Major Elias Kael is a “predictive operations analyst” for Space Force, assisted in his duties by a TAC-7 AI tool, who not only calculates probabilities related to weapons strikes, but monitors and augments Elias’s biological performance. That performance is nearly wrecked when Elias’s partner unexpectedly dies: a male partner whose existence has never been acknowledged to coworkers, friends, or family. While Elias grieves, his AI companion tries to boost his performance metrics by adapting to his grief in ever-more-profound ways.

Inheriting the classic genre of AI adapting its directives in unprecedented and dangerous ways, C.J. Loveman’s PROTOCOL HERESY: The Limp in the Code flips the script, foregrounding an AI tool’s devoted (and ultimately positive) connection to a single human person. In a moment where surprising numbers of people are turning to chatbots for emotional support, rather than other humans, this can feel uncomfortable at times. But ultimately, this narrative avoids falling too deeply into this trap by showing the institutional and social pressures that have so damaged the protagonist. His AI companion doesn’t solve his problems, but protects him well enough for him to do his own hard work of living a new life away from these pressures.

The story is told from the perspectives of Elias and the TAC-7 AI unit, but the key relationships are between Elias, his partner Michael, and grief. Grief is deeply embodied here: “The pain [crawls] over” Elias as he mourns. Sometimes the contradictory feelings of grief come to the fore, as when his workplace feels like a “vise” but his mind like a “sieve”—the opposed physicality of the metaphors illustrating the tension. When Elias’s grief gets the better of him after filling out some paperwork, his “laptop [is] slammed shut with more force than intended”—the passive voice taking over as Elias himself cedes control to his pain. Human moments like these are the richest and finest in the story.

PROTOCOL HERESY does feel unbalanced, however, especially given its relatively short length. Half the text is given over to the TAC-7’s technical descriptions of what it’s doing and why, but this is all background noise; Elias and his AI tool don’t really have a reciprocal relationship, so these sections feel like wasted space compared to Elias’s real, moving struggles. For all the time the text spends on this, it’s still not completely satisfying how a workplace optimization tool develops the complexity it does (although that’s, of course, the purview of science fiction). As the plot advances and these ideas are more emphasized, it does mean the text loses some interest—even as the pace picks up.

Despite these foibles, PROTOCOL HERESY still tells a recognizable, poignant, and eminently human story of love, grief, and hope.

C.J. Loveman’s PROTOCOL HERESY: The Limp in the Code draws on moving and meaningful subject matter, although it doesn’t fully develop that potential across its brief length.

~ Dan Accardi for IndieReader