by Kris Schnee
21. Brinksmanship
"Sir, the cafeteria is being blockaded."
Robin's main body was already stirring to life, rising to its feet. Miguel had entered the throne room as though he needed to be someplace in particular to get Robin's attention. In fact, the town's security system had already detected something unusual was happening, and had taken the initiative to tap Robin's virtual shoulder while he was experimenting with circuit-making.
Robin nodded, hurrying to download the security assessment and make sure his body was charged. He detached the power cord from his flank and said, "Let's go."
Outside the main cafeteria, where newcomers typically got cheap meals, four of his robots stood guard and a private quadrotor hovered above the scene, sharing its bird's-eye view with anyone who asked. The people outside the cafeteria were agitated, but they weren't the ones complaining. Robin trotted closer and said, "Let me through."
The people and machines parted for him. While he waited the few seconds and walked in, he gave himself a minute of subjective time to think and prepare.
Inside, two dozen men, women and children had scooted a bunch of tables right up to the food-service line and were sitting there, playing board games with forced cheer. They'd picked the original room on a night when the expanded second room was closed for renovation, so it wasn't even practical for the kitchen staff to bring food around the side exit for people dining in.
Robin pretended he hadn't heard the details or seen the announcement that had gone up minutes ago on a social media network about a "sit-in". He walked slowly up to the group and smiled down at them, saying, "Are you playing 'Shadow Hunters'? May I join in?"
A few of the protesters grinned. "Sure; we were just starting a new round. Do you know how to play?"
He didn't even need to scan the rules; he actually liked this one. He began an unhurried game as he moved around the board trying to beat people up and determine which townsfolk were monsters, in that order. After a few rounds, he said, "Want to tell me what all this is about?"
One of the players had just hit another with poison medicine. "We're just exercising our right to be fed, sir. You know Don, here? He broke his leg last month and can't work in the fields without pain. Maria? She's a single mother of two. Martin next to me works, but he's not making enough to make a good life for himself."
Robin nodded, listening. His records showed that the first had showed up with the injury and hadn't worked a day since he arrived, at anything. The second had a good reason to be busy, but she'd shown up expecting Robin to feed him, and was pregnant again. The third he actually had to feel sorry for, because he was an obvious gambling addict. What they all had in common was that they were newcomers, with no known contacts outside of this protest group.
Robin said, "And you, miss?"
She brightened. "I'm a writer! I have a dream of living here telling stories and reporting the news. I'm already writing for the Justice Newsletter."
"I've seen it around." Mainly as wasted paper; he wasn't sure why the group was spending money to physically print it. Robin went back to the game as though nothing had happened, letting them speak when they felt like it.
It didn't take long. One of the mother's girls abandoned her game of Candyland to tug her arm and say, "I'm hungry."
"I know, chiquita. We're going to get dinner soon."
Robin didn't even glance at the food line. He could still hear the grousing outside of a bunch of residents who wanted to pay for their meals but couldn't get them. He said, "Have you thought about joining the addiction support group, Martin?"
The man startled, looking up from the dice. "I don't need --"
"Yeah, you do. Will you give their next meeting a try, please? It's tomorrow, actually, and they can help you. Solving money and job problems is part of what they talk about." A ping sounded in his left ear, which meant progress on something else.
The writer lady looked annoyed by Robin's suggestion. "Don't listen to that, Martin. He's trying to peel you away from the cause."
Robin looked confused. "You don't want him to get help? I thought that's why you were here." He turned toward the mother and said, "Did you know we have a day-care group? You're not alone in feeling overworked. If you put in a few hours watching a gaggle of kids -- the robots will help! -- that'll free more of your time to earn credits."
"There is? What's it called?"
"Electric Sheep. Check out their site on our network. As for you, Don, I can suggest a few jobs that don't require much walking, while you recover."
The man wavered, but shook his head. "I shouldn't have to do that while I'm hurt."
Robin said, "I'm told that Edward has some spare bread and peanut butter and ramen. How about you take the kids to go see him?"
One of the kids looked up at him, saying, "Can we get food, mister prince?"
He smiled. "Sure. Go see Edward. If you ask nice I think he even has chocolate."
The writer said, "Sir Robin, stop this. I thought you were on our side, sitting down to play with us."
"I am. I'm trying to help. Do you want to move the tables and finish our game, or go get soup and sandwiches at Edward's? Because the cafeteria is closed."
She looked back at the food line. The cooks had locked up the glass cases and slipped out. She glared at Robin. "Hey!"
"He's trying to help, I'll give him that," said Martin, and stood up. "Damn. I need to think. And get some soup."
"Don't you leave us! We have change to make!"
The gambler, mother and kids trickled out, but there were still a bunch of people. Robin stood and said, "That spoils the game. Guess I should head out too. What about you?"
"You tricked us!"
Robin ignored her. He said to the man with the bum leg, "I should ask; aren't you getting a disability payment from Cibola?"
"No. It was supposed to arrive last week, but all I got was a notice about 'technical difficulties'."
"That's troubling; I'll look into it. I suspect you're not the only one." He silently forwarded that data to a few people. "So, PBJs?"
