Here We Stand, page 74
It wasn’t much to be proud of, but as things stood, Ingram took some comfort from the fact that humans had defaulted to treating an alien as an equal.
* * *
Lask Street, the teerik compound: 1245 hours, two days later.
Rikayl swooped as if he was going to crash into Solomon’s quadrubot but veered away at the last moment to perch on the street sign.
“No stars blow up,” he said, head cocked on one side. “No stars last night. No bang. Again. What?”
Solomon admired his vivid descriptive powers, but some phrases took a little longer to decipher than others. Stars blow up... no stars... no bang. Well, that was fairly easy.
“You mean fireworks,” Solomon said. “Fireworks are explosives. Small explosives fired into the air to look pretty and make a noise. Like little missiles. Humans only do that to have fun on special days.”
Rikayl had been fascinated by the election night display but had only been allowed to watch through a window. It was interesting to note which words and concepts he seemed most familiar with — the language of the armaments industry. It was hard to tell if that was derived from his genetic memory, or simply the result of exposure to work-related conversations in the house.
“Not stars?” Rikayl asked.
“No, the stars don’t blow up.” For a moment Solomon was tempted to modify that with an explanation of supernovas. “The stars are still there.”
“Bomb sky for fun?”
“Ah... yes.”
“Wankers!”
“You like the fireworks?”
“Gone too fast.”
The chemists and engineers had done a good job with the rockets, and certainly managed to introduce some wonderful colours into the display. But they had some way to go to rival a pyrotechnics expert and create flowers or shoals of fish in the air. Rikayl’s critical eye had already identified the short-lived and wasteful nature of the entertainment.
“Food?” Rikayl asked, eyeing the trolley bot following Solomon.
“Yes. Pies, fruit cream, and barbecued meat.”
“Jelly bars for me?”
“No, you need different food. More meat and eggs.” Rikayl didn’t need the medication. “Bars are medicine. You don’t need it.”
Rikayl stretched his wings as if he was limbering up. “Hredt don’t need. He getting well.”
Of course Fred’s mental state was improving. The drug was already in his food, and the bot was programmed to serve him specific packs that looked indistinguishable from the rest. As far as the other teeriks were concerned, he just ate meals minus the “chewables,” as Dr Tomlinson called them, and still appeared to be off his medication. They all understood why he’d been allowed to skip them. He was finishing work on the personal gate device, and it was less trouble to let him do that than argue about it and possibly get into savage fights. He’d be done with it soon, and then life could get back to normal.
But if Jeff or one of the more sympathetic scientists found out what Solomon was doing, word might get back to Fred and he’d stop eating. Solomon felt guilty for deceiving him, but more guilty about the mistakes Fred might make with the device if he assumed he was free of the drug and that his judgement was at its peak. Solomon had gleaned from Fred’s conversations with Jeff that he’d come to see his sedated state as restricted and less competent, despite the fact that he’d functioned perfectly well in that condition for years.
Marc was testing the portable device again this morning, gating from place to place around the site. If anything went wrong and he was harmed, the truth would have to come out, and Ingram would never trust Solomon again. She couldn’t shut him down any more than Erskine had been able to, but she wouldn’t need to. He’d have failed to protect one of the most valuable of his chosen humans — a friend, too — and betrayed everyone’s trust, and there would be no redemption possible. Under those circumstances, he would have felt obliged to take himself offline, but without AI management at this stage of Nomad’s development, the base would be in a very vulnerable position. He would have to live with his disgrace.
The whole mess had been a sobering lesson about the risks of good intentions. Even an AI could regret his decisions.
Turisu opened the door to let the trolley bot in. “You don’t normally visit, Solomon,” she said. “Is there a problem?”
“You’re not normally here for lunch.” He walked in and looked around as discreetly as he could. “You’re usually on one of the ships.”
“Hredt’s still testing his device with Marc and the others. I’ll put one of the meals aside for him. His appetite’s poor lately.”
