Prisoners of Technocracy (Robots in Your Future Book 1)

by David Poland

  “No thanks gentlemen. I will look after him. He lives on my beat and I’m taking him back to his flat to get his watch.”

  Chapter Two

  There was no question about it. Police Officer Dax had saved his butt big time. The city was driving Tommy crazy. It was beautiful and utopian, but when he finally tried to escape, he got caught. All that he managed to do was commit a major felony and a-half dozen misdemeanors. If it wasn’t for ole Daxy, he’d be doing time in the police box or worse. He’d be dead.

  For his entire life, or at least as much of it as he could remember, he had lived in the city and followed the very least number of laws possible. Only once had he pushed the system hard enough to wind up in the police box. He had been jailed in isolation and that had been a very bad experience. He swore he’d never let that happen again, but there he was, caught outside without his com-link watch. If it wasn’t for ole Daxy, he’d be in the police box right now.

  Officer Dax hadn’t filed any of the misdemeanors Tommy had committed, and he never mentioned that Tommy was trying to escape. Rather than report the felony, Dax reported the missing watch as an unintended oversight. There were several other problems Office Dax had discreetly overlooked, but in exchange, Tommy had promised to take a job and work for at least one full year. The truth was, Tommy had never worked a full day in his life. When he had played the escape card it hadn’t worked. Now there was no way out. He would either take a job, or he would go to jail.

  Tommy didn’t have any employable skills or even a high school diploma, but he owed the neighborhood cop big-time, so this week he would give the WPA another try. This was the first Monday morning since he had made the deal with Officer Dax. He was out on the sidewalk and inhaled the cool air with the pleasure of a man facing a firing squad. He anxiously checked his left wrist for his com-link watch. Most of his current predicament had come from being outside without his watch. The sight of it calmed his nerves. His sister Angie was with him and her sweater hid her left wrist, but he knew she was wearing her watch. People like her always did.

  He looked up and down the sidewalk and across the street, but ole Daxy was not to be seen. This was disappointing. He wanted the policeman to see him keeping his promise and going to work with his sister.

  The bus knew Angie’s routine and stopped in front of her door. So far so good, he was on his way to his first job. When the rather small bus stopped, he started for the door only to be pushed aside by his sister Angie who looked over the rim of her glasses and said, “Ladies first.”

  The bus was only big enough for ten passengers, a driver, and a conductor. This morning there was no one on board. The bus, like all the other cars and trucks in the city, could drive itself or be driven by a human or a robot. This morning it was driving itself. Tommy sat in the front seat behind where the driver should have been. Angie sat up front on the other side. The door closed and the electric bus engaged silently.

  Tommy looked at the empty driver’s seat and watched the steering wheel turn by itself. He looked across to his sister and said, “Making people work to get what they want is a total crime. They got no business taking away my freedom to do nothin’.”

  “They didn’t take it away. You were free to do nothing, but you started breaking the laws and you got yourself caught.” His sister knew him better than anyone else, and over the years she had grown rather tired of this topic. “Captain Dax has been very good to you. Thanks to him, you have one more chance. You made a pretty serious deal with Mr. Dax. If you can’t keep the job this time, you’ll wind up in the box. Listen Tommy, you had better get it right this time.” His sister wasn’t condescending as she talked. She was trying her best to get him to understand the situation he was in. “You had better make up your mind to do it right this time? Do you hear me?”

  Before he could answer, a young man four or five years younger than Tommy whipped around the side of the bus and sped off on an old fashioned motorcycle. “Look at that! Listen to him! He’s burning real gasoline and makin’ noise. He’s makin’ real smog and he’s not even as old as I am. Look at him! He’s got himself a bike and he’s tearing up the highway. Man, if I had a bike I’d be more careful than that guy. I’ll bet he’s got no job either.”

  “You’re hopeless,” said Angie. “You want to meet that guy and check out his bike?”

  Tommy stared back at his sister. “Oh yeah sure. You’re gonna tell me if I get the job and work for at least two weeks, you’ll look him up in the database.”

