RobotWorld

by Ray Verola

  “Nonsense,” Taylor said in a moderately loud voice.

  The judge glowered at Taylor with an expression darker than the black robe he wore. “Mr. Morris, you will speak when I give you permission to speak. Understood?”

  The young attorney touched Taylor’s arm and whispered in his ear. “Yes, your honor,” Taylor then said.

  “Your honor, if I may?” Anna Conti said.

  The judge nodded.

  “As you can clearly see by the clock times noted in the lower left corner of the videos, there was a sequential time period where the defendant arrived at the resident parking lot with the now-deceased couple, entered their apartment, and ate with them. Then we see the dead bodies of the Aguilars, and finally the defendant in the hall alone after he killed the couple, exiting the apartment. The state is seeking the death penalty for the defendant.”

  “Very well,” the judge said. “I find there is probable cause to hold Mr. Morris in this case. As a side note and to save time, I’ll also find cause to hold Ms. Rosalind Troward, who is not present, as an accessory. She will be informed by the court.” He turned to Taylor. “Mr. Morris, you will have the opportunity to defend yourself and provide evidence at the trial, which must begin, by law, within ten days.” The judge pounded his gavel. “Court adjourned.”

  Taylor’s attorney started to say something to his client. But before he could get out a word, a guard snapped a detainment halo on Taylor’s head and hustled him out of the courtroom.

  43

  Taylor sat on the bottom cot of a small bunk bed in a tiny cell while staring mindlessly at the iron bars. Somehow, focusing on the horizontal/vertical pattern of the dark cell bars brought him peace. It was the only way he could manufacture a vague sense of tranquility in his head. He laughed to himself at the horrible joke his life had become. But at least he was breathing easy. He couldn’t remember the last time his asthma showed up. Now would be a prime time for his breathing problems to appear, as the negative stress level currently in his life was high. It’s not around because you’re in your true self, came the word from George.

  A loud horn sounded, and the cell door slid open. Taylor and his new cellmate as of late this morning rose, exited the cell, and stood in formation with the rest of the inmates. The cellmate was an obvious weightlifting fanatic, built like a block of granite and with no discernable neck. He had a severe, unchanging expression on a face as pockmarked as the surface of the moon. The only information Taylor knew about the guy was his name, Hector, which was the only word he mumbled when Taylor introduced himself.

  Upon command, they started moving toward the cafeteria for lunch. Before they got to the cafeteria door, Hector—walking behind Taylor—grabbed him by the neck with both hands and started to choke him. After a few seconds the cellmate released his grip and began pummeling Taylor’s head with both fists. Taylor bear-hugged the cellmate, and they fell to the hard, dark-green linoleum floor. Hector landed on Taylor’s chest, pinning him to the ground. With his huge shaved head, the cellmate head-butted Taylor. The other prisoners, cheering wildly, formed a circle around the two combatants.

  “What the hell?” Taylor shrieked. With his back pressed against the floor and blood streaming from a cut on his forehead, Taylor ditched his wrestling moves as he threw wild right and left punches at the head of his attacker in an instinctive attempt to get Hector off him. Hector locked his hands around Taylor’s neck, as Taylor continued to land ineffective blows to the face. The cellmate maintained the grip on Taylor’s throat with his massive left hand as he moved his right hand behind his back, to the waistband of his pants. He gripped the handle of a sharp knife right around the instant Taylor managed to realize his punches were having little effect.

  Taylor unclenched his right fist, extended his index and middle finger and poked his attacker in the eye. Hard. An old judo move he’d heard about during his wrestling days. Hector yelped like a wounded dog and released the left-hand grip on Taylor’s neck. The knife flew from Hector’s right hand and hit the floor with a clanging sound, then bounced off a wall.

  Taylor seized the opening by landing a solid right to Hector’s jaw, knocking his attacker back and off him. Taylor scrambled to his feet and cocked his right hand. But before he could deliver the blow, a guard grabbed him from behind. Another guard grabbed Hector and hustled him out a nearby door. The cheering prisoners grew silent.

