Chapter 35: Slyness is a Cog-Head's Ancestral Skill
In the Warhammer universe, the ones who kicked humanity off its throne as the masters of the galaxy were the damned Men of Iron—Artificial Intelligence.
Precisely because of this, for the Adeptus Mechanicus, a technological religion born from that dark age of humanity, "Artificial Intelligence" naturally became a forbidden area of research. Thus, the Crimson Accords were born. This was one of the cornerstones of the Cult Mechanicus that arose from the fires of the Old Night.
The Accords are simple: it is forever, and always, forbidden to create any abominable, soulless machine, otherwise known as a Silica Animus. The punishment for daring to defy this is equally simple: death. Whether you successfully create one, or even just have the thought of creating one, or even just purify the silicon animus or trade in these cursed creations, the sentence is death.
However—and there is always a however—the more something is forbidden, the more powerful and effective it must be. Otherwise, you wouldn't have the saying, "The Men of Iron rebelled, and humanity was doomed." While not entirely accurate, the Men of Iron did shatter humanity's spine, leaving it paralyzed and leading to all the subsequent calamities.
To ask a group of cog-heads who believe in "science and technology" not to touch "artificial intelligence" is more painful than killing them. Besides, aren't "prohibitions" just things to be violated and skirted around?
Furthermore, didn't the people who wrote these Accords know what kind of people they were dealing with? Human technology simply cannot function without some form of AI-related technology. So, in this agreement that forbade the research of "artificial intelligence," the ancestors of the cog-heads played a sly trick:
The Accords permit the synthesis of synthetic life with limited intelligence for a righteous purpose. These creations are not only unrestricted but are considered sacred.
The key phrase here is "synthetic life."
Question: What do the cog-heads of the Adeptus Mechanicus believe is inside a machine?
Answer: A Machine Spirit—the soul of a machine.
So, "body" + "soul" = ?
"Life"—the life of a machine (inorganic).
And what is a human?
Answer: Life (organic).
Life (organic) + Life (inorganic) = Synthetic life!
Now do you understand why, in the Warhammer universe, humans turn other humans into servitors, cogitators (human-brain computers), and various other "wetware"? The culprit behind it all is the Adeptus Mechanicus, the masters of almost all of the Imperium's mechanical and military production.
Since the ancestors were so sly, it was only natural for their descendants to be masters of skirting the red line.
Thus, the "Legio Cybernetica" was born, walking a tightrope on that red line. You could call them "Iron Men Lite." "Synthetic life with limited intelligence for a righteous purpose" refers to them—"Battle Automata" with "bioplastic simplified brains" and "bionic neural networks" that can think and act on their own.
They are absolutely not Men of Iron!
—The serious-faced cog-head.
However, after the Emperor "conquered" Mars and became the "Omnissiah," he added a patch to the Crimson Accords: it is strictly forbidden to create machines that can think for themselves. This patch led the master of the Legio Cybernetica, Kelbor-Hal, to side with Horus during the Heresy, stomping on the gas pedal and speeding right over the red line of the Crimson Accords. After the Heresy failed, the fate of the Legio Cybernetica was sealed.
However—and here we go again—the cog-heads then came up with the "Legio Automata"—Cybernetica Lite...
What the hell does the Imperium know about the Crimson Accords?
—The straight-faced cog-head.
Of course, after the loyalist cog-heads of the Adeptus Mechanicus took control of Mars, the Legio Automata were severely suppressed. Technically, the Adeptus Mechanicus believed that the bionic brains made of bioplastics and their associated neural systems were too radical. This technology undoubtedly gave the automata too much autonomy. The lessons learned from the Horus Heresy led the Adeptus Mechanicus to believe that future automata needed to be completely controlled.
So, they set about replacing the technology. The final replacement was the "doctrinal wafer." This wafer, not much larger than an Emperor's Tarot card, was the new generation of integrated control wetware. This new, completely controlled wetware was designed so that each wafer contained the code for only a single type of behavior pattern. (A robot programmed to shoot will only shoot. If an enemy gets too close, it will take two steps back to increase the distance, then continue shooting.)
This separation of hardware and software severely limited the robot's overall intelligence, but it largely retained the combat intelligence for each individual mode. (In short: a single-minded artificial idiot.) These wafers also made the automata's intelligence highly dependent on their controller. It could be said that the doctrinal wafers solved the problems that previously required bioplastic bionic brains in a simpler and more reliable way. Although the intelligence level was lower, it was more reliable.
