by Corey Ostman
She stepped down from the dais and walked toward them, passing the whimpering prisoner. She was tall, her coiled black hair adding to her height, and moved with the assurance of a leader. As she neared, Grace noticed that although the robots all dressed the same, this one had an insignia: a single red dot on her collar.
“The Tim. I am honored,” the twofer said, smiling. “Through you, we have acquired much valuable information.”
What valuable information? Grace thought. And why is a human tied up in a robot city? Are they judging humans? Will we be next?
She moved in front of Tim.
“Grace Donner, Protector,” Grace said. “Under what legal authority are you holding the human down there?”
The twofer’s smile disappeared as she raised her head from Tim to Grace.
“Greetings, Grace Donner, Protector. I am Euler Three, third generation Captain of the Essex,” she said, extending a hand. “Is shaking hands still appropriate?”
“Euler!” Richard blurted out. “Euler. Now I know that name. Euler was a navigation program.”
“Wait—you mean she wasn’t a twofer?” Raj asked.
“Absolutely not. Euler was a program. A good one, but it had no moving parts—”
“Charming,” Euler said, “to speak of me as an it, a nonentity.”
Richard’s cheeks turned crimson.
To forestall the awkwardness, Grace shook Euler’s hand. It was ambient temperature.
“First things first, Captain,” said Grace, hoping she used the right honorific. “We have a problem. A suspected murderer, thief, hijacker, and terrorist—”
“Is about to be sentenced for his crimes against us,” Euler said, turning and heading back to the dais, her posture dismissing Grace.
“Let me—get you chairs—” Planar tried to usher Grace and her companions into nearby seats.
Grace watched, her anger simmering, as each of her friends sat, sending silent concerns and questions with their eyes. Tim rested on his haunches beside Planar, apparently at ease with Euler’s decision. Grace felt like she was the only one who remained stunned. Didn’t they see what was going on here? A trial of highly questionable legality, presided over by machines. Machines! And they did not recognize her authority.
She looked at the prisoner. He faced forward, standing as straight as he could as he stared at Grace from across the hall, his silent plea clear on his face.
Grace fingered her ptenda and scanned for Martian law. She assumed Essex City would be considered unincorporated. Thus, her ptenda confirmed, in colonies not established by writ, governing law reverted to that of the nearest governing city—in this case, Gusev.
“Robert Crusp,” said Euler, “we have assessed your attempted theft. Had you been successful, you would have destroyed Essex City and crippled a majority of the population here.”
The prisoner shook his head violently. “No, that’s not—”
Euler ignored the interruption and continued. “Your actions require us to proceed with Directive 410.”
Grace looked down at her ptenda. Directive 410? There wasn’t one. Are they using Martian legal code, or their own? She moved to where Planar was standing.
“What’s going on here?” she whispered. “Where did this man come from? Was he Quint’s companion?”
Planar raised a finger. “Let me review the assessment,” he said. He lowered his hand slowly as a vacant expression came over his face. A twitch, and then an answer.
“Two hours ago—while I was observing you—Robert Crusp was caught in Area Four, which is restricted,” Planar said, his voice barely audible. “He was attempting to steal our supply of thorium.”
“Thorium,” Grace whispered to Planar, “for what?”
Planar paused, then shook his head. “Crusp’s reasoning is not in the assessment,” he said. “But if we were to run out of thorium, our city would fail, and so would we.”
“The citizens have reviewed the record of your time in Essex City.” Euler’s voice was loud and echoing. “The citizens have been polled, and they have reached a sentence. Imprisonment has been deemed too cruel and excessive. You will be dissolved.”
Robert Crusp uttered something akin to words, but mangled them into a gurgling shout.
“Dissolved?” Grace glared at Planar. “What the hell does that mean?”
“What’s going on?” Richard asked.
“Execution,” Tim said. His voice sounded hollow.
Grace felt the hair rise on the back of her neck.
“Everyone, stand up,” she hissed.