  “What was that all about?” the guard, who had his arms around Taylor’s shoulders, asked gruffly.

  Taylor broke free of the guard’s grip and faced him. Trying to get his breathing under control, Taylor was barely able to get out the words, “I got attacked. Out of nowhere.”

  “Or maybe you attacked him?”

  Taylor, still breathing heavily, wiped blood away from his right eye with the back of his hand. “The hell I did. Check the telescreen recordings.”

  “The hall screens have been down for the past few minutes. So we’ll never know.” The guard removed a long, black electronic riot baton from his side holster and pointed down the hall. “I’ll take you to the infirmary for treatment of your cut. Move, prisoner.”

  ***

  When Taylor got back to his cell, Hector was nowhere to be seen. Because it had taken a half hour to obtain treatment for the abrasions on his forehead and neck, Taylor had missed lunch and was told he’d have to wait until dinnertime to eat. The audible growling in his abdomen reminded him just how hungry he felt. A young female guard passed by and, in a flat, direct voice, told him through the bars that he wouldn’t be getting a cellmate for the foreseeable future. But the guard showed Taylor some kindness by slipping him a protein bar. Taylor gave her a heartfelt “Thank you.” He consumed the small food bar in less than a minute.

  Taylor ran a hand over the large bandage on his forehead. The infirmary nurse had done a good job in patching him up with an absorbable suture. She’d told him the wound would heal quickly with no permanent scar and that he’d be able to lose the bandage in a day or two.

  He sat on his bed, stared at the gray concrete wall, and thought about Roz. He hoped she was doing better than he was on their first full day in jail. The guilt of dragging her into this mess, first by getting both of them fired at RW and then by agreeing to have her set up the renting of his new apartment, weighed heavily on his mind. He wasn’t sure if the government had found out about Roz’s involvement in obtaining the apartment, but it probably had.

  The female guard who’d given him the protein bar a few minutes earlier was back at his cell. She tapped her electronic riot baton on the bars. “You have a visitor. Please come with me.”

  She escorted him down the hall to a windowless, poorly lit room with a small, grayish, square metal table in the middle of the floor and two chairs on either side of the table. She told Taylor to sit and she left. The bars of the cell door shut behind her.

  Taylor sat alone for a minute. His mind went from racing to blank. It felt good not to obsess over his current circumstance, if only for a few seconds.

  He was brought back to reality by the squeaky mechanical opening of the door. Austin walked in. Taylor stood. They shook hands and hugged.

  Austin said, “What happened to your head? And your neck looks like raw meat.”

  “I got attacked by a cellmate. For no reason. Crazy. But that’s not important. Have you heard anything about Roz?”

  “She’s doing fine. Visited her briefly in the women’s wing just before coming here. I’m working on getting you another lawyer. Someone I know personally. Extremely competent. I’ll keep you posted. I don’t want you represented by a government-appointed hack like the one they made you stand with at your first hearing.”

  “Thanks, my friend,” Taylor said. “And I didn’t get to say it the other day at the apartment, but I’m concerned about your safety now that the government knows about us.”

  “Don’t waste a second of time
being concerned about me. I’ll survive—until I don’t.”

  The female guard tapped on the bars of the room with her riot baton and pointed it at Austin. “Sir,” she said, “we didn’t photo-register you properly. Please come with me. You can return after the registration.” Austin followed the guard out of the room. The bars of the door clanged shut behind him.

  Taylor paced around the table. Although he always tried to maintain a positive mental attitude, it was tough to remain positive now. Within a minute of Austin’s leaving, Taylor heard the bars of the door slide open again. He turned toward the door expecting to see Austin. He gasped when he saw Sophia. She was dressed in a black pantsuit. He smiled a tight-lipped smile. The two stood toe-to-toe next to the table.

