Liberation Game

by Kris Schnee

  * * *

  "Riot shields. Lovely. You may as well take those." Robin paced in front of Lumina, who occupied a body in his office. "Is the intruder group sticking together?"

  "Yes, about ten minutes out."

  "Mike has volunteered to stand behind a row of bots and observe any symptoms these people show, but he's not to approach and treat anybody yet. The machines are there to enforce quarantine and order first. If the newcomers cooperate, the bots can perform medical inspections and help with tents. Get to it, and thank you."

  "Yes, sir. But what if they just keep walking?"

  Robin scowled. Then he picked up the pistol he kept in a holster on the wall, and put it on. "Then they're a threat. I'll be behind you."

  Lumina transferred to a different body: the Doeluxe. It was a new model, a few inches taller and with better motors and more strength and dexterity. Still not the equal of a human, but good for the tough jobs. The machine whirred to life in Golden Goose's main robot depot, accepted a high-five from the young man who maintained the bots, and stepped outside. She picked up a shield in her right arm and a pepper-spray gun in her left, and joined up with four lesser bots similarly armed.

  One factor that Ludo hadn't planned for was that she liked having all her robots be fantasy creatures rather than humanoids. Bipedal robots could be scary, but living toy griffins that sometimes even wore pelts to make them look like stuffed animals? Those were clearly harmless and loveable. Today the fanciful centauroid look, for all that Lumina argued it was practical outside urban environments, mostly served to make it look like Ludo was directing this operation.

  She silently sent to the other bots, [Follow my lead.] The AIs inside them sent back a cheerful chorus of [Yes, mistress!] and [Yes, Hoof Leader!] and so on.

  [Do you actually have any security training?]

  A voice she hadn't heard chime in said, [I'm an uploader, ma'am. Former US Secret Service, here for reasons between me and your maker.]

  [Then you should be in charge], Lumina sent. All the while, Mike and Robin were walking behind them toward the south trail, and wearing facemasks and gloves.

  [No, ma'am. I would, but you know these machines better than me.]

  [Let's train together later.]

  The five robots and two humans stopped well in front of the newcomers. They slowed, intimidated. Lumina's amplified voice said, "If you come any closer, you're under quarantine. You will be provided with tents for a one-week period along with basic supplies. You will not come any closer to this town than a campsite near this trail. Either turn back, or raise your hands to accept quarantine."

  Lumina's gaze darted back and forth across the crowd. Dozens of people were determined to force their way past Robin's rules and boundaries in the name of, well, a bunch of different needs and wants. There was an entire genre of game scenarios called "tower defense" about using automated turrets to mow down endless waves of invaders. She'd played one in particular based on Normandy, from both sides. Technically it was a solution that humans used sometimes to their problems, but how in Ludo's name were they supposed to handle this one?

  The outsiders paused, looking over the row of robots. Lumina's team faced them down and stood with inhuman calm that Lumina didn't feel inside. A few of them began raising their hands while looking to each other for cues. At last!

  Then the old man in the group called out, "I need to upload!" Several other people clamored in his support.

  Robin said from behind his machines, "That's not up to me, and you're not traveling any farther up this road unless you've gone through quarantine. Lumina?"

  Lumina put away her pepper spray and pulled out a Talisman gaming pad to show the outsiders. It glowed to life and Ludo appeared, saying, "Thank you for your interest, but this uploading clinic is not taking unpaid clients right now."

  "You take people for free! Come on, let us in!"

  Us? thought Lumina, wondering how many of these people intended to demand uploading as well.

  While the machines stood impassively and the crowd clamored, threatening to charge, Robin muttered into his headset on a shared channel. "Edward, plan B."

  Edward, it turned out, had been following a careful distance behind, unmasked and with a megaphone. He said, "My friends, in the name of God I call on you to stand down and let us take you into quarantine. We can talk about the details afterward. I'll pray with you, too, if you'll allow me. See, there are people already coming with food and water." Indeed there were, though they hung back. "Hold up your hands so we know you're going to cooperate."