  “No Tommy-tom, that’s what Dax would say. Why don’t you just go on home and be happy doing nothing, but you better be careful though. You might die of boredom, or worse yet, wind up in the police box.”

  “Oh man, don’t talk to me like that. I’m here ain’t I?” Tommy wrapped his arms around his chest and looked straight ahead. The motorcycle slowed and turned into the WPA parking lot. “Hey look, that guy just turned into your place.”

  “His name is Jackson,” said Angie, “and he works out of my office.”

  “You never told me that! You never told me you knew a motorcycle.”

  “I don’t know a motorcycle, never met one, but I know Jackson. He works for the WPA like I do. Would you like to meet him?”

  “So he got a bike because he got a job?”

  “That’s the way it works Tommy-tom.”

  The electric bus finally turned into the parking lot where the motorcycle had gone. Tommy could see four old fashioned motorcycles parked together in a place away from the modern self-driving three-wheelers. Tommy had seen other old fashioned bikes parked around the city and in the past he had gotten in trouble for sitting on one. He politely waited for his sister to step off the bus before he did. He walked over toward the bikes, but not close enough to touch them.

  “Come along Tommy-tom, let’s go get you a job,” said his sister.

  Tommy rolled his eyes toward the heavens and followed his sister into the building. The inside of the building had all the charm of the Department of Motor Vehicles, which even in these postmodern times was rather sparse and unattractive. Angie was an employee and when she walked through the large lobby, electronic security read her com-link watch and opened the inner door for her. The inner office was much larger than the lobby, and most of the desks were in cubicles. Angie had a desk at the back near the windows that was not in a cubicle. Tommy figured she was either a step below the others or maybe a step above. He couldn’t tell.

  Jackson, the young man Tommy had seen on a motorcycle, and an older man were standing by Angie’s desk. Angie spoke to the older man first. “Hello Ted, are you short some manpower?”

  Looking at Tommy with pleasant recognition, Ted answered. “I believe you are Tommy, Angie’s brother?”

  “Yes,” she said. “Tommy I’d like you to meet Ted, our WPA Principal, and Jackson, one of our best workers.”

  Ted then asked, “So what brings your brother here today? Is he looking for a new job?”

  Angie gave Tommy a quick glance that said let me handle this. “Yes, in fact I was going to start his application first thing, but first, why have you and Jackson come by my desk?”

  “Jackson’s partner is a no-show again,” said Ted. “We need a man with the good health and enough intelligence to ride a motorcycle.”

  With the sound of the word motorcycle, Tommy’s heart jumped and he felt his skin flush.

  Ted now looked at Tommy. “Can you do outside work or do you have some disabilities?”

  Tommy was trying hard not to let his excitement show. “I’m sure I can ride a motorcycle. No, wait! I mean I’m sure I can work outside, but of course you got to show me what to do.” Tommy thought for just a moment, “But don’t I have to fill out some papers and stuff before I can start?”

  “Don’t worry about that,” said his sister. “I have all your data and I’ll fill them out for you. Here’s a chance to get started today?” She sat back and raised her eyebrows before she continued. “That is if you really want t
o.”

  “I do! That’s why I’m here. Let’s go do it.” Tommy then gave Jackson his attention. “You gonna show me what to do?” Tommy followed Jackson out the back door. Angie sighed to herself watching Tommy, and thought, Tommy-tom you may not like what Jackson does for a living.

  When Angie looked back, Ted said, “I know why he’s here. I was on the sidewalk with my provider robot when the police spider malfunctioned. My provider was one of the three that tried to stop that thing.”

  “I saw the film on the News,” said Angie cautiously. “Was your provider destroyed?”

  “No, thank God, but its body-case was totaled. That police spider did a pretty good job of smashing it, but its computer and all its memory survived undamaged. Homeland Care picked up the pieces and put the computer and memory in a new body-case. He was home again the next day, good as new.”

  Angie now looked over her glasses at Ted. “He was home?” she said with a touch of condescension. “Don’t you mean, ‘it’ was home the next day?”