To further prevent problems, the Mechanicus restricted each automaton to being equipped with only one doctrinal wafer at a time, and it had to be replaced manually. Replacing and adjusting the wafers naturally required a person, and this role could also serve to control the automata, which fit the previous reorganization idea of strengthening control. Thus, the Magi created a specialized combat priest profession for the Legio Automata: the Cybernetica Datasmith. (Manual card insertion, battlefield programming. Please call me the "42k Field Programmer.")
After the new technology and reorganization plan were established, the Legio Automata was officially reorganized after the Great Scouring. The once vast Legio Cybernetica, which could easily crush countless xenos empires, was continuously broken up and reorganized, eventually being split into small parts belonging to various Forge Worlds, constantly divided and controlled by the complex allegiance system of the Adeptus Mechanicus.
After all that, you should understand why the Kastelan Robot is a restricted item. This is also why Magos Laust would not, under any circumstances, let Omega touch his robots. Although they were now the "lite version of the lite version," the hardware was still there, and there was never a shortage of "inspired" talents among the cog-heads, let alone a "prodigy" like Omega.
Laust had no doubt that if he gave the robots to Omega today, the next time he saw them, they would be able to call him "daddy" and do a little dance for his birthday. But despite Laust's constant vigilance, he had ultimately failed. The robots had fallen into Omega's hands.
Speaking of which, it's worth sharing a few examples of cog-head slyness to show that Laust's worries were not unfounded. Some cog-heads have a natural talent for toeing the red line. It is said that during the Great Crusade, after a human woman had part of her brain removed due to a Spirit-leech infestation, she was taken by the Adeptus Mechanicus and turned into the Anamnesis, a forbidden and unique Machine Spirit that used a bio-electronic hybrid computation. This was an extremely sly move. If you said she was thinking with electronic circuits, they could say she was using her biological parts. If you said she was thinking for herself, they could say she was providing pre-programmed responses based on the code in her electronic parts.
It is said that this trick was later learned by Archmagos Belisarius Cawl, who then added psionic elements to create a machine called the Cawl Inferior. This machine is now in the service of the Lord Regent Guilliman.
Who says this is artificial intelligence?! That's slander!!
—Belisarius Cawl.
Who says I am artificial intelligence?! That's slander!!
—The Cawl Inferior.
As mentioned before, the reason "wetware" is used as a processor is not only because the Crimson Accords forbid the creation of silicon-based chips that can think, but also because it's cheap—after all, the most abundant resource in the Imperium is people. So, if the "wetware" was a thinking, living person before modification, is it really that strange for it to be able to think after modification?
—The smiling-faced cog-head.
The Emperor said: a machine that thinks or acts like a man.
Yes, Your Majesty. This one imitates a beast, not a man.
—The serious-faced cog-head.
What! You saw that four-thousand-year-old Titan move on its own?!
—The shocked-faced cog-head.
Praise the Omnissiah! This must be a miracle under the light of the Machine God's glory! The heroic souls of generations of Princeps have merged with it. Is it not reasonable for them to awaken occasionally under the protection of the Machine God?
—The pious-faced cog-head.
It is precisely because of the existence of these "talents" within the Adeptus Mechanicus that the Imperium and the Inquisition have never relaxed their vigilance against the Mechanicus's "artificial intelligence." At the same time, because the Adeptus Mechanicus dominates the Cult Mechanicus, the headquarters on Mars has also never let up its own investigation of "artificial intelligence." You can dance on the red line all you want, but the moment they find evidence that you've crossed it, you will have no chance to defend yourself. They have no qualms about making an example of any particularly flamboyant Tech-Priest.
They tell the Imperium: See, this is an isolated case. The vast majority of us are good comrades.
They tell the priests: Hide it well and don't let anyone find out. Your boss won't protect you.
Under these circumstances, how could Laust dare to let Omega touch the robots? These things were like "succubi," tempting Tech-Priests to cross the red line. He had them himself; of course he knew... (Wait! ━Σ(ﾟДﾟ|||)━)
So when Laust returned and found Omega circling the Kastelan Robots, you can imagine his exhaustion...
"Do you understand everything I've said?" Laust asked, his expression severe, looking at Omega, who was bowing his head and pretending to be an honest child.
"I understand..." Omega replied meekly.
"From now on, you will report to me regularly on the progress of the robots' repairs. Don't even think about hiding anything from me. I will be conducting regular inspections!"
Omega, the small, helpless, and pitiful one, said, "Yes, Magos..."