Free I Am Automaton: A Military Science Fiction Novel by Edward P. Cardillo

caves, but any terrain not easily accessible by traditional means. It even has applications for urban warfare.”
    A few hundred? How many of these things did the army have?
    “Well, Major, this all sounds good, but where do I come in?”
    “Lieutenant Birdsall, we need a platoon of soldiers to funnel them into the buildings, caves, and the like. Like shepherd dogs directing sheep. They won’t think on their own. In fact, they don’t think at all.”
    “Like cowboys herding cattle.”
    “Yes, exactly.”
    “Well, isn’t that…dangerous? I mean, how are these things controlled?”
    Major Lewis pushed himself off the table he was leaning on. “C’mon, I’ll show you.”
    Peter followed Major Lewis back out of the debriefing room. He submitted to a palm print and retinal scan at a heavy door with two armed guards and took Peter into a room that resembled a large freezer. “It’s going to be cold in here, Lieutenant.”
    Peter nodded and followed. There was a clear, thick Plexiglas wall with a door built into it. Behind it, there were rows of shackled soldiers like the one in the maze in the same black suits. Major Lewis entered a code, and the door opened.
    “This is our containment facility. The temperature is maintained at near freezing temperatures to arrest decomposition to the point where it’s negligible.”
    “But what about when they’re in the field, sir?”
    Major Lewis pointed to one of the soldiers. “See the black suit?”
    “Yes, sir.”
    “The suit is designed to reduce body temperature to retard decomposition, which is easy since these guys are dead and aren’t generating any body heat. The suit is more of a protection from the surrounding environment.”
    Major Lewis paused so that Peter could take it all in. Then he beckoned Peter to follow him out of the room. They exited, and the door sealed behind them.
    “I noticed that none of them were moving, sir.”
    “Yes. That’s because they each have an Amygdala Inhibitor—or AI—installed in their skulls.”
    “Pardon my ignorance, sir, but what is that?”
    “Follow me. I’ll introduce you to someone who can explain it.”
    They crossed the hall and entered a laboratory. There were long, black-surfaced tables, beakers, microscopes, centrifuges, etc. Major Lewis waved at what was apparently a scientist (hence the white lab coat) and the man walked over.
    “Lieutenant Birdsall, this is Dr. Gilbart. He’s an organic chemist working on the project.”
    Dr. Gilbart shook Peter’s hand.
    “Dr. Gilbart, if you could be so kind, could you explain the ID’s condition and why they need Amygdala Inhibitors?”
    He bowed his head graciously. “Of course, Major Lewis.” Then to Peter, “Lieutenant Birdsall, we don’t know the origin of what has been dubbed the Tutsi-Hutu Virus, or THV, but we do know that those afflicted die rapidly from organ failure and re-animate with brain damage.”
    “Re…animate.”
    “Yes. More precisely, they re-animate with suppressed frontal lobe functioning due to oxygen deprivation and a nasty case of Kluver-Bucy Syndrome.”
    Peter’s eyes were apparently starting to glaze over, and the good doctor took this as his cue to explain in simple, layman’s terms.
    “Lieutenant, Kluver-Bucy Syndrome was originally only seen in primates with lesions in very specific areas of their amygdala—the center of the brain in responsible for aggression—that would cause them to behave in a hyper-aggressive, hyper-sexual, and hyper-oral manner.”
    “I get the hyper-aggressive and hyper-oral—they basically want to eat you…”
    “Yes, that’s correct.”
    “But hyper-sexual?”
    Major Lewis jumped in. “Yes, in early field tests they would sometimes resort to humping each other.”
    Peter stifled a laugh.
    “Yes,” said Major Lewis matter-of-factly, “we, too, initially found it amusing, but it became problematic during training exercises.”
    “Hence the Amygdala Inhibitors,” added Dr. Gilbart. “They