An Android Dog's Tale

by D.L. Morrese

  ~*~

  They gathered again in Granny Greenflower’s hut after she finished with Steffin. She said he would recover with nothing but another scar to add to his collection to mark the experience.

  “Tell me more about what’s going on here,” Tam said. He used his silent communication system rather than speaking aloud even though they were alone. It avoided any chance of them being overheard by the primitives.

  “I’ve never seen a village more polarized,” the NASH android responded. “When old Dunwood died, the body wasn’t even cold before Movey said he would take over as headman.”

  “Quick transition of authority is good,” Tam said.

  “True, but not everyone likes him. He’s always been bossy.”

  “A strong leader, then.”

  “More like overbearing and far too certain of the superiority of his views, in my opinion, not that it counts. I think the main reason Ranex is contesting him is that he doesn’t want Movey in charge.”

  “If he’s so obnoxious, why do half of the villagers support him?”

  She paused a moment, imitating a person in thought. After several thousand years working directly with humans, their mannerisms came natural to her. “Well, he’s smooth, too, and it’s not as if some of his ideas aren’t good. What I dislike is that he plays on people’s fears and ambitions, and he’s promised rewards to anyone who backs him.”

  “It looks like the primitives have invented politics,” MO-126 said. He knew little about the subject, but he was familiar with the term. This situation seemed to suit the definition. Politics, the currying of favor by whatever means necessary, seemed unsavory to his doglike sensibilities, but he understood why people needed it. They were an exceptionally adaptable species, but this came at the cost of innate abilities. Much of their behavior was learned rather than instinctive. How they organized themselves into groups and chose their leaders was one area where they often seemed to have to make it up as they went along. In the last four thousand years, he encountered villages with fledgling patriarchies, matriarchies, plutocracies, oligarchies, theocracies, and democracies. Most of the villages simply recognized a headman of some sort, more of a judge than a ruler. Each extended family had its own leader, usually the oldest competent male, but when disputes arose that the family leaders could not resolve, they could request judgment from the village headman.

  “Oh, they’ve always had politics,” Granny Greenflower said. “They are social animals, after all. Movey’s just especially good at it.”

  “But does it really matter which of them becomes the village leader?” Tam said. “After all, they don’t live long, and regardless of what they do, they’re not likely to have much effect on the project.”

  “I’m not so sure about that. This village is on the verge of failure. I know a single production unit is not that important anymore, but I doubt the PM will want to lose one.”

  “You really think things are that bad?”

  “They aren’t yet, but they could be soon. Why risk it?” She raised her eyebrows and held her hands open before her in a ‘there’s nothing to risk and much to lose’ gesture.

  “Okay,” Tam said a bit reluctantly. “We’ll contact Field Operations and see what they say.”

  He opened a link and provided a summary of what they observed since they arrived. Granny Greenflower emphasized that the villagers were not working. Tam noted the violence that already occurred, that more seemed likely, and agreed that it might be advisable to bud the village early to avoid it. He made this his recommendation. His partner suspected he did it mainly to appease the nursery android.

  “Requested action is not in accordance with standard operating procedures,” the administrative android assigned to Field Operations on the other end of the conversation said.

  “We know that!” Granny Greenflower said. “That’s why we’re calling for an exception.”

  “I cannot authorize a mitigation of any kind for unapproved reasons.”

  “Well, you’ve heard our reasons. Approve them,” she said.

  “I cannot approve reasons that do not meet the criteria for approval,” the voice on the other end of the communication said.

  She rolled her synthetic eyes. “Can I please speak to someone with a...?” she hesitated, rephrasing her question to something politer than what MO-126 suspected her about to say. “Can you direct me to someone who can make a decision in cases like this?”

  “I am a level one administrative android with full cognitive and decision-making capabilities. Your request does not meet criteria for approval.”

  Granny Greenflower took a deep, calming breath. “Can you direct our request to someone who can authorize an exception to those standard criteria?” she asked with feigned politeness.

  “Elevation for PM decision is required. Do you wish to proceed?”

  “Yes!” Granny Greenflower responded with clear signs of exasperation. In a private relay to just the two other androids with her, she added, “Damn bureaucrats. I don’t know why they assign androids to those positions. If they can’t do anything but adhere to standard policy, they’re no better than robots.”

  “Request made,” the Field Ops android said. A brief pause followed, and then he added, “The PM has disapproved your recommendation.”

  “That was quick,” MO-126 said.

  “No!” Granny Greenflower said. “I, um, I appeal.”

  Appeal? The android dog did not realize that option existed. As it turned out, it did not.

  “There is no protocol for reconsideration without additional information. Do you wish to have a summary of the PM’s conclusion?”

  “Yes, I would,” she replied.

  “Response follows,” the Field Ops representative said. The file that came after that was succinct.

  “The information provided indicates a competition between two primitives for nominal leadership of Semiautonomous Production Cell 168-D. Such conflicts are not uncommon and normally resolve themselves in less than one year with little or no impact on output. Ancillary effects have been considered, and threats to corporate interests are assessed as minimal. Mitigation is not required.”

  “Well, that’s that,” Tam said. “The situation will resolve itself. MO-126 and I should be heading back to the hub terminal.” He turned to leave.

  “Please wait,” Granny Greenflower said. “I think the PM is wrong. I don’t think this will resolve itself, at least not well. The villagers are too divided.”

  Tam remained unconvinced. “That girl we spoke with earlier didn’t seem to care much who became headman. I suspect that’s true for most of the primitives here.”

  “She’s young and she’s female. In this village, that means she’s not supposed to care. The family leaders do care, and they’re split. I know that from the PM’s perspective it hardly matters who becomes headman here. Neither of them is likely to change things much. Movey is making promises about giving the most deserving people certain benefits such as less work and a larger share from trade surpluses, and so is Ranex. It’s just that each one has a different idea about what makes people deserving. Movey seems to think it’s the family elders and others who support him. Ranex seems to think the deserving are those who produce more. He also is saying that those who are old or sick shouldn’t be required to work in the orchards and fields but should contribute in other ways if they can. None of this matters to the PM. The problem is that it matters to the people here, and I’m afraid they’re going to do more than argue about it.”

  “The PM has probably considered that, too, you know,” Tam reminded her. “A bit of squabbling among the primitives is taken into account in its projections, I’m sure.”

  “I know that’s what it expects will happen, and it might even be right, but why make them go through all of that when we can just bud the village a bit early?”

  Tam shrugged. “I don’t know, but it’s not my decision—and it’s not yours either. We should be going. Good luck with the village
rs.” Like most trade androids, Tam was a loyal company man, or machine, or whatever.

  She stopped him again. “One more request. Leave MO-126 here. He can help me monitor the situation.”

  “I don’t mind,” the android dog said before Tam could argue against the idea. It sounded far more interesting than heading back to the hub terminal to wait for their next mission, which remained over a month away.

  Tam sent the request and Field Ops granted it. Apparently the situation did not call for mitigation, but it did justify close monitoring, which was the mobile observer’s primary function.

  “Okay,” Tam said to their hostess. “Call Field Ops if MO-126 will be delayed.” Then he hefted his backpack and left. His partner knew he did not mind traveling alone, but the artificial dog did feel a bit guilty, as if he were abandoning him.

  Tam seemed unconcerned, so the android dog put his subjective and unjustified emotional reaction aside. He seldom performed anything other than trade interface duty and looked forward to doing something different.