“Well, it’s gone now.”
“Is it?” asked Lucille, looking up at the man. “It knows we’re here, and it knows the resonance of our reality. I’m sure it will be trying to find a way to get to us.”
“All the more reason to find somewhere we can run to,” said the senior scientist.
Lucille looked at the man in horror, knowing that this project would go on. Maybe to open a portal into someplace worse than what they had seen today. Something that she couldn’t imagine.
A New Life
Even the worlds that had been settled for centuries still had their dangerous beasts. Most of the population is isolated from the wilds, but some hunt those forms for pleasure, the thrill. And they must have their guides, so that the hunt doesn’t become unreasonably hazardous. On the Core World of New Detroit the idle rich, the nobility, hunt for trophies, using the skills of the lower class hunt masters to keep them alive.
“Bastards,” growled Parker Murphy, slamming his hand down hard on the table.
Cornelius Walborski nodded his head in sympathy while taking a sip of the good beer. He was treating this night. Parker, while he wouldn’t starve, would not have the discretionary funds for nights out in the near future, if at all.
“You’ll find something,” he told his friend, raising his hand to get the attention of the serving robot. Nothing too good for us workers, he thought as the machine flashed a light his way, then wheeled off for the bar. Human servers were expensive, and one server specialist could run three of the robots, enough to cover the entire bar.
“How the hell am I going to find anything,” yelled his friend, attracting stares their way despite the noise deadening field around their booth. Noise deadening was the operative word, not sound proof. People could still hear them if they talked loud enough, and a yell seemed to be loud enough. “Those fucking bastards control all the work.”
“You won’t starve at least,” said Jonah Friedmoore, another of Cornelius’s close friends.
“I want more than to just exist,” hissed Parker, glaring at his friend. “I want to get somewhere in life. Not spend every day looking at the walls of my apartment.”
Cornelius nodded his head again. He didn’t know what to say. The dole allowed people to exist. As Jonah had said, you wouldn’t starve, and your medical was covered, one of your rights as a citizen. There was even the mind numbing entertainment of the vid stream, or the online library if you were someone who was into learning. But to get ahead you needed a job, and jobs were hard to come by. And the jobs were all controlled by...
“Those bastards,” said Parker again. “Those greedy, privileged bastards. I wish I could get that damned Baron alone somewhere.”
Good luck with that, thought Walborski. Nobles had bodyguards, who would take Parker apart before he could do anything to their precious charge.
Their drinks came, and Parker downed his in a few moments. Cornelius signaled for another. After all, he had the luxury of two jobs, and his wife another, in a society where almost half the work force was idle. If not for the Man in the Loop accord it would have been worse, but someone needed to oversee all of those robots that worked the factories and civil maintenance
“There’s always the Fleet,” said Jonah, whose father had served in the Imperial Navy, a fact he was sure to let everyone know about, even if he didn’t join himself.
“You’ve got to have skills to get in the Fleet,” said Parker, grabbing at the next beer that the serving robot put in front of him. “Or connections.”
Cornelius was not sure that was true. He had always heard that the Fleet trained its recruits. But to be away from family? Parker had a wife, after all.
“Then join the Imperial Army,” said Jonah, never the most diplomatic of people.
“You join the fucking Army,” yelled Parker. “Since you seem to love it so much. Maybe you like taking orders from the Baron and people like him. I think we need to put assholes like him in their place.”
Cornelius cringed in his seat. The Baron was in charge of Windsor City and surroundings, and was not someone to mess with on his own turf. Cornelius got his jobs from the Duke himself, the chief executive of the continent, but it still did no good to stir up trouble with the noble’s subordinate. And Katlyn had her job directly through the Baron’s wife, whose husband also owned the factory Walborski worked in.
“Hey,” yelled the bartender, a real live human, walking toward the booth. “I will have no talk of treason in my bar. You understand me, Murphy? Keep a tight lip on it, or get out.”
“I’ll say what the hell I want,” said Parker, standing up and glowering at the bartender, who was also the bar manager. Parker picked up his glass and threw it at the tender, bouncing it off his arm.
“That’s assault, you asshole,” yelled the bartender back. “I’ll have your ass in jail.”
“And I’ll have you in a reconstruction tank,” yelled Parker, pushing Jonah out of the way and going for the bartender.
He can’t be that drunk, thought Cornelius, grabbing for his friend’s arm and missing. He had to have taken something on top of the alcohol. Not that drugs were hard to find, legal and illegal.
Parker pushed the bartender, a man he towered over, hard enough to send the man staggering back, where he fell over a chair. Parker headed toward him, bringing a foot back to kick the man, when he wobbled on his feet, then fell to the floor in a limp mass. Cornelius clapped his hands over his ears as the sonics sounded through the bar. He felt a little numbness in his body as well, but nothing like his friend. He spotted the Copeye robot in a second, floating near the ceiling, its front end, where the stunner was located, pointed at Parker.
“Let’s get out of here,” said Jonah, pulling at Cornelius’ arm.
“We’re on the thing’s memory,” said Cornelius, planting his feet and refusing to budge. “They’ll want our statements. You rather give it to them here, or at home?”
