by Robin Craig
Katlyn marveled at the officer’s dispassionate, almost machinelike manner and wondered for a moment whether he was actually a machine. Then she noticed that he wore a strange device, a combination of earpiece and glasses; and that a faint flickering glow could be discerned in the glass. It must be some kind of computer link, she thought, feeding him information. How much of his mechanical manner was due to his interaction with the AI or was just his own personality, she could not tell.
The officer continued. “The laws of Capital are simple. You may not commit physical force or fraud against another person: citizen or visitor. To clarify differences many visitors ask about: public nudity, drug taking and all forms of voluntary sex between adults are legal but private establishments may forbid them. The principle is that anything that imposes an involuntary physical cost on another person is not allowed, while anything that merely offends another person is allowed except on their property. Property rights in Capital are absolute.
“Penalties. Until you are a citizen, clear use of physical force or fraud will result in immediate expulsion from Capital and possibly confiscation of your property. Once you are a citizen you may be held in confinement at your expense until your trial; if judged guilty, depending on the seriousness of the crime you may be stripped of your citizenship and expelled, or given the choice between expulsion and bonded labor for a period determined by the court. Other breaches bring lesser penalties. There is a one-week waiver of penalties for minor crimes but not for restitution to victims. The laws are simple and available online, and it is recommended that you study them in that first week. After that ignorance is not an excuse. Do you understand?”
“Yes.”
“After one week’s continuous presence you may choose to remain in Capital as a visitor or apply for citizenship. The only differences besides the criminal penalties are that citizens have the right to vote in elections and referenda, the right to petition the government regarding laws or repeal of laws and the right to bear personal arms for their own defense. Visitors are under the same protection of their rights as citizens, may take jobs, buy property, and come and go as they choose. However if they commit a crime they will be expelled if a magistrate deems the evidence sufficient. They may appeal at their own expense, but while their appeal is pending they will be held under guard, again at their own expense. Do you understand?”
“Yes.”
“Do you still wish to apply for citizenship at this time? If you choose not to, you may choose to at a later time without penalty. In your case, Dr Tagarin, I am obliged to tell you that if you remain as a visitor we are bound by treaty to deliver you to your government if they formally request it, subject to any appeal you may lodge.”
“I understand. I wish to apply for citizenship.”
“Thank you. Now, your companion. Please identify yourself.”
“I am sorry, she has no official identification.”
The officer looked at her. “Intriguing. Please state your name.”
“Katlyn.” She looked at Tagarin. “Katlyn Tagarin.” It was true however you looked at it, as guardian and surrogate father or as husband.
“Please place your hand on this plate and look into this device.”
She took a deep breath and removed her sunglasses; she hesitated then freed her tail as well. No point in half measures now, she thought; this was the point of do or die. For once there was a break in the man’s machinelike manner: he stood stock still for a few seconds, lips parted. “Please place your hand on the plate and look into this,” he repeated at last, and she obeyed.
He waited for a minute, silent. “That is correct. You are not registered in any database we have access to, including criminal databases.”
He stepped away from his station to look her up and down slowly. “Please hold your arms out and spin around slowly.” Katlyn complied.
“You are a geneh.”
“Yes.”
“Genehs are illegal and the penalty is death. The Department of Human Genetic Integrity is authorized by the United Nations to execute genehs on sight.”
He paused. “Capital does not recognize the authority of the United Nations or GenInt. The Constitution of Capital forbids the death penalty for anything short of murder and extreme assault. As you are under automatic sentence of death by a foreign power under an invalid law, you may be eligible for refugee status. Refugee status means you will not be released to a foreign government for any cause other than murder or other very serious real crimes. Do you wish to apply for refugee status?”
Katlyn looked at Tagarin. He nodded to her. “Yes.”
The man paused again. “Your case is unprecedented and has attracted the attention of higher level nodes of the system AI.” He paused for a minute then looked at Katlyn.
“It wishes to know your relationship with Dr Tagarin. You are strongly advised not to lie. A lie may result in expulsion from Capital for fraud in a matter of State, or at a minimum, loss of your refugee status.”
They looked at each other. It was a question with two answers, both true: one looking toward the past, the other toward the future. Katlyn made a decision. “I am his wife.”
“You have no registered identity. Therefore there is no legal record of such a marriage. However Capital does not recognize the sole authority of the State to grant or refuse marriages. Rather it recognizes the rights of citizens to voluntary and private arrangements. Can you produce a contract of marriage that can be authenticated, dated more than one week ago?”
“No.”
“I see. Are you two living together in a sexual relationship that has been ongoing for more than one month?”
“Yes,” she said softly.
“Is it your intention that this relationship continue while you are resident in Capital?”
“Yes.”
“In that case Capital recognizes you as a married couple. By law and treaty, this allows Capital to make a second determination at its discretion. Due to the unusual nature of your circumstances, it is so determined. Your protection as a refugee is extended to your husband.”
He turned to address both of them.
