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Obstacles

By Greyhound1211

He didn't know how long it took for the legal counsel in the department to draw up the NDAs. Long enough that he feared a leak simply because of the fact that humans had to draw up said NDAs before they could be signed. Nothing was leaked. The PB's lawyers signed it first, not a single one of them giving even a centimeter of pushback. Chief Andre Bonn never had problems with men like them. They had a much more intimate understanding of the legal system and how it could grind them into dust should they find themselves on its shit list.

The recruits he picked, however, were less keen. Not in that they distrusted him, the head of the very department they were training to work for. More so in that when handed a packet of papers likely thicker than some of their coursework, some of them understandably became very concerned. He only needed a handful to agree to it, however, so those who chose not to sign the NDA and withdraw from consideration were not punished in any way.

The NDA was very clear about not disclosing what one witnessed, but made quite certain not to mention what exactly was going to be on display.

Twelve, then. Ultimately, twelve police recruits agreed to it, signing the paperwork witnessed by a lawyer, having it notarized forthwith, and being told when to show up and where. The PB's rural academy grounds on a Sunday morning, the first Sunday in September. Then Bonn made the phone call to Mr. Hess to let him know about his plans and that he had a willing audience who knew the consequences of loose lips.

The experiment would be simple, truly. The participants would be required to fill out a questionnaire given by his own secretary, Lieutenant Patricia Rossman, before ever entering the grounds. These questions would cover their opinions, beliefs, and suggestions regarding several 'what if' questions. Once that was done, they would be taken and compiled to give a baseline of opinions. Then they would be prepped about what they would see. That they're testing some highly advanced equipment and need untainted eyes to give honest feedback.

Wulf would be introduced less intimately, dressed in concealing clothes. He would approach and at a distance of about thirty feet, would reveal his face. He would state who and what he was and the reactions of the students would be recorded by several prepped observers within the building whom Bonn himself would accompany to not taint the recruit's honest reactions. The recruits would be unaware of this. They would be required to hold any and all words until after the demonstration.

Wulf would be commanded to complete an obstacle course in full view of the recruits, an obstacle course that they are likely intimately familiar with and no doubt hold a certain level of resentment towards. He would, Bonn believed, complete the obstacle course under two minutes. The course record was five minutes and twenty two seconds. Then Wulf would return to the position he stood at as the recruits appraised him.

The observers would note their reactions and Pat would allow questions to be answered either by herself or Wulf. What happens now was an unknown element. Bonn's guess would be a majority would be afraid or intimidated, others would find Wulf too inhuman and thus untrustworthy. Some, he hoped, would at least be swayed by his performance, but the foibles of youth will likely prevail. The recruits would finally be thanked for their time and presented with an exit questionnaire with more direct prompts that he worded himself.

Wulf was prepped, then, over the interlude. Hess was rather aware that if the recruits were too terrified or thought that Wulf could never operate in public, all the money and time they invested would likely be wasted until he found a security contract. Or a military one, but then, he knew, he would run afoul of more international laws than he wished to acknowledge. The use of AI in open warfare was illegal. Only the dictatorships in what remained of Russia, in China, and throughout the less stable portions of Asia, Africa, and Latin America, were they even tolerated.

Maybe the US. They'd faced a significant swell in socialist influence in the past twenty years but Hess was keenly aware of how easily manipulated the American electorate was. Put on the right show on the right television channels and they'd line up to pet him and shake his hand like ignorant children. Either way, he didn't want the headache. He'd took pains to avoid letting the military industrial complex invest in or learn details of the project as even the suggestion of impropriety would bring Brussels down upon him. He didn't want that.

Somehow domestic security and private security didn't fall into these legal restrictions. Somehow. And there were more than enough corporations that could use him as a high level enforcer, bodyguard, and, if he was honest, offensive unit against their opponents. Corporations had yet to reach the power they wielded in dystopian fiction of the 1980s – the cyberpunk era – enough to war with one another, but damn if they weren't close. So, for now, this was kosher…

All they needed to do was make Wulf work.

