Fin

by Larry Enright

“Then why haven’t they done that with that prowler?”

  “The codes are kept here at Polyclonic Technologies in a secure, government-monitored database and released only when a warrant has been issued. My understanding is that the authorities haven’t presented us with a warrant, so I assume they have yet to identify the prowler. When they do and if they request it of us, we will certainly release the code to them.”

  Kevion spoke up again, “My dad says we should shut you all down.”

  Valen’s smile was perfect, her demeanor even, every detail designed not to intimidate. “You could certainly do that, Kevion. The police could broadcast all the codes and shut down every Cybernite in the city, but then who would walk you to school every day? Who would read your favorite story to you when you got there? Who would make your lunch? Who would have your dinner ready when you got home? Things would be very different without us to help you.”

  Kevion’s mother pulled him aside to scold him while Valen addressed the others. ”This grand foyer contains many exhibits depicting mankind’s scientific achievements in the area of synthetic intelligence, beginning in ancient times with a turning point in human history known as the Industrial Revolution. Unfortunately, most records prior to that are unavailable. Very few of them were digitized and nearly all of them were destroyed at the outset of the Great War. On our tour, we’ll be stopping at many of these exhibits. Please feel free to ask questions at any time during the presentation. We’ll begin with a brief history of the evolution of synthetic intelligence.”

  Valen noticed Fin standing at the edge of the crowd. She nodded to him before continuing. “With the Industrial Revolution came the invention of robots. They were at first crude mechanical devices that performed only rudimentary functions but, as with all things, robotic capabilities gradually expanded with each advance in the technology. Soon they were able to replace humans on assembly lines, streamlining the manufacturing process. Then came the first machines designed to interact with humans directly. These performed simple tasks such as answering calls, taking food orders, directing traffic, and piloting vehicles. After that, came humanlike robots. These were far more useful, but the quantum leap in synthetic technology did not come until Dr. Shepherd’s invention of the Cybernite, an autonomous decision-making construct.”

  “What does that mean?” said someone in the group.

  “It means that Cybernites are like you,” Valen replied.

  “No, you’re not. You’re green.”

  “And you are not exactly the same as the man next to you. Your hair is longer. Your eyes are blue and his are brown. You are taller, heavier. Your skin is darker. You look nothing like him, yet we would all agree that you are like him. What makes that man like you and me not? Granted we are different species, but we are both intelligent, living beings working for the betterment of Periculum.” She addressed the entire group, “Later on in the tour, we’ll have the opportunity to examine the various perspectives on this issue as depicted in the exhibits. Perhaps then we can discuss further what it means to be alike or different. For now, allow me to continue. Cybernites are constructed of polyclonic tissue, which is a weave of silicon-based compounds and genetically modified human tissue that is grown and harvested in laboratories many floors beneath us. It is more durable than human tissue, resistant to disease and environmental shortcomings, and can regenerate at ten times the rate of a human's. Every part of us—our bones, tissue, organs, even our brains—are polyclonic. Our central nervous systems run on state-of-the-art biological nanocircuitry. Our intelligence is impressed upon this circuitry at birth at which time it becomes an inseparable part of our makeup. Each color of Cybernite is endowed with a level of intelligence appropriate to its function.

  “The first of our kind were nearly indistinguishable from humans. Unexpectedly, the reaction to them was one of revulsion. Further product testing showed that most people found these first Cybernites to be disturbing and eerie. In science, this phenomenon came to be called ‘the uncanny valley.’ One of the first exhibits we’ll visit explains this human psychological reaction more fully. The important point here is that any attempt to make Cybernites identical in appearance to humans was banned after that. We were to be given skin colors so different from yours that we could never be mistaken for a human. So Council decreed.

  “Once the technology was approved for commercial use, the first of our kind came off the production lines. Those were the Grays. You know them as Drabs. Designed to be common laborers, their primary characteristic is strength. It was the Grays who built the great shield over our fair city under the direction of its human architects, of course. The work was dangerous. Many died, but it was a sacrifice they made willingly for the good of all.

