CHAPTER 6
“What have you been doing the past two days, Sabrina?” said Vladimir Ivanov. “Living under a rock?”
Technically, she’d been doing just that. To compensate for her lack of a Libertas to protect her from cosmic radiation, Sabrina Lockhart had purchased a rather unorthodox dwelling. It was as much an observatory as it was a home, carved out of a lunar structure that had already been a decent shape for the purpose originally, so the expenses were not too steep. What she did have to pay would still be a respectable sum but for the grace of her parents, the publishers of her poetry, and the lawyer who had sued the Russian Federal Space Agency.
“Excuse me for working without an idiot box installed in my home,” she droned. And for not having any friends in this dinky little town, but he doesn’t need to know that.
“Right, well, I suppose only an idiot box can alert this town that all the Earth-bounds are dead.” He didn’t seem too guilty for being blunt, just bitter.
“I agree, and I sincerely hope that’s just your odd sense of humor talking.”
“It isn’t. Earth is a graveyard now, Sabrina. Lemme show you.” He led her outside by the wrist with presumption of her consent, speaking without looking at her as they went. “Believe me, I was as incredulous as you when this hullabaloo started. People spread rumors about failed communications with Earth, and by the time I heard it the whole thing sounded like the wacky cries of a doom-sayer. Like Y2K or the Mayan Calendar Apocalypse.”
“Yeah, that sounds about right,” she deadpanned, tearing away from Vlad’s grip.
“Say, as long as you don’t believe me yet, now would be a good time to put that squeak of yours to cheery use. Especially given your track record.” Sabrina wasn’t sure which annoyed her more – that Vlad was giving her grief for what he liked to call her “eternal teen angst,” or that he still refused to let the jokes about her infamous voice go. He was lucky he was brilliant and therefore worth keeping on her good side.
They had emerged into the fresh, algae-produced air of Luna’s polar dome. This living space was comprised of the features of a greenhouse, a city, and a building. Ponds, forests with nitrate-rich soil, acres of organic and synthetic food farmland, and parks operated alongside the urban dwellings and workspaces of humans.
The dome itself looked like the gigantic ceiling of a supermarket, dotted with advertisements interspersed among a vast network of lights that created the illusion of Earth’s day and night cycle. The poles were perpetually sunlit, which was a boon for solar panels outside, but for Sabrina’s benefit as much as the other Organic animals’, lights dimmed to a few specks of imitation starlight according to Earth time.
From their cliff-top vantage point they could see a dense crowd attempting to bypass the Luna Capitol android security. Enough examples of the iron fist wielded by such security should have given these people a hint, but there are always a select few folks whose resistance is either stupid or honorable depending on the observer.
“See that mob? They want in on the conference that’s taking place between Zolnerowich and the not-so-lucky fella who survived the Dethroning, as it’s come to be called.”
“Dethroning?”
“As in, now humans aren’t the dominant species on Earth anymore.” Yeah, well, Henry VIII had a throne. Story of humanity. “What’ll take our place, I don’t know. The androids haven’t quite made it there yet. Come on, let’s get a closer look.”
They hopped onto the nearest subway. Vlad saw in Sabrina’s eyes that she was hardly convinced. “What would you think, if it turned out I wasn’t lying?”
“I don’t think you’re lying, Vlad,” she said almost in monotone, looking around the train to find all the other harnesses unoccupied. “You might be mistaken, though. People tend to be, when it comes to mass hysteria and stories of widespread disaster.”
“Isn’t that a familiar explanation.” He put on a wry grin.
“Hey, I roll my eyes at miracle tales as often as you do. I just find one or two compelling because I have reasons to.” A load of good those particular miracles seemed to be doing for her now, but patience was her motto.
“Couldn’t have put it better myself. Well,” he said as they ascended the steps to the hub of the town, “here’s your reason, Doubting Thomas.”
The chaos of it all hit the pair like a hurricane gust. The outermost layer of the crowd was steering clear of no fewer than six brawls of human versus machine, the latter proving so formidable as to embarrass all but one of the fighters. This was a woman who disarmed her contender before it could stun her with a globular device.
Sabrina watched her grab the robot, which took the blows of a couple other guards’ weapons and made itself even more useful as a metallic mass that she could swing at anyone who impeded her. Just as this resourceful soul made unprecedented progress toward the capitol entrance, she fell upon receiving a paralyzing shot from a Slavic lady who opened the front door.
“Peace!” she shouted in such a tone as to bring all human action within her fifty-foot radius to a halt. Sabrina had only been a victim of this bizarre form of psychological discipline twice before, and were it not for the immobilizing nature of the word in the first place, she would have shrieked upon feeling that brief yet torturous chill down her spine. The sensation would likely be more bearable in a Libertas, but so would more merciful soldiers have eased Jesus’s burden at Calvary.
