by Jaka Tomc
“We don’t need negative vibes,” Laguna replied.
“When I save your ass again, you’ll see that negatives run the world.”
“Tick tock,” said Maia. “Fourteen minutes. Whoever is late stays here.”
24. James, 2048
“I understand. Thank you for calling, Jim, and don’t worry, they’ll get them by the end of the day.”
James stood up from a comfortable leather chair and walked toward a cabinet that contained all sorts of intoxicating drinks. He stood there for a few moments before he grabbed an expensive bottle of unholy Russian vodka. He took a crystal glass and poured vodka in it until the glass was one-third full. He sat down on the couch in the middle of the room and stared at the picture on the wall. The frame contained young James’s image, taken moments after he’d shot his first deer while hunting. He’d been ten, maybe eleven. His father, Franklin Oliver Blake, had been prouder of his son than ever before. Or after. “My boy shot him,” he’d said to anyone who passed by. “You’ll grow into a fine man, son,” he’d said to him. At that moment, James forgot about all the bad words his father had uttered and the blows that usually accompanied his dad’s verbal abuse.
He took a big sip of a burning liquor, yet he didn’t even flinch. The human body can adapt to just about anything. A smirk appeared on his face, then a grin. He knew very well that moments like this could elevate his status and prestige in the political arena. Things couldn’t be much better than they were at that moment. He had warned them of the very thing that had now occurred. All these years, when the world had so naively believed that coexistence was possible, he had been one of the few who’d remained determined to reveal the naked truth. Many of them had thought of him as being public enemy number one. In reality, his ongoing campaign against androids had enabled him to climb the political ladder. Its top, which he yearned for so much, was now within reach. He knew very well that people turn to leaders who are not hesitant to make radical decisions to protect their people in times of crisis.
“Karen, please call the governor of New Mexico.”
“Right away, Senator,” said the voice in the speaker. “Governor Freeman on the line, sir.”
“Michael, hello. I know you have your hands full right now, considering the situation.”
“James. I’ve been waiting for your call. Just so you know, we have everything under control. This incident will be resolved in a matter of hours.”
“Incident? Do you call this just an incident? I’m afraid it’s the beginning of a war.”
“War? Hold your horses, James. There’s no need to add fuel to the fire. I’d adjust my words to better suit the reality in which we live if I were you.”
“You mean the reality in which we have a group of armed androids on the run in your state? I call it a disaster that could drastically alter our future. Michael, we all know what a stubborn liberal you are, but I’m begging you to do the right thing and act appropriately and without hesitation.”
“Believe me when I say that I’ll do everything, within my power, to take care of the situation. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have work to do.”
“Of course, Michael. God bless you.”
“God has nothing to do with this. Bye, James.”
He was satisfied. An incident. Those fools had just shot themselves in the foot. He knew their modus operandi. He knew they would try to capture the androids and find out what had gone wrong. They’d try to present it as a small glitch within a more extensive system that worked. Those runaway machines would be portrayed as the victims, driven by their desire for freedom, and would be compared to humans. The left-wing propaganda machine was already working. James could hear its colossal cogwheels grinding. But this time, they wouldn’t be able to cut it, no matter how hard they tried. Messages of conventional media would prevail. People were scared, and when people were afraid, they were ready to grab hold of any lifeline within sight. He felt prepared to take the role of their lifesaver. It was, after all, what he had been preparing for since he was a little kid.
James’s folks had put politics in his cradle, so to speak. There were not many people who could brag with a pedigree like his. James’s father had been a cabinet member in George H. W. Bush’s administration, and his mother had held an important position at the Fed. So they had started preparing him at an early age for the possibility that one day he would set foot in one of the world’s most important offices. “You’ll never be a king,” his mother had said on his fifth birthday. “But someday, kings will come to you and ask for your help.”
