts, only plausible violent intent, which here is clearly—“
“There’s a second one in the doorway,” panic is creeping into Waler’s voice now. He mentally fingers the Skyguard activation code, but he doesn’t want to go to jail for using it. “He’s snarling at me!”
“He’s snarling!” Melvin’s squeaks reach a sort of crescendo. What else—“
“Campion establishes the sufficiency of brain scan in a commercial context, Counselor,” comes the judicial A.I.’s voice. “And a snarl is a subjective test, not admissible in this proceeding. Kindly refrain from making emotional appeals.”
“Okay, Your honor, I apologize,” says Melvin. “I’ve only been awake for six seconds, I’m not myself at the moment. Let’s back up. Can we get an I.D. on either intruder? Criminal history?”
“My security system is disabled,” says Waler. “They must have cut the power before they entered.”
“An organized criminal gang!” Melvin sounds almost pleased to learn this. “Clear intent to harm, premeditation. These are no homeless looking for food, they’re—“
“Circumstantial,” says the judicial A.I. “There’s no proof they’re even armed.”
The first intruder lifts a booted foot to take the second-to-last step before he runs headlong into the paralyzed Waler and runs him over. Waler can see it coming, feel the impact like a drug about to come on, and he wants to flinch away, but he can’t make himself move any more than an inch every few seconds.
The intruder in the doorway has balled his hands up into fists, and seems to be psyching himself up into something. He grits his teeth so hard that Waler can see the ripple in his jaw from across the room.
“Please,” pleads Waler, “we’re less than ten minutes of slow time from him tackling me, he’s right there! The satellite needs at least a tenth of a second to target at this level of specificity. There’s no time!”
“You are, of course, free to activate Skyguard, but without a judgment of legal rectitude you accept the consequences.”
The closest intruder’s mouth is opening and closing, forming the slowest word ever spoken. The lips circle and the throat constricts, as if he is shouting a hard consonant sound, like a ‘k’. The word kill, perhaps?
“He’s saying something!” Waler relays this information in frantic tone to the others on the call. “Still on the first word, first syllable is hard consonant, could be a ‘K’.”
“He’s saying ‘kill’”, shouts Melvin. “He’s screaming he’s going to kill my client and if you don’t allow this to be stopped there will be a lawsuit after it happens! There’ll be a new judicial A.I. and you’ll be scrubbing noise from stolen phone logs by noon tomorrow!”
“Qualified Immunity protections for A.I. services providers are quite robust, as you know, Counselor. You are of course welcome to try and have me reassigned. In the meantime, Mr. Wiggins, do you have lip-reading projectivity enabled on your implant?
“I don’t, Your honor, I apologize,” says Waler, “I don’t have any need for it in my day-to-day. I don’t even have live-streaming enabled from my implant because of privacy concerns. I sure wish I did at this point!”
Waler is holding his breath in meat-time, involuntarily so, but the first intruder is now so close that if he’d been breathing, Waler could have smelled him.
The intruder by the door slips a hand inside his coat, reaching for something.
“The one by the door has a hand in his jacket,” says Waler, “reaching for something.”
“A weapon!” Melvin sounds almost triumphant now. “Clear precedent for a Skyguard intervention! Don’t make me go through the case history on this. Kolama, Waynard, Jones vs. United Pig Farms, I could go on.”
“Mr. Wiggins, can you actually see a weapon?” The judicial A.I. seems disinterested in the answer, not bored just professional. “Do keep in mind that even though you do not have live-streaming enabled, your implant is recording, and what you see is admissible evidence in a hypothetical criminal trial.”
“I can’t see what he’s reaching for, no,” says Waler, defeated. The first intruder’s foot falls once more. One more step and he will be ready to launch himself into Waler, if that is indeed his intention. Waler wants badly to slip back into meat time and try to dodge, but he is committed now. If he were to revert out of his slow-time, his reaction times are nowhere near good enough to actually get out of the way, and he’d be bowled over before he knew where the threat was.
“The combination of factors, that’s the thing,” intones Melvin, his voice lower now, less angry and more professorial. “Kamber vs. US clearly indicates an openness to combining factors when issuing pre-assault decisions on the use of defense force. You can—“
“Even in Kamber, one of the factors must be a confirmed weapon,” says the judicial A.I. It isn’t being sarcastic or dismissive, even though that is sometimes the effect. It’s merely applying the law in an evenhanded way, without allowing emotion to creep in. “You will not roll me on this, Counselor, the law is clear.
“So what is my client supposed to do, just sit there and get assaulted and beat to death because there’s no weapon to justify an intervention? How much pain does he have to let them inflict before he can defend himself, as is his god-given right?!”
“I acknowledged that this is a difficult and stressful situation for your client,” says the judicial A.I. “But his difficulty does not change what the law requires.”
The first intruder’s right hand had started rising a step ago, and now it rose past his face and over his head, forming a fist that seemed like a clear prelude to a punch.
In the doorway, the second intruder’s hand came back out of his jacket, and now Waler could see that it was holding a pistol.
“Gun, gun, gun!” Waler shouted with his mind. “One has a gun and the other is less than four tenths away from me with a balled up fist! If he’s not trying to assault me, I’ll go to jail for my mistake in judgment.”
“Your honor, he has only a couple of tenths in meat-time before it’s too late and he’s been assaulted,” says Melvin, much calmer now, clearly done trying to bluff his way into an all-go from the judicial A.I. It was the voice of a lawyer who knows he’s right on the merits. “We need a final decision, your honor, and no decision is a decision for the violent felons that broke into my client’s home.”