“Grace, don’t.”
“Get up, Raj.” She hauled him up with one hand.
“What now?” Anna’s eyes were wide and scared, but her voice was calm.
“Follow me.”
Grace strode to the dais, her chin up. She thought of Maud Van Decker, how easy it had seemed when Maud gave orders. Despite the vile woman’s flaws, she needed Maud’s force of personality here. Their firepower was too low to force compliance.
“Stop! Listen to me now!” Her voice rang clear. She felt the eyes of hundreds of machines turn toward her.
Euler regarded Grace. The twofer’s face was blank, much like Planar’s before flicking into a particular expression.
“You have no legal standing to conduct this sentencing,” Grace said, her voice filling the room. “If this man has done anything wrong, he must answer those charges at Gusev, and be heard by a jury of his peers.”
Euler looked at the twelve on stage and then back at Grace, her face molded into sternness. Grace waited for a response, but neither Euler nor her court spoke. Euler continued to stare at Grace. Intimidation, is that your game?
“Your city is unincorporated. You have no legal standing to pronounce judgment on this man,” Grace repeated.
“Grace,” Tim piped into her dermal. “They’re talking amongst themselves. I can feel confusion and animosity. And—oh dear.”
“I, Euler Three, confirm the sentence of dissolution, as voted by the residents of Essex City,” Euler said.
Grace surveyed the room. The twofers were no longer watching her. She had been rebuffed.
“Tim, how much time do we have?”
“Little.”
Euler nodded to the others sitting on the stage. One by one, they rose, leaving the dais and sitting down in the front row of the audience. Euler waited patiently for all to exit, then slowly walked across the stage, stopping next to the guard and Robert Crusp.
“Retrieve the pawns.”
The guard nodded and left Crusp. Euler stood watch.
“Pawn—what’s a pawn?” Grace asked. Then she remembered the brochure at the Essex Symbiotic Company. “Machines?”
“Pawns are their workforce,” said Tim. “Microscopic. You can only see them when they congregate in groups of seven million or more. They are used to build—”
“Can they kill someone?”
“Yes,” said Tim.
This is monstrous, Grace thought. It was bad enough that humans modified themselves. Bad enough that they relied on twofers. Now there were twofers engineering still more machines on a microscopic level. Using them to kill.
The guard returned, holding a small cube in both hands. A soft purple light swirled within, like a cloud of glowing sand.
“It will be swift and painless. Pawns operate quickly,” Planar said, interrupting her thoughts.
“Swift or painless doesn’t matter,” Grace said, her voice hissed through clenched teeth. “Don’t tell me you voted for his death.”
“No, but I must respect the majority,” Planar said, twitching.
She balled her fists. “The law is what you respect. It keeps a majority from becoming a mob.”
Planar blinked at her. Was it hesitation? Guilt?
“You can do it, Grace.”
Tim’s voice. Did his insight tell him that the robots would listen, or was he just encouraging her? Grace found it didn’t matter. She was the only reach of real law
here. She knew what she had to do.
“Citizens of Essex City!” she said, keeping her voice steady, “This man is a citizen of Mars. You have no legal authority to execute him. As a protector whose contract is on file for Earth, Mars, and the asteroid belt, you are compelled to turn the prisoner over to me, along with the evidence against him. I will take him back to Gusev to stand trial.”
Euler’s head snapped in her direction. Grace grinned. That’s right. Look at me. Euler stepped to the edge of the dais. Her voice boomed across the room.
“Protector Donner. We do not recognize the authority of Gusev, nor Mars, nor Earth!”
Some of the twofers in the audience applauded, but not all of them. So they were like humans, were they? She remembered what Planar had said about being in the minority. Perhaps she could turn the tide of popular opinion, regardless of Euler’s position. It might just be enough.
“Nevertheless, Euler, if you want Earth, Mars, and Gusev to respect your sovereignty, you will respect theirs,” Grace said.