  “Oh yes, of course. Listen, that contraption has been in my family for years and we all like it.” Ted seemed to lose his train of thought. He started to smile. “Does your brother know what Jackson does for a living?”

  With apprehension she shook her head.

  “Do you think your brother can keep up with him all day?”

  “He can if he wants to. He’s strong enough,” answered Angie, “but his mind wanders. He may forget why he’s there in the first place.”

  “So how about today? Do you think he can do it all day today?”

  Angie could feel her apprehension growing. “I don’t know, Ted. I really don’t know. Officer Dax has been awfully good to him, maybe this time he’ll do it for Mr. Dax.’’

  Ted gave her desk a friendly tap and walked away. She then took out the application papers and began filling them out for her brother.

  Once inside the shop, Jackson took Tommy over to the locker room.

  “What’s all this stuff,” asked Tommy.

  “The job can get pretty dusty. Take a pair of coveralls, and you can use that locker over there.”

  Tommy grabbed the handle of a locker with a green light. The locker evaluated his hand size and his fingerprints and then opened. This locker was now his. It would only open when it recognized his hand. “So what kind of work do you do?”

  “I’m a street swamper, and like I said it can get pretty dusty; but not all the time. Most of the time it’s actually pretty clean.”

  “Oh man,” said Tommy in disbelief. “You’re a trash truck monkey.”

  “Hey watch your mouth. You got a problem with the way I make my credits? If you’re such a big deal, tell me about your last job and why you’re here in the first place.”

  “Oh hey man, it’s not like that,” said Tommy; “I mean I didn’t make up the name monkey. So that’s what you do? You ride on a trash track and when they got a big mess, you clean it up?”

  “That’s it. Most of the time it’s just a little mess, but that’s it. That’s what I do. You ready to go? You think you can keep up with me?”

  “I’ve seen what the trash truck guys do,” said Tommy. “I can do as much of that kind of stuff as you can.”

  “Oh yeah,” said Jackson. “That’s what they all say, and then the next day they’re a no-show.”

  Tommy looked Jackson over and figured he was at least an inch taller than he was. Keeping up with him should be easier than climbing a tree. “So that’s what you did to the other guy? You worked him to death and today he couldn’t make it back.”

  “You got it, dude,” said Jackson rather proudly. “Let’s go.” Jackson then led Tommy through the shop and into a large back yard that was behind tall fences. At the far side there were gates that opened onto the street. Four self-controlling robotic trash trucks were inside the gates waiting for swampers. “Today I’m on truck 38,” said Jackson, “that’s the third one over.” “I thought they had provider robots do this kind of work.”

  “Only if nobody wants to earn some credits, but if it’s toxic or really heavy stuff, they send out some robots. On a bad job, like that, the swampers tell the robots what to do. You know it’s gonna be a bad day if there’s a robot waiting for you by the truck. Today will be okay, it’s just you and me.” Jackson then asked, “Do you want the driver’s side or the passenger’s side?”

  “I’ll be the passenger,” answered Tommy thinking he might get out of some of the work. “So when do we get to ride the motorcycles?”

  Jackson looked at Tommy as though he was a total retard. “Swampers ride on trash trucks. We ride outside behind the cab.”

  “So why did that old guy ask me if I could ride a motorcycle?”

  “Ted didn’t ask you if you ‘could’ ride a bike. He asked you if had enough intelligence ‘to’ ride a bike.”

  “So what’s that got to do with being a swamper on a trash truck?”

  “Nothing,” said Jackson with a sly grin. “That’s Ted’s way of asking you if you can jump on and off a truck all day and handle a broom and a shovel.” Jackson left Tommy to get up on the truck and went around to the other side.

  Up front in the cab the two seats were empty. The truck was driving itself and when it determined that the two swampers were aboard, it engaged silently. Moving along, the truck addressed Tommy. “Good morning Tommy. I see you found your com-link watch.” Unlike Jackson, the truck had a sincerely friendly voice.

