Mech Pilot who was just told by their doctor that they need to start thinking about a career change.
"You've got to be kidding me."
"No, really." Val clicked the remote. "Look."
It was pretty typical training footage, all things said and done. Pretty typical training footage for a promising soldier, even.
Val looked over at the head of R&D, leaning forward, hands white-knuckle gripped on the table.
"Again."
The remote clicked, repeating the clip.
"And you're sure this is the prototype?"
"Absolutely sure. This is the frame we rigged up with Operation Herding Cats-"
The head's grip tightened. The designation was an insult, the product of many, many disappointing trial runs in front of the generals.
"-uh, the AI collective."
Val wound up replaying the footage again. And again.
"How? How did they finally get it to sync?"
This time, a change. Recordings of past runs, mech after mech going down in a tangle of limbs, misfiring, dropping weaponry. Priceless war machines acting out slapstick routines.
The idea had been simple: Distribute the processes of control to many, many small AIs, each exactly perfected and encouraged to learn its ideal role. All in support to a pilot.
In practice, they never aligned. A thousand little minds that always knew best, better than the others. A departmental laughing stock.
But now, there it was. The mythical, impossible:
Working As Intended.
"Let me see the pilot's profile again."
"Well, they aren't technically a pilot-"
"Show. It."
Click.
Silence, absolute concentration.
"A businessman?"
"Yes?"
"A businessman."
"Who was put in there as a prank."
"A businessman we were hazing."
Val fought to keep a straight face. "Profile: Health concerns from office stress. Looking for a change of pace."
Xie forced a deep breath for composure. "Project manager, good at working with large teams."