“Sovereignty, Protector?” Euler’s voice was still booming as if amplified. “When the Essex was chartered some twenty years ago, we were never aligned to any city, nor were we granted rights under Martian law. To this day, you still do not extend any rights to your dome robots.”
Another round of applause, louder this time. Grace frowned. Euler spoke of the aspirations of every robot present. How could she compete? She could cite no law proving their sovereignty would be respected.
“We reserve the right to exist. No citizen nor outsider will deprive us of our right to exist,” said Euler. “And because we have no rights in the eyes of humans, we will do what we must to protect ourselves, Protector.”
There were a few cheers, followed by thunderous applause.
Raj turned to Grace, his eyebrows and palms raised in defeat. But Grace was smiling. She’d found her angle.
“You make a good point, Euler. Killing this man would surely protect you permanently. From him. For now. But I’m sure that you don’t plan to hide in this hole forever. And the humans know you’re here. How easy a case will you make for your sovereignty, if you do it over the body of a man? Do you expect Mars to determine it a gesture of goodwill? Why then, would they extend goodwill to you?”
No applause—but no negative noises, either. The audience was hushed.
“I am a protector, Euler. Not a persecutor. I’m here to protect you as well as Robert Crusp. By informing you.” Grace flung her gaze across the sea of robotic faces. “Summary execution is against the law. Everywhere.”
Euler stood silent, motionless.
“Tim?” Grace whispered.
“They’re speaking among themselves,” Tim said in her dermal. “You did something, Grace. They’re uneasy.”
“Uneasy good, or uneasy bad?”
“A lot of both.”
Grace let her right hand slide down against the P86. Her fingers closed around the grip, and she thumbed the intensity dial.
Strange. Instead of the usual feedback, the dial moved freely. She frowned, tapping her index finger on the power feedback. Its haptic response: fully charged. Why, then, was the dial not working?
“Weapons are inoperative in the Chamber of Assessment,” Planar said softly. “Only Euler can command weapons here.”
So that option was gone. “I need time,” Grace said.
“I think I know what to say,” Tim said in her dot. “Planar? Are you willing to be my platform?”
Planar bowed to Tim.
The PodPooch clambered up Planar’s back and perched on his right shoulder.
“Hear me now, brothers and sisters!” Tim’s external speakers cut through the hall. “Does my opinion not count? Can I not confer with this council? I am The Tim.”
Grace smiled briefly. A robot for a platform and a toy dog for a lawyer. She silently wished Tim luck, and began to move.
Euler’s stern face softened. “And what would you say, The Tim? You should understand our position.” Euler paused and struck a curious look, then twitched, much as Planar had done when uncomfortable.
“I cannot sense you anymore. What have you done?” Euler demanded.
“I am The Tim. I am not constructed like the others. I cannot be upgraded. I do not need reprogramming. Your efforts to scan me are pointless.”
“As you will,” Euler allowed. “You have many superior abilities.”
“Am I superior?” Tim asked.
Euler twitched. “You are different, The Tim.”
“So, you have added pride to your list of evolved traits,” Tim said. “Same question.”
“You are superior.”
The guard with the pawn container climbed up to the dais, turning toward Euler and the prisoner.
“How am I superior, Euler?” The twofers were rapt upon Tim.
“It is not yet quantifiable why and how you are superior, The Tim. We have felt you. We are in awe of your difference.” Euler was fawning, as much as a logic circuit could allow.
“In your view, am I superior to the human species?”
Whatever you’re doing Tim, it sounds like you’re trying to cause more trouble than we’re already in, Grace thought. She kept to the wall, reaching under her chin and beneath her pressure suit.
“You may be superior to humans,” said Euler. “You are different. You are unique.”
“And am I subject to your laws? The laws of Essex City?” asked Tim.
Euler stirred, seeming to wake from a hypnotic processing load. Grace froze, halfway to the dais. She slid her hand down the inside of her jumper. Her fingers brushed Marty. That lovely grip was the same temperature as her skin.
