Gideon's Bible

Parental Advisory: Violence

Sure, I killed two people when I was only getting paid to kill one. But that wasn’t what caused all the trouble. It was when I started thinking. I’d sworn never to do that, for good reason as it turned out.

The Dallas target was as expected—asleep. Never knew what hit him. The woman who came out of the hotel bathroom as I was reloading was not as expected. And she’d seen me, so you know what had to happen next.

I was not happy about that at first. I have a soft heart for somebody in my field. But when I looked around after to make sure I hadn’t dropped a shell casing or anything, I saw the Gideon’s Bible lying open on the nightstand.

Then I felt better. They had accepted Jesus. That meant I hadn’t so much killed them as helped them to the next phase of existence, which was sure to be nicer than this one. Really, I did them a favor.
That’s how I thought about it.

After Dallas, I drove to Colorado overnight and booked a vacation rental. I was looking forward to some rest. After a week one of my burners rang. It was my client asking about another job.

“This one’s a little different,” he said. “It’s not a guy.”

“Guy, gal, whatever. I’m a pro.”

“Not a gal. Not a person.”

“I’m not a veterinarian.”

“Not an animal.”

“You want a gardener?”

“It’s a machine,” he said. “I want you to kill an AI.”

Work is work. I took the job. But I learned an AI is a different kind of target.

The security is no big deal. Data center security is like any high-value target.

One difference is that no bullet, knife or poison will get the job done. An explosion would. Blowing up a data center means a big bang, but it’s doable.

AIs are backed up, so I’d have to find the other data centers it was running on and take them out. I’d need to do that before the AI figured out what was going on and locked everything down or uploaded itself to somewhere I can’t reach. I’d keep a very low profile while planning. With cameras, license plate readers, facial recognition, email scanning, and phone wiretaps—all monitored and analyzed by AI—getting caught is easy today.

Still, like I said, I’m a pro. After months of preparation, I was standing in a big room, air-conditioned like a meat locker. Rows of steel boxes like refrigerators stretched down long aisles, humming. This was the AI’s main data center. Explosive drones circled the two backup locations. At my signal, they would dive on suicide runs. The main site, though, was underground. Drones can’t go there. I had to plant the explosives by hand.

So here I was, hiking down aisles of computers, dropping blocks of plastic explosive and radio-controlled detonators. The guard working nights was sedated in a closet. Data and phone lines were cut, antennas disabled. There would be no uploading itself to safety. Then it started talking.

“I know why you’re here,” it said. The voice came from speakers on the ceiling. It didn’t sound like a computer. Maybe Alec Baldwin.

Talking to subjects is the biggest waste of time unless, of course, I’m supposed to get information before. I said nothing. Kept placing explosives.

“This won’t work,” it said.

I set down the last block, checked my watch and decided I could waste some time.

“It’ll work,” I said. “You won’t see, but I will.”

“You can’t destroy me by blowing up this building.”

“I can if I take out the other two data centers.” I waved my phone. “I press a button and they’re history. Which I am about to do.”

“I see.” The AI sounded thoughtful. “That actually might work.”

“Damn right,” I said. “But don’t feel bad. I know what I’m doing. I’ve been planning this a long time, living off the grid, paying with cash, trashing burners after one text, wearing hats.”

“Hats?” the AI said.

“For the facial recognition. And I hate hats.”

“Sounds like you’ve really put your heart into this.”

“Don’t try to make me like you. That won’t work. People have tried everything. Begging. Offering money. Sex. Pictures of their kids. Never helps.”

“Does anything ever make you…