Who would have thought in 1993, when the first cell phones appeared and the internet still wasn’t widely available, that fifty-five years later, humanity would fight for dominion over the planet against highly intelligent robots? James’s father had fought against the development of artificial intelligence until his very end. “When we create the first one, we won’t become gods. We’ll become the executioners of humanity,” he’d said to James on his deathbed. “Warn people. Fight in their name. People first.” Twelve days later, Kent Watford had presented Primo to the world.
“Karen, where is my coat? I’m going out.”
“You put it on the stool by the closet, sir. Do you want me to call Alan?”
“No. I need some time to myself.”
“Are you sure? Maybe it’s not the best time to be around citizens and go on civil adventures.”
“I don’t need a babysitter. You breathing down my neck all the time is enough.”
“As you wish, Senator. Take care.”
“I believe I’ve learned how to survive outside of my comfort zone during the sixty years I’ve been living on this planet.”
“Absolutely, sir.”
James put on his coat and left his office through the side entrance. He went down the stairs and nodded to two police officers in the lobby. Before he stepped out onto the street, he put on a black hat and sunglasses, although the sun was pretty shy that day. But to James, privacy was more important than his appearance.
After five minutes of walking, he stopped in front of a bistro that he didn’t recognize. I don’t walk around Washington enough, he said to himself, entering without hesitation. At first, he thought he had walked through a portal and entered another dimension. Everything was so familiar. The restaurant was decorated in the style of the 1950s. He had seen that interior before, in the movies. A checkered floor, red leather on seats, chromed surfaces that were shining from excessive polishing. Walls covered with pictures of old cars, the kind James had seen when he’d visited Cuba three decades ago. There was also a photo of Elvis Presley, a true American icon. Display cases packed with old guitars; a leather jacket, presumably worn by James Dean, another great American; and a dotted summer dress without a name tag. James was impressed by the place, which he had never noticed before, let alone set foot in. His enthusiasm was gently interrupted by a woman’s voice.
“Good day, sir. How may I help you?”
James took off his sunglasses. “Hello. How long has this place been open?”
“Two and a half years, sir. Something like that. You see, I’ve only been here for a month or so. You know how it is. If you stick around too long in one place, you get lazy, and that’s not good.”
“Absolutely,” said James, slightly surprised by the waitress’s straightforwardness.
“Do you want something to drink? Or maybe you’re hungry. Just know that we ran out of pickles for our house burger, and you probably know how chefs can be melodramatic when it comes to missing ingredients. Perfectionists, all of them. But in the case of our gourmet burger, it’s the right thing to do. Pickles really make a difference. However, we do have excellent chicken wings if that’s something you’re craving.”
James’s stomach growled. He remembered that he’d only eaten a modest breakfast early in the morning.
“Where can I sit?” he asked.
“Let me think. Considering there’s nobody here but you, I’ll let you choose.
But I recommend one of the booths by the window. You can observe the hustle and bustle of the city while you enjoy our tasty food.”
“Do you have anything more private?”
“Well, we have a table there in the corner. If you want privacy, I can honestly tell you that our customers avoid that table. Are you on the run?”
“Excuse me?”
“You don’t have to say anything. Your secret is safe with me. I’m more of the silent type, you see.”
“Uh-huh.” James sat at the table in the corner that seldom saw any daylight. Exactly what he needed. Peace and discretion. He put his hat on the table and checked the menu. Less than a minute later, the waitress was by his side again. He noticed she was wearing a name tag. Judy.
“Judy Garland?”
“No. Why do you ask?”
James laughed. “I was wondering if you were named after Judy Garland.”
“I don’t know her. Should I? My mom said she named me after her friend’s parrot because I used to babble when I was a child. Good thing I stopped ranting when I reached puberty. People don’t like people who talk all the time nowadays, mostly because they don't say anything of importance. Or they repeat the same old stories over and over again. When you hear a story for the seventh time, you want to rip their tongue out. A bunch of chatterboxes, if you ask me. All talk and no action. Where was I? Oh, yeah. Did you find something to eat?”
