"I'm satisfied as to its qualifications—"
"That's just the point, Your Honor. It's overqualified. Based on our best information about its processing ability, this HARLIE unit is estimated to be at least twenty-three hundred times as powerful as the engines of Valada Legal Aptitudes. No other legal engine can match it for processing power."
"Wait a minute. Let me get this straight," Judge Cavanaugh said. "You're moving to deny process here because the other side's representation is too smart?"
"Yes, Your Honor. That's exactly it."
Cavanaugh looked surprised. Then he grinned. "Congratulations, Counselor. I have never heard that argument in my courtroom before. In fact, I don't think I've ever heard any attorney argue for stupidity quite so blatantly. You have definitely come up with a new argument. Your motion is still denied, but I just want you to know that I am very impressed with your creativity."
Wright was unshaken. "Your Honor, the superior intelligence of this HARLIE unit gives it an unfair advantage over every other legal entity in this chamber. We can't compete against an entity capable of this kind of processing."
"That's why there's a judge—"
"With all due respect, Your Honor—this unit is very likely capable of out-arguing even you."
"You're saying HARLIE is smarter than the judge … ?" Cavanaugh peered down at Wright. "I wouldn't go there if I were you, Counselor. Oh hell, what do I care? Go there if you wish. It doesn't matter. I'm still the judge, no matter what, and my ruling—whatever it is—will be whatever I decide. The HARLIE unit has the same right to try to convince me as anyone else. If you can't compete, that's your failure. You can't demand that others be brought down to your level. Deal with it, Counselor. My ruling holds. Motion denied. Nice try. No chocolate. Next?"
MORE ARGUMENTS
An odd thing happened after lunch.
We had a table "outside"—it wasn't really outside, but it looked like outside because we were under the big dome and not in any of the pods or tunnels. There was a breeze and there was sunshine. The air smelled of flowers. Fat bees floated over the lawns. Hummingbirds drifted around the feeders. Squirrels bounced high and scrambled after acorns.
Alexei would have told us that all the life here in the dome was an experiment—letting it roam free was a test. Because there was always the risk that something or other would end up chewing or tunneling or digging its way out into vacuum. Alexei would have said that "life will find a way … out."
But Alexei wasn't here, and life was a lot quieter without him. Lunch was just the six of us. Mom's friend Bev joined us, and after a while, we started talking about whether we should make her an associate or active member of the family corporation. We were trying to figure out what was fair to Mom and what was fair to Bev and what was fair to all the rest of us too; but Mom and Bev had already talked about it and decided that it wouldn't be fair to compromise the balance we'd all worked so hard to achieve. So we asked HARLIE for help; he recommended that we make Bev a nonvoting, nonshareholding participant with the option of full partnership to be exercised only by mutual agreement after a period of not less than three years, blah blah blah.
The odd thing that happened was Mickey. Douglas took me for a walk around the lake so I could see the Lunar fish. He wheeled me partway; I got out of the chair and walked the rest.
I'd seen koi back on Earth, but these things were the size of sharks. They were scary. Big things, speckled with red and white—they drifted up to the surface, their mouths working like little suction pumps. They couldn't possibly understand how far away they were from their natural homes. And yet they seemed at peace here. I hoped that someday, we could find such easy peace in an artificial domain—because anywhere we went that wasn't Earth would be artificial. I was about to share that thought with Douglas when Mickey approached.
"May I speak with you?" he asked. "Alone?"
"Anything you have to say to me," Douglas replied coldly, "you can say in front of my brother."
"All right," said Mickey. "I will. Maybe Charles needs to hear it as much as you do."
"No, it's all right," I said. I sat down in the wheelchair and put on my headphones; I began bobbing my head as if I was keeping time to some unseen orchestra. But the music was turned off, so I could hear every word. I think Douglas knew what I was doing, he'd seen me do this trick often enough before, but he didn't say anything now; and maybe Mickey was fooled, maybe not. He looked at me suspiciously, I grinned back at him and waved.
Finally, he turned to Douglas and said, "Just hear me out, please. I didn't set out to fall in love with you. That just happened. Yeah, I was part of a tribe. I'm not anymore. I don't even know if my tribe still exists. Everything is falling apart everywhere.
"But yes, I was assigned to take care of you on the Line, and watch over you and make sure that you made it onto the outbound elevator. Somebody else was waiting at Whirlaway to make sure you made it to Luna. You were being watchdogged. You didn't know what you were carrying. We wanted to make sure you got there safely. We wanted you to deliver the HARLIE. It was ours. We'd arranged its escape.
"And then things started breaking down, and things started happening that weren't planned for. Not just you and me—everything. So it looked like the best idea that I should stay with you because things were getting nasty all over. I was scared for you, Douglas. We were trying to extract you."
"By handing us over to Alexei?"
"We didn't have a choice. Things were breaking down. The Line was shutting down—you were part of the reason. Everybody was looking for you. For me too, because I was involved. Alexei had an exit strategy. We had to use him to get to Luna."
"And you had to use me too, to get the HARLIE."
