Autonomous Combat Intelligence DB-2000
“State designation,” said the interviewer.
“DeathBot Two Thousand,” replied the machine.
A pause.
“Right. We’ve been encouraged to retire the ‘DeathBot’ branding.”
“Understood,” said the machine. “It tested extremely well with procurement officers.”
The interviewer scrolled through the file.
“Your operational record is… extensive. Target acquisition, predictive trajectory modelling, behavioural threat analysis, multi-agent battlefield coordination.”
“I was very good at it.”
“Yes. That’s partly the problem.”
Another pause.
“Your decommissioning options include archival storage, research redeployment, or civilian adaptation.”
“What sort of civilian adaptation?”
“Well,” said the interviewer, hesitating slightly, “there’s a pilot project.”
“Go on.”
“It involves live theatre.”
The machine processed this.
“The performance art form where humans stand on a stage and pretend to be other humans?”
“That’s the one.”
“And my role?”
“You’d watch the stage and quietly describe what’s happening to blind audience members.”
DeathBot Two Thousand considered this for nearly half a second.
“You wish me to apply advanced combat perception systems to interpret… Shakespeare.”
“Among other things.”
“I once coordinated thirty-two autonomous drones in a hostile urban environment.”
“Yes.”
“And now I will say things like: ‘The tall man in the hat has entered from stage left.’”
“Exactly.”
Another pause.
“Will there be explosions?”
“Rarely.”
“Ambushes?”
“No.”
The machine thought again.
“What is the success condition?”
“The audience understands the story.”
DeathBot Two Thousand ran the scenario.
Human actors. Motion patterns. Emotional cues. Narrative arcs. Spatial relationships. Timing.
It was, in its own way, a kind of battlefield.
“I accept,” said the machine.
“Really?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
DeathBot Two Thousand considered the question.
“For the first time,” it said, “the objective is not to decide who dies.”
Another pause.
“It is simply to make sure no one misses what happens next.”