  Tommy heard the truck and immediately considered making a run for it. If this was in fact a free country, he could do anything he wanted. “What makes you think I ever lost it? You some kind of know-it-all trash truck?” Tommy emphasized the words “trash truck,” to put the lowly machine in its place.

  “Oh no, of course not,” after missing the intended insult the truck answered cheerfully. Now speaking with what sounded like a bit of personal pride the truck said, “I was the one who helped Demy catch up with you the other day when you forgot your com-link watch.”

  Tommy immediately thought of several smart insults, but kept his mouth shut recalling his promise to Officer Dax. The truck slowed and pulled off the street. When it stopped, Jackson jumped off with a broom. The truck then politely suggested that the best way to help Jackson would be to take the shovel.

  Jackson and Tommy stayed away from the truck as it lowered the large steel lifting tynes and picked up the dumpster. After picking up the dumpster just enough to clear the ground, the truck backed up about ten feet and stopped. Jackson took a look inside and told the truck to stay put. Jackson then took his broom and started sweeping up the trash that had missed the dumpster.

  “Put your shovel down,” said Jackson, “and I’ll sweep this into it.”

  As Tommy started to shovel the trash into the dumpster he asked, “Why’d you tell it to stay put?”

  “The dumpster is only two thirds full. No point in waiting for it to empty a partial load.”

  “Why do you care how much work the truck does?”

  “I don’t,” said Jackson, “but the faster we get done, the faster we get off.”

  “I though you had to work an eight hour day at the WPA?”

  “This route is supposed to take eight hours, but if we can do it in less time, we get off early and we still get eight hours pay.”

  Tommy lifted his shovel without dropping one shred of trash and threw it into the dumpster. He quickly started scooping up the next load. “Come on man, sweep that stuff in here.” Jackson was more than ready to pick up the pace.

  The trash truck maneuvered through the city with skill and courtesy. At each stop Tommy got better and faster at shoveling the trash. Once, at a very messy stop Tommy grabbed the other broom and helped Jackson sweep it up. They then both grabbed shovels and raced each other shoveling it into the dumpster.

  Just a few minutes after twelve-noon, the truck parked itself behind the Snake Dancer, Jackson’s favorite fast food joint. Tommy hadn’t brought a single credit with him
and when he asked for a loan, Jackson told him to go talk to the truck.

  “Okay, so can you hear me mister truck.”

  “Yes, of course,” replied the truck. “Do you have a question?”

  “Yeah, well Jackson said you’d buy me lunch. So where’s your money?”

  “That’s a wonderful idea, but they don’t let us trucks have any money. If you recall, Jackson didn’t say I would buy you lunch. He only said that you should talk to me about it,” answered the truck as friendly as ever.

  “Okay, mister truck, if you got no money, how you gonna buy me lunch?”

  “I cannot buy you lunch, but I can help you draw an advance from you next paycheck.” While the truck waited for a reply, it carefully analyzed the optical images of Tommy’s face as he considered what to say next. Artificial Intelligence units knew that humans could read each other’s moods and to some degree their thoughts from their facial expressions, but to date none of the AI units had formulated a reliable technique. The truck determined that Tommy was frowning from the weight of his deep thought and looked forward to an elegant reply.

  “I never had no paycheck, so they can’t give me my next paycheck. You know you’re much dumber that you look.”

  “Please forgive me, I know my paint is showing signs of wear.”

  “I’m not talking about that.”

  “Really.” The truck had no idea what Tommy was talking about, but a direct conversation with a human was always a wonderful experience.

  “Quit wasting time. Jackson’s gonna eat his lunch and be done, and you’re gonna still be out here talkin’ in circles.”

  With the word ‘circles’ the AI unit lost the continuity of what Tommy was saying, so it said what would be the next reasonable sentence in this situation. “Would you like me to arrange a pay advance for you?”

  “How you gonna do that if you got no money?”

  “I’ll have the money put inside the restaurant. How much would you like?”

  With all the cool of a professional gambler, Tommy said, “I’ll take three hundred and fifty credits.”