—

“The answers they gave are… heartening, to be generous," Bonn said as he stood with Patricia in the upper hallway, reviewing the questions with her, glancing over the papers as she looked on. “Most answered that they found domestic and commercial robotics to be at worst annoying or frustrating when they had to deal with them on a down day. The moment that robot was made more humanlike and put in a uniform, that opinion spiraled. The recruits almost unanimously stated arming a robot and giving it legal authority to hurt or kill was unconscionable."

“Did you expect something different, Andre?" the skunk asked, looking over her half-moon glasses. Patricia always did have a way of making him seem like her child, even if she was ten years his junior. “They were raised on terrifying movies, television shows, video games, comic books, you name it with killer androids and rogue AIs. The moment you put a gun in its hand…"

She clucked her tongue. Chief Bonn flipped the packet closed with a heavy sigh. She was right. This was a waiting disaster, he just knew it. And when it was, he'd make Hess mothball Wulf if not dismantle him. Yes, he came to the Mayor of Berlin and his influential family with this request. Yes, it was his idea. But now he wasn't so sure he thought it through.

“Then let's just get this over with," he stated and offered Pat the manila folder. “Message me when they're ready and I'll inform the tech downstairs to send Wulf out. I'll wait, then. Even if you think the reactions are too negative, wait for us to make a decision and call you to scupper the test. If not, proceed with it. If he does make the run, keep the questions—"

“Away from the logical conclusion, I know," she interjected and touched his shoulder. “I know how to handle a bunch of twenty-somethings, Andre. I used to be a teacher."

He scoffed and shook his head at the whole thing. She was more confident. Then again, she understood young people far better than he claimed to.

“Good luck, then," he concluded.

“It won't be me that needs it, Andre," she said. “I'll message you with the go signal and then wait for the go ahead once he's been introduced. Ok?"

With a nod, the two split. Andre entered the room where three lawyers – one of whom also worked as counsel to hospitals and doctors and was intimately familiar with psychology and one of which came to them from the BND. 'The Black Bar,' as he referred to it, or, the 'I can't discuss that, it's a state secret.' He went to a chair by one of the windows and sat down. Below, at the top of the patio steps leading down onto the wide field behind the main building where the obstacle course was spread out in hairpin-turns over several acres, the twelve recruits stood in day clothes, civilian clothes. They chatted with one another casually.

A minute or so later he saw Patricia appear on the patio. The students turned to her and some saluted. Patricia was in uniform, but she wasn't really a commanding officer, though she outranked them.

“We're here on unofficial business," she assured him all, waving her hands dismissively. She looked to their bright faces and gave her best high school teacher smile. “So we don't need any formalities. Since a lot of this isn't technically happening anyways, it wouldn't matter anyways, would it?"

A few chuckles here or there seemed to disarm the tension which hung in the air. She clasped her hands together.

“In a moment, once I make a call, you will be introduced to technology that the department is considering integrating into its everyday service," she explained with a nod and a glance about. “I know some of you will have questions, but I request that you keep them to yourself until prompted. Understood?"

“Yes, ma'am," a few of the recruits said.

Others just nodded, tight-lipped.

“Very good," Patricia continued. “I also please ask you to regulate your reactions. And know that if for any reason you do not believe you can stay, you may withdraw at any time. You will, however, be held to the NDA you signed. This is legally very sensitive and if anything were to get out, I fear losing your job would be the tip of the iceberg."

One recruit, a fox, nodded while the rest simply stared, tight-lipped, right through her in imagining what would happen.

“Then, please, turn and wait." They did as instructed and she strode to the side to see as well, smirking. She drew her phone out and said, “Send the go ahead, darling."

“Roger," Bonn answered and then ended the call to open a new one. “Hal, it's your turn. If everything's still kosher down there, send him out."

“Everything is in order, Chief Bonn," the technician on the other end said in his starchiest, most official-sounding voice. He must've been Bundeswehr. “Sending him out now. Stand by."