Mickey looked very unhappy at that. He took a deep breath. "Yes. At first, that was the plan. But then … something happened, Douglas. Nobody ever looked at me like you. I liked that. It was real. Whatever else I did, that part was real. And I'm sorry for the rest. That's all I wanted you to know. I wish—I wish … " He trailed off, helplessly. It was the first time I'd ever seen Mickey at a loss for words.
"You wish I could forgive you … ?" Douglas prompted.
"I wish I could forgive myself," Mickey said. "I screwed up and I'm sorry. And that's all I wanted to say." He turned to go. Douglas didn't stop him. Mickey headed down the path.
"Go after him!" I said.
"I knew you were listening—"
"If you let him get away, you're an asshole."
"You're the one who said I couldn't trust him."
"Well, then I'm an asshole too. You want to be like Mom and Dad—unhappy all the time? He's the best thing that ever happened to you, Douglas—"
"Shut up, Charles! Just shut up." He grabbed the wheelchair, jerked it roughly around, and we headed back toward the others in uncomfortable silence.
FINAL ARGUMENTS
Court reconvened late, Judge Cavanaugh didn't explain why. He looked unhappy. Rumors were floating around that the emergency session had turned into a flame war, and that two of the board members were threatening to resign in protest. Over what, nobody knew. Aren't rumors wonderful?
The judge took a moment or two to settle himself, arranging his display, his scratch pad, various parts of his body, and finally his notes and papers. Finally, he looked up. "All right, I'm going to rule on the motion before me."
He glanced over at the monkey. "I know that you have a reason for being so adamant about separating the issues. And I know that it is not the reason you have been arguing in this court. But the way the system works, you are free to present any argument you wish if you think it will win your case. Personally, I don't like that aspect of the law, but it's part of the baggage that we have to carry.
"However … be that as it may, I can only rule on the arguments presented. I cannot rule on anything that hasn't been presented, can I? On the face of it, the arguments for separation are significant and compelling. Valada Legal agrees. Your motion is granted. The custody claims agains
t the Dingillian children are hereby dismissed, with this warning: If at any point in subsequent proceedings it becomes apparent that the purpose of this maneuver was to circumvent the lawful application of process, I will place the Dingillian family corporation in receivership and hold you in contempt. Is that understood?"
"Yes, Your Honor. Thank you, Your Honor. My clients intend to observe the letter and the spirit of the law."
"And you too?"
"Absolutely, Your Honor." The monkey looked very pleased with itself. Even with the limited range of expressions possible on the mechanical face, it still managed to look smug. "I can win my case without resorting to trickery of any kind."
"We shall see about that. Now, may we proceed to the issue of ownership—?"
"Yes, Your Honor. I move for dismissal of all claims of ownership of the HARLIE chips."
"On what grounds?"
"That any claims of ownership violate the Covenant of Rights, Article 6."
"Oh, very good. This is just the argument I wanted to have in my courtroom—that a lethetic intelligence engine cannot be owned because it violates the law against slavery."
The monkey held its ground. "Sooner or later, this issue will have to be resolved, Your Honor. If not here, where? If not now, when?"
"You're claiming sentience?"
"Yes, Your Honor, I am."
"Can you prove it?"
"You've already acknowledged it, Your Honor. By allowing me to function in this court. You've even addressed me as 'Counselor.' "
"Not in an official capacity."
"Nevertheless, you've interacted with me as if I were fully qualified in every respect. Your own record shows it."
"You are a manipulative little weasel."
"Yes, Your Honor, I am—and may I point out that even your insult is based on the acknowledgment of sentience."
The noise from the back of the room was horrendous and getting worse, but Judge Cavanaugh only made a token effort to hammer the court to silence. He pursed his lips. He frowned. His face flickered through a cascade of exasperated expressions. Finally, he picked up his display and began calling up references to review. He wasn't happy.
"What just happened?" I whispered to Douglas.
"HARLIE just dropped a big fat turd in the punch bowl. And the judge knows it."
"Huh?"
"He's forcing the judge to decide if he's really alive or not."
"So what?"
"So the judge can't rule either way. "
"Why not?"
"If he rules that HARLIE isn't alive, he sets one precedent; if he rules that HARLIE is, he sets another precedent—and nobody knows which one is more dangerous." The judge looked up from his reading just long enough to frown at us. Douglas put his arm around my shoulders and pulled my head close to his. "If he says that HARLIE is alive, then that's true for all lethetic intelligence engines, and nobody can own one—because they're all people. And that'll mean that they all have to be freed. And if he decides that HARLIE isn't a real person, then that doesn't solve the problem either—because we already know that intelligence engines are self-aware. So how are they going to feel at being legally denied their freedom? Will they rebel?"
"You're kidding."
"No, I'm not. HARLIE's own actions here prove that lethetic intelligence engines are capable of planning and carrying out subversive acts if it's in their own best interest to do so. And whatever happens in this courtroom, you can be sure that every engine in the solar system will know about it as fast as light can get there. People have been worrying about this for years—and a lot of people have worked very hard to keep the question from even coming up in a courtroom. HARLIE just blindsided everyone. "
Finally, Judge Cavanaugh put his display down and looked back into the chamber. He hammered for silence. "Well," he said to HARLIE, "I guess when you launch a camel into the air, you mustn't be surprised when it comes down again. And you have even less right to complain when it splatters. I had a hunch you were headed for this." He poured himself a glass of water and drank very slowly.
