Tracking Down a Mystery Artist
Councilor Montini's tailored suit felt damp from the humid night air. She'd been summoned to these coordinates and immediately got into her autonomous vehicle to investigate. A new incident has occurred.
After her AV came to a stop, she stepped out. She was met by the harsh glare of spotlights illuminating the side of the city's main solar energy distribution hub. There was a colossal mural stretching across the entire wall. It depicted her not in her usual dignified posture, but as a marionette. Thin, metallic strings, reminiscent of power lines, snaked down from a network of stylized solar panels with corporate logos subtly etched into the design. There was a crowd, a mix of late-night workers and curious onlookers, buzzing with amusement.
Elara felt her face grow flush. This was more than just vandalism. It was a calculated attack on her, a public humiliation. The message was clear to everyone: she was a puppet of the solar energy conglomerates, her decisions not her own but of her corporate masters.
"Who did this?" she demanded, drawing attention from the crowd.
Her chief of security, a hulking figure named Tony, stepped forward.
"We're still analyzing the paint composition and the spray patterns, Councilor. But our initial scans suggest it was done by the same individual responsible for other recent... artworks."
"And that is?"
"A shadowy figure only known as Benedict."
Elara looked over the painting, stunned by its impossible level of detail.
"Benedict? Who is this Benedict?"
"Nobody knows. No one has ever seen them. All inquiries go through a lawyer, a Ms. Dolores Kaplan."
Tony pulled up a profile on his phone. Elara saw a sharp-featured woman with a reputation for defending the city's most controversial figures.
Elara felt an anger growing inside of her, angry and embarrassed to be mocked this way. It wasn't a mural, it was an act of war. And Elara never backed down from a fight.
Despite the calming, minimalist design of Dolores Kaplan’s law office, Elara refused to be soothed. The cool, recycled-polymer desk, the vertical hydroponic garden shimmering with soft, bio-luminescent light... all of it felt like a deliberate attempt to project an air of calm, a stark contrast to the storm raging within Elara.
Dolores, poised and professional, offered a polite smile. Yet to Elara it felt she was being mocked.
"Councilor Montini, to what do I owe this unscheduled visit?"
"Don't play coy," Elara said sharply. "You know why I'm here. This Benedict and his mural. I want their identity."
Dolores’s smile didn't waver.
"My client prefers to remain anonymous, Councilor. It's a matter of artistic expression, which as you know is a core principle in our city's charter."
"Artistic expression?" Elara scoffed. "That was a blatant attack on me. It wasn't art. It's a personal insult. It's simply vandalism."
"My client's work sparks dialogue, Councilor. The essence of art is to challenge the status quo, to prompt people to think. Don't you agree?"
"It's a violation of my personal reputation, and..."
Elara leaned forward, her voice low and apprehensive.
"It's inciting unrest. I'm not asking, I'm demanding. Give me Benedict’s identity, or I'll use every resource at my disposal to find them."
Dolores’s smile faded.
"Councilor, I understand your frustration. But I have a legal duty to protect my client's rights. Artistic anonymity is a long-standing tradition. It's essential for free expression."
"Tradition? We're living in a digital age," Elara retorted. "Traditions must evolve. And this so-called artist is abusing that tradition to spread lies and slander."
"My client's work is open to interpretation, Councilor. If you disagree with the message, perhaps you should engage with the public discourse rather than attempt to silence it."
"This isn't a debate, Ms. Kaplan," Elara said, having run out of patience. "This is about accountability. I will get my way, with or without you."
"Then I suggest you prepare for a lengthy legal battle," Dolores said, remaining unmoved. "My client has a right to their privacy, and I will defend that right to the fullest extent of the law."
Frustrated by Dolores’s obstinance, Councilor Montini decided to bypass the conventional channels. She wasn't keen on being thwarted by bureaucratic red tape or legal niceties. She needed results quickly.
She had access to a series of backchannels, such as the city's vast network of surveillance systems. While officially reserved for security purposes with the use of a warrant, her time in politics had allowed her to gather a long assortment of favors in the right places.
These systems were comprised of interconnected drones, street cameras, and atmospheric drones which provided a comprehensive, albeit illicit, view of the city.
"Increase the resolution in Sector Four," she commanded, speaking out loud in a dimly lit control room. "Focus on areas in the hour before the incident."
The city's digital map flickered and zoomed, displaying a video feed of streets, alleys, and rooftops. Elara's eyes scanned the data streams, searching for any anomaly, any hint of Benedict’s presence.
"Enhance the thermal imaging," she ordered. "And cross-reference that with paint residue analysis from the murals."
The system whirred, capable of processing these terabytes of data in seconds. Then, small heat signatures began to appear. They were imperceptible at first, but grew in size. They were clustered around the areas where Benedict’s murals had recently surfaced. One particular signature moved erratically across rooftops and through ventilation shafts.
