Villains the world over all have their own reasons for wanting to take over or destroy the world. Some of their plans focus on defeating the hero, others just want their bidding done without question. Regardless of why or how they try to complete their plans, would hero stories be worth reading if it weren't for powerful villains?
Finally, all of the pieces are in place. I have planned for every contingency. I have backup plans for my backup plans. There are escape routes for my most dedicated personnel. Even some of the common cannon fodder may survive to serve me another day. No big loss if they don't, they were just scum I hired off the street. What remains of them can just as easily return there.
The expenses for this endeavor didn't make a dent in my total assets. Which is fortunate because I will need to grease a few more wheels in order to maintain my position once I sit on my throne. It would be a shame that so many people compromise their morals for the right amount of cash, if that fact didn't open so many literal and figurative doors for me. Police officers in my pocket. City officials looking the other way while licenses are handed out and permits are violated. State legislators fighting laws that would hurt my plans, but actually help their constituents. A few campaign contributions, some donations to the right charities, out and out bribes. If any of them knew how much I had squirreled away from my business practices, legit and otherwise, they would demand so much more.
So much control. So many people respecting and fearing me. All of this from someone that couldn't even control his own life for so many years. A drunk for a father. A mother that was pregnant almost as often as she was high. Siblings that were too busy getting into their own trouble to notice me doing what I had to in order to survive. A beloved neighborhood pet or two disappears, only to be returned once a reward is offered. Money that wouldn't be missed vanishes. Car tires go flat just when I happened to be close enough to help, for a small fee of course. Such subtle beginnings for a man that is about to rule the world, even if only from the shadows.
Now, in a matter of hours, my plans for the night will begin. Those that are fated to be hurt will be hurt. Those that must die will die. As the dust clears, everyone will know my name. They will look up to me and cheer for my leadership or quiver in fear of my anger. It is only right that I take my place above everyone else. I wonder if I should choose the material for my statue, or give the people the impression of control by letting them "decide."
If you were to rule the world, what is the first thing you would do? What would your enemies fear about you the most?
Wednesday, June 29, 2016
Wednesday, June 15, 2016
Identity Verification
I originally had an idea for today's story that was about plans for world domination. It was to be a piece from the point of view of a maniacal villain bent on taking over the planet. It was going to be dark and powerful. Then that train of thought fell off the tracks.
Netflix recently released a new version of a show that was beloved to me in my childhood, Voltron. As I watched the reboot pilot episode, they mentioned each robotic lion choosing its pilot and the match can't be forced. While their connection has a mystic angle, I got to wondering about a more technological angle for connecting a weapon and wielder.
There was one series that featured laser swords with an added function to the handle. When someone gripped the handle, the weapon would sample their blood to make sure they were the kind of person allowed to wield such a weapon. If the DNA didn't have the correct markers, the sword wouldn't activate. I wanted to take this idea a little further. What are some other biometrics that could be measured? Could combinations of these physical traits be unique enough to tell one person from another?
"Alright you punks! Millions has been spent on your training. Apparently some high muckety-muck thinks that has earned all of you the right to your own combat equipment. I don't see it, but they don't pay me to make these decisions."
A group of young, eager troopers sit still and straight in their chairs as a grizzled officer stands at the front of the briefing room. The scars on his face and cybernetic leg are testaments to his long combat experience. Behind him is a screen that currently only displays the logo of the military arm of the Interplanetary Expeditionary Forces. The troopers know the screen will soon be showing them the specifications of the flight systems and weapons programs that will be assigned to them. While they all respect the old soldier before them, on the inside they are all impatient and want to try out their new gear.
"Now, before any of you are allowed to pilot a flyer, drive a tank, or fire a cannon, it will have to be attuned to you. Unlike those fantasy sims I know many of you play, there is nothing spiritual or metaphysical about this."
As he continued to speak, bars and graphs began to appear on the screen. All of the troopers recognized the displays as the readouts of biological scanners. Only a few knew exactly what each graph meant and what system in a body generated each readout.
"The first time you grip the controls of a newly configured system, it will take a number of biological readings from you. DNA patterns, resting brain wave patterns, pheromone levels, and other statistics are are unique to each and every one of you. Once these are all locked into the system's digital memory, it will compare them with the statistics of anyone else that attempts to use that system. If someone else tries to use a system programmed for you, they will be ejected immediately. During ground combat, this can be inconvenient. I won't go into the hazards of this occurring during operations in space."
A quick shudder ran through all the troopers as they considered the realities of suddenly being ejected into a hard vacuum. It was something all of them had seen the results of, but none wanted to experience personally. As the group mentally recovered, medtechs entered the room from a side door.
The officer finished his speech as generic schematics for computer systems and controller configurations flashed across the screen.
"Making these combat systems operable for only one person makes them extremely expensive. Regardless of what the accountants say, I consider each of them more valuable than any one of you. Once you have been dispatched, be sure and treasure your equipment and bring it back. If you don't, I will personally track you down and extract every lost dollar out of your hide.
Now, follow these specialists to the medical bay and they will get you outfitted for your individual attunements."