“Be advised that your biometric data will be stored until you achieve full citizenship. At that point it will be erased from government records: the government of Capital only holds biometric data on visitors and criminals. It may be stored by private entities with which you have agreements to do so, such as some banks. Citizens are all entitled to a gold citizenship ring, which records your citizenship status and biometric data. Its use is required only for restricted activities such as voting and purchasing weapons. However most citizens regard it as a badge of honor and wear it always.”
The man paused.
“Welcome to Capital.”
His official role over, the man stepped away from his station to examine Katlyn more closely. His face broke into a broad grin. “Well, this will be something to tell the family,” he said. “And speaking from me personally this time – welcome to Capital, folks.” With that, he moved his arm in an arc as if welcoming them into his home, and they thanked him and walked away towards the exit.
They stopped before it. Katlyn put on her glasses and began to hide her tail again, then stopped. She looked at the sky beyond the entrance then back to Tagarin. Slowly, she removed her glasses and freed her tail again. Then she nervously took Tagarin’s hand. He looked at her gently. “Not every standard human hates you on sight, Katlyn, as you’ve seen. And the kinds of people who want to move to Capital are the kinds most likely to accept or even celebrate difference. If there’s anywhere on Earth that we can live in the sunshine not the shadows, this is it.”
She looked up at him and smiled gently, then said softly, “Live Free – or Die.”
They straightened their shoulders and walked through the gateway out into a plaza. It was neatly maintained, more a park than a plaza, with rows of shady trees. It was surrounded by attractively decorated shops, a mixture of food, fashion and souvenirs, all h
oping for the business of people entering or leaving Capital. In the center of the park stood a large stainless steel sculpture of a man and a woman reaching towards the sun. The real sun flashed off its complex surfaces, spraying rays over the figures. Katlyn thought it was beautiful.
People stopped to stare at Katlyn. But nobody ran for cover, nobody called the police, nobody pulled a gun. They just stared then, belatedly remembering they should respect their privacy, turned away. Though many could not resist a second peek. Or a third. A couple of people did scream, but they were a pair of young children who ran to her not away from her. Less civilized than their parents, they wanted to stare up close. For the first time, Katlyn felt at home.
Chapter 55 – Tears
Miriam pushed open the door to her home and went inside. She was exhausted. There had been explanations, debriefings, all the usual debris from a major operation, especially one that had gone sour. If anyone had died she would still be there.
Miriam’s story of what had happened was accepted, at least for now; there was no reason to doubt it. Amaro’s story supported hers, at least for the times they were together, and her injuries bore silent witness to her ordeal. Amaro had been spirited away by his own people, while Miriam and Jack talked with theirs and wrote up their preliminary reports. Finally they saw her wilting, and let her go. There would be more in the days to come, but for now she was wrung dry.
The place felt oddly empty. She looked around and realized that Amaro was gone in body as well as spirit. He must have let himself in and taken his things; the few possessions he habitually left in the lounge room and kitchen were gone. On the table was a single long-stemmed red rose laid on top of the keys he had left behind. Typical Amaro, she thought, even after all this. She sniffed the rose. It had no perfume. Like their relationship, she thought. Pretty on the outside but not fully real. She threw it in the bin.
She went and lay down on her bed. It still smelt of Amaro. Anger boiled out of her, and she practically ripped the sheets and bedclothes off the bed and threw them into the washer. She added a double dose of detergent and viciously put it on its heaviest duty cycle. Then she put her elbows on the machine and lowered her head into her hands. You’re being irrational, she thought. What do you want to do, burn down the house to be rid of every trace of him? But she knew the intimacy of the sense of smell. She wouldn’t have been able to bear it.
Mechanically, she put new sheets on the bed and sought refuge under the covers. She stretched out, feeling the crisp new sheets. Crisp new sheets for my crisp new life, she thought. She was spent. There was a limit, she thought, to what anyone can bear in one day.
But she could not sleep. She sat up cross-legged on the bed. Beneath the roller coaster ride of the evening was her anger and grief over Amaro. She remembered how in the past she had held on to the happiness of a relationship rather than wallow in the sadness of its end. But this was different. While there had been plenty of fun and pleasure during her time with Amaro, the underlying relationship that had given it meaning had never really existed. It was like a betrayal of the happiness she thought she had, and all that pleasure had turned to pain because of it.
Then under the anger and grief was shame, shame that she had been so thoroughly taken in by him. In the past she had seen, with the clear eyes of the dispassionate observer, the folly of women who had fallen for rogues. Was her own judgement any better? But if that was the lesson, what was the solution? Refuse to trust her own mind? Then spurn the man who would bring her real love, not because he wasn’t there but because she refused to see him? Were the only alternatives to be a sucker for charming pretenders or an embittered cynic, someone who locked the door to happiness to avoid opening it onto pain?