“Contingent upon the truth of your statements regarding one of the intruders in your home holding a weapon and the other’s body position being a clear indicator of violent intent, and by the powers vested in me by the United States Government and the Swift Justice Corporation, I hereby authorize you to activate your Skyguard and defend yourself. A document to that effect is now generated and will be forwarded to your attorney within the next four thousandths of a second, meat time. Counselor, please confirm receipt.”
“Document received! Go Waler, activate!”
The first intruder is swinging his arm forward now, within easy reach of Waler’s still-frozen body. The second intruder’s gun is starting to rise and point at Waler from across the room. Waler can see it glinting in the half-light of his bedroom. In another tenth of a second or two, it will be pointed at Waler’s head and ready to fire.
Waler is still connected to the group call with the A.I. and Melvin, but he reaches out with another part of his mind and gives the signal to the Skyguard A.I., to which he pays a gardener’s yearly salary every month for 24/7 access. The Skyguard A.I. connects directly to his implant, and within three ten-thousandths of a second it has received all the relevant information about the events of the last few seconds in Waler’s home.
Over a thousand miles almost directly above Waler’s head, a satellite is in a stable and synchronous orbit with the town Waler lives in. There are thousands of such satellites covering the entire first world, at least anywhere rich people live.
Upon receiving the activation signal from Waler’s implant, tiny gimbals inside its inner workings make micro-adjustments to the satellite’s angle relative to earth, lining up its laser cannons directly with Waler’s bedroom.
Below in the bedroom, the first intruder’s fist is on its way forward towards Waler’s face. Waler still has not so much as flinched. Across the bedroom, the second intruder’s gun arm reachers its final intended position, parallel to the floor, pointed directly at Waler.
In space, the satellite activates two of its laser cannons, and emits two laser beams at light speed directly down towards the earth. The beams travel at 186,000 miles per second, and this make the trip to Waler’s bedroom in 1/186th of a second, barely enough time for the intruders’ fists and trigger fingers to make any progress at all.
The twin laser beams punch down through Waler’s very expensive cathedral-style ceiling in his bedroom. The hole each actually leaves is less than the size of a golf ball, although each sets the surrounding building material on fire, and by the time it gets put out, the holes are closer to basketball size.
One of the beams punches directly through the top of the head of each of the intruders, continuing down through their brain stems and killing them instantly. Because the spinal nerves are vaporized so completely, they do not even have the ability to spasm or take other dying motions, so there’s no chance that the second intruder will squeeze the trigger of his gun. Instead, it drops from suddenly inanimate fingers, just as the first intruder drops in a heap, only momentum carrying him gently into Waler’s legs, sending Waler backwards to sit down on the bed.
Waler’s consciousness, still held in 1000x slow time, has enough lag in his perception that he can see the light go out of their eyes. He cannot hear the sizzling of their brain stems frying, and he cannot smell the horrible small that issues from their smoking carcasses, but he can watch it happen, and it horrifies him.
“Waler, are you there?” The high pitch is back in Melvin’s voice. He seems genuinely worried. “Did we get it in time?”
“Yes,” says Waler. Slow time seems impossible slow to him now. The surge of adrenaline that is coming for him hasn’t even hit yet, but somehow he already can’t think straight. “I’m all right. Skyguard to the rescue.”
“Thank you for your cooperation, Mr. Wiggins,” says the judicial A.I. “Your lack of culpability has been registered with the proper authorities. The coroner bots will speak with your household staff about removing the bodies at your earliest convenience. We will now disconnect and turn our attention to other cases. Have a good night.”
“Thank you, you too,” says Waler, before remembering that he is talking to an A.I. that will not have any kind of night at all, nor a day the next day. It will just do this job, over and over and over, helping people like him avoid getting thrown in jail.”
“Glad you’re okay, Waler,” says Melvin. “I’ll send you a bill for tonight’s services. Now I’m going back to bed, I have court in the morning. Good night.”
Both his attorney and the A.I. slip from Waler’s consciousness and are gone. Waler is alone again. He slips out of slow time and back into meat time, suddenly filled with the desire to be truly alone, without even the mediation of his implant.
The moment he does, he can smell them, can smell their burnt flesh, can hear the wind whistling across the two open holes in his roof, can feel the flood of adrenaline filling him and making each moment of meat time seem to last an hour anyway.
A sound and motion at the door makes Waler jump. He reactivates his implant and enters 1000x time, in case he needs to call on Skyguard again. However, what slowly pokes through the door, a quarter inch at a time, is his cleaning robot. It goes to the corpse of the second intruder, by the door, and starts scanning it to decide the best way to restore the bedroom back to pristine perfection.
In the other room, Waler’s three-D printer kicks on. It dispatches a scanner drone to inspect the holes in the roof, so that it can print multi-material plugs that a repair bot will then sister into the house, repairing the roofing, framing, insulation, and cathedral-style coffered ceiling panels all at once.
And Waler, a vestigial being to the surrounding efficiency and a helpless beneficiary of impersonal violence, just sits on his bed, shaking, and begins to cry.
END
Thanks as always for reading! If you enjoyed this post, please help me out by liking and commenting, and/or sharing with others. Have a great week and I’ll be back next Sunday with something fun.
very cool!
Wow. It took a couple readings for me to fully grasp the different time concepts running through the story. Where do you get these ideas?