There are so many different ways today of gathering biological data on an individual. Would it really be so hard to customize a weapon or vehicle so that only one person can operate it?
I do realize this would be expensive. It would also nearly eliminate the used car sales industry. Can you think of any advantages to such a system?
Netflix recently released a new version of a show that was beloved to me in my childhood, Voltron. As I watched the reboot pilot episode, they mentioned each robotic lion choosing its pilot and the match can't be forced. While their connection has a mystic angle, I got to wondering about a more technological angle for connecting a weapon and wielder.
There was one series that featured laser swords with an added function to the handle. When someone gripped the handle, the weapon would sample their blood to make sure they were the kind of person allowed to wield such a weapon. If the DNA didn't have the correct markers, the sword wouldn't activate. I wanted to take this idea a little further. What are some other biometrics that could be measured? Could combinations of these physical traits be unique enough to tell one person from another?
"Alright you punks! Millions has been spent on your training. Apparently some high muckety-muck thinks that has earned all of you the right to your own combat equipment. I don't see it, but they don't pay me to make these decisions."
A group of young, eager troopers sit still and straight in their chairs as a grizzled officer stands at the front of the briefing room. The scars on his face and cybernetic leg are testaments to his long combat experience. Behind him is a screen that currently only displays the logo of the military arm of the Interplanetary Expeditionary Forces. The troopers know the screen will soon be showing them the specifications of the flight systems and weapons programs that will be assigned to them. While they all respect the old soldier before them, on the inside they are all impatient and want to try out their new gear.
"Now, before any of you are allowed to pilot a flyer, drive a tank, or fire a cannon, it will have to be attuned to you. Unlike those fantasy sims I know many of you play, there is nothing spiritual or metaphysical about this."
As he continued to speak, bars and graphs began to appear on the screen. All of the troopers recognized the displays as the readouts of biological scanners. Only a few knew exactly what each graph meant and what system in a body generated each readout.
"The first time you grip the controls of a newly configured system, it will take a number of biological readings from you. DNA patterns, resting brain wave patterns, pheromone levels, and other statistics are are unique to each and every one of you. Once these are all locked into the system's digital memory, it will compare them with the statistics of anyone else that attempts to use that system. If someone else tries to use a system programmed for you, they will be ejected immediately. During ground combat, this can be inconvenient. I won't go into the hazards of this occurring during operations in space."
A quick shudder ran through all the troopers as they considered the realities of suddenly being ejected into a hard vacuum. It was something all of them had seen the results of, but none wanted to experience personally. As the group mentally recovered, medtechs entered the room from a side door.
The officer finished his speech as generic schematics for computer systems and controller configurations flashed across the screen.
"Making these combat systems operable for only one person makes them extremely expensive. Regardless of what the accountants say, I consider each of them more valuable than any one of you. Once you have been dispatched, be sure and treasure your equipment and bring it back. If you don't, I will personally track you down and extract every lost dollar out of your hide.
Now, follow these specialists to the medical bay and they will get you outfitted for your individual attunements."
There are so many different ways today of gathering biological data on an individual. Would it really be so hard to customize a weapon or vehicle so that only one person can operate it?
I do realize this would be expensive. It would also nearly eliminate the used car sales industry. Can you think of any advantages to such a system?
Wednesday, June 1, 2016
Information Gathering
For centuries humankind has had the terrible talent for torturing other members of its race. This has been done for many reasons, some seeming legitimate at the time. People tortured each other to instill fear in their enemies, reinforce religous beliefs, or out of a perverted sense of joy. The most common reason for torturing an individual, one that is still justified by some to this day, is the extraction of information.
Not every interrogator that resorts to torture causes severe physical pain. Much can be accomplished by impacting the subject's mind. Sometimes the person being tortured can imagine worse pain and suffering than the interrogator can actually inflict if the desired answers aren't given. Rewards, beyond the ending of pain and suffering, can also be used to entice a torture subject to give up the wanted information. Beyond any legal restrictions, the only limits on a torturer are their own morals and values.
The man sits in a single metal chair. He is wearing only a tattered pair of shorts. The chill coming off of the concrete floor and walls isn't enough to cause him to shiver, but is still uncomfortable. The sole occupant stares at the floor in the glow of the single bulb mounted to the ceiling high over his head. The starkness of the room allows him to ponder his situation with absolutely no distractions at all.
He doesn't know exactly where he is, but he knows why he is there. He knows things. Things only a very few other people know. Things the other side desperately wanted to know. Things they would go to any lengths to find out. He is here so their interrogators can try to extract this information from him. His only hope for survival is to keep from telling them anything. If he speaks, then his captors would have no reason to keep him alive. If the information gets out, his own side would kill him for revealing their secrets. His entire existence hangs on his ability to keep his mouth shut. Right now things could easily go either way for him.