Andre didn't stand by, he ended the call there and then. He and the observers leaned forward and waited. A moment later, they saw the students stiffen as Wulf appeared. Patricia saw it, too, and hid her apprehension well. She'd been prepped but this was the first time she was seeing it. Bonn said 'him,' she thought. But she didn't know if that was accurate.

Diagonally, from the western wing of the building, Wulf emerged. It was dressed in heavy boots; long, cargo pants; and a heavy jacket with a hood that it currently used to conceal its head. It kept its hands in the pockets on it and walked with its gaze down. Some of the students leaned forward, confused. Some looked behind him as if expecting a tank to come around the corner or something of that nature.

Wulf approached, its boots sinking into the sodden grass. Then, it stopped its approach twenty feet from the bottom of the stairs, and twenty feet further to the top of them where the test subjects watched. It then lifted its gaze up and drew its hand out. In one swift motion, it dropped the hood back and scanned the recruits from one side the other.

“Good morning," it stated, causing a few recruits to blink in surprise, “I am Wulf, known as XT-021-PRT, and I am a cutting edge android."

Patricia could feel the tension in the air, taut enough to cut it with a knife. No one gasped or stepped back or anything of the sort. She scanned their faces, however, and found they were surprised. She didn't know if they believed what they saw. After a few seconds, Wulf lowered its gaze and looked to the ground off to the side and shuffled slightly in its boots. In a weird way, that relieved some of the tension.

Pat looked up to the window and nodded. She couldn't see Bonn nod back but knew that without his word otherwise, she was to proceed.

“Recruits, what you are looking at is the next generation of artificial intelligence," she stated, recalling to the best ability to speech bullet points she was given. “Its—uhh—his name is indeed Wulf. Yes, he is an android. And, no, he is nothing like the robots that ring you up at the department store, deliver packages, build items in a factory, or take your orders in a restaurant. We'll be asking Wulf here to make a demonstration of his capabilities and asking you to observe. Afterwards, you'll be given the chance to ask questions. Nod if you understand."

The recruits nodded. She turned to Wulf and nodded as well. The android did not respond with the 'Understood' line it was so accustomed to, but wordlessly turned and walked to the entrance to the obstacle course, hands thrust back into its jacket pockets. It entered a crouch and, seemingly responding to a command nobody could hear, rocketed forward and down the dirt lane.

The first aspects of the course were simple ones, with the course wide enough for six or seven recruits to make a run simultaneously. A simple balance beam over a shallow ditch Wulf flew across without even slowing down, bringing its legs in keep its step in line, and spreading its arms to balance it. The second was a steep ramp with foot and handholds. For Wulf, they were just footholds. It didn't need to ease down the other side, simply sliding on heel to the moist earth.

After this was a section strung with barbed wire that needed to be navigated by jumping from one safe spot to the next, which Wulf accomplished without losing any momentum. That momentum wavered as it had to throw itself prone and dive under a thick tangle of barbed wire at thigh-to-head height.

The recruits couldn't see it until it emerged on the other side, scarpered up into a run again and threw itself to the rope hanging over a deeper pit which a few of them had the seen the bottom of, multiple times. It seized the rope and swung itself across to the far bank. Doubling back, it was forced to navigate the same deep pit going the other way by way of a climbing frame, hands moving from bar to bar, its booted paws hanging stiffly beneath it until it swung free and landed on the ground.

A dirt climb, a slide down, a twisting crawl through tunnels, a long jump. Then the course hairpinned away. The first large wall was one recruits were meant to leap up and hoist themselves over. Wulf accomplished this at a run, almost using the wall like a pommel horse. The next wall had to be mounted by way of a thick webbing of hempen rope.

Patricia noted this was the only thing that truly slowed that machine down, forcing it to crawl up with hands and feet, its tail hoisted high and stiff. Yet still it was up and over, dropping the fifteen feet to the dirt and resuming its sprint. The next was another wall, meant to be climbed over like a rock climber. It threw himself up at it and in seconds surmounted it. Then it vanished behind, dropping down, until it appeared at the top moments later.

