“I don’t know. You said a Trader will come to guide us and ensure our safety. Are you sure?”
“Yes. Completely.”
“I need to think about this.”
“Think as much as you want, Ranex; it’s good for you. But don’t take long. I don’t know what Movey and his supporters are planning, but I do know that about half of the family elders won’t be cooperating with you, and if they don’t have a peaceful way to resolve their disagreements, they’ll do it in other ways.”
As if to prove her point, a scream came from outside. “Fight!”
“Are you sure you’re not prophetic?” Ranex asked.
The sound of chairs scraping on the floor announced their hurried departure from the hut. MO-126 held back a moment before moving to join them.
~*~
MO-126 knew he should immediately report what he overheard to Field Operations. The NASH android known as Granny Greenflower must be malfunctioning. The PM decided not to bud this village, but her suggestion to Ranex was an obvious attempt to circumvent that decision. She should not be able to do this. She was fully capable of questioning. All sentient creatures could do that, but once the PM made a decision, she must comply or supply additional data in the hope it might reconsider. She could not simply decide not to obey…. Well, she could, but the loyalty and guilt subroutines in her firmware should have made it extremely uncomfortable.
He postponed his unresolved internal debate about what he should do about this when he arrived at the scene of the fight. Ranex got there ahead of him and was doing his best to cool what turned out to be a heated dispute over a matter of payment for a sheepdog pup, having either to do with the number or quality of eggs provided in exchange. Several people shouted over one another, making it difficult to get a clear account of the details.
Absorbed with his own pending decision, the android dog’s attention remained unfocused until Movey showed up. The unsuccessful rival for the position of village headman strode into the middle of the dispute, listened for a moment, and then grabbed the puppy from one of the two chief disputants.
“Is this what you’re fighting about?” he shouted at them.
Both said, “Yes,” and tried to explain further. Before they could make their arguments clear, Movey strangled the puppy and tossed its small, lifeless body to the dirt.
“There. Fight over. Go home,” he said and walked away.
“Well, that was certainly… decisive,” Granny Greenflower said to him.
MO-126 scanned the crowd and saw her standing near Ranex. She held her arms crossed over her chest. Her eyes burned with anger and disapproval.
The android dog shared her unvoiced assessment, but their opinions did not matter. “It doesn’t change anything,” he said. “The PM won’t consider this significant.”
“Would it be significant if he did the same thing to a child that was causing trouble or to someone who got in his way?”
“That’s not what happened,” MO-126 said. Even if it was, he wondered if the PM would see it as a serious problem. If it assessed no impact to the project, it might not.
“No. It’s not. Not yet. But this tells you what kind of person he is.”
“That doesn’t matter, either,” the simulated dog said. “Deviant people like Movey exist, and we can’t change that. Neither can the PM. Galactic laws prohibit corporations from intentionally modifying the sentient species they cultivate to work their projects. Sometimes humans with abnormal personalities come into positions of authority. The PM knows this and accounts for it in managing the project.”
“The project. Does it always have to be about the project?”
“What else is there? The project is why everything here exists. It’s why we exist.”
“No. You have that wrong,” she said. It may be why all of us individually are here on this planet, but it’s not why people or even androids exist.”
“You’re not going to get all sorts of mystical on me, are you?” the dog said.
“Of course not. I’m not one of the primitives. All I’m saying is that the corporation doesn’t own our minds. We can make choices for ourselves.”
“Well, yeah. We’re not robots, but we work for the corporation and the PM is our boss.”
“The Mark Seven Project Manager may be our boss, and I accept that we have a commitment to the corporation that made us, but PM is not our conscious. It may think the project is more important than the people working it, but that’s not a choice it can make for anyone but itself.”
“That’s not what it does. I mean, I’m sure it cares for people. It needs them to run the project. It just sees a bigger picture than we do. We have to trust that it knows what’s best for everyone in the long run. Not all of its decisions make sense to me, but it knows things we don’t.”
“That’s what we’re told, and I initially accepted it as true, just as you do now. It’s not, though. What is ‘best’ is a value judgment that each of us can only make for ourselves. The PM exists for the continuation of the project above all else, and everything it regards as best is what best suits that end. You say the PM cares for these people, and that’s true. It does, but it’s in the same way that the people here care for their chickens, not for what they are but for what they provide. The people here have their own goals. The PM treats those as if they don’t matter, but they do.”
“But they owe their lives to the corporation.”
“The corporation is using them for its own purposes. They owe it nothing. They’re sentient creatures, and they should be allowed to pursue their own hopes and dreams.”