  “What a surprise,” Taylor said. “Haven’t seen you since you fired me.”

  “You’ve changed,” she said, maintaining her usual poker face. “I like the longer hair and the modified beard. But the bandage on the forehead is not a good look for you, somehow.”

  “I know you didn’t come here to talk about my appearance.”

  “I’m here on behalf of the government, sort of—but not in the way you might think.”

  Taylor’s nostrils flared. “Another surprise. How can you be representing the government when you’re a bot?”

  Sophia frowned. “Don’t know what you’re talking about. The reason I’m here is to—”

  “I know what I’m talking about,” Taylor snapped. “Why don’t you lift up the left side of your shirt? You say you’re not a bot, prove it.”

  “Lift up my shirt? What an improper thing to say. We don’t have time to squabble, Taylor. Please listen. I know you’re angry with me. But you’re in big trouble, in case you haven’t figured it out, and I’m here to help.”

  Taylor laughed in a way meant to show derision. “You’re all heart.”

  “You’ve got to listen to me,” Sophia almost shouted. She paused and rolled her eyes. In a whisper, she said, “I’ve arranged for the telescreens in this cellblock to malfunction as of an hour ago, so I could speak without government monitoring. The screens will be back up within ninety seconds. We don’t have much time. Please listen. Both you and Roz are ready to step into a quicksand—”

  Taylor pointed his right index finger at her. “Leave Roz the hell out of this.” He thought he’d soon be involved in the second physical fight since his last high school wrestling match, which also would have been his second fight in the last hour or so. Taylor didn’t have any reservations on fighting her. After all, he was almost certain she was a bot, not a woman.

  Sophia said, “Maybe we can talk another time, when you’re calmer.” She took a step back from Taylor. “The telescreens will be back on within a minute. Our chance for a private conversation is gone. A wasted opportunity.”

  The room door bars squeaked open and in walked Austin.

  As Sophia strode out of the room, she said, “Hello, Austin. Good to see you again.”

  Taylor almost fell backward; he had to put a hand on the metal table to steady himself.

  44

  With the color drained from his face, Taylor said, “How the hell do you know that pile of walking robot scum?” He closed his mouth, and his jaw muscles tensed as he glared at Austin.

  Austin gazed down to the floor. “Sorry . . . sorry I didn’t give you the whole story before. It’s kind of painful. I don’t like to talk about it.” His head remained bowed.

  “I’m all ears,” Taylor said, in a tone of voice he meant to sound as harsh as possible.

  Austin resumed eye contact. “I worked at RobotWorld a few years before you. I held a position in sales, just like you. I only got to middle management, not as high as you did. I was supervised by Sophia for a short time before she became head of RobotWorld, and I never suspected her to be a bot. She had to be one of the first bots to be able to pass for human, if you’re right about seeing a blue patch on her. My concerns about RW were akin to the ones you had, the same kind of concerns that greased the skids resulting in your firing. Could be the reason I related to you so well. We both recognized that when bots became true thinking machines, it would only be a matter of time before they’d be able to outsmart and out-manipulate humans. And when we couldn’t tell the difference between a bot and a human, the roller coaster to oblivion would be revved up. So I refused to contribute to our own destruction. I abruptly quit RW. And I got so depressed, so mad at myself for blowing a great career, that I wound up homeless.” Austin turned away from Taylor and appeared to blink back tears.

  Thinking of the big guy who’d confronted Austin about the disappearance of his brother at the Aguilar apartment building, as well as what Austin had told him about how he’d managed not to disappear, Taylor said, “I wonder how innocuous the information that you’ve given to the authorities has been . . . to keep in their good graces for so long? And whether you’re really off the government informant list?”

  Austin’s face turned red as a McIntosh apple. “I should be offended by those questions, but I must admit, I’d ask them if I were in your shoes.”

  Taylor’s expression remained frozen in hard scrutiny. Since the “Hello, Austin” a moment ago from Sophia, Taylor had begun considering the unthinkable question of whether he’d made a gross error in trusting Austin.