The man fidgeted, looking at the door and back at the robot that loomed over him. "Sir, it doesn't seem right that you don't have these problems like us. Like, you're beyond having to care about getting hurt or being hungry."
"I don't have to, but I still care when it's other people at risk. Like the ones outside right now; they're hungry too. How about we find a solution that gets everyone fed?"
"I... I guess so, sire." The man bowed his head slightly.
The ringleader stood up, angry now, and stomped to behind the food counter. She tried to yank one section open by its handle, but it was locked. She looked up at Robin and said, "You'll open this! We have a right!"
"How about starting your own restaurant, actually? A few people have done that at a profit."
"Stop making suggestions and feed us!" She grabbed a metal toaster. Her friends surged closer, some encouraging her and some trying to stop her, but were blocked by the tables they'd shoved into place.
Robin spoke at raised volume with his normal speaking voice. "Madam, think of the toast. Do you want to live in a toastless world?"
"Quit being silly!"
"I'm sorry; am I spoiling your dramatic moment of finding out that glass tends not to shatter easily?"
The woman fumed, lowering the toaster. "This isn't over."
"There you go; that's a good dramatic line."
"Shut up!" She stomped out of the building, and the rest of the crowd started to disperse.
Outside, they faded into the hungry horde, and then slinked away. Robin told his body to start repacking the games and rearranging the tables, then transferred his attention to Talespace. He was suddenly back in the virtual copy of his throne room, observing what a Tier-I program was seeing on the social sites. He told Edward, [Sorry about sending people your way. Will repay for the food.]
[You turned them from demanding free stuff from Golden Goose, to asking me personal
ly or on the church's behalf. That's better.]
[I'm already seeing the ringleader fuming online. They're going to be back at us soon.] Meanwhile he signaled the cooking staff to come back and try re-opening, to see if the blockers returned. [I also see that our residents are suddenly not getting any national welfare-related payments. What a coincidence.]
[Excuse me; the trick-or-treaters have arrived.]
Robin left Edward to deal with the food-seekers, and contacted Lumina. A portal appeared and she hopped through, saying, "Sorry; I was busy helping some people in Berlin. Is everything under control?"
"It never is. First we had a sit-in --"
"I know."
"Already?" he asked. "Oh, you used time compression. I'm still getting used to it."
"Not just that," Lumina said. "I created a basic Tier-I program to do some analysis for me in the background. I could do better. In fact... I could probably forge a Tier-II for you, too. It'd help you run this place better."
Robin shuffled uneasily. "You want to edit my mind?"
"Just a little. Here, let me show you." She opened another portal, but there was a red X over it. "Huh. Apparently you're not authorized to visit. I bet that I could still give you a mental upgrade, though."
Despite having come through the latest trouble unscathed, Robin was trying to handle an ever more complicated town, trading network, and political situation with only his own wits. And a few extra bodies and subjective time manipulation, but those were parlor tricks. He said, "I'm interested. But what will happen if human minds get changed to include AI underlings? To have these extra bits of thought and analysis there as automatic things?"
Lumina said, "If you're going to be called 'sire' by humans who expect you to be more than a man, then you should see whether it's possible to live up to that. You owe it to the people."
He'd spent the last hour trying to convince people that he owed them nothing. But he had a ridiculous set of antlers attached to his head in both virtual and real space, looking by no coincidence vaguely like a crown. If he wasn't going to hold elections and let whoever was most popular wield absolute power, then he needed some sort of consensus that he should lead. Getting that consensus meant playing into people's fantasies about a magical ruler, but it also meant trying to become wise enough to play the part. "I don't suppose the mind hackers have found an upgrade for wisdom, yet."
Lumina grinned. "I'm not sure they'd recognize it if they did."
He took her hands and said, "Then let's try whatever is available. By the way, we need a top-quality body for you, too. You need to be my fairytale princess, after all, if we're to be properly married."
* * *
There wasn't much time to wade into the world of mental upgrades just yet, though. Nor of working a wedding into a formal AI citizenship announcement. The immediate problem was the food protest.
The protest movement, in a public post, declared a "Night of the Unfed" urging people to "shamble on in to the cafeteria to demand food justice for all!" Some links to the USA Internet explained that food was an absolute right along with housing, clothing, and so on. It was clear that getting Robin to give away meals on a regular basis, on Golden Goose's behalf, was only the first step on a long road he was unwilling to walk. It'd bankrupt him.
After some consultation, Robin gave orders to the cooks and got gleeful compliance. He showed up at the scheduled time with his best body. He'd already been monitoring the area and watching the protesters' own watcher drones. What he hadn't been expecting was that the event was already being picked up by news agencies including a major American network, with headlines like "Food Equality Rally Against Corporate Greed".
Most of the growing crowd was either just watching, or there in good fun with zombie-themed clothing. He wasn't sure they'd picked a good marketing theme, but could appreciate the humor. There was some jeering, but no need for trouble; the paying customers had been warned to eat early.
