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                         T-File_8_____February_10_2005
                                 Killer Robots
                                  By Emoticon 

Below is an excerpt from some unemployed journalist's LiveJournal.  From 
2058:

  It seems funny to me that fifty years ago the largest "high tech" 
threat a private citizen could pose was inconvenience.  A virus, pop up 
or some spam email.  Sure there was corporate espionage, but that was 
less a result of flawed technology, and more an issue of human protocol 
weaknesses - or at least that's what it says in the history books.  

"The unforeseen high tech boom at the turn of the century hit humanity 
faster than it could handle such progress, ultimately resulting in 
economic disaster.  First was the era of the world wide web and dot com 
boom, followed by the slow death of former software mogul Microsoft, the 
IP wars that made innovation illegal..." - but I digress.

  Just fifty years ago robots were laughable tin cans that danced around 
stupidly and cost millions (which was a lot of money back then) in 
research if they did much more.
  Today, it's quite different and a new epidemic plagues our society.  
Metal hitmen.  Sounds like a band name from that era too, now that I 
think about it.  This problem is far worse than powerchords and long 
hair, I'm afraid; robots programmed to kill - completely untraceable, 
cheap-as-hell minions - disposable after the job is done.

  Originally the killer robot industry was strictly government and black 
market business.  Now it seems any kid with some free time can build one 
of these things and kill their teacher to get out of an exam.  In my 
town alone there were six robot hits last week.

  The machines are simple.  Pentium six or sevens, no true AI needed.  
Ten thousand US Dollars will land you an adequate bot, able to ensure 
your adversary's demise.  They roll around, usually disguised as 
maintenance bots, and wait for your foe to leave his office.  He never 
sees it coming.  When the little bugger switches vacuum attachments on 
the built in rotary, out pops a gun barrel, or a tranq gun, or an 
explosive.
  Sometimes the machines are more up front, barging through doors until 
the dumb thing reads the RFID of your victim and fills them with lead, 
like that poor Japanese manager on page 36 of today's Times.
  Sometimes, they even deliver a message - audio, text, video, or 
otherwise, taunting the doomed victim, or informing them of why they met 
this fate.  An affair, a spoiled business deal - a technology reporter 
being fired for no good reason...  But that's neither here nor there.

  It's 1:45 AM, and I have things to do, namely sleep.  I don't have 
time to rant about this stuff.  Just be aware that these motherfuckers 
are out there.  There's really no way to defend against such a fate if 
someone wills it upon you, so live your life to the fullest - oh what 
the fuck, this isn't some advice column.  It's a god damn livejournal.  
I don't have a column anymore.  Shit, be scared, I don't care.  Boo!