  The crowd murmured, and then hands slowly went up again. Lumina relaxed a little and lowered the Talisman, whose screen went dark. She had the robots warily switch from being riot police to construction workers, to begin setting up a campground for these people to keep away from town.

  * * *

  "What now?" said Lumina. She still occupied the fancy robot body, and was sitting on the floor of Robin's office after being washed with disinfectant.

  Edward said, "We didn't actually resolve this. I bought time by appealing to their better nature, but that man does look like he hasn't got very long to live."

  Robin and Ludo both looked grim, and Ludo didn't offer to split the difference again and preserve the man's brain. Instead she said, "I take it none of them has significant money."

  Robin shook his head. "I'm just glad Plan B worked, Edward."

  "What was C?" asked Lumina.

  "C and D were to have Ludo try to wow them, or to show them this." He patted his gun. "And hopefully just use the pepper spray instead."

  "In that order, huh?"

  "It was the safer option," Edward said, though he didn't look happy.

  She knew Robin wasn't eager to have Ludo tell people to "hear and obey" or anything like that. Yet he'd been willing to risk having that happen, to prevent violence and find some kind of solution for this influx. She watched him strategize and give orders and take advice, and was proud that this man was willing to listen to her.

  16. Power

  An uneasy haze settled over Golden Goose. Robin was now trying to juggle the needs of his own people, who could mostly manage their own affairs, with the new people who couldn't. He was involved daily in meetings with the heads of Tres Aguas and several other towns regarding the setup of an expanded power grid and the distribution of supplies.

  "We can't keep this going," he said one morning to a council of Edward, Miguel, Mike and Lumina. Outside there was now a camp of over 200 people. The group they'd confronted and forced into a separate quarantine area had proved to have nothing more contagious than the common cold, so they were soon cleared to move into the larger camp... and stay there for some unknown period. Meanwhile, Robin had been trying to clamp down on road traffic just as the town was becoming large enough to make it impractical. Golden Goose was no longer just an isolated village where individual cars could easily be tracked and scheduled, and that was great. But he was now juggling the roles of plantation director on the Saints' behalf, and mayor, and coordinator with the regions' other towns.

  "Where is Leopold, anyway?" said Mike.

  "Busy collecting his pay," Robin groused. "I'm grateful at least that he doesn't interfere. Edward, what do you say to resuming formal control over the plantation operation? You're doing most of the work on that already."

  "Gladly."

  Miguel was here these days because he was omnipresent, seeming to learn every skill and unstick every stuck gear in the whole town. "What about the uploading demands?"

  Mike spoke for the clinic. "We dodged the question with that last group, but that old man really is dying, and Ludo refuses to do more than preserve his brain at cost. Which the group can't or won't pay for collectively." He sighed and leaned back in his chair. "So any day now I expect another angry mob at my door."

  Someone pounded on the office's door, startling Mike so badly he fell over backward with a yelp.

  Robin helped him up while Lumina opened the d
oor a crack. A man called out, "Those bastard cops raped a woman!"

  Robin armed himself and said, "Meeting adjourned."

  Outside, he found a muddy row between tents where a brawl had broken out. A quadrotor drone hovered overhead and one of the ground security bots was approaching. One of the three cops who'd finally arrived at Leopold's direction was on the ground, getting pummeled by four of the refugees. The other two government men were running up from another direction.

  Robin shouted "Hey!" and brandished pepper spray, first. "Break it up."

  The punching and kicking ceased. One of the men atop the cop looked up with fury, saying, "He touched my wife!"

  "Touched, how? Where is she?" Robin hoped this was a misunderstanding. In the relative quiet he heard a woman weeping in a nearby tent.

  The injured cop, the others, the robot, and the angry refugees had converged. "What exactly happened?" Robin demanded. "Somebody start recording and get the hospital on the line."