  “The next to come were the Whites. You call them Pasties because of their chalk-white skin. In addition to a Gray’s strength, a White has the manual dexterity required for the more complex operations of an assembly line. Their introduction into the workforce transformed Periculum’s factories into entirely automated systems, in many cases requiring no onsite human intervention whatsoever. Next were the Yellows who function mostly as domestics and healthcare aides.”

  Someone in the group whispered, “Slimers and whores.”

  Valen ignored the remark and went on, “Yellows play a vital role in society. They keep our hotels, our homes, and our city clean. They care for the sick and infirmed. It is a common misconception that all Yellows are female and they perform only one service. The truth is the ratio of male to female in every color is precisely one to one, and Yellows perform a variety of necessary services.

  “The Greens were introduced next. Some among you refer to us as Voms because you think our color resembles vomit, but in fact human vomit is more yellow than green. We were given a higher intelligence than the others so we could assist you in more complex ways. We are your technicians, your storekeepers, your restaurant servers, and of course, your tour guides.”

  Valen’s gaze found the little boy Kevion. “Unlike robots, Kevion, each of the four classes of Cybernite can function without specific human direction. Within programmed parameters, we can make decisions on our own. We are able to perform many useful tasks at far less the cost of an equivalent human. Because of this, we have replaced your kind in many labor-intensive and inherently dangerous jobs. You can find us on construction sites, in mines, at sea, and even in outer space. In us, the Ancient One has achieved the goal of freeing your kind from the drudgery and dangers of everyday life. In looking at your profile, I see that your nanny is a friend of mine, a lovely Yellow named Zenali. She thinks the world of you, Kevion. She loves you. We all do.”

  The boy pointed at Fin. “Why’s that one blue?”

  “Why don’t we ask him?” Valen walked over to Fin and bowed. “God be with you, Fin.”

  He bowed in return. “And with us all, Valen.”

  “Would you tell the group about yourself, please? I’m sure they would all love to hear about your advanced capabilities and why you are a Blue.”

  “There is not much to tell,” Fin began. “I was a one-of-a-kind prototype designed for high level investigative work.”

  He was asked what kind of investigations.

  “Criminal,” he replied. “I was an agent for the SIA.”

  There were murmurs in the group.

  “Was?” said Valen, surprised.

  “They let me go yesterday. I have a job in a Reconstitute plant now. I start today.”

  “I was wondering why you were dressed like this. Fin, I’m so sorry.”

  “Do not be. I am fine.”

  Someone in the group wondered why if he were an assembly line worker he wasn’t a Pasty. He thought all factory workers were Pasties.

  “I was an experiment that failed,” Fin replied.

  He walked away and took the elevator down to one of the laboratory floors. It was pristine and smelled of disinfectant. On either side of the hallway were operating rooms. In one, a staff scientist and her as
sistant were working on the left forearm of a Yellow. The Cybernite’s skin was pulled back, exposing her synthetic bones and polyclonic tissue. She was awake and staring at the stain of blood spreading on the sheet under her arm. The scientist was explaining how the bone structure could be improved with a slight tweak to the cell density of the polyclonics. The Yellow turned her head toward Fin and their eyes met in a moment of recognition. They had spoken several times in the past. Her name was Keer. She, like the other experimental subjects, never left the confines of the Polyclonic labs. There were nearly a hundred of them living and dying there for the furtherance of science and the good of mankind.

  At the end of the hall was a surgical amphitheater. The gallery was filled with people listening to Dr. Shepherd lecture on the proper technique for reconstructing a Cybernite brain. A White was lying on the operating table. They had crushed his skull to simulate an industrial accident. One of his eyes dangled from its socket. The other was open and vacant. Dr. Shepherd stopped the demonstration long enough to wave to Fin through the glass.

