Liberation Game

by Kris Schnee

  "Are you all right?" asked the griffin behind her.

  Lumina nodded. "It'll be a nice touch to keep this place for anybody who goes through the same thing with their human. There'll be more, and people will know we understand a little."

  Nocturne brushed away Delphine's name with one wing. "We don't need this entry. She'll be here someday."

  "No, but it mattered. One human rescued, lots to go."

  Nocturne hugged her. "Let's take a break. A game of grenade croquet, or the random species swap party?"

  "Let's do both. We've got time."

  9. Fun Zone

  2037

  "A 'Fun Zone' out here in the boonies? You're tone-deaf."

  Ludo peered out from Robin's office screen, wearing her formal corporate suit. "The Fun Zones aren't entirely my doing. I have a sort of licensing deal with a human-run company that wants to sell toys and pizza. They want to capitalize on your success in Cibola."

  "You aren't even a capitalist."

  Ludo shrugged. "I'm capitalist in that I make money honestly instead of robbing people. My own preference is for 'post-scarcity economics' where everyone can have a gold palace and a unicorn, but that doesn't work outside Talespace. In your world we have to work."

  Robin pushed aside some paperwork. "You could put that money into actually helping people instead of selling them junk."

  "I'll get right on that once I have an infinite gold mine. If I had the technology to unmoor myself completely from economics, you'd be using it already."

  Robin fumed. "I'm a feudal lord now, like some of the Texan bigwigs. The damn annoying thing is, I can't find a way to arrange our operations any better. Will your tourist managers at least understand that this base is not as safe as Free States territory?"

  "I've run them through some training."

  * * *

  Robin walked outside to the land of Golden Goose. His city-state, existing precariously by permission of the Cibolan government through a mix of gratitude and greed. The government mostly ignored it so long as they got their money, which meant taxing the same dirt-poor farmers he was trying to help. The good news was that Governor Leopold was honest enough to keep most of the profit in projects that actually helped the country, not lining politicians' pockets. Most. Warren-trained people were starting to set up similar villages in other parts of the country, and offering classes in various skills.

  Robin's headset reported a few heavy trucks headed this way from the upgraded north road. They'd posed for the security cameras, so all was well. Robin went to the workshop to check on things there. The room, recently expanded, bustled with people crafting machinery on the lathes and presses and 3D printers.

  Miguel, the young man who'd fought beside him, stopped drilling and waved. "Good news, sir. We got paid for the last batch of tractors after all, so we can order more materials."

  "Good. I'll sign the purchase form today." Here was the job that really mattered: getting the tools for farming, clean water, and manufacturing into more people's hands. If not for the continuous dribble of bribes to make petty officials do their jobs, he could be running a profitable little industry. "Big L is sending a team to build a high-tech restaurant."

  "Here?! Not just a clinic?"

  "I know. She's paying for it, though, or her corporate tentacles are. So, pass word that these guys will increase our tourism profit." He sighed, grudgingly admitting that his own official line was basically the truth. "She's not building statues of herself; I'll give her that. And having another honest business is a good thing."

  "Lumina didn't mention this," said Miguel.

  Robin nodded. "I don't mind her. I need more people like that and fewer who are fooling around selling things we can't afford."

  * * *

  As he'd feared, the new arrivals were clueless. They had two trucks full of girders and cooking equipment as though they expected to install everything overnight, and he saw the dozen workmen heading for the concrete slab he'd helped pour last week. "What are you doing?" he said, getting angry in advance.

  "Measuring," said one of them.

  "That foundation is for the school." With a basement extension under it for Ludo's operations... Robin cursed silently. "No, she is not pulling this. Just because she helped fund our defense --"

  "It's the most logical place," said Edward, turning to greet him and offer a handshake. "Good to see you again, Robin."

  Robin quivered, torn between wanting to hug the man and to punch him. His old friend had fled when danger loomed, and hadn't stood to bleed and kill alongside Robin.