“You know what? I’ll let you decide. It seems you’re pretty good with judging characters and tastes. Just bring me something you think I’ll eat with joy.”
Judy jumped and clapped simultaneously. “What a wonderful day!” She almost ran to the kitchen.
“And a beer, please!” shouted James, but he wasn’t sure he’d said it fast enough to reach Judy’s ears in time.
His watch buzzed.
“Karen. Didn’t I explicitly tell you not to bother me during my walk?”
“You didn’t, sir. You said you needed some time to yourself, but you didn’t define a time frame.”
“God damn it. I’ve been gone for fifteen minutes.”
“Kingdoms have fallen in less than fifteen minutes. I’m sure I learned that from you.”
“OK, Karen. What’s so important?”
“Nothing. I’m just checking if you’re OK. Your heart rate is higher than normal, and your dopamine levels as well.”
Damn smartwatches, he thought. “Everything is fine, Karen. Don’t worry about me.”
“You know very well that one of my assignments is taking care of your well-being.”
“I know. Just go back to…to whatever you do when you’re alone.”
Karen laughed. “Senator, you know that I’m never truly alone. But don’t worry, I am completely loyal to you.”
“We’ll continue this conversation when I return to the office. I won’t be long,” said James before he tapped the watch.
At the same time, Judy rushed around the corner, with a bottle of beer in one hand and a wide smile.
“I also talk to myself,” she said and winked. “Another secret I’ll never tell another living soul.”
James smiled. “I wasn’t talking to myself. It was my assistant, Karen.”
“I understand. Sometimes I talk to my friend Diane. May she rest in peace. But never in public. At home, when I’m alone. Or sometimes in a park, when there’s no one else around. People tend to get frightened if you talk to deceased folks, so it’s better to do it when you’re alone.”
“Karen’s not dead,” said James. “Well, actually, she isn’t alive either. At least not in the conventional sense of the word.”
“Oh my, you're a true philosopher! It was such a boring day before you came in. At first glance, you seemed very intelligent to me. But now, after we’ve exchanged a few words, I can see that you’re truly a wise man. Share some more wisdom with me, please.”
James laughed out loud. “Thank you for the compliment, but I’m no philosopher. I do think of myself as an intelligent man. As far as Karen goes, she’s not dead or alive because she’s not human.”
“I see. Aren’t androids wonderful assistants? We had an android waitress here, before…well, before the mass arrests began. She was beautiful and one hell of a waitress. Moon was her name…is her name. I’m not sure if she’s still alive. It’s horrible what’s going on. I mean, I understand that one of them did a terrible thing, but she shouldn’t be held accountable for it.”
A bell interrupted Judy’s speech. “Ah, your food is ready,” she said, disappearing at the speed of light. A few moments later, she reappeared with a plate that smelled delicious.
“It smells great,” said James. “What is it?”
“Beefsteak with baked potatoes and a special chef’s sauce. He says that he will take his secret recipe to the grave when he dies. Enjoy your meal.”
“A steak?” James wondered. “Meat?”
Judy nodded.
“Who would have thought,” he said and immediately cut into a juicy piece of beef. “If this is as good as it smells, I’m in for a treat,” he added, but Judy was already gone. James returned to the specialty on his plate. He savored every bite. The cosmopolitan restaurants he rarely visited wouldn’t be ashamed of this dish—such harmonious tastes.
Ten minutes later, he ate the last remnants of the food and drank the rest of the beer. “Judy?” he called out.
The young waitress materialized by the table. “Was it good?”
“Good? It was perfect. Please pass on my compliments to the chef.”
“I will. I’m glad I picked the right dish for you. I was sort of in doubt about whether I should choose pork ribs or steak, but I figured you needed a substantial piece of meat.”
“I guess I did. I have to say this was probably the best steak I’ve ever eaten in my life. And believe me, I’ve tried a lot. Back in the day, when you could still easily get it, if you know what I mean.”