  Fin bowed before continuing into the room where he had his monthly check-ins. There a technician named Francis greeted him. Francis wore a perpetually food-stained lab coat. He was an obese man, a harried, flustered man, but he always found the time to be kind to Fin. He motioned Fin into the exam chair, complaining that the med-techs had messed with his schedule again—too many appointments, not enough time.

  As Francis was hooking him up to the diagnostic equipment, Fin asked, “Why does every other Cybernite outside of those you keep here for experimentation have pain receptors?”

  “Pain is your body’s way of telling you something’s wrong, Fin.”

  “My brain could tell me that without the discomfort.”

  Francis laughed. “What’s the matter, don’t like pain?”

  Fin rubbed his jaw. “It is not one of my favorite things.”

  “It’s pretty simple, Fin. Here, pain is an inconvenience. Because our Cys don’t feel it, we don’t need to administer anesthetics. That way they can be awake during the procedures and comment on their condition during the surgery. You’d be surprised how valuable their insights have been. Plus, feeling no pain makes recovery time minimal.”

  “What of the psychological trauma? They must be aware of what you are doing to them.”

  “Trust me. It’s not a problem.”

  “Why not?”

  “Oh, we have our ways. Out there in the real world, pain is the control mechanism. If you Cys on the outside didn’t feel it, it would be a lot harder to control you.”

  “How do humans control each other?”

  “Pretty much the same way. Inflict enough pain and people are bound to listen to you.”

  “Is that the purpose of the Great War, to inflict enough pain on our enemies so they will listen to us?”

  Francis raised an eyebrow. “I guess that makes us look pretty cruel and stupid to you, doesn’t it?”

  “That is not for me to judge. How do you control the Cybernites here if they feel no pain?”

  “Have you ever seen how they live?”

  Fin confessed that he had not.

  “Let me tell you,” said Francis. “I wouldn’t mind the perks they get if it meant a little experimenting on me: nice digs, free entertainment, great food. Of course, it would be have to be real food, not that junk you eat. No offense.”

  “Perhaps that kind of positive reinforcement could be also employed with some success in the real world.”

  “Yeah, like that’ll ever happen.”

  “May I ask you another question?”

  Francis checked the monitor. “Sure. We’ve got a few more minutes before the download starts.”

  “The people who are observing Dr. Shepherd, are they med-techs?”

  “Some might be. Why?”

  “I was just wondering if any of them work at the hospital in Cytown.”

  “I doubt it. The only docs who work Cytown are the ones who can’t work anywhere else.”

  “Yet it would seem that those would be the ones who would most benefit from information on how to treat us.”

  “I guess so, but you know how this place is about sharing tech.”

  “Is that why Cybernites are rarely treated when they are sick or injured?”

  “I think you already know the answer to that, and it's not because we don't know how. It’s like a broken toaster. It’s cheaper to replace than it is to fix.” Francis looked up from his monitor. “Is everything all right? Your numbers seen a little off.”

  “My mouth is irritated.”

  “Really? Let me have a look.”

  Francis shined a light inside Fin’s mouth. “There’s some swelling down along the jaw. Did you stick yourself with a fork or something?”

  “I do not believe so. Dr. Shepherd thinks it might be an allergic reaction.”

  Francis looked again. “I don’t know. I’m not a doc, but it looks more like a wound to me. Do you want something for the pain?”

  “No, thank you.”

  “Suit yourself.” Francis switched off the light. “Anyway, what I meant when I said your numbers were off was that your brainwave readings are a little out of whack. Is something bothering you? Upset about anything?”

  Fin told Francis about being fired.

  “Sorry, Fin. I had no idea,” Francis said, “but then down here we’re always the last to know. So, I guess this is your final check-in?”

  “I cannot imagine they have any further need to collect data from a failed experiment.”

  “I’m really sorry, Fin. I mean it. You’re a good egg. I’ll miss these little chats where you ask me a lot of questions and I pretend like I can answer them.”

