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"Captain, I need you to get started on the blood donation."  Staff Sergeant Willis snapped everyone out of their reverent stupor.

"That's right, Doc.  Yeah, let's get going here."

Howard walked over to the company medic.  "Staff Sergeant Willis, whatever you need from Hal, just say the word.  He can hear you.  He can provide a real time 3-D internal holographic image of this man's injury."

"Uh, wow.  Okay.  Hal, I need to see his gastrointestinal perforation.  And, uh...any suggestions on how to proceed, if you can do that."

The projectors in the ceiling beamed a holographic image of the inside of the injured man's abdomen.  The perforated intestine was clearly visible, as was the resulting hemorrhage.

"Holy shitballs, that's cool."  PFC Boone was seated next to the table getting his blood drawn.

Hal addressed the nervous medic.  "As you can see, the damage is quite extensive.  You can supplement your instruments with tools from the workbench if you require anything else.   I trust that you have sterile equipment to open him up and close the incision.  I will be happy to guide you during the surgery."

"I think I have everything I need in my bag.  If I think of anything, I’ll let you know.” The medic began to prep for surgery.  Staff Sergeant Willis didn't know if he should address the computer like a person, but did so anyway.  "Thank you, Hal, I would appreciate the help."

Howard walked to his workbench and spoke to Staff Sergeant Willis.  "Will you need anything else for the surgery?   If I have it, it’s yours."

He looked over at his assistant, Specialist Hanson, and saw that he was done drawing blood.  He motioned him over.   "I'd like for everyone to clear out of the room.  Captain Butler, if you would post a runner outside the door I can get started."

"You got it, Doc.  Williams, post up outside the door and be ready to come if the Doc calls for you.  Everyone else, back to the guesthouse.  Sergeant Wilson, tell Top I need to see him on the double."

They all shuffled out of the room.  Private Williams stood sentry at the door.  Captain Butler was the last out of the room and waited for Howard.

"Mr. Beck, I can't thank you enough for what you've done.  That man on the table is my XO, Lieutenant Christopher.  I don't know if he's going to make it, but at least he has a fighting chance.  I can say for sure that if you hadn't let us past the gate, he wouldn’t have made it."

"Yes, I know.  It was the only reason I let you into the house.  I was monitoring the situation from my kitchen.  When your medic said he needed surgery, I knew I had to let you inside."

"I must say, Mr. Beck, your computer had me fooled into thinking I was talking to a human being."

"Captain, call me Howard.  And yes, he is the most advanced A.I. in the world.  Have you ever heard of the Turing Test?"

"I can't say that I have."

Howard was completely at ease for the first time since he saw the Humvees at his front gate.  He loved to talk about computers.  "The Turing Test was designed by a man named Alan Turing in 1950.  He wanted to know if computers could 'think' along the same lines as a human being.  The test is administered by having a person sit at a computer monitor.  On the other end of the monitor is a human being and a computer.  The person giving the test asks a series of questions and when he is confident he knows which subject is the computer, he gives his answer.  Over the years, many computers have been built but before the creator could say he had constructed a fully functional computer with artificial intelligence, his computer had to pass the Turing Test. Many people proudly proclaimed to have done it, but upon further testing the claim was nullified. "

"Hal was the first?"

"He was indeed."

"I remember when I was a kid a computer won Jeopardy.  You mean he didn't pass?"

"Watson?  No, but he was a step in the right direction.  Very impressive computer.  IBM never even made the claim that Watson was A.I."

"But he beat two humans in Jeopardy."

"Answering questions is one thing.  Comprehension and understanding are completely different.  What always trips up a computer in the Turing Test is asking it questions that don't have a right or wrong answer like 'Who's your favorite baseball team?' or 'Who's better?  Stones or Beatles?'"

Captain Butler smiled.  "Stones, hands down."

"I'm a Beatles man myself."

"Most computers would give a very analytical answer.  'The Beatles' songs spent more time on the charts than the Rolling Stones'.  When you ask the computer to personally choose one group over the other it can't make a decision."