  "Already done, sir," said the quadrotor in a pleasant synthetic tone. "The alleged crime has not been recorded."

  One of the refugee women peeked out of the crying one's tent. "I saw it! That man groped her and tried to pull her into the storage tent."

  "That's a lie!" the cop said, favoring one leg and nursing a black eye.

  The other two policemen stepped closer and said to Robin, "We'll take it from here."

  The woman said, "They protect their own! Stop them from covering this up!" An angry chorus echoed her.

  Robin sighed, feeling his muscles still tense. The crime was clearly the police's job to solve, but what did you do when the cops themselves were in question? He said, "Everyone involved needs to go to the city and be turned over to the police there, under their jurisdiction."

  Mike had followed Robin, saying, "Do they even have authority over this?"

  "They're national police, yeah. Everybody stand down; this incident is going over the heads of local police to other people who can handle it fairly."

  * * *

  The next day there was a drunken brawl among the newcomers plus one of his own people, and an accusation that one of the remaining cops was taking bribes to control the meager rations of beans, rice and powdered milk that Robin's team was handing out. "So far the guys you sent are worse than useless," Robin told Leopold on the phone. "It almost doesn't matter if they're guilty; they can't get the people's trust."

  Leopold said, "It's a common problem in refugee situations. Everybody's tense. Can't you solve this with robots?"

  "Ah yes, the robots. I'll have them be the guards, and the farmers and the babysitters and the teachers and the heavy metal band."

  "Don't get snippy with me. I know you're under a lot of pressure, but so am I. We've gotten along so well because I trust you to manage your own affairs. With people being displaced across the country and beyond, there's a lot of need here -- and opportunity. Why don't you keep these people busy with work? Idle hands are the devil's workshop."

  "They're reluctant, and I'm short on money to hire people for make-work projects. Or even ones I've been planning, like a new south road."

  "You control the housing and the food supply. Figure it out."

  Robin fumed. "Can I count on more and better police support?"

  "I'm sorry, Robin. We're understaffed as is, and you're already dumping cases on the big-city authorities."

  "I see. Remind me why we're paying taxes?"

  Leopold laughed. "These days you sound like a real citizen of Cibola, Robin. Ultimately it's because the land is Cibola's, and the nation protects you from the real threats."

  * * *

  Robin tried to look impassive as yet another wave of thirty or so people showed up from the south, again claiming a need for jobs and food rather than being direct victims of the hurricane. The power grid had failed to the south, though, and was still barely functional. Tough to run a modern business without reliable electricity. Robin could sympathize, and the disease scare had passed, but he had to be firm with this latest group. "Here's the deal. We can take you in, but we're not feeding and housing you for nothing. If you come here, every able-bodied adult is going to work hard. Every one of you will be photographed and registered, you will take what we provide, and you will like it."

  This time he had both a squad of three robots including Lumina, and ten humans, variously armed with nonlethal weaponry.

  In his ear one of his robot-pilot scouts said, [Group of three sneaking in west of you, sir. Permission?]

  Robin muttered, "Granted." To the crowd he said, "Understand?"

  A man in this group said, "Who the hell are you to dictate terms? We want to live and work here!"

  "So long as you mean the 'work' part honestly, we can probably get along. How many of you accept such work as we're going to assign you? You'll be building roads, cleaning toilets, erecting houses, whatever needs doing."

  "What are you paying?"

  A notice sounded in his earpiece. Robin grinned fiercely, in a position to make a deal. "First, we don't do this to you when you enter." The other two robots and several humans with their noses pinched shut emerged from his right, hauling along a trio of newcomers who were gagging and cursing. Robin caught the stench of synthetic skunk-spray from them, and his eyes watered even at this distance. The guards shoved these three back to rejoin their friends who had arrived with less stealth. Robin said, "Second, we're short on cash, so we're handing out credits that you can spend on keeping the houses you'll help build, and on food. Heck, you can trade them however you want; I like free markets."