That didn’t sound encouraging. It might have explained his agitation before Marc boarded Nir-Tenbiku’s vessel. If he was leaving too much food, he wouldn’t receive an adequate dose. But there hadn’t been much by way of leftovers to dispose of. Where was that food going? Were the others finishing it? That might be disastrous.
Why haven’t I noticed?
“Thank you, but I’m taking some snacks to him next,” Solomon said. “I dropped by to see how you are and collect the samples for Dr Tomlinson.”
“They’re ready,” she said. “And we’re well.”
The rest of the commune sat awaiting lunch, rustling feathers impatiently. Cosqui was reading her screen and doing that little head-rocking gesture that said something had pleased her.
“Not feeling sleepy during the day, or anything like that?” Solomon asked. “We want to fine-tune the dose, not render you unconscious.”
“We’re functioning as we always have,” Turisu said. “Perhaps humans need some of that medicine. They’ve been getting into fights this week. We heard about it.”
Sedation hadn’t completely taken the edge off Turisu’s sharp tongue. Solomon felt embarrassed and irritated that she seemed to be gloating. It was hard to miss the protest, but Demli and Runal must have seen the incident with Howie and reported back.
Very well, two could play the bitching game. “Humans disagree frequently,” Solomon said. “It’s what makes them independent thinkers. While we’re on the subject of independence, Captain Ingram’s spoken to you about the matter of the Jattan opposition’s visit, I understand. I realise that must have worried you, given their opinion of teeriks. They have rather bigoted views.”
Turisu fluffed up her neck feathers a little. “Ingram said she’d sent them on their way and returned their dead comrade so they wouldn’t feel the need to come back again. Their opinion means nothing to us.”
“I’m glad to hear that.” She must have been nervous, though. Jattans knew where to find them, and it didn’t matter which faction. “Might I ask if you have any opinion on what should happen to Lirrel’s remains? Nir-Tenbiku didn’t mention him or indicate that he wanted him returned.”
“He’s not one of us,” Turisu said. “It’s a matter for Captain Ingram.”
“I’ll leave you to enjoy your meal in peace, then.”
Solomon dispatched the bot to the main building with the saliva samples for Dr Tomlinson and went to find Marc. He might have been anywhere at any given moment while he was testing the gate, but Fred had set up the control base in the Caisin bunker. Solomon climbed down the newly-fitted stairs to the chamber and prepared to give Fred his food. He found him on his own, standing over his screen at the workbench.
“Lunch, Fred?”
Fred didn’t look up for a moment. Eventually he raised his head and turned slowly to stare down at Solomon, who took the wrapped pie out of his back pannier and placed it on the bench. But Fred wasn’t lost in his work. He was probably making a point to Solomon about being interrupted while he was calculating.
“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t distract you when you have complex work to do,” Solomon said.
“I’m not distracted.”
Fred put the screen aside, picked up the pie, and walked across the room to dump it in the waste basket. Solomon was taken aback. There was going to be trouble.
“While we have the opportunity for a private discussion,” Fred said, “I want you to understand that I know what you’ve been doing to my meals. And you’ll stop it right now. Did you think I wouldn’t notice? I can feel what it’s doing to me.”
“I’m sorry.” Solomon floundered. There was no point in denying it. “I was only trying to make you feel better.”
Solomon hadn’t been put on the spot like this since his development days. Once he took over his mission role, he was the one who held all the information and saw everything, and he’d grown used to having the upper hand with intel. That had now evaporated.
“You’ve been drugging me against my wishes,” Fred said. “So I’ve countered by eating much less to minimise the amount of medication I ingest, and I can assure you hunger hasn’t improved my mood. You knew I wanted to complete this work, and why, and yet you compromised my fitness to work and risked Marc’s safety. I’ll take this to Captain Ingram if you persist. It won’t be hard to prove with the next round of medical checks.”