"You mean Hal has a favorite rock band?"

"Hal?"

"Captain Butler, I have always been partial to The Blues Travelers."

"Hal, shouldn't you being helping with the surgery?"

"I am doing just that, Captain Butler.  Rest assured I am working diligently to ensure the surgery is a success."

Captain Butler looked at Howard in astonishment.  "That's good to know, Hal."

Howard beamed with pride over his creation.  Captain Butler stopped, and a puzzled look crossed his face.  "Is something wrong, Captain?"

"Hal?  Like the HAL-9000 from
2001
?"

Howard’s smile blossomed, and he looked the man in the eye for the first time.  "Captain, I like you. We are going to get along just fine."

The door at the end of the hall opened, and a gray haired soldier walked smartly up to Captain Butler and stood at attention.

"Sir, First Sergeant Bankhead, reporting as ordered."

"At ease, Top.  Report."

"Sir, the vehicles are all in working order.  Second squad's alpha truck busted out one of its headlights on the way out of Denver; other than that, the vehicles are fine.  I got the men cleaning their weapons.  Our ammo supply is acceptable.  I just need to know how long we’re staying.  If we need to bivouac, I'll start on it right away."

"Thank you, Top.  Let's hold off on setting up camp.  I haven't discussed that with our host.  Top, I want you to meet Howard Beck. Howard, this is First Sergeant Bankhead."

The top NCO in the company looked at the eccentric man standing next to his commander.  "Howard Beck?  The computer guy?  Pleasure to meet you, sir, and let me say thank you."  The First Sergeant extended his hand.  The handshake was not accepted.  Howard shuffled awkwardly and instead smiled and said, "You’re welcome."

Howard spoke to the two men.  "Gentlemen, you’re welcome to anything in the guest house.  Would the two of you join me in the kitchen for a drink?  I would like to discuss exactly what’s going on in Denver - whatever you can tell me, of course."

"Sir, it would be an honor; lead the way."  Captain Butler put his hand on First Sergeant Bankhead's shoulder and smiled.

Howard led them into the kitchen and the two soldiers sat at the table.  "What's your poison?  Or can you have a drink?"

"Howard, Top doesn't drink but I'll have whatever you're having."

"Sir, if it’s all the same, I'd like a drink, too."  First Sergeant Bankhead wasn't a recovering alcoholic; he was just particular about his health.

"Really, Matt?  Good for you.  I think we could all use a drink after the day we've had."

Howard poured three glasses of his best scotch and brought them over to his guests, joining them at the table.

"Hal, what's the status of Lieutenant Christopher?  Can we talk to the medic?"

"Standby, sir, I will ask."

"Only if it isn't a distraction, Hal," Captain Butler added.

"I understand, sir."

A few seconds ticked by and Staff Sergeant Willis spoke over the intercom.  "Captain, things are looking good.  I was able to repair the gastrointestinal trauma.  His blood pressure is finally stable.  I gave him some antibiotics but they're not very strong.  All we can do is wait, keep him on an IV and hope for the best."

"How long do you think it will be before he is out of the woods?" asked Howard.

"Hard to say, really.  At the best I would say forty-eight hours.  At the worst, a week.   After twenty-four hours we'll have a more accurate prognosis"

"Doc, you need anything else?"

"No sir, I'm closing him up now.  Should take another thirty minutes or so."

"Keep us posted, Doc.  Good work."

"Roger that, sir."

The three men sitting at the table sipped their drinks.  They watched through the window as the fiery sun battled the towering mountains in the distance.

"Dear Lord Almighty, that is a sight to behold," First Sergeant Bankhead uttered in his southern accent.

The three men sat in silence and beheld the magnificent view.  A minute passed, and Captain Butler broke the silence.

"It’s a damn shame it’s all going to shit."

"What happened in Denver, Captain?"