It threw itself into another crawl around the final hairpin turn and appeared again. The next section was likely the hardest. Patricia was old enough that this course wasn't one she recognized, but she remembered this bit. It was a large, wide, empty moat which had to be navigated by a webbing of disconnected rope netting. Some were strung horizontally, some vertically, and each had to be moved across and leapt to while in midair. Lose your balance halfway across? Fall fifteen feet and start again. She fell once and it hurt.

Her heart burned with envy as she watched Wulf leap to the first section and scamper across like a spider in its own web. Then it pushed off and grabbed the next section and moved using only its hands, its body dangling over the pit. It swung its legs forward and used the momentum to fly to the next section farthest to the left and then moved back and forth between it and the sections of netting set in alternating patterns of left-right-left. And then it was down and onto the last section.

Likely the most dreaded of obstacles for recruits, a climb over a 30' tall wall using an unknotted rope. Wulf, however, skipped half of it by crouching and launching itself halfway up the wall before seizing the rope. Then, swinging back and forth, it hoisted itself up to the top using only its hands, its lower body unmoving.

It reached the zenith, crested it, and then vanished down the other side. Then, within two seconds, it stepped out from the shadow of that high wall with its hands in the pockets of that loaned jacket. Having reached the end of the course, it leisurely walked around the perimeter and back to where it was positioned before it was commanded to make the run. It came to an awkward halt and looked at the group.

No joy, pleasure, exhaustion, pain, nothing was painted on its white face, now flecked with mud and grass from the course. Its clothes were similarly dirty, and yet that medical-white skin, furless, shone and its blue eyes burned brightly. She'd stood silently too long, Patricia realized, before clearing her throat.

“With Wulf's run now completed, recruits, I'll give you a second to process what you've seen," she stated and looked over to them. “Then…"

She saw their faces and choked her next words down. If they were uncertain before, that uncertainty has been washed away, and one of three emotions was plain on each of their face. Shock was the most common. It was what would be plain on hers had she not been prepped. When she was a girl, robots were little more than warehouse tools, expensive androids a toy for the elite. Then, as she grew, they replaced a lot of workers as UBI became common and got cheaper, more commonplace.

They were awkward, often stupid, easily confused, and glided in their movement, but didn't handle changes in that movement well. Now, the robots she engaged with on a daily basis were advanced, cute enough to not be uncanny, but most couldn't run without eventually tumbling over. She knew a lot of companies, Bernwerk included, made far more advanced units for high-Euro buyers. Mid-Euro buyers, now, she corrected herself. Those could do things as good if not somewhat better than the average human could. Maybe.

But nothing like this.

The second most common expression was a mixture of apprehension and fear, with some recruits having taken a step back or turned their face away from Wulf's interrogative stare. The last was amazement. She understood all of them. Perhaps one more than others.

“If you have any questions," she asked as she tore her mind free from its logjam, “just raise your—" Hands went up before she could even finish her sentence. “—hands…" She turned and glanced up at the window, holding the phone in her pocket. She checked it to make sure she'd not missed a message. Nothing. She nodded and turned back. “Yes, the palomino."

“What… what does the department intend to do with it, ma'am?" the horse asked, eyes looking to Wulf with concern.

Wulf, as Patricia looked to it, glanced to her and then looked to the ground a moment later.

“It—he…" She sighed and then cleared her throat. “Wulf is to replace our high risk units and would be responding to calls in which the likely loss of human life were high."

“It isn't going to take our jobs, is it?" another recruit asked without raising his hand, though it's likely what the follow-up question was going to be anyways.

“No," Patricia responded. “Wulf is not the police officer of the future in that way. None of you here would have to worry about being given a pink slip and told to live off your monthly UBI or find something else to do with your time."

A bit of relief flashed on a few faces. Hands went up again. She gestured to a red panda girl and hands were dropped. She looked to Patricia instead of Wulf.

“How many of it are there?" she asked.

“Just one," Patricia responded. “He is the cutting edge of modern artificial intelligence and robotics. A prototype. This is likely the first time he's been out of his facility."

“Are they going to make more?" was her follow-up question.

Patricia shook her head. “I don't know. Perhaps, if he tests well."