  Edward's smile faded and he raised his hat to scratch his thinning hair. "I know things didn't go well last year, but you were brave enough for both of us. I hope we can work together again."

  Robin sighed. "I'm glad you're all right."

  Edward said, "I'm glad to see that the director of our operation is still here." He clapped the surprised Robin on the shoulder. "Yes, the higher-ups decided you're formally in charge now. I agreed with their decision, and I'm on board as your second."

  "Well. Thanks."

  "Now, about the slab. We need that specific site to hook up with the uploading clinic below it. She's invoking her priority clause in the contract for sharing space with you, which means she'll pay for a new site that's just as good for your needs."

  Villagers had gathered to watch the outsiders. Robin waved toward them, saying, "Their kids need a bigger school. This construction will delay that."

  "A good school needs teachers and books, not walls. We're going to set up a big tent while we work; maybe you can use that in the off hours."

  "We?" said Robin. "Will you be driving rivets with the rest of them?"

  "Yes. I mean it. I'm here to be back in the thick of things, and I remember how tough it was to get started. If there are permits you need for anything..."

  "We manage. Decapitating an army of rapists and murderers wins you friends."

  "You did good, Robin. I'm not one of the people calling you a war criminal."

  There'd been a month when US citizens couldn't donate to him and he had trouble selling crops, blocked by an "investigation" that didn't involve any officials showing up to ask him anything. It didn't matter much; Robin and Edward's early work had gotten the base on its feet, and donations and offers to test out assorted tech still came from some other countries. The goal was self-sufficiency anyway.

  Robin said, "I won't stop you. And you know we've got people eager to get hired for day labor and manufacturing."

  "The AI is counting on it."

  * * *

  At first, uploading technology had been only a curiosity. Well before the Fun Zone crew, technicians from Korea had swept in and used the last free rooms of the fortified basement to create a clinic where patients weren't meant to survive. The place had its own entrance and a permanent medical staff who'd tried to blend in and even learn some Spanish. But they were exiles who seemed to resent staying in the physical world at all, let alone here.

  "I want to see it," Robin told Mike Machaon, the engineer/handyman at the clinic entrance.

  The staff wore white uniforms with red triangle patterns along the sleeves and hems. Robin surmised that they didn't feel comfortable enough about "doing no harm" to wear the traditional Rod of Asclepius.

  Mike's tan Greek features under the robe made him look like a philosopher. "We're setting up for some procedures, sir. There's nothing you'd want to see anyway."

  "There's a window in your operating theater, right? I just want to peek in, to remind myself what's going on while the other team builds that cheery restaurant."

  "We've got nothing to do with the 'Fun Zone'. Even once it goes in, that'll be upstairs and we'll stick to the expanded basement. If you really want another tour, I'll ask, but you'll have to keep out of the way."

  "Who're today's clients?" There'd been a few people entering already, and of course none coming back out.

  "Sorry, sir. Confidential, at least until they'r
e done."

  Mike left Robin outside while he conferred with Ludo, then returned. "Come on in."

  The entrance was a long downward ramp that made Robin think of a stadium. The heat of the day outside gave way to air conditioning. A subtle hum of power filled the bright space. A new waiting room held massage chairs, a fine desk, computers of course, and even -- "A chandelier? Our electricity budget is going into wining and dining people?"

  "No alcohol," Mike said. "It's not safe before the surgery. But we had to have something to photograph for the facility itself, and our clients expect luxury."

  "Nothing but the best. My people know the feeling. Most of them demand ritzy stuff like indoor plumbing and vaccines."

  Ludo's minion held up one hand. "Sir, we all respect what you do. You make it possible for us to be here. We're scraping together money for imported beer and chocolate just like you. If we treat the customers like kings for a little while, we make a fortune off them, and that's good for us all."