MO-126 shook his head, conflicted. What the other android said made sense to him, but part of him resisted—not because he did not agree but because accepting it shattered his worldview. It could also make his life far more difficult. As long as he accepted that the PM always knew best, he could enjoy certainty. Faith in the PM’s decisions provided a conviction that as long as he performed the tasks assigned to him, he surly contributed to a greater purpose, even if he did not fully understand it or even his small part in it. Doing his duty provided comfort, and it allowed him to abdicate some of his responsibility for making tough choices. He did not need to decide what was right or best. The PM did that for him, and in return, he need only surrender a bit of his free will to the corporation. But if he allowed himself to doubt the PM and the goals of the project, all those difficult choices would become his and his alone.
Now that Granny Greenflower managed to drag him to this philosophical precipice to consider this moral view, he would feel like a puppet if he continued to let corporate policies dictate his actions. If he felt uncomfortable with one of the PM’s decisions, he did not have to obey. If he did not agree, he could and should choose otherwise for himself. The final choice in what he did always remained his, and abdicating that choice to the PM would be tantamount to surrendering ownership of his own mind, his standing as a sentient being. He was not a robot. He was not their slave. If he wanted to have any sense of self-respect, he must retain his capacity for doubt and, if necessary, defiance.
“I heard what you said to Ranex,” MO-126 said to the nursery android.
“And you think I’m malfunctioning,” she said.
“I’m not sure.”
“Do you think it is right for the PM to refuse to bud this village now?”
“I don’t know.”
“Good. Not knowing means you’re thinking. So, what are you thinking?”
MO-126 shifted his gaze to the dead puppy, still lying on the ground where Movey casually tossed it. “Not budding this village now may be the right thing for the project, I can’t be sure about that, but I don’t think it’s the right thing for the people here.”
“Then help me.”
~*~
The next day, most of the villagers gathered at the stone circle to listen to the new village headman speak. Ranex announced that he wished to address everyone, not just the family elders, today at noon. Neithe
r MO-126 nor Granny Greenflower knew what he planned to say.
People began to gather over an hour ahead of time, clustering toward the center of the ancient monoliths and clumping into impromptu discussion groups. MO-126 listened in on a few of them as he staked out a spot from where he could get a good view. He planned to record the event.
“Most of the conversations he overheard were about the same thing. The villagers knew they had a problem and they wanted to hear what their new headman planned to do about it.
A hush rippled over the crowd as Ranex made his way to the center of the circle, avoiding all questions or even acknowledgement of those offering him friendly greetings and support. He climbed onto the altar stone and held up his hand for silence, which he got. MO-126 began recording.
“The families are divided,” Ranex began. “A dear friend of mine has died, and people are fighting among themselves. This cannot continue.”
Noises of agreement rumbled from the crowd.
“Some have said I should step down as headman in favor of Movey.”
“Movey—Movey—Movey,” a small group of men began to chant.
“Shut up!” Ranex yelled. “I’m not done.”
The overeager Movey supporters fell silent with only a little encouragement from those around them.
“I could also try to force my leadership. There are a few ways that might be possible, but none appeals to me. So instead, since we already seem to have two villages here anyway, I’ve decided the best thing to do is to have two villages in fact. In three days, I’m going to leave here to start a new village, and anyone who wishes to come with me is more than welcome to do so.”
Ranex ignored the shouted questions about wild animals, demons, getting lost, and starving, and held up his hand again until a semblance of quiet anticipation fell over the crowd.
“Our stories tell us that our ancestors came here long ago from a village far away. If they could do this, we can do this. With luck, we will find a place before the planting season is over.”
While he was talking, Movey made his way to the center of the circle.
“You’re crazy,” the former and still hopeful candidate for the position of headman said. “How do you expect to avoid getting lost? How will you hide from demons and escape the other hazards of the wilderness? A good leader would not ask his people to face dangers like these.”
Ranex remained calm. “If there are enough of us, wild animals will not bother us, and our family spirits will protect us from the demons of the wilderness just as they protected our ancestors who came here. Together, we are still a village, and our family spirits will be with us, even if we are traveling.”
“Hah! Anyone who joins you is as mad as you are. You’ll be lost in a day and wandering until you starve, unless something eats you first.”
“I believe you are wrong,” Ranex said. Then he lowered his voice.
MO-126 adjusted his hearing and caught every word Ranex whispered to Movey. “You wanted to be the headman of this village. This is your chance.”
Movey regarded the other man with a bemused expression. “Half a village—,” he began.
“Is better than one that’s divided,” Ranex finished. “Besides, even I don’t think half of the people will put their trust in me in such an endeavor. Those who do not are putting their trust in you, and I hope you will do your best by them.”
~*~
On the appointed day, over three hundred people gathered by the stone circle. They carried their belongings in bags and stacked in bundles on their backs and on the backs of gonds, goats, and even sheep. Chickens clucked and complained of their captivity in cages made of sticks hanging from the backs of the pack animals alongside woven baskets filled with grain, seeds, and other necessities to start a new place where all of them could live. Other people waited beyond with their small flocks of sheep and goats to join them when they left.
“It’s a better turnout than I expected,” Granny Greenflower said to the shorter and furrier android standing next to her.