She shook her head, remembering Tagarin’s bitterness, his wasted years. Yet while his bitterness was real, it had been not an end but a spur, possibly to something great. No. She would not let one mistake engender a greater one. Amaro was an exception, not the full reality. He was a caution, not proof that happiness was beyond her reach.
She lay down again. She knew there was more, but only the future would condemn or acquit her. For below even the shame lurked fear. If Amaro had fooled her, what if Tagarin and Katlyn had too? She had let them go. She had thought it was right, the only thing that could be right, the only way to give Katlyn her first real chance at life: a chance she deserved if she was truly what she seemed to be. But what if all Miriam’s dereliction of duty had done was unleash two deadly criminals on an innocent world? They had duped her before. What if, like Amaro, the good she saw in them was wishful thinking, serving a dark plot she knew nothing of? Any evil they now commit, she thought, it is on my head. In her mind she saw Katlyn’s golden eyes as they had been, no longer merciless and cruel but open and innocent, and she could not believe it. But the girders of her self-confidence had buckled, and the fear and guilt would not be banished.
Then she curled up, and the dams that had held back her emotions for so many hours broke. She cried herself to sleep.
Chapter 56 – Tempest
Miriam went back to work and found that Amaro was right: she could forget him. It was easier to get over him when she knew that their whole relationship was a lie, that none of it was real. Who would waste their life pining after a lover they had only known in a dream? It was like Pygmalion with a bad ending, she thought. She had created Amaro out of her imagination and finally peeled back his finery to discover nothing but cold, uncaring stone.
But to lose him this way had its own pain, different from the pain of loss due to death, different again from the pain of the more mundane betrayals that had ended relationships since people first fell in and out of love. She still cried occasionally. But that was more in token of the loss of a dream than loss of the man.
She had little time for pain anyway, except in the loneliness of her nights. There were hearings, debriefings, interrogations. A diplomatic storm had gathered around the country of Capital and Miriam was a minor second epicenter.
GenInt and a good part of the world were appalled that Capital would shelter a geneh. Its reputation as a lawless anarchy grew. But their enemies discovered it was difficult to criticize a country for lawlessness if you did not respect the law yourself: and Capital was acting within the letter of its treaties with other nations and the UN itself. It had the right to shelter refugees: it is what made it such a convenient dumping ground. If anyone had ever attempted to impose the Geneh Laws on Capital, the attempt had been rejected out of hand and nobody had thought the issue worth pressing.
And the world’s attention was distracted by another storm brewing around President Felton and GenInt themselves. Substantial evidence of dirty dealings and corruption in the days leading up to the enactment of the Geneh Laws and GenInt’s charter had been leaked to the world. It was what happened in politics all the time, but the good citizens of the world never liked having their noses rubbed in it, especially when they had approved of it and thus felt themselves tainted by uncomfortable feelings of guilt. The President and GenInt found themselves in the difficult position of railing against the perfidy of Capital while being railed against for their own perfidies.
In any event, Capital was safe. Other than some automated defense systems it relied on treaties with other nations for its defense. It could defend itself physically against casual attacks but not against a sustained large-scale one. But so many world businesses were based there, so many eminent statesmen had retired there and so many famous human rights activists now lived there, that not even the most powerful of countries would dare move against it, and no vote could pass in the UN to do more than issue sharply worded rebukes.
So while Capital was besieged, it was besieged by forces who found their own feet sinking in sands of their own creation. It did not even bother to send diplomats. On the legal side it simply published its treaties and charters and invited the world to see for itself. On the moral side its President issued a simple one-sentence statement: “Capital defen
ds the right to life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness of all human beings: whatever their sex, race, religion – or genome.” And a number of previously obscure think tanks and commentators had somehow acquired the resources to vigorously and loudly champion its right to do so, and did so with passion and conviction.
Photos and videos rippled out from Capital. The most popular video showed a man and a woman sitting on a sunlit park bench, arms loosely around each other’s waists, looking into the distance with a contented happiness; like survivors of a war now taking their rest. The man was older with chestnut hair. The woman was younger with large golden eyes. A little boy and girl were playing and laughing around her feet, chasing her tail as it twitched one way then the other. The boy then climbed on to her lap and looked fascinated at her eyes. The woman simply looked down, smiled and patted his cheek. Then she turned back to her contemplation of the distance, as if contemplating a future known to no one, not even herself.
Many people began to wonder why the world wanted to kill this exotic but harmless young woman. Some began agitating against the geneh laws. The world was not yet ready for their repeal. But it was now ready to think about it.
Miriam smiled at the video when she saw it, touching her fingers to the face on the screen. She smiled again when listening to President Felton’s resignation speech a month later. The President denied any wrongdoing, but in order to protect the honor and reputation of the Presidency had decided to step down and retire to private life. She regretted any disappointment to her friends and supporters. She hoped everyone would now put this behind them – probably meaning, Miriam suspected, that she hoped nobody had enough on her to prosecute her – and wished the nation well.
Then Miriam’s smile faded at the thought that she might well follow her.