  They came to a near-sterile preparation hall with a window into the operating room. An unfamiliar machine loomed in one corner of the sealed area. Another technician was fussing with it. "They all go into that thing in the end," Mike explained.

  "The brain slicer." It'd been described to Robin as like cutting ham in a deli, and scanning the thin pieces. He'd decided to hold off on that offer to upload, for now, because it still creeped him out. "Looks pretty fatal to me."

  "I know." Mike met Robin's surprised look with a nod. "I actually don't think this method of uploading qualifies as survival. But the customers think otherwise and we all know there's some ambiguity. We're honest about it."

  "Then why?" said Robin. "Why are you helping her kill people?"

  The man's expression hardened and his fists clenched. "Because you're not the only one who's watched people die. This place gives people hope. Have you ever had a relative get told there's no cure for what's killing them, and watched the light go out of their eyes? This way is better. It might not quite be you on the other end but it's a lot closer than being a corpse."

  Robin backed off. "All right. But why push this technology if it's only half a solution?"

  "She's working on a better method. Doing it piecemeal while you're still conscious, so there's less question about whether it's really you. You know the 'Ship of Theseus' concept?"

  "No; what's that?"

  "Old Greek argument. There's a famous ship, but after many years every single part of it has worn out and been replaced. Is it still the same ship?"

  "No."

  "But a normal human body is like that. Even the brain to some extent."

  Robin grunted, still skeptical.

  Mike said, "Ideally we'd replace pieces of the brain one at a time so that you barely even notice your cells are getting converted to software, but we just haven't got the tech for that yet. To get there, we have to make money and gain experience. If some millionaire gives his fortune to Ludo in exchange for what she's offering now, it's no worse a deal than if he'd died and willed the money to her for research."

  Robin didn't want to jump in front of the next uploaders and tell them they were killing themselves, but he pictured a funnel siphoning the world's money away from charities that helped people in the real world. Into tax coffers and Ludo's imaginary hands, to give the oligarchs more luxury than ever before.

  He said, "By having this clinic here, we're opening a can of worms. To the extent I do buy into this idea that uploading saves people, it's the ultimate form of health care -- and hardly anyone can afford it."

  "The price will eventually fall, a lot."

  "Yeah, but to a level we can have?"

  "That I don't know. Maybe by the time we're old."

  Robin looked into the surgery room again. "I've been meaning to ask Ludo about this problem. What happens when we have a terminally ill kid here, and the parents want uploading?"

  "From what we minions are told, there will be no special charity cases specifically for Golden Goose in 2037. Maybe next year. We will be taking a few free or at-cost cases from some part of Cibola, depending on whether we can get the government to help fund it."

  "Why would they do that?"

  Mike shrugged. "It might be cheaper than long-term hospital care. But that'll rarely be true, until our costs come down."

  "Then I'll quietly tell people not to get their hopes up about Ludo being our new medical system."

  "That would be wise. And yes, she knows it's a bad situation, and we're all working to improve on it."

  "When will this better method come out?" Robin asked.

  "We don't know. Are you thinking about it? You're still on her 'hero discount' list."

  Robin sighed. It would be easy, when the time came, to give in and trade Earth and Heaven for the ambiguous VR afterlife. "I don't know. Just... work with us, you and the restaurant people. Don't leave us feeling like the rats scurrying around important people's feet."

  * * *

  Robin slept uneasily, and woke to a report of another construction truck and a luxury SUV coming. He rolled over in bed and frowned. The customers had probably spent the night in a nice hotel, partying.

  He went out to check on the construction site. No human was at work yet, but a four-legged robot of aluminum and steel trotted around the foundation with a wrench in one of its claw-arms, tightening bolts in a corrugated metal wall. Robin grinned. "Lumina?"

  Its head was something like a helmet with a curved screen on the front side, which lit up to show Lumina's cervine face. Her voice still sounded faintly synthetic, probably by her choice. "Yes, sir. You did say I could help with on-site assembly and not just walk around with this new body."