Moments later a pair of tern faced police officers came walking through the door, big men in light augmentation armor. They didn’t move with the grace of the biologically enhanced. That was reserved for special units made up of military retirees. But their armor gave them an advantage over any regular citizen that might want to try them.
“And that’s what happened,” said Cornelius to the officer that took his statement, after Parker had been removed from the scene. “Look, he’s not a bad guy. He lost his job today, and got a little messed up.”
“And how did he lose his job?” asked the police officer in a flat voice.
“He made a comment that the Baron overheard when he was touring the factory Parker worked at.”
“Teach him to speak in front of his betters,” said the cop, shaking his head. He looked around the bar for a moment, then back at Walborski. “You can go. We’ll be in touch with you if we need more information.”
Cornelius nodded and walked away. Moments later he was in his aircar, a luxury that multiple jobs gave him. The city was lit up around him, though some of the windows of the skyscrapers were dark as the people inside went through a sleep cycle. But many more were lit. People on the dole didn’t have to keep regular hours. He started to fall asleep himself along the way home, but his car knew the way. Windsor wasn’t the largest city on the planet, which didn’t boast the largest cities in the Empire. He dreamed one day of visiting Jewel, and see the capital city of Capitulum, home to over three billion people. We might just be able to do that in a couple of years. He and Katlyn were getting ahead, and recently they had actually started savings. Interstellar travel was still expensive, too much so for most private citizens. Unless it was a one way trip to the frontier.
“Katlyn,” he called out as he entered their apartment, again, something they could afford with a regular income, a place to be proud of. Boss Kitty, their four year old Tom, came at the sound of his voice, meowing like he was scolding Cornelius for being late to come home. Probably just wants some food, thought Cornelius, walking to the
kitchen with the cat weaving in and out of his legs.
She must be in bed, was his next thought, as he pulled a can of cat food from the cabinet, then emptied it into a frictionless bowl he pulled from the cleaner. Maybe we can get a program for the robot that feeds the damned cat. He shook his head at that last thought. Katlyn liked to feed the cat, though she was quick enough to use the cleaning bot to get rid of the animal’s waste.
Cornelius pulled a joint of synthicanibus from the lower cabinet and made his way back into the living room, plopping down on the couch. With a thought the trivee projector came on, and he was surrounded in the peaceful scene of a city park, children playing in a fountain, one of Katlyn’s favorite views. She forgot to reset it, again, he thought, flipping the surrounding scene to that of a tropical beach. He didn’t like the park at all, as it reminded them of what they didn’t have. And he had been to that park before, in New Detroit City, and had never seen that many children around. Just another lie.
He ran down the list of entertainments in his mind, rejecting one after another. He didn’t want to play a mercenary, or a tough lawman, or any of the other possibilities. And none of the canned shows held any interest. He dismissed the illusion with a thought and switched to a news channel, one that didn’t surround him with the immersion of a studio, just replicating the anchor sitting in 3D at her desk. Cornelius lit up the mild narcotic and took a puff, feeling the relaxation flowing through him. Boss Kitty jumped up beside him, demanding attention, and Cornelius blew out the smoke while he kneaded the cat’s shoulder muscles.
I need to get to bed, he thought, looking at the time stamp over the tridee image. He hadn’t slept much the last couple of nights, and even with nanite augmentation, a body eventually had to have a good night’s sleep. Getting up, he walked to the kitchen, picked up the now empty bowl and turning it over the disposal, letting the last crumbs of food slide off the surface, then putting the bowl back in the cabinet.
He slid into the bed next to Katlyn, trying not to disturb her. She woke up anyway, and turned over with a sleepy smile on her face. She’s so beautiful, he thought, wondering how an average looking guy like himself had gotten together with her, much less gotten married. Might be because we had been friends for so many years. He had known her since they were toddlers, and just felt comfortable with her the whole time they were growing up.
“You’re home late,” she said, putting her arms around her neck.
“Parker lost his job today,” said Cornelius, running a hand down her arm.
“What happened?”
“He made a comment about the Baron,” said Cornelius, shaking his head. “And it got back to the man himself, when he was touring the plant.”
“The idiot,” said Katlyn, her hands going to her mouth in shock. “What the hell was he thinking?”
“He wasn’t,” said Cornelius. Everyone knew in their society not to insult the nobles. According to the constitution of the Empire they had equal rights, nobles and commons. But the nobles still had privilege, in part due to their position in the governance of the Empire. And in part because of their family interconnections and wealth. It would be different out on the frontier, he thought, then remembered that some of those differences could be deadly. New Detroit was a core world, and as such was well defended. “And even worse,” he said, feeling rage rise in him at the thought of the nobles and what they could do. “He got arrested for assault.”
“So he’s totally ruined his life,” said Katlyn. “No work for him, doomed to be a Dole Rat for the rest of his life.”
“At least he won’t starve,” said Cornelius, knowing that he wouldn’t want to be a Rat himself. You didn’t starve, but you also didn’t really live, other than what you could get vicariously through the trivee. If you could afford the upgrade nanites to keep up with the transmission systems. “And there’s always the frontier.”