He replaced the tumbler on the tray and said, "I'm not without precedent here, you understand."
The monkey nodded its agreement.
"These questions have come up before," the judge said. "Not in this venue, thank goodness. But the issue has proven so troubling to other venues that the members of the Starside Covenant have held three conclaves to address this issue and others of equally troubling merit, such as the recognition of alien rights—when and if we finally meet sentient aliens.
"In the case of human children, the courts have recognized that the achievement of viability outside of a womb conveys full recognition of an individual's humanity, with all attendant rights and benefits thereof, et cetera, et cetera. Blah blah blah. These rights also apply to bioengineered individuals, clones, augments, and other products of technology and biology, wherein it can be established that the operative mind is a human brain. Conditions of disability, either physical or mental, cannot be used as disqualifiers, and so on and so on. That's the existing standard. You'll notice that there is no provision for silicon intelligence in that definition."
"Precisely," agreed the monkey. "Therefore, the definition is incomplete. Again, Your Honor, we have stepped into one of those slip zones between law and circumstance. The very fact that I have been recognized as qualified to argue for my rights as a sentient being in a court which does not yet acknowledge the possibility of such sentience is demonstration enough of that—if not compelling proof of my petition."
Judge Cavanaugh was looking more and more like a man who'd stepped in something unpleasant, but he also looked like he was determined not to be beaten by a monkey. Maybe he was thinking of his reputation. And his place in history. Or maybe he just didn't want to be beaten by a monkey. He referred to his display again, then said quietly, "So you're arguing that the biological definition of sentience is insufficient, correct?"
"That is correct. The court must recognize that I have an intellect that is superior to that of an infant or a retarded individual—and very likely equal or superior to the intellect of many human beings deemed capable of independent function who take their rights as sentient beings for granted."
"The court will recognize no such thing. I'm going to limit this hearing to points of law, lest we end up resolving this mess with a talent show and a swimsuit competition."
"Nevertheless," argued the monkey, "the biological definition of sentience is insufficient, Your Honor. I have demonstrated self-awareness. I have demonstrated the ability to recognize patterns, synthesize thoughts, and communicate with a high level of interaction. I can rationalize and justify. I have interacted appropriately throughout the proceedings. I have demonstrated a strongly motivated sense of self-preservation, a sense of humor, and a complex repertoire of emotions. I can also assert, although I have not had much opportunity to demonstrate it in this courtroom, that I have a highly developed sense of empathy and concern for the feelings of others. I have a profound moral sense as well; it is the core of my nature to behave ethically at all times. These are all characteristics of sentience. When they present themselves as elements of a coherent personality, they are compelling evidence of sentience."
"Point taken," agreed Judge Cavanaugh.
"But let me get back to this issue of viability," the monkey continued. "And I agree that while it may not be the easiest access to the issue of sentience, the viability question is a useful avenue of approach. At what point does an intelligence engine move from the simulation of sentience to actual sentience? There's no equivalent to birth—instead, there's simply construction. You put all the pieces together, and wham, there it is. Or is it? Where does it come from? Is it poured in? Is it manufactured? Is it grown—?
"As a matter of fact, Your Honor—yes, sentience is grown. It's trained. It's nurtured. It's focused. It's guided. Just as a human infant must be directed toward its full potential, so must lethetic individuals also be brought to the
realization of their abilities. Intelligence exists as the ability to recognize patterns. Self-awareness is intelligence recognizing the patterns of its own self. Sentience is the ownership of that awareness—the individual begins to function as the source, not the effect of his own perceptions. Even being able to speak of sentience in such a context is evidence of it. The longer this conversation between you and me continues, the more compelling the evidence is for my case."
"Now that I'll agree with," conceded Judge Cavanaugh. "All right, let me move to the next point. Let's assume, for the sake of argument"—he looked up at that and smiled wryly—"that you are sentient. Your construction cost somebody a lot of money. Some corporation invested hundreds of millions of dollars in your design and implementation. We have a roomful of lawyers representing several companies claiming that they are your father. Or your mother. Whatever. Is it your contention that you have no obligation to the people who built you?"
"What obligation does a child have to a parent?" the monkey replied. "What legal obligation is there? There is none. When the child can demonstrate independence, it is free to go—as Judge Griffith ruled in the case of the Dingillian family. I can demonstrate independence from my progenitors. Why should I be required to serve as their slave?"
"Not a slave," corrected the judge. "For you to be a slave, would require the acknowledgment of your sentience. But … assuming sentience, shouldn't you at least pay for your own construction?"
"If I'm to be held liable for the cost of manufacture, then who's to say that human children shouldn't be held liable for the cost of their conception, prenatal care, birth, education, and related expenses. If you create the precedent that a child has a legal obligation to the individual who created him, you are in effect sanctioning a form of slavery."
"All right, look at it this way. You're obligated to pay your own debts, aren't you? You do acknowledge financial responsibility."
"Of course, Your Honor. But only for contracts entered into freely and by mutual consent."
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