Hands again.

“Is he actually intelligent?" the next indicated recruit, a hare, asked, eyes wide. “Like, I've seen the bots at most stores, they're dumb as rocks. And I know someone who has one of Bernwerk's… ummm, well, I can't remember the name. I want to say Achilles or something like that. It's pretty smart, but, you can tell it's just repeating lines and stringing together things it's already been exposed to."

She looked to Wulf because she didn't know to answer that question. Wulf perked up suddenly and looked to the crowd.

“I am sentient, if I understand what you actually mean," it stated, his voice arguably handsome but still off-putting and uncanny. “Sapience is harder to prove, but I have the capacity to react to evolving situations as they change the same way a human can. If you indeed meant how smart I am, I am functionally a supercomputer when it comes to processing data. Cheaper models cannot hold a candle."

It fell silent and in that silence laid a heavy weight that dragged the group down.

“Can it hurt people?" a wolf asked, a man who looked quite like Wulf in a few ways, without asking permission and likely cutting through the bullshit to what everyone was thinking but unwilling to voice. “Can it kill people?"

“Yes," Wulf answered with little pause. “To both. My purpose is to resolve dangerous situations without the loss of human life, even those of criminals or other aggressors. But I am greenlit to harm people if necessary. I am allowed to kill in theory, if the death of an aggressor spares the life of a victim and there is no way to prevent that death without inflicting one, I can kill. Otherwise, I am required to intercede, using my own body as a shield if possible, in order to even avoid that death."

“Shit," Patricia thought rather loudly. “Shit, shit, shit."

The crowd fell deathly silent. A cat stepped back and turned away. She walked blithely, wide-eyed, across the porch and into the doorway leading into a hallway inside the main building without a word.

“Fuck," Bonn said. He didn't need his observers to let him know what just happened. “Jesus fucking Christ. Fuck! Pat, why did you—?"

The steer leaned forward, tips of his horns touching the glass, and stared at that demandable machine. It was going well for a moment there. The recruits were impressed with it, they envied it, they admired it! And then it opened its mouth and said it could kill people! And Pat couldn't stop it…

“Even if it's true, you don't say it out loud!" Bonn voiced the last part of that thought and then leaned back.

He squeezed the bridge of his muzzle and stewed. On one hand, he did want to throw Wulf under the proverbial bus. If only to end this farce. On the other, Wulf would be invaluable. He hated that Hess was right. With Wulf, his officers would never need to run into gunfire ever again. At least in theory. So part of him wanted it to work, to be respected if liked weren't possible.

On the ground, Patricia didn't know what to do. She figured this was game, set, and match. Collect the balls and go home. But the wolf who asked that question didn't look away. He didn't seem offended or upset by the answer at all. Some of the other students weren't either and the way Wulf looked up at them, it was like they understood the score.

“Do you value life?" the wolf asked.

“I'm programmed to," it stated. “But that would not be an honest answer."

“Do you believe anything at all?"

“I believe what I am instructed to believe," it said. “I have rules that I cannot break, of course. But I have no opinions or core beliefs. I would sacrifice myself for the life of a person without much thought as I can easily be replaced while a living human cannot. But I do this because I was told I must. But you are not asking me that."

“No," the wolf replied. “I'm not. So you're just a tool?"

“A force multiplier," Wulf concurred with a shallow nod. “A highly advanced tool that exists to spare humans from dangerous situations if possible."

They both lapsed into silence, living wolf and artificial wolf staring each other down. Then the furred one nodded with understanding and looked away, satisfied. Patricia didn't know what to expect after that.

“Other… questions?" she asked but this time no hands shot up or even hesitated. Wulf looked to the ground once more. “Good. You may return to the lobby you were met at. You'll be presented an exit questionnaire. If you have any questions that you wish to ask in private or would be more theoretical, there's a section in the questionnaire for them. Thank you for time."