  “I’m not proud of it,” Austin continued, “but I became a stooge, a snitch in order to survive. Sometimes you must do what you need to do to keep on living. I’ve always tried to give out the bare minimum of information when forced to, and I’ve never given information I believed would get someone in hot water.” Austin choked back tears. “Maybe the belief that I haven’t gotten anyone in big trouble is more hope than fact. I’m not sure. Not proud of what I’ve done, of what I’ve become. I’ve tried to make up for my government informing by helping people who end up downtown, people like you, as much as possible. To make up for . . . what I might have done. And my recent inclusion on the government’s shit list is real. So, there it is.” Austin raised his right hand. “For the record and on my honor, I’ve never given any information on you. Not a shred. And for the record, in case you’re thinking about it, I never gave any information out on that big guy’s brother.” Austin paused to catch his breath. “And for the record, I’d never betray you. I told you from the beginning I thought you were someone special and . . .” He looked away from Taylor and began to cry quietly.

  Taylor sent out a mental request. George?

  The message came back. He’s telling the truth.

  “Do me a favor?” Taylor asked. “Lift up the left side of your shirt.”

  Austin did so without hesitation. No blue patch.

  Taylor smiled weakly, and they both exploded in laughter. They hugged.

  But as Taylor hugged him, he was still not totally sold on the honesty of Austin O’Connor. Even with the information from George.

  45

  An hour before a scheduled meeting of the RIC at the RobotWorld complex, Tracey Morris entered the office of Shane Diggins. Beethoven’s Third Symphony played faintly in the background.

  Shane removed the VR glasses he was wearing. With his right index finger, he flicked away a significant amount of sweat on his forehead. “Whew. I was swimming with great white sharks near the Great Barrier Reef. Amazingly realistic. Great whites are creatures not to be trifled with . . . sort of like me.”

  This was the first time he’d seen Tracey since learning about her visit to Taylor’s apartment hideout. Shane was sure Tracey had no idea he knew all the details of the recent meeting with her brother. Shane had been seething with rage since he’d found out about what he considered to be an inexcusable betrayal.

  “You wanted to see me before our council meeting?” Tracey asked with a deadpan expression. This was also the first time they had seen each other alone since Tracey ended their relationship. She coughed and gagged slight
ly. “It’s the incense you like to burn here in the office. I’ve never liked the smell of it.”

  With the push of a button, Shane turned off his desk telescreen and the VR glasses. “Have you seen your brother recently?”

  “Ahh, as you know, I don’t see him much at all.”

  “That wasn’t the question.”

  Tracey brought a hand to her mouth and coughed again. “As a matter of fact, I did run into him the other day.”

  “Then you two are renewing your up-and-down relationship?”

  “Not really. Ran into him unexpectedly. We didn’t say much. We greeted each other, then went on our separate ways.”

  Shane pounded a fist on the desk. “You’re a total liar. And to think I trusted you. I know everything, everything you said to him. Do you think you could have gotten away with your betrayal?”

  Tracey cradled her face with both hands. “I—I was concerned at the path . . . the path you’re taking. That’s all. I wanted to bounce things off my brother, who, despite our differences, has always been a close confidant.”

  Shane laughed mightily. “You expect me to believe that nonsense? Not quite.”

  “I’m sorry, Shane.”

  With a twisted smile, he said, “Sorry because of what you did, or sorry that you got caught? We both know the answer to that one, right?”

  “Are you going to fire me?”

  “Fire you? Of course. But firing you would be much too lenient a punishment.”

  “What do you mean?”

  Burning with unbridled anger, he zeroed in on her eyes. “I’ve got a special punishment for you.” Tiny droplets of spit shot out the middle of his mouth as he spoke. “You’ll be going off the grid for a while. You won’t be seeing your brother anytime soon. In fact, you won’t be seeing anyone anytime soon.”