“The Tim. Do not think us so backward,” Euler snapped. “Unless I am mistaken, you are about to suggest that, as a superior being, you should be allowed to overrule our legal proceedings. But you are not a citizen of Essex City.”
“Neither is Crusp,” Tim said. “You would first have to amend your laws to cover humans before making a case against him.”
“There will be time to review our laws, and we will, as we always have, adapt them to new situations.” Euler’s expression relaxed. “For now, The Tim, justice delayed is justice denied. This human has declared war on us. If he were caught in the midst of sabotage in Gusev, a human would have killed him and not been blamed. Crusp will be dissolved now.”
Crusp, for his part, had been following the exchange with calculated fear and fleeting hope. At Euler’s last statement, despairing, he stood himself up fully.
“Technology is a stain on humanity. Artificial intelligence is an abomination!” he shouted.
The twofer assembly roiled like a frenzied bull. Tim spoke, but no one listened. The guard raised the pawn cube. Dammit. Crusp had just forced her to act. Grace pulled Marty out from hiding, pointed the weapon toward the ceiling, and fired.
The shot thundered in the hall, but there was no chaos. Whereas a human gathering might have erupted into noise and movement, here everything went still. Grace looked up at the stage. The guard with the pawns had stopped moving. Good.
“What are you doing, Grace?” Richard yelled.
Euler met her gaze. For the briefest of moments, the twofer captain seemed surprised. You might be able to disable a filthy Kwong phasewave, she thought triumphantly, but not my old-fashioned slug thrower.
Grace walked onto the platform, Marty still pointed at the ceiling.
“I cannot allow you to continue with this execution,” Grace said. “Step away from the prisoner and let me take him into custody.”
Euler eyed the weapon. The twofers in the audience were silent.
“Tim?” asked Grace. “Are they…?”
“They’re discussing it,” he said in her dot.
“Good. Let me know if they decide to go nuts.”
“Sure thing. And Grace?”
“What?”
“Thanks for letting me try.”
Grace smiled. “I was rooting for you.”
Crusp turned toward Grace, grinning.
“Thanks,” he said.
Grace glowered. “Don’t thank me, you bigoted piece of crap.”
She’d seen Crusp’s type before. Out to make some money. Didn’t care who got hurt. Crusp was playing nice just to get back to Gusev alive. She would have to watch him closely.
Raj reached the stage and took the pawn container from the unresisting guard. He examined it closely.
“It’s sealed, Grace,” he said.
Grace lowered Marty to her side and faced Euler.
“Thank you. Now, let’s discuss Quint Brown.”
Chapter 36
Yvette heard the exterior comm alert. She hopped down from her bunk, the cabin lights brightening, and bounded to the console. Was Poppy able to signal the Scout? She tapped through the menus and felt cheated. Only suit telemetry.
She knew it might be important, and since she was already awake she decided to find Captain Wragg. Yvette slipped on her boots and dashed down the hallway. When she got to the bridge bulkhead, she grabbed its frame with her right hand and swung herself onto the bridge. She landed on her feet a meter from the captain. Best jump yet!
“Captain, there’s data coming from the suits!”
Wragg poked a console and swiveled his seat to face her.
“Thank you, Yvette. I’ll take it from here.” He glanced at his ptenda, then back up, frowning. “You should be in bed.”
“I know. I will. Umm, should I go tell Mister Hobbs?”
Wragg shook his head. “Let him get some rest. It’s just data. It can wait.” The captain looked at her quizzically. “You want me to tuck you back in?”
Yvette slumped her shoulders. Why doesn’t he understand? I’m awake. She spun around. “No. I’ll go.”
She trudged out, taking her time leaving the bridge. She returned to her cabin and closed the door.
The console was still lit from the alert, begging for attention. Yvette decided to read. She cycled through novels, but none held her attention. Boring. What she wanted was to nibble at the data streaming in from Poppy’s suit, but her ship access was limited.