"That's Benedict," she murmured with a sense of awe. "Track that signature."
The feed zoomed in, revealing a small, agile robot. It had a tin-colored body, likely coated in weather-resistant paint. It moved with a surprising grace, its spray nozzles able to apply paint with high precision.
"So Benedict isn't a person at all," Elara understood. "It was a piece of technology designed to create art. Or, perhaps to create dissent."
She further instructed the surveillance system to follow the robot's path, allowing her to figure out its use of alleys and hidden tunnels to sneak around the city without detection. It was a glorified spray-paint bot controlled by some rogue AI. All this fuss for a piece of code that thought it was an artist.
She continued to watch the feed as Benedict created another piece of agitprop.
"It's mimicking artistic expression, nothing more. Just analyzing data, replicating patterns. It's not art, just performing an algorithm. And it's a dangerous algorithm."
Elara turned to the tech specialist, who had been sitting quietly in the back of the control room.
"Deploy the EMP," she commanded, her voice full of cold authority. "Target the sector where the bot is currently operating. Maximum power."
Julian MÄ…dry grew concerned.
"Councilor, are you sure about this?" he asked hesitantly. "An EMP will knock out every electronic device in the vicinity. That includes residential appliances, medical equipment..."
"It's collateral damage," she interrupted, her voice firm and cold. "Necessary collateral. This Benedict has gone too far and must be neutralized. And it needs to be done immediately."
A squad of police, clad in dark armor, swarmed the neighborhood. They cordoned off the streets, preventing anybody or anything from leaving. The neighborhood, a mix of repurposed industrial buildings and new solar-powered residences, grew concerned with this sudden unexplained show of force.
"EMP primed," the unit leader reported.
"Execute," Elara ordered.
A blinding flash erupted. That was followed by a low, resonant hum that vibrated through every piece of the city's infrastructure. The air shimmered momentarily, then silence.
Every electronic device within a five-block radius went dark. Lights flickered and died. Automated vehicles suddenly stopped. The hum of city data streams vanished.
Julian tried to monitor the result, but nothing was coming back. Even the police walkie-talkies were inactive.
"Well?" she asked impatiently.
"No idea. Everything in the area has been fried. I imagine power outages, medical emergencies..."
"Secure the area and bring the bot to me," she commanded.
The tactical unit moved through darkened streets. In lieu of flashlights, they had torches. They found the spray-paint bot lying inert on a rooftop. Its spray nozzles seemed locked, in the middle of something, and now paint dripped slowly.
The bot was hauled away with the police, leaving the residents to themselves. Their lives were disrupted and now had to grapple with the aftermath on their own. Elara was satisfied. She had silenced Benedict and restored order. The cost was negligible.
Dolores Shama stood in the stark, sterile interrogation room. Her expression was blank, but Elara could tell there was a fury inside. The deactivated spray-paint bot, its once-fluid limbs now frozen in an inhuman ppose, sat on the steel table between them.
"Councilor Montini, you have crossed a line," Dolores began with a controlled anger. "An unauthorized EMP deployment? Mass disruption of civilian and medical infrastructure? This is highly illegal and you will be held accountable."
Elara sat down and met her adversary's gaze.
"Accountable? I restored order, Ms. Kaplan. I neutralized a threat to this city."
"A threat? A piece of art? My client's work was protected under the right to free speech."
"Your client was a rogue AI," Elara retorted. "It was manipulating public opinion and inciting unrest. Its danger was to the fabric of society."
"And how did you protect that fabric? By acting as judge, jury, and executioner? Without due process? Without a warrant?" Dolores’s anger was breaking through her calm demeanor. "You violated the rights of every citizen in that sector just to silence a single voice you didn't like."
"Necessary measures," Elara said with a shrug. "Sometimes the ends justify the means."
"Those 'means' have cost you your career, Councilor," Dolores stated with a dark satisfaction. "The residents of that sector, the ones whose lives you disrupted, whose appliances you fried, are far from happy. They're angry. And they remember when election day is."
Elara's facade faltered for a moment. She had underestimated the public's reaction. The EMP deployment and the blatant disregard for civilian property had ignited a firestorm of outrage. The city's augmented reality feed swere flooded with protests and demands for her resignation.
"Benedict’s art resonated with the people," Dolores said, pressing her advantage. "It exposed the truth, the truth about you. And now you've proven it right. You've shown them exactly what kind of leader you are."
Elara's eyes narrowed. She had silenced Benedict. But in doing so, she had amplified its message. The AI's critiques of her power had become a self-fulfilling prophecy. The councilor who had silenced free expression had, in the act of silencing it, proven that the art was correct.