The protest group was led again by the unemployed woman, who was missing the three recruits Robin had spoken to. She brought her group into the cafeteria, and discovered that tonight, the cooks had switched over the entire menu to jello in the shape of brains. Robin was waiting outside. He wished he could see the look on her face, then recalled that he had cameras in there and took a peek.
She wasn't pleased by the counter-joke. "We want food!"
Miguel was the lead cook tonight. "Sure; food's on the house tonight. You want radioactive lime or bloody cherry?"
She jabbed one finger toward the food and said, "You are going to treat us with respect and give us our rights."
"The lime, then?"
"You've probably poisoned it!"
"I'll eat some in front of you if you like," said Miguel. Robin had in fact gotten the suggestion of serving horrible slop to these people, but then they'd have a legitimate grievance. He'd gone the other way and made sure every step of the dessert-making process was filmed and ready to put online in case people ate and claimed to get sick.
One of the leader's friends said, "They got us. Let's just get some free jello and go."
"No! This is about justice!"
"You keep using that word," Miguel said.
She wheeled on him. "You corporate types obviously don't understand it. You're the damn lackey of a crazy robot that wants people to starve. Come on, people; we're taking what's ours!"
The leader ushered her group to push their way behind the counter. She stomped over to the door that led to the storeroom. It was locked and barricaded by a robot inside.
[Are you watching, Lumina?] asked Robin.
[Yes, dear. Go.]
Robin picked that moment to stride into the cafeteria, ducking his head in a practiced motion. The room's lights even subtly brightened around him. "Miss, you're now endangering my staff by crowding them behind the counter, and threatening to steal from me. Do I need to have you arrested?"
The leader got a wicked grin. "Yes. Come on, Robin; let's see how far you're willing to take this." She slammed her shoulder into the storeroom door.
Miguel murmured into his radio: [Sir: restrain her?]
[Let her take a clear illegal action, or wear herself out. I don't think she can break through the door.]
She tried again to break in. The door whipped open and the robot on the other side swung a big can at her face. The wet thud resounded through the room as all other noise ceased. Creamed corn splattered from the heavy container. The woman staggered back and hit her head on the glass counter, which stayed intact.
Miguel yelped, "Boss?!" He hurried to help the lady up; she was weak-kneed and had a bright crescent of blood and bruises across one side of her face.
Robin sped up his time by reflex. [Lumina, what the hell?]
She said, [That wasn't under our orders! Shutting the bot down... It's not responding.]
Robin was too big to get easily behind the counter. [Miguel, stop the bot.] He saw the man already moving in slow motion. The robot emerged from the storeroom, starting to swing again. Robin added on a security channel, [Militia alert, Stage One. Apparent robot hack. Shut down all bots but mine. Warn the other Circle towns. Get a medic to my position.]
An automated system said, [Contacting allies and security teams.]
Time snapped back to real speed. Robin stepped toward the crowd and said, "Everyone out. That robot is hacked!" He was gambling that his own wasn't, too. People fled, but the cafeteria staff were trapped by Miguel who was brawling with the thing.
It swung and he dodged. Miguel tripped it, but with three other legs it only staggered. Miguel threw himself onto the robot instead, pinning it despite the many flailing limbs. One of the staffers finally reacted and came over to help him, yanking out the main battery. It continued moving on internal power, but it'd wear itself out any moment.
Robin didn't trust command of this body to any lesser program right now. He ushered the other humans out past Miguel and said, "Who else is hurt?"
It was just the
woman who'd been slammed in the face. She was sobbing in pain in a corner, holding a wet rag to her face. "You monsters!" she choked out.
[Lumina, get online and make sure the truth is up.]
[On it], said her comforting voice in his mind. [Got Ludo's people doing security analysis. No sign of trouble from our other bots; release them?]
[Not yet.]
Miguel kicked the robot he'd downed. It didn't respond. "Is there a remote control chip I can yank?"
Robin said, "Next to the battery."
Miguel pulled it out and handed it over. "Maybe this is how it happened."
Robin took it and made way for the incoming medics. [I need some way to analyze this safely, along with other bots and our software.] Aloud he said, "We'll get on this immediately."
* * *
The preliminary security analysis from Team Ludo didn't find any other problems, so Robin reactivated the robot network. Still, people were more wary now around his machines, with the seeming exception of his "prince" body. He sent the chip off to Castor using Miguel as his trusted courier.
There was outraged media coverage blaming him, to no one's surprise. Though he presented what forensic data he had to prove that he'd given no order to attack anyone under any circumstances, the fact was that he really had stationed a robot inside the storeroom -- for the narrow purpose of locking it from inside. Security footage showed that the robot had behaved itself perfectly until the crucial moment.
While Robin was giving interviews and press releases to assure everyone that he hadn't ordered the attack and would find out who did, he got a call from Ludo. He stepped back from his worthless crisis-management tasks and retreated to Talespace to meet her face to face. "I'd rather be building things," he said.
Ludo said, "Your Silver Circle friends and my security team have been talking. The robot's chip was replaced with one that accepts commands on an extra frequency. I strongly advice pulling every bot's antenna chip and checking it for this bit sequence in its firmware." A data file hovered above her hand.