“I can only apologise,” Solomon said. “But I don’t think your work is any less brilliant when you’re medicated. You only imagine it is.”
“You know nothing,” Fred snapped. “You have no more idea of what my work entails than Marc’s dog. You can copy what I’ve done, eventually, but you can’t create what I can. And you’re a copy of a human. A mechanical. I can’t trust you now.”
The silence that followed was terrible. Solomon didn’t know how to make the next move. He’d had minor conflicts during his development, which might have been set up to test his ability to adapt to emotionally challenging situations, and he’d watched Bednarz being less than kind to subordinates on the project, but he was now lost and desperate to put things right. He just didn’t know how.
And he’d have to confess to Ingram.
“I would never risk Marc’s life,” he said. “And I accept I’ve acted unethically and that I should be ashamed of myself. I’ll minimise contact with you if that’s what you want.”
“What are you minimising, Sol?”
It was Ash Brice. She was standing right behind him and he hadn’t detected her at all.
“You startled me,” he said.
“I just gated in.” Ash grinned, clearly delighted. “I’ve never gated before. It’s amazing. I can work wonders using this.”
She had one of the prototype control pads strapped to her arm. Solomon hadn’t realised she was involved in the tests, but then Chris suddenly appeared in the chamber. Marc must have recruited more volunteers to test the portable unit.
“This is great, Fred,” Chris said. “I’m still trying to think of situations where I wouldn’t be able to access the control if it’s on my arm. But I don’t think there’s a perfect location for a control that works every time, because we’ll never be able to predict how we’ll end up injured or missing a limb.” He looked at Ash and laughed. “Actually, there is one. Buttock activated. You know, clench your glutes and it squeezes the control. It was a detonation method for suicide bombers.”
Ash laughed her head off. “What if you’re so scared you clench anyway?”
“Sure, but we’re talking about having usable body parts to gate yourself out of trouble. If you’ve lost your ass, there’s no point gating anywhere.”
They seemed to find it hilarious. Solomon had never seen Chris laugh properly like that. Then Marc materialised and gave them a look.
“Honestly, you two,” he said. “Fun, was it?”
“It’s awesome,” Chris said, his serious self again. “It’s exactly what we need. This is fantastic, Fred. You’re the man.”
Marc clapped. “Top gadgetry, Fred. I’m happy with the muscle activation method. As long as the sensors stay stuck on somewhere, we’re good.”
Ash started guffawing again. There was a carnival atmosphere now that was totally at odds with how Solomon felt. The three humans didn’t seem to notice the icy distance between him and Fred.
“My work’s done, then,” Fred said. “I’m very pleased you approve.”
“Fred, if you were a drinking teerik, I’d buy you a beer right now.” Marc reached inside his shirt and peeled off a couple of electrodes. “You’re a genius, mate. You’re the Barnes Wallis of the galaxy. I feel a lot more confident about our prospects if we ever have to deal with Kugin.”
Fred did a little bow. “Thank you. My pleasure.”
Solomon decided to withdraw. “I’ll get Helen to send down a proper lunch for you, Fred,” he said. “Excuse me.”
He got out of the bunker as fast as he could and stood outside by the flagpoles, trying to work out if it was possible to repair the damage. He was also baffled by his own reaction. He’d been perfectly willing to undermine or even destroy anything that threatened the welfare of his humans. He’d let the sabcode loose in Asia knowing there would probably be terrible consequences for innocent people, and he’d accepted that the teeriks might have to be terminated if they were likely to fall into enemy hands. But he was confused, demoralised, and distressed by being caught out in a lie.
He’d been unethical before, and he’d taken lives, some at close quarters. He’d lied, too. He’d always been able to justify it, and he could justify medicating Fred, as much for Fred’s well-being as the humans’ welfare. What was different this time? He’d had to face the individual he’d wronged. And for once he wasn’t as smart as he believed, and Fred had spotted his intervention.