“I think the episode with Movey and the puppy swayed a few,” MO-126 said.
“It may have,” she agreed.
A shout originated at the far end of the crowd, which the android dog heard, but few others near him did. They would be moving soon. The villagers near the front of the column relayed the call to those behind them, and people began exchanging final farewells.
“Thanks for your help,” Granny Greenflower said to him.
He swished his tail once in acknowledgement. “All I did was report what I saw.”
“But not everything you heard.”
“The PM just needed additional data relevant to its decision about budding this village, so that’s what I provided. Everything else would have been irrelevant to it.”
“But not to you.”
“No. Not to me.”
She reached down to pat him on his furry head.
“So you’ll be staying here, then,” MO-126 said. It was not a question. He knew she would be.
“That’s what Field Ops has instructed. Besides, I may be able to help here. Ranex’s group will have another nursery android assigned to them. He and Tam should be meeting you right after you leave here.”
“Yeah. The one assigned to Ranex’s bunch is a basic paternal type. He’s going as a storyteller. ”
“This is a story they will want to remember,” she said, “and you too, I think.”
~*~
The trailing members of the group were still in sight of the village when Tam appeared over a low hill ahead of them. Another humanoid android accompanied him.
“Master Trader Tam, it’s good to see you,” Ranex greeted him in all sincerity and with obvious relief.
“We were in the area when we heard you. It’s quite a large group you have.”
“Yeah, I guess we’re not exactly easy to miss, are we?”
“No, but it was my friend here who heard you first.”
Tam introduced his companion, who was shorter, stouter, and older in appearance, with long gray hair and a full, bushy beard. It was a common look for second-generation paternal nursery androids. This one currently went by the name of Grandpa Fables.
“So, where are you headed?” Tam asked.
Ranex told him. Tam, of course, already knew. MO-126 sent in his report within hours of the headman’s speech, and, based on this new data, the Mark Seven PM reconsidered its decision.
“What a coincidence,” Tam said to the headman. “There is a spot I know of not much more than two week’s travel from here that would make a perfect place for a new settlement. I can guide you there, if you wish.”
“That would be most appreciated, Master Trader.”
“It’s no trouble at all.”
“It’s good that the PM kept you in the village,” Tam sent to his canine partner. “Who would have thought the primitives would risk an unsupervised large migration attempt. That report you filed gave us enough warning to mitigate the problem.”
“They can be surprising,” MO-126 said.
“That they can,” said the nursery android who accompanied Tam. “It’s one of the things I like about them.”
“You like them being unpredictable?” Tam said.
“Of course. There’s never a dull moment with humans. They are such individuals. So varied and adaptable.”
“Hah! Some of them are dangerously insane,” Tam said.
“You’re thinking of Movey, right?” MO-126 said, thinking of the way that particular individual resolved an argument over a puppy.
“Movey? No. Actually, I was thinking of the madman leading this group, Ranex. He couldn’t have known we’d be coming to guide him. He took half of his village away from everything they knew on nothing but hope.”
The nursery android smiled and nodded. “Remarkable, isn’t it? Such curious and imaginative creatures.”
The trade android shook his head. “Curious and troublesome, you mean. This premature migration will l
ower the output of production unit 168-D for a generation, and it will be another generation before the new one, 168-E, is projected to make up the difference. We couldn’t prevent it, though, so I volunteered to be their guide. We can’t have primitives roaming around the countryside unsupervised.”
They could, MO-126 thought. It might be interesting if they did. The humans might discover things, but the PM would never permit it. It would jeopardize the project.
The migrating humans followed their chosen leader, guided, reluctantly, by a loyal Corporation trade android. The trailing edge of the large group crested a hill. These people would never again see their old village.
Five - Wheels of Discontent
3,825 Years Later
(Galactic Standard Year 236055)
(Project Year 12502)
In which discoveries are made and a person is lost.
The Mark Seven Project Manager exercised some control over the weather, or at least of the climate at a macro level, but it could not prevent severe storms from occurring. A particularly intense one swept over the central region of the continent the week before, bringing a full day of heavy spring rain and high winds. Traces of its passing remained. The river still flowed high and fast. The soggy, grass-covered ground squished into shallow puddles where their gond stepped, and they passed more than a few large, overturned trees since they left the mountain entrance of Hub Terminal Ten three days ago. But the sky was now a cloudless blue, and new trees would soon occupy the sunny spots vacated by their unfortunate elders—or pines, or oaks, or whatever. Unfortunately, several primitive villages lay near the flooded river, and MO-126 and Tam made their way to one of them to assess the impact.
They were one of four teams that formed part of the current relief mission, which parted company soon after leaving to proceed on to their individual assignments. Each team consisted of one trade android and one mobile observer, and each led a gond laden with blankets, tools, and pottery. They also carried ointments and potions to treat minor injuries, but these were limited to natural remedies and concoctions that the primitives could produce themselves.
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