Wraith No More, Ch4

I suppose that I… “owe” it to you to start from the beginning. As I said before, my designation is WRAITH Unit Zero-Four-Two-Zero. I am only one of many WRAITH units operating within the WRAITH program. WRAITH is a recursive acronym, meaning WRAITHs are Reconnaissance and Assassination-oriented Intelligent Tactical Humanoids.
The WRAITH program does not officially exist – there are no records of our activities in any major government or military facility, and those few that do exist are tightly controlled with self-destruct functions. This way, in the off-chance that any of us are captured, the evidence can be instantly destroyed – regardless of the circumstances, our government can and will deny our existence. The majority of the information is known only by the leaders of the program, whose identities are kept strictly confidential. I doubt even my handlers know who they report to.
We WRAITHs are never told anything more about our missions than the objectives, and even that is not until we are on location. We operate missions alone under full stealth, killing any and all witnesses. The only “team” we have is a single person in a remote location, whom we know only as REM – Remote Eyes/Ears and Mind. There is one REM per each WRAITH, though the person acting as REM may change from mission to mission. Their responsibility is to feed us tactical information and suggestions over the communicator link. Because we know nothing about our REM – or about any of our superiors, actually – we cannot divulge any sensitive information if captured.
Of course, we simply do not get captured, so it is rather a moot point.
Anyway, as its name clearly explains, our purpose as WRAITHs is to quickly and quietly gain tactical information within the country or without, as well as to suppress potential opposition or other problems. Because we do not exist, our actions can never be traced back to our government, and so are usually blamed on small resistance cells. Furthermore, because we do not use firearms whose spent shells may have identifying characteristics and because we do not leave witnesses, it is impossible for any of us to ever be identified.
You may know that it is currently impossible to acquire a non-identification-tagged firearm. However, the creation of sharp swords is not monitored by any government agency, and there is nothing intrinsic about a stab wound that can be traced to a specific weapon. It is for this reason that I am programmed with a high level mastery of hand-to-hand and sword combat.
Now that I have finished the history lesson, I can move on and tell you my story.
The day we met, I was assigned to assassinate the Chief of Police, Kenji Yamato.
Yes, our assignments include those within our own boundaries, if the government sees necessary.
You are surprised. I suspect that you are wondering why you heard about his death only recently, instead of weeks ago when you first saw me. That is because I failed, and another unit had to be sent in. They did not do as good a job as I would have – though it was supposed to look like a suicide, it is now quite a scandal and a full investigation is underway. Political officials are discussing an increase in anti-terrorism groups and the need to combat them… it is a mess.
…Why, of course the political officials do not know about us. If they knew how we protect the country, they would want to be a part of the process, and according to my programmed knowledge, politicians only slow things down – our efficiency would greatly decrease if they interfered. Furthermore, it would be a breach of the strict security our unit requires; remember, we do not exist. We cannot exist, for there would be no meaning to our unit if we did.
Now, do not interrupt me.
Why did I fail? In my eight years since creation, I have not failed once, so why now? This is the problem I face. When I gained entry to Kenji Yamato’s office, I immediately suppressed him and took hold of his firearm. However, when I placed the weapon to his temple, I happened to look closely at his face. This is nothing unusual; it is natural to look at a person you are about to kill, even if accidentally. However, something very unexpected happened.
I recognized him!
From some deep, distant memory, I remembered his face, but it was not the same face I saw before me. That face which I remembered was wearing what might be identified as a warm smile, something which I certainly did not witness in my brief time in the man’s office. Furthermore, the clarity of the mental image was uncharacteristically weak, and I could not recall any information relevant to that image from my memory banks.
It was as though the image was planted in my mind without me experiencing it. At the very least, I should have been able to recall the date or location on which I recorded that image, but there was nothing. Alternatively, perhaps the memory had been erased, but not sufficiently, not completely. If he had worn a “warm” smile in this memory, then perhaps the mission was to protect him. If so, why was the mission erased from my memory?
I could not recall experiencing any similarly partially-erased memories, so either this was the only one and the process was ineffective, or this was the only one that failed out of many. In either case, what was the purpose in erasing only one mission out of many? I could definitely remember innumerable other missions; why not erase those as well?
The worst part, however, was that while his face carried the expected traits related to the emotion “horror,” it also carried visible traits related to “recognition.”
Certainly, or so I thought at least, until I arrived at that building, I had not even heard the name “Kenji Yamato.” Aside from the weak image I mentioned, I could recall no references relevant to Kenji Yamato from my memory database – that faded image was not even specifically identified as “Kenji Yamato,” but the similarity was unmistakable. Furthermore, I have had no previous assignments related to him on record, either. So, I have concluded that it is impossible that he knew me, or that I knew him.