Seeing the placidity of her audience, the woman said, “I suppose it is a small wonder death chose to ensnare the majority of our race recently, for it seems the lot of you are incapable of displaying the most basic signs of civility and sanity. Surely it would occur to the less patient individuals that ensuring the security of those of us who survived would take priority over making a statement about the so-called Dethroning.
“Nonetheless, I can respect your thirst for knowledge about our dire situation, and I am here to slake it.” Her eyes swept over the mob. “Citizens of Luna, today my associates and I attempted to have a reasonable dialogue with the survivor, Mr. Dennis Uriah of Aberdeen, Nevada, to no avail. We expressed to him the depth of the predicament, its effect on the stability of our community, and the need for him to do all that he can to help us determine the cause of the catastrophe.”
Sabrina’s heart sank. Governess Zolnerowich herself is vindicating this absurdity?
“Mr. Uriah revealed in his speech a disturbing level of faith in the good intentions of his uniquely emotional robotic companion, which cut short our attempt at diplomacy with a violent attack on the Aberdeen Police Department’s lunar communications devices. During the meeting, the man had also articulated his defiance of our plans to benefit the extant individuals in various ways.”
Sabrina could have sworn she saw Zolnerowich’s most recent visual brush-stroke come to a stop when the governess found her. She seemed to choose her next words more carefully. “Such were the words and actions of a person so blinded by his infatuation with android evolution that he would sooner betray his fellow humans for amoral machines.
“We do not, however, have reason to panic. The next spacecraft disembarkation will be cutting it close if this rogue android can travel by vehicle for twenty-five hours straight, but we possess several thousand times more robotic power to prevent any sabotage attempts.” Much as Sabrina disagreed with Zolnerowich’s policies, she respected her refusal to sugarcoat the truth. Whatever truth was anymore.
“Our importing of resources will proceed as normal, although I see no reason to think the planet of a singular population will require any of our exports. Mr. Uriah has all the necessities he could ask for, perhaps justly considering his previous life was one of poverty.” Ah yes, another example of a poor soul who speaks falsely yet has no intention of deceit. Someday I’ll make a capitalist out of her.
“So much for the practical side of things,” said Zolnerowich. “Then there is the more personal impact that this tragedy has had on all of us.
Let me make it exceptionally clear that I, as much as any of you, have been scarred by the Dethroning deeply. There is scarcely any way to take in stride the news that only one in every twelve million humans has been spared by a quiet slaughterer.
“Never before has our species seen such a gross waste of emotive, creative, and intellectual potential – potential that is the birthright of countless generations’ worth of confident struggle against adversity, especially adversity that comes from within. We have all dedicated years of our lives to unity with those lost people, to love for them, and to pride in them.”
She really is serious, she thought in a state of numb horror. This really has happened. I really am alone. More alone. Tears intruded upon her outward emotional display with authoritative force, a vestige of Organic humanity that, she realized, would die along with her.
“But it is this remarkable thing that makes today anything but an end for us: It is our power to channel the pain we feel now into, not despair or wrath, but new unity with, love for, and pride in us, the lasting privileged and the hopeful. Each may honor the dead in a way she finds most appropriate, but I do not think any of us can pretend to be up to the task of honoring all those people in one half-hearted tribute.
“As for myself, my job is not to be the universal eulogizer, but a governess. It would be the highest of insults for me to say anything more on the subject than I have.” She walked back towards the door without any need to pacify her listeners further. They simply pondered what they had heard and began to depart in sober silence.
All except Sabrina Lockhart, who stepped forward and called, “Anya!” The governess terminated her closing the door behind her, and turned around. The woman before her spoke, not bothering to dry her tears. “Just who do you think you are? Do you think you can make it okay to trivialize our feelings with little more than a pathetic little cheer-up speech? Do you suppose any of us gives a care how unified we are or how proud we are of ourselves? Is it really that apparent to you that we want to be treated like children who need calming down?”
A pause. “Think for one second, Governess! We all just lost our families, our friends, our heroes, our acquaintances we’d parted with before we could ever apologize to them or forgive them. I won’t defend the barbarism of some of these people, but they’re still people. People who expect a great deal more respect and sympathy than you’ve given them.”
Sabrina had injected her speech with such a vitriolic tone by the end as to make Vladimir freeze in anticipation of the worst from her verbal victim. Zolnerowich delivered it, in a sense. “That was as admirable as it was irrational, Miss Lockhart. Come with me, if you’ll deign to honor any of my requests by this point. We have much to discuss.”
For someone so antithetical to robots, you sure do act like one, Governess. She decided to hold her tongue and humor Zolnerowich, difficult as both were. The Organic and the Unnatural proceeded to the latter’s office.
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