She gestured past them and a few turned instantly and started moving. Others lingered. That wolf, the fox girl, a lithe cheetah boy, and that palomino. Though, the horse turned away and followed once most of the group had. The three then departed reluctantly, with the wolf leaving last, hands stuck down into the pockets of his light jacket. He looked to her and she wondered what he was thinking. She then saw his curled tail. Maybe he was a husky instead. Or a mix.

Oh, what's it matter?

“Do you know where to go, Wulf?" she then asked it.

Wulf looked to her and nodded.

“Thank you, ma'am."

It turned and loped back over to where it had appeared. Patricia was left alone on the patio. She heaved a sigh and swore, “Fuck."

—

The results from the exit questionnaire were not optimistic. Most respondents stated that they were impressed with Wulf's performance, but didn't want to be anywhere near it. Especially once it was asked whether it could hurt or kill people by itself. The exceptions to that were a few students who found it fascinating. They admitted it was still uncanny and frightened them, but they weren't put off enough. That wolfdog – he was half husky – was among them, despite posing that sensitive question.

They were in the minority, however, that wolfdog even rarer in that he wanted to see Wulf again and asked if he could.

Strangely, even those who were afraid or unsure of Wulf, they asked questions about how it was designed, how it thought, if it had any complex emotions or the capacity to gain them, how it felt and observed the world, if it had any observations on people yet. Even if they didn't want to see Wulf again, they asked if the questions could be answered because they were interested anyways. Bonn took solace in these responses. They did line up with what the observers deduced. Apprehension supplanted by excitement before being crushed by fear or concern.

He sat in his office and rapped his fingers on his desk. What to do? Was this as far as this expensive experiment went? He sat back in his high-backed chair and pondered. His desk phone rang and he leaned forward to check the name and number. He then accepted the call, only taking it via audio and not video as well.

“I'm assuming you finished reviewing the results?" he asked Mr. Hess.

“I did," the elk responded, voice gently rising.

“Not great."

“Not bad, either," Mr. Hess parried gently. “You knew it was going to go over like a lead balloon. But, it's better that you witnessed a test flight. You can learn how to lighten the load and try again."

Why try again, he thought.

“You're not giving up, are you?"

“I would be a fool to flush my life's ambition, Chief Bonn."

The steer couldn't argue with that. He wanted to, though. Yet at the same time he didn't.

“Did you hear from Schulz?" the steer asked.

“Yes," Hess replied and exhaled slowly. “He is, as always, perpetually optimistic. He wants another test, this time in the line of fire."

“Why?" Bonn, frustrated, asked, splaying his fingers to a man who couldn't see him. “We have two results showing that Wulf's performance isn't the problem."

“No, but his perceived value is," Hess argued gently. “Think of Wulf like medicine. It tastes bad, it looks awful, and it burns all the way down. But then you feel better in the morning. We are the adults, Chief Bonn, and the public are the uncooperative children afraid of what's good for them."

Bonn's jaw set at that comparison, but he couldn't vehemently disagree. In no small part, he agreed. He rapped his fingers against his desk again and again and again.

“So you want Wulf to perform an actual mission, show the children how good the medicine is even if it's scary, hmm?"

“Yes."

Bonn waited for Hess to elaborate, but the elk didn't. He remained mum, his point made. Bonn glanced about his office, dark and quiet as nightfall approached. His chair creaked as he sat forward and he typed into his computer to bring up a few records. The files on Fourneir and LeLande came up. Peaks still had that case and was doing his best to nail them to the wall. That cougar wouldn't let that drop until he had blood.

Hess sat back in the couch in his sitting room overlooking the city from his high-rise apartment. He smiled because he knew exactly what the steer was thinking and doing. He smirked at the phone he kept on the leg he folded over the opposite knee. His Audemars Piguet watch ticked over 60 seconds since he posed that idea. He turned its skeletal face away again.

“So when should I have Wulf ready and where should I take him?" he asked, leaning over the phone as he sat forward.

Bonn watched as a file he was looking for came up, on the Bratva, on local contacts. He would have to cross a lot of 't's and dot a lot of 'I's, and get the sign off of a judge in the lead up to an operation like this.

“And," Hess appended a second later, “how would you like to show the children how good their medicine is?"