  The newcomers were in disarray, trying to steer upwind of the stinking trio. Somebody shouted, "We don't want your plantation money, colonizer!"

  "That's too bad, because you don't own this land. I can make you another deal through the Cibolan government, though: you get registered with us, and get yourself a patch of land around here and grow whatever you want, using tools we'll lend you in return for some labor. Then you're small-time farmers and you can get as rich as you want doing that."

  "This is our land!"

  "I bled for it and you didn't. I'm not sure you're processing this. I'm giving you two ways to make a living here, if you're honest about it. What else did you have in mind? Squatting on some land and... did you bring your own seeds and farm tools? No. So were you hoping we'd just give you everything you want, or that you could sneak in and steal it somehow?"

  The group's leader glared hatefully at Robin. Robin smiled back, then ignored him and said to the crowd, "Anybody who wants to work for us, raise your hands and step forward. Anybody interested in the farming thing where we give you land and leave you alone, just raise your hands. For the rest of you, I've got a sensor array and robot minions who can stand here staring at you long after I get bored."

  The robots waved in unison.

  Some of the outsiders raised their hands and stepped forward. Nobody took him up on the offer of land, which was kind of a shame. About half of the group, thankfully including the stinkers, stood glowering at him and took up a chant. Something about fascism.

  "Okay, great!" Robin said, clapping his hands. "New employees, come on single-file with an arm raised, and we'll show you around. Robots, repel anybody who comes closer than about this mark without following our rules." He scuffed one foot along the dirt.

  He got ten able-bodied adults and four kids. He could work with that mix. He and the other human guards retreated to make sure this group had temporary housing and were on file for being paid in arbitrary credits.

  The robot squad remained behind, supported by quadrotors and the sensors in the woods. Most of the remaining people camped out right in front of them, sullenly watching for some sign of Robin having a change of heart, and eventually moved on. Two tried to sneak in, and got sprayed into submission for their trouble. Lumina later told him the bot in question had been a little too gleeful about it and had decided to become a skunk within Talespace. The confrontation -- this round of it --
had gone well as far as Robin was concerned.

  * * *

  Many of the newcomers were genuinely willing to work in return for the immediate tangible benefits and some credits. He was using an ad-hoc currency whose underlying software was old open-source tech. He could tax it, hand it out like candy, or do whatever he wanted like his own central bank. Of course, the only person guaranteed to accept it was himself on behalf of Golden Goose, but his residents warily began to experiment with trading credits for real money or favors. Considering that Robin could do other "cool" things like transferring money automatically between racial groups or zeroing out the account of anyone who insulted him, it wasn't a system he'd be comfortable living under, himself. It pretty much relied on the guy in charge not having much of an agenda. The very nature of it forced him to learn a little about inflation and other things that tempted him to manipulate people through various money-supply levers.

  Unfortunately, prostitution was rumored to be one of services people were offering. Robin would have liked to put a dome over the town and have some kind of magic laser array to rearrange everything how he liked, but that could never be more than a pleasant power fantasy.

  He told Lumina about the daydream. "Can you do that?"

  She laughed. "Within some little bubble world where all the people are mindless artificial pawns, sure thing. I've killed thousands of people as a fantasy hero and sent giant monsters rampaging through virtual cities. It's fun. But it gets completely screwed up the minute you bring in real minds. I even tried running a 'Dungeons & Dragons' game once, and that went sideways when the players found a way to talk the dragon into enjoying a steam bath with the heroes."

  * * *

  Golden Goose's new residents got tents while the previous batch moved into minimal huts and these newcomers got working on building more elaborate ones, which each group would use to trade up. Robin fired up an experimental algae-slurry gadget that could produce "food" and stretched the Saints' food stockpile that way, while expanding the cropland to crank out potatoes and plantains. There was cheap, largely unskilled labor at hand, so Robin sent people to a landfill near Tres Aguas to start picking through garbage for HDPE plastic.