The creek and scrape of the single door opening means it is nearly time for his fate to be decided. A group of three men carry in a metal framework. Once it is positioned, they all leave. One of them returns and sets up a simple folding table next to the framework. The single laborer looks at the subject in the chair and shakes his head slowly as he walks out of the containment room. After a few minutes, an older gentleman enters the cell with a rolled up bag of tools under his arm. He wrings a towel in his hands as though drying them. Once he is satisfied, he tosses the towel on the floor outside the door and kicks it shut with an echoing clang.
The captive looks up at his captor in anticipation of what is to come. The interrogator pretends his subject is beneath his notice as he steps to the table and unrolls his tool bag. Many pieces of hard metal glisten in the light of the single bulb. Sharp edges and spiny points are highlighted by the reflections they give off. The subject in the chair knows what some of the edges are designed to do. He is afraid to consider what the others may be intended for.
The men that had carried in the equipment now stand guard outside the room. Through the door then can hear the faint sounds of the prisoner being strapped into the frame they had carried in. They knew, from past experience, that the interrogation was about to begin. A few minutes later, the sounds of screams resonate from inside the cell. One of the guards glances at his watch. He then reaches into his pocket and withdraws a couple of dollar bills. He hands these to the other guard who takes them with a smile.
The sounds of human screams rise and fade and the interrogator continues his attempts to extract information. The questions can't be heard from outside the cell as the interrogator never raises his voice above a loud whisper.
The sounds continue to rise and fall in volume and intensity for some time. They finally cease seconds before the door opens once again. The interrogator steps out of the room and simply confirms that he is done. Inside, the captor hangs from the framework. His head hangs loosely, his chin resting on his chest. Sweat is streaming from nearly every pore and he is suspended motionless by his arms. No marks are evident on his naked body as the guards step into the room and begin to lower him from the framework.
By no means do I condone torture as a generally acceptable interrogation technique. However, like any other tool, it can be an advantage when used used with control and discipline. In a time of war, the safety of one's own soldiers must be paramount. This can still be ensured without losing a respect for all of humanity.
Not every interrogator that resorts to torture causes severe physical pain. Much can be accomplished by impacting the subject's mind. Sometimes the person being tortured can imagine worse pain and suffering than the interrogator can actually inflict if the desired answers aren't given. Rewards, beyond the ending of pain and suffering, can also be used to entice a torture subject to give up the wanted information. Beyond any legal restrictions, the only limits on a torturer are their own morals and values.
The man sits in a single metal chair. He is wearing only a tattered pair of shorts. The chill coming off of the concrete floor and walls isn't enough to cause him to shiver, but is still uncomfortable. The sole occupant stares at the floor in the glow of the single bulb mounted to the ceiling high over his head. The starkness of the room allows him to ponder his situation with absolutely no distractions at all.
He doesn't know exactly where he is, but he knows why he is there. He knows things. Things only a very few other people know. Things the other side desperately wanted to know. Things they would go to any lengths to find out. He is here so their interrogators can try to extract this information from him. His only hope for survival is to keep from telling them anything. If he speaks, then his captors would have no reason to keep him alive. If the information gets out, his own side would kill him for revealing their secrets. His entire existence hangs on his ability to keep his mouth shut. Right now things could easily go either way for him.
The creek and scrape of the single door opening means it is nearly time for his fate to be decided. A group of three men carry in a metal framework. Once it is positioned, they all leave. One of them returns and sets up a simple folding table next to the framework. The single laborer looks at the subject in the chair and shakes his head slowly as he walks out of the containment room. After a few minutes, an older gentleman enters the cell with a rolled up bag of tools under his arm. He wrings a towel in his hands as though drying them. Once he is satisfied, he tosses the towel on the floor outside the door and kicks it shut with an echoing clang.
The captive looks up at his captor in anticipation of what is to come. The interrogator pretends his subject is beneath his notice as he steps to the table and unrolls his tool bag. Many pieces of hard metal glisten in the light of the single bulb. Sharp edges and spiny points are highlighted by the reflections they give off. The subject in the chair knows what some of the edges are designed to do. He is afraid to consider what the others may be intended for.
The men that had carried in the equipment now stand guard outside the room. Through the door then can hear the faint sounds of the prisoner being strapped into the frame they had carried in. They knew, from past experience, that the interrogation was about to begin. A few minutes later, the sounds of screams resonate from inside the cell. One of the guards glances at his watch. He then reaches into his pocket and withdraws a couple of dollar bills. He hands these to the other guard who takes them with a smile.
The sounds of human screams rise and fade and the interrogator continues his attempts to extract information. The questions can't be heard from outside the cell as the interrogator never raises his voice above a loud whisper.
The sounds continue to rise and fall in volume and intensity for some time. They finally cease seconds before the door opens once again. The interrogator steps out of the room and simply confirms that he is done. Inside, the captor hangs from the framework. His head hangs loosely, his chin resting on his chest. Sweat is streaming from nearly every pore and he is suspended motionless by his arms. No marks are evident on his naked body as the guards step into the room and begin to lower him from the framework.
By no means do I condone torture as a generally acceptable interrogation technique. However, like any other tool, it can be an advantage when used used with control and discipline. In a time of war, the safety of one's own soldiers must be paramount. This can still be ensured without losing a respect for all of humanity.
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