  “I do have one more question if I might.”

  “Go ahead. Shoot.”

  “Can you change a Cybernite’s color?”

  “Are we talking about your color?”

  Fin nodded.

  “What’s wrong with blue?”

  “I have a new job working on a production line starting later today. It might be more appropriate if I were a White.”

  “Wow. That’s a downgrade and a half. Are you trying to fit in or something?”

  “Yes, that and some rather unsavory types are unhappy with me.”

  “How unhappy?”

  “They want to kill me."

  “Whew. And being the world’s only Blue, I guess you kind of stand out in a crowd.”

  Fin nodded.

  “Well, I hate to break it to you, but once the pigment is set there’s nothing we can do about it. You’re just going to have to live with who you are. That’s not so bad, right? Except for the killing part.” Francis glanced at the monitor. “Looks like the machine is ready to go. Try not to fight it this time, OK?”

  “Of all the things I will miss, this is not one of them.”

  “I know, I know, but resisting the probes only makes it worse. Try to relax. Let the electronics do their thing. I’ll see you in a bit.”

  Fin closed his eyes. He never enjoyed what they called his check-in procedure, though it was neither particularly painful nor uncomfortable. It was more the intrusiveness of it that he found disquieting, the collection of every piece of data from his mind for whatever purpose they wished. They knew his every thought, every doubt, his uncertainties, his transgressions. Nothing was private. Nothing was his. He had tried on occasion to resist the gentle flow of current through his brain, thinking he might hide things from the probes that he was ashamed of. He had tried to fight it, but the download was like the waterfall in the painting. Behind the appearance of a softly flowing current was a relentless river that gathered up everything in its path.

  Francis awakened him later and told him that as usual everything was fine. No details, no concerns, only a brief handshake, a final wish of good luck, and good-bye. Fin left the lab with a sense of relief, not because he was fine, but because from that moment on his every thought, word, and action would be his to
share if he wished or his to hide in that secret place behind his mind’s waterfall. From that moment on, he was free.

  Valen was in the lobby getting ready for another tour when he stepped off the elevator. He stopped at the information desk to say good-bye.

  “Perhaps we will meet again someday,” he said.

  “Your shield access has been revoked, Fin. The alert appeared on our monitors when you got off the elevator. You have an hour to leave Periculum. Once you do, you can’t come back.”

  “You could always come visit me.”

  Her green skin shimmered, catching the atrium light in a most flattering way. “As much as I would like to, none of us here is allowed off the grounds, and even if we were, we are not encoded to pass through the shield.”

  Fin bowed. “Then God be with you, Valen.”

  “And with us all, Fin.”

  Fin returned to Cytown on the train. He came up to the street and stopped when he heard singing. It was coming from a crumbled-down building, where candles flickered in a broken window. He recognized the hymn. They were Godders. There weren’t many of them left, Mama had said, but they were faithful to the end. Fin started that way and for one moment, one blessed moment, the clouds parted and the rain stopped. A ray of light far brighter than any Periculum sky pierced the shroud over Cytown like a sign from God to his downtrodden people. Fin cried out for the others on the street to look up. No one did. They just continued on without seeing or hearing anything but their own misery. And then the moment passed. The clouds closed over them again. The sky grew dark, the wind shook a threatening fist, and the rain returned in a merciless torrent, stinging his eyes and burning his skin. Fin pulled his hood tighter about his head and broke into a run.

  His path to the 53rd Street Reconstitute factory took him past Cyblock-101. The storm was deafening, pounding the pavement that had been worn smooth by the trudging of the centuries and the relentless rain. Fin heard a cry, then laughter, then a scream. It was coming from the Cyblock hallway where a White he did not recognize was watching the street from behind the broken front door. The cries and laughter from inside became more distinct. They were the familiar sounds of a rape. Fin turned from the street and approached.