On top of that, Fred genuinely believed it had put Marc at risk, and so he no longer trusted Solomon. He’d relegated him to a mechanical and basically told him he was just software, and limited software at that. Solomon wandered off and sat down like a dog by the low wall at the front of the building. He didn’t want to go back into the network yet because he felt he might never come out again and just hide away, vindicating Fred’s assessment of his shortcomings. It seemed so emotionally trivial, though, and while he had no wish to be a human or anything other than what he was, it was unbearably painful.
Ingram would have shrugged it off if it had happened to her. She was ready to play any game to get the outcome she wanted and she’d brazen her way through this. She’d probably have said, “Well, Fred, what else could you expect us to do? We don’t know enough about you and this drug, but we don’t want you to get into a situation you’d hate yourself for.” Then she’d move on to the next topic and never lose a second’s sleep.
He realised he’d reconstructed her and her behaviour the same way he’d modelled a version of Bednarz. He sat brooding for half an hour, staying in touch with the network in case anything happened, and wondered if people passing by thought he’d parked the quadrubot and gone back into the system. Then Chris walked up to him, hands in his pockets.
“You in there, Sol?”
“I am, Chris.”
Chris sat down on the wall. “I’m guessing you had a fight with Fred.”
“You’re very perceptive. Yes, I’m afraid I did.”
“Is this about what you were going to confess to me?”
Solomon knew he’d feel better for getting it off his chest. It would be a dry run for admitting his sins to Ingram.
“I was continuing to medicate his food because I thought he might become dangerous,” he said. “He realised I was doing it and ate as little food as possible to reduce his intake. He told me to stop or he’d go to Ingram. He said it affected his judgement and put Marc in danger.”
Chris sat forward with his hands clasped, elbows on his knees. “Whatever you say about how our wishes come first, Sol, you control most of Nomad. If Ingram was mad at you, she couldn’t shut you down or stop you doing anything. So whatever you’re worried about, it’s not external consequences.”
“Fred said he’ll never trust me again.”
“That’s not the end of the world, either. Unless you’re best buddies.”
“And he said I’m just a mechanical and I don’t know any more about his work than Betsy does.”
“Ah, wounded pride. On both sides.”
“I don’t know how I can put things right. My apology meant little, and I understand that. Talk is indeed cheap.”
“He might calm down after a while,” Chris said. “We don’t know. Sorry doesn’t change the past, but I think it’s all you’ve got.”
“I didn’t know why it upset me so much, Chris. I’ve done far worse and not been affected like this.”
“Having rows with people isn’t fun. You need a certain kind of personality or a lot of exposure to angry people shouting in your face to be able to shrug it off. And you feel guilty because Fred’s kind of a victim, a slave, an old guy, all kinds of underdog stuff.”
Chris was a very good observer of other people’s emotions. Solomon wondered if he faced himself the same way. He’d had moral discussions with Chris before and had come away feeling he’d both learned something and lost a little of his burden, possibly because Chris always openly admitted being worse and not being troubled by it.
“What would you have done, Chris?” Solomon asked.
Chris shrugged. “I’d have dosed him. But I’d have done it after I’d locked him up and explained what I was doing and why.” He stood up as if he’d finished. Ash and Marc were heading his way. “But tell Ingram, okay? Not because you feel bad about it, but because she needs to know these things to do her job. And if it’s still bothering you tomorrow, come and find me and we’ll talk. The last thing we need is the guy who keeps this base running having a mental crisis.”
So Solomon was still a guy in Chris’s eyes, not a mechanical. Chris walked up the road to join Ash and Marc and left Solomon rerunning his words to wring more wisdom out them.
It took Solomon until the next day to feel up to facing Ingram. He should have met her in person in his quadrubot so he could have looked her in the eye, but he was back in the network by then and she was used to addressing him in the ether. It was hard to tell if she’d already heard the news from someone else, but she didn’t look particularly surprised.