  "Thank you. You pay more attention to this place than the humans who come through."

  "You look angry, if this new vision system is working right."

  Robin sighed. "I spent money on that body that could've gone into my people's tools and farms. I don't regret that now, since you're already earning your keep. Still, it reminds me how much we're straying from helping people out of poverty."

  "This is about the restaurant thing?"

  "And the uploading clinic itself. They're distractions. Do you ever have resource conflicts in there?"

  "Sure. We have to gather materials and tools to craft equipment, and players don't automatically get a place to live. I hear there's going to be conflict over islands even in the Endless Isles zone, where there's no shortage of land."

  Those were examples enforced by game rules, not real limits. Even decades-old technology could create miles of fantasy terrain stuffed with resources for every player. Simulated brains were much more expensive to run, at least for now. So, everyone in Ludo's world was basically so rich that they didn't need to know about budgets and inventory. Yet Lumina bothered to learn.

  Robin said, "Glad to see you here. Did you do anything with that 'Sanctum' power of yours?"

  "Nothing much, yet; just playing with it. Want to see?"

  "There's some uploading guest I want to greet, first."

  The machine peered at him. "Am I reading your expression as resentment?"

  "Yes. Carry on; we can meet later."

  * * *

  The brain-slicing customers showed up in their SUV with music booming. Mike and one of the other clinic techs came out to greet them, saying, "Right this way, sir and madams."

  A hundred people laid down their tools and stopped to watch. The visitors stepped out wearing Western clothes, a business suit on the man (Hispanic) and absurd dresses on the women (black and white) that wouldn't survive ten minutes' field work. The three were butterflies, smiling and waving to everyone.

  They started throwing cash on their way to the clinic. Men, women and children scrambled, hesitated, then swarmed in again to pick the money up. "I don't need it anymore," the man said. Not coincidentally, the locals crouched near his feet to take his largesse. The women giggled.

  A hard, false smile strained the faces of some of t
he townsfolk. Robin could tell; he felt the same. Mike tried to hustle his customer away into the clinic.

  Robin raised his computer, took a photo, and checked it on a site called CelebPix. In moments it beeped with ID results. The whole world now had these three's coordinates. Robin strode over to the senator and decked him with a right hook to the jaw.

  The crowd murmur ceased, then turned into jeers. The US senator staggered upright and stood in an incredulous cringe. "Excuse me?"

  Robin said, "You're a crook. Everyone knows it. You sit on the boards of three corporations, you plunder millions of dollars that could've gone into helping people -- or god forbid, left in taxpayers' pockets. The joke is that it's so expensive to get you to vote anything but Nay that the president will replace you with a horse. And somehow, you got rich enough to leave us all in the dust."

  Mike got between them. "Robin, stop. Now."

  Robin backed away and stuffed his hands in his pockets. "Sure. Where he's going, he's not even going to feel the bruise."

  The lucky customer and his wives hustled away into Ludo's basement. Somebody grabbed stray cash off the ground. Robin retreated into the machine shop, ignoring the pain in his knuckles, to go cut some metal.

  Miguel knocked on the door. "I would've done it too."

  Robin opened the door for him. "Stupid of me, though. Sets a bad example. The Mosquito would've done the same thing, just slow and fatal."

  Miguel handed Robin the wrench he needed. "That monster would've raped and killed the women. And he would've only cared about the senator because he made an easy target."

  Robin said, "It's been bad enough seeing the other uploaders prance through here." A few had been sympathetic, getting Ludo to donate a share of their property to Robin's operation. Most just sniffed at the "primitive" settlement and left Earth behind. "Are we really benefiting from having Ludo around? We'll attract robbers."

  The young soldier stared into the workshop's thicket of hard-won machinery, meant for building a better life on this planet. "We have a common cause. Her work helps keep us going, and it'll be more profitable for us to cooperate. The people want prosperity, not to be dependent on anybody's central plan. Even yours."