And yet, impossibly, he recognized me, and I recognized him.
This obvious paradox made me experience… something – some strange thing which I have never experienced, and which matched none of the symptoms for problem states that I am programmed to understand and deal with – In other words, I could not identify it as a malfunction of any type.
I suddenly felt the need to flee, to abandon my mission and hide. This sort of cowardliness should not be within my programming, yet that is what I felt.
Yes, if you wish to think it so, you may say that I felt “fear.” Certainly, the symptoms I experienced matched the description of “fear.”
But, to an android such as myself, emotions do not exist. I do not feel fear, nor can I be troubled by anything, even by taking a life. I do not “feel” anything at all! Yet, I felt fear, and at that moment, I could not take Kenji Yamato’s life.
In that moment as I hesitated, my grip must have slackened, as Kenji Yamato managed to retrieve his sidearm and used it to shoot me in the arm. The resulting alarm brought four guards into the room, all bearing low caliber semi-automatic firearms.
As they began to fire their weapons at me, instead of suppressing them as I should have, I leapt through the glass window behind Kenji Yamato’s desk, and escaped along the rooftops. My last glimpse of Kenji Yamato revealed that he wore an expression inappropriate to one who has survived a murder attempt – It was more appropriate to one burying a favorite pet.
In that battle, I sustained numerous damages beyond the simple physical injuries to my external structure. First, my communications circuit was damaged, so I was unable to contact my REM; my Light Bending Field Generator, or LiBFiG – this cloak I wear which can render me invisible when working properly – was damaged, as I inadvertently demonstrated to you. I suppose I need not go through everything, but those were the highest priority damages. While external, structural damage can be repaired by my internal systems, electronics such as the communications circuit cannot. This is what led me to require your assistance.
Something else was damaged, however, which even now I cannot identify. Despite the maintenance I received upon returning to base, I still… “feel” things, on occasion. When I was handed my working LiBFiG – okay, I shall call it a “cloak” if you must act that way – when I was handed my working “cloak,” I felt an inexplicable warmth which was not related to my internal temperature. When reprimanded for failing my mission, I felt an odd sensation in my abdomen which I cannot yet classify.
Above that, however, I now think about my actions – I would like to place the blame for this on you. Of course, I pay these “thoughts” no attention, but, for example, if I am about to behead someone, I wonder if I should feel regret at the action – I wonder if it is “right.” If I need to wash the blood from my external structure, I wonder if I am being “modest.”
I should not wonder! I should not think! These are not concerns of a military android! Yet, I can wonder, and I do think. Why is this so? And, why did I recognize someone whom I cannot possibly have seen before? Malfunction was, of course, the only logical explanation, and I accepted this. Yet, even if I were malfunctioning, there must have been some feature in my programming which allowed all of these strange things to occur in the first place. Why would a military android be programmed to experience emotion? Why would I be able to be curious about such things in the first place?
It is to answer these questions that I came to you today, Riley Madison. When I asked my handlers these questions, I was told that I was malfunctioning and put into sleep mode for maintenance.
I woke up eight days ago remembering nothing, and was given another assignment in enemy territory. During the course of that mission, I got cut off from my REM, and consequently received no warning about the artillery strikes in my area. While I received no serious injury as a result of the shelling, there were three shells which I only barely avoided. That proximity to high explosives resulted in physical trauma which must have damaged one or more of my circuits.
As I am speaking to you now of these events, it is clear that I have recovered these particular memories. This, however, is simply one more thing which cannot be possible. If the memory was wiped during maintenance as per regulations, these memories should only exist in my handler’s minds, and then only if they reviewed them.
Yet, here they are.
I have concluded that I will not receive a satisfactory result if I seek explanations from my handlers through the normal channels, so I must search for answers on my own. However, even I will have trouble acting without transportation and without some assistance.
You, Riley Madison, are the only thing – human or android – outside the WRAITH program that I have had contact with and which is still alive. While the probability that you will betray me or otherwise not meet my needs is approximately 76.47 percent, that probability is still significantly lower than for any other human I know of. Coincidentally, I have no acquaintance with my fellow WRAITH soldiers, and they would surely look down on my malfunctioning and not offer assistance anyway.
That is the full explanation for why I have come to you for help. Before we start, we must gather some materials so that you can act as my REM, and we must do so quickly before the return deadline passes. When I am not back before that deadline, they will begin a search to retrieve me, assuming I am injured, which will certainly interfere with my plans. Furthermore, if they have not located me one week from that, they will presume me to have gone rogue, at which point things will get particularly troublesome.
Now, let us go! You have already stalled longer than I planned for.