Katlyn shuddered as he said that and he held her tighter. “It might be the only way we’re going to get a reproductive license. You want a child.”
Katlyn looked up at him with a tear streaked face. “I want a half dozen, but I know I’m never going to get that many. Can’t your father help us?”
We’ll get a license to have a child when we’re both over a hundred, thought Cornelius. People didn’t get reproductive licenses at a young age on a core world, which were all at the legal population limit. Not unless you had some great skill, like a scientist, or were one of the nobles. If they were lucky they could have a child in early middle age, when they reached that hundred year marker. His father had been able to have two children, but only because he had the patronage of the Duke.
“Would the frontier really be that horrible?” he asked.
“Hold me,” she said, and she gripped him tight. He held her, and things progressed until they were making love. There was no danger of pregnancy, not while their nanites were programed to prevent such.
* * *
The factory was working at full swing when Cornelius reported for his shift. The robots on two of the lines were turning out aircars, moving the vehicles from station to station to have parts added, then nanowelded by a spray of microscopic robots, leaving not even a mark to show where the new part had been attached. Men sat in the booths overlooking the floor, supervising the work robots. Each could only watch a maximum of three of the bots at a time because of the Man in the Loop Accords. In this factory they only had to watch two, so that they could maintain the quality control this company demanded.
Not that these robots are likely to rip themselves out of the floor and grow the processing power to be a threat, thought Cornelius as he reported to his booth, nodding at the guy they had hired to take Parker’s place. Not his fault, he thought of the new guy, who just seemed happy to have a job. Still, Cornelius couldn’t help but feel some resentment for the replacement who had taken the place of his old friend.
Cornelius sat at his station and started up his board. The ticker said he still had five minutes before his lines started up. He was in charge of the same two robots today that he was every day, something that made the job a little boring. His would nanoweld and connect the control runs to the lift fans that the newbie’s robots would lower into place. He just had to make sure that the robots were running within parameters, and watch that no mistakes got through his part of the lines.
The buzzer beeped and the line started up. He could look forward to ten hours of watching aircars rotate in front of him, of his robots performing the same tasks over and over. Three days a week he sat here, eating his lunch at the board, not even taking bathroom breaks, as his nanites were programed to delay bladder fill while he was at work, only allowing enough fluid out that he could take care of in his two ten minute breaks. It was monotonous. Or it should have been, except when the bot on the three line started to overheat, and stopped making all the proper connections.
“Shit,” said Cornelius, hitting the button that shut down the entire line. That was considered serious action, but he had been at the job long enough to feel confident that when he did it, it needed to be done. He shunted his other robot off to the newbie, whose name he couldn’t even remember. It was no use shutting down both lines, and the newbie could watch two robots on line four while Cornelius looked into the situation.
First he checked the computer readout for the robot, which told him absolutely nothing about why it was malfunctioning, other than that the actuator of one of the arms was hot. There was nothing for it but to go on the line and give the unit a look. If he could fix it he would. If not, he would call in those who could.
The line was always noisy. It was easy to forget while sitting in the insulated booths, but this was heavy machinery, lifting large parts into place while assembling vehicles. It could also be dangerous. The three line, the one he was approaching, was still, but he had to walk over the four line to get to it. Cornelius could see why robots frightened some people, tales of the revolt centuries before notwithstanding. The robots of four line w
ere moving quickly, and even with built in fail safes they could still snag the unwary.
Cornelius kept a close eye on four line while he walked three. Vehicles were still being put together over there, and the line would assemble hundreds of them in a day. Three line was a row of unfinished vehicles that were not going anywhere at the moment. He stopped in front of the recalcitrant machine and put his hand on the arm in question. It was hot to the touch, and he noticed that a thin line of smoke was rising from a port. He stuck a multitool into the port and turned it, and the arm opened up along the seam that appeared. And more smoke poured out of the opening, along with a lick of flames.
What the hell, thought the man as he saw what looked like an oily rag burning. With a thought he tapped into the factory com system and sent a situation report to management. It doesn’t look like this problem is going to be easily solved, he thought. They could clean up the rag easily, and replace whatever parts were damaged by the fire. But this looked like something deliberate, and that meant this would be investigated, with all the hassle that entailed. So much for a quiet day at work, thought Cornelius, knowing that he would be investigated as well.
* * *
“Would Milady like another cup of tea?” asked Katlyn, holding a tray with pot, sugar and cream. The woman she was questioning, a guest of the Baroness, performed the difficult task of looking up and looking down her nose at the servant at the same time.
“Yes, I think I will,” answered the woman, holding up her cup.
Katlyn put the tray on the table and picked up the teapot to pour, her eyes glancing at the baby in the lap of another guest. The little girl was smiling and laughing, and waving her pudgy little arms. And why can’t I have one like you to hold, thought Katlyn as she poured the tea. The baby was distracting, and she wasn’t paying attention to what she was doing.
“You stupid little whore,” yelled the well-dressed guest as hot tea spilled onto her dress.
Exodus: Tales of The Empire: Book 2: Beasts of the Frontier. Page 11
