The History of the Talinz Units

Originally the Talos project, after the Guardian of Rhodes, research began in the mid 21^st Century as a simple robotics project in a laboratory in Patras. Funded by the UN Development commission, the project was an attempt at moving Artificial Intelligences into disaster areas that might be too dangerous for human recovery workers. A range of modular parts, compatible with a series of different chassis, would allow for interchangeable equipment suited to the situation at hand.

The first successful deployment of a squadron of Talos was in 2073, at an earthquake zone in Turkey. The ability to deploy into unstable buildings was estimated to have saved countless additional lives. The UN deemed the project a resounding success, released the blueprints as open access without patent and offered financial incentives and subsidies for the construction of new models primed for disaster relief. In the process, the units were rebranded as ‘Talinz’ by the marketing division as part of a ploy to make the project seem more ‘sci fi’ and appealing to investors.

Within five years, 12 separate governments had developed military applications for the technology. Interchangeable modular equipment had allowed Talinz-specific weaponry to be developed under the cover of humanitarian chassis. In the background, corporations had begun working out specifications to produce military parts on an industrial scale. Talinz were the perfect soldier. More able than a human, and certainly less politically volatile, yet more intelligent than a drone, and with the possibility of remote piloting in situations that might have required more subtlety and tact, they rapidly became the cheap, clean, ‘safe’ face of warfare. The world became lax. Invasions could be launched and operated entirely from massive control rooms, with little ‘human’ cost. Or so they said. Civilians would still be caught in the fighting, crops would still be burnt, buildings still bombed and razed, livelihoods still destroyed. Location and ‘termination’ of control rooms became standard, either after a country’s forces were exhausted, or through military espionage.

The weapons used to fight the war changed, but war never does.

As usual, it took a tragedy to make humanity momentarily see sense. An unheard amount of Talinz units were deployed in a land war against a country with neither the resources nor the infrastructure to supply more than ten of their own. The loss of life was immense. The destruction was utter. All casualties were taken only by one side. The world finally woke up to see what they had created. The Baku treaty 2125, signed on neutral ground, ended the war and outlawed further use of non-human intelligences in warfare.

The demilitarisation of Talinz units led to a growth industry in their usage for other sectors. Many companies that originally supplied weapon-ready units began experimenting with frames specialised for agriculture, heavy industry or domicile servants. Some companies even returned to making the disaster relief frames they had originally intended to make. New companies grew out of the ashes of those that couldn’t adapt. Some rebranded and tried to make the public forget about their past.

Soldiers who had piloted Talinz before the treaty found themselves without jobs, and were taken in by the manufacturers. They had a plan to reform the public image of the robots through sport, and increase their profits in the process. Talinz fighting was born. It was pushed hard at first, but a saddened populace, many of whom had never truly interacted with a unit beyond pictures in the news, was entranced. New models were designed specifically to not look like the boring, practical military models, instead taking on the appearance of fearsome mythical beasts. Pilots became famous aces, touted in the media. The whole plan worked spectacularly. People stopped associating the bright, happy automatons on the screen, joking with their pilots, with the deathly military robots that stalked the general consciousness.

In the modern day, the spectre of war over the Talinz has all but disappeared. Now the debate is focused on work. Whilst Talinz frames doubtless perform a majority of the work in Talinz fighting, they receive none of the pay. Similarly, industrial, agricultural and domicile frames are used as machines and treated as property, unpaid, despite now making up a hefty proportion of the base for these industry sectors. Talinz are not allowed to vote, own property, and are terminated if they lack an owner. Civil rights groups composed of humans and ‘liberated’ Talinz units have lobbied governments for equal rights for sentient AI. Some Talinz pilots have rallied to the cause and are trying to shift public opinion also, but no governments have yet acceded to the demands of these individual.

On the other hand, ‘anti-Talinz’ political factions have formed. Appealing to members of the disenfranchised working class, these groups claim that Talinz units have stolen jobs from humans. The vast increase in unpaid labour, they argue, has outcompeted humans to an unprecedented degree. Some have joined forces with equal rights groups: they reason that the problems might resolve if the Talinz can be taxed and paid like humans. Others argue for the complete termination of the Talinz, or the banning of units from certain sectors.