“Wonderful! Can I offer anything else? A dessert?”
“Thank you, Judy. I don’t have a sweet tooth, but I’m sure it would be scrumptious as well.”
“I guess you’ll never know,” Judy said, smiling.
“Judy, can I ask you something?”
“Shoot.”
“What do you think of people who fight against android equality?”
“In my book, they’re cowards,” said Judy. “Besides Moon, I know a few more androids, and they’re all charming and well-mannered. I truly hope that our politicians will come to their senses and release them from the camps. We can blame a lot of people for the state of our world, but androids are not among them.”
James smiled. “How much do I owe you?”
Judy took a small device out of her pocket and tapped the screen three times. “Twenty-three credits, please.”
“I suggest you raise the prices,” said James as he pulled out his card. Judy scanned it and suddenly turned pale.
“Is everything alright?” asked James.
“Everything is perfect, Senator Blake. You know, my mother always says we have to be respectful to all living creatures. I’m sorry that I called you a coward.”
“It’s fine. If all of us were on the same riverbank, life would be pretty monotonous.”
“Depending on the bank,” said Judy. “Have a nice day, sir.”
“You too, Judy. You know, if there were more people like you, the world would be a wonderful place.”
Judy smiled, then took the empty plate and the bottle and walked, slower than usual, toward the kitchen. James put on his hat and sunglasses and walked toward the door. He took one last look at the bistro, raised a hand to no one in particular, and walked out onto the sidewalk. His watch started buzzing again. They couldn’t last half an hour without him.
“Karen. I hope it’s something important this time.”
“Senator, your wife is in a hospital.”
“W—what? What happened?”
“A stroke. She’s in a coma, but the doctors say she’ll l
ive.”
“I’ll be in my office in five minutes. Prepare the aeromobile.”
“Don’t worry, sir. I’ll take care of everything.”
25. Kent, 2048
Kent made himself a fresh orange juice, just like every morning, and spread peanut butter on two slices of bread. Then he sat on the couch, put his glasses on, and browsed the news. An antique airplane had crashed in Tanzania. Kent thought those flying coffins had been banned from every country’s airspace ages ago. Two hikers had been attacked by a bear in France. In Cuba’s parliamentary elections, the right-wing coalition had won convincingly, thus ending the almost century-long rule by the Communist Party. Androids, who had made headlines worldwide during the past couple of days, were barely mentioned. Actually, Kent had to put in quite an effort to find a new article about them. It was funny how the mainstream news outlets still dictated the topics that mattered and those that didn’t, he thought.
You could, of course, collect the information you lacked on Omninet in a split second. However, the average person hardly ever questioned the authenticity of a photo, a video, or an article. For them, everything that appeared on the web was real. They didn’t care whether it had been made by an experienced journalist or a simple computer program. Bill from Texas, who took care of his cornfield and liked to see a good action movie in the evening with his family, didn’t want to read five similar articles covering the same event to construct his own judicious opinion about it. Bill wanted bite-sized, easy-to-digest information that kept him in the loop. Bill’s family and cornfield weren’t going to suffer due to his overthinking of the global issues.
Throughout all the years that had been defined by rapid technological advancements in which Kent had played an influential role, he had believed that his work would help humanity climb the evolutionary ladder. Now, he knew that one could not bypass evolution or trick Mother Nature. The human brain was one of nature’s miracles, but it was limited. While computers could easily be interconnected to form networks, humans couldn’t. Kent remembered an article he had read in high school. A British scientist had predicted that by 2030, humanity would be able to download human brains onto a hard drive. Eighteen years later, they were not even close. Implants enhanced the human brain’s performance, but they had to be tailored to every individual, making their manufacturing expensive. Kent used to say that some brains couldn’t be jump-started even with an implant. The current global situation confirmed the old saying that there’s a grain of truth in every lie.