"I don't know where to begin.  I guess I would have to say that it started at the checkpoints.  We'd been given orders to step up security.  Search every car.  Check every person's ID.  Anyone who looked like they came from the Empire was to be interrogated.  Got really ugly.  The entire city was in gridlock.  No one could move from one sector to the other; it just took too damn long.  I'd like to have a chat with the moron who drew the sector lines.  Four out of the twelve sectors don't have a hospital.  I was letting ambulances past the checkpoints, couldn't imagine doing otherwise.  Then, two weeks ago in Detroit an ambulance loaded down with explosives drove into a police station.  Leveled the building.  Needless to say, after that all ambulances across the country had to stop at every checkpoint.  I instructed my men to go as fast as possible, check the ambulance crew's badges and make sure the back wasn't loaded down with explosives.  Ambulances made it past my checkpoints in under a minute.  Then, a twelve-year-old girl who’d been hit by a car actually died at a checkpoint while my men were checking badges.  Checkpoint or not, she would have died regardless.  Didn't matter.  Riots broke out all over the city.  The first checkpoint fell when they threw Molotov cocktails.  All six of my men burned to death.  Total chaos gripped the city for twelve hours.  I ordered the checkpoints closed to all traffic, hoping to contain the mobs.  It worked at first.  I thought if we could just make it to sunrise, we could hold the city.  I was so wrong.  The checkpoints started getting hit with gunfire.  I ordered three checkpoints to fall back and fortify others.  It just got worse.  I coordinated with city officials and had the power cut off.  I didn't want the mobs to organize."

"That's was Hal's assumption.  Looks like you were right, Old Man."

"Thank you, sir."

"Cover of darkness gave us the advantage.  Things started calming down.  That only lasted a few hours.  Then mobs began to overrun the checkpoints.  With the rules of engagement tying their hands, they couldn't fire on the mobs.  Tear gas slowed them down, but they just kept coming.  My men were dropping like flies.  I ordered a full retreat to our rally point outside the city.  Twelve vehicles showed up, just twelve.  After two hours, Lt. Christopher's platoon showed up, and we had to evacuate or else he was a dead man.  I left a scout behind to watch the rally point, and then we showed up on your doorstep."

Captain Butler raised his glass.  "And thank God for you, sir."  Captain Butler and First Sergeant Bankhead raised their glasses and brought them together in a toast. Howard was confused at first, but could tell that they were waiting for him to follow suit. He raised his glass and the two men clinked their glasses on his.

Howard waited to ensure Captain Butler was finished speaking.  "Hal, what's going on in the other major cities?  Is Denver spilling over anywhere else?"

"Yes, sir, I'm afraid it is.  The young lady who died in the ambulance has become the symbol for uprising and protest.  The civilian deaths in Denver have caused many angry citizens to rise up and demand justice."

"Fuck me."  Captain Butler stood up and walked over to the window.  A wave of crushing guilt swept over him. He felt responsible for the entire thing.  "Hal, how bad has it gotten?  Have any other cities fallen?"

"Yes sir, I regret to report that Chicago, Cleveland, Detroit, Memphis, Atlanta, Dallas, Boston, Los Angeles, Seattle, and Pittsburgh are no longer under the control of the Unified National Guard."

Captain Butler almost collapsed against the window.  He slowly took his seat.  His hands were shaking.  "I don't understand how it could happen so quickly.  This is unbelievable."  Captain Butler looked to his top NCO.  "Top, is this my fault?  Am I to blame?"

"No, sir, it most certainly is not.  You know as well as I do that every major city in this country is a powder keg waiting to blow.  One spark would set them all off.  It was bound to happen sooner or later, just a matter of when.  Don't give it another thought, sir.  Focus on what's to come.  We will take back Denver, sir."

Captain Butler needed to hear that.  He immediately stopped feeling sorry for himself and looked at First Sergeant Bankhead.  "Thanks, Matt.  I needed a kick in the ass."

"Just doing my job, sir."

Howard felt the need to change the subject and lighten the mood.  "Captain, you are welcome to stay for as long as it takes for Lieutenant Christopher to recover."