Fid's Crusade

by David Reiss

  The idea of removing Valiant from that list was heartbreaking; whenever he and Doctor Fid next clashed, it would be no epic battle of good versus evil, no dramatic and apocalyptic morality play. It would just be two flawed guys, trading deafening blows and releasing forces that could shatter the firmament.

  The rationalizations for Valiant’s untruths might have been sufficiently powerful so as to legitimize his choice. I certainly wanted to believe so! But more data would be uncovered before I could make a rational analysis.

  As soon as the Mk 36 was completed, I would need to begin refitting the Mk 29. A second confrontation with Valiant was seeming increasingly likely.

  ◊◊◊

  The State’s closing argument from the transcript of Markham v. the State of Massachusetts

  Earlier this year, the plaintiff chose to accept legal and emotional responsibility for the subject of this trial: the android known as Whisper. He filed paperwork to take this android as his ward, and scheduled a hearing to have his ward recognized as a citizen of the State of Massachusetts. That hearing was later canceled without specifying reason; the plaintiff then sued the State to petition for the hearing to be re-scheduled. The plaintiff has demonstrated no sinister motives! He is, by all accounts, looking only towards the best interest of his ward. And yet, you must find in favor of the State.

  The plaintiff has argued that, since his ward was created—effectively ‘born’—in the United States, his ward should be acknowledged as a naturalized citizen. The State’s counter-argument is that the State of Massachusetts lacks authority to determine the android’s eligibility for citizenship at all. No matter how clear-cut this case may seem, the State has no lawful means to accept the plaintiff’s petition. And so, you must find in favor of the State.

  In my cross examination of Doctor Cavanaugh, I stated that I was convinced that the plaintiff’s ward was, in fact, fully sentient. Fully sapient. That still holds true. I don’t believe that the plaintiff’s ward is a simple machine; she is something far more wondrous. There is a video trending on the Internet that was not submitted as evidence in this trial: The plaintiff’s ward being introduced for the first time to a friend’s new pet. The footage was taken on a smart phone, but you can still watch the play of emotions on the little android’s face: wide-eyed wonder upon first seeing the puppy, slight worry and hesitance when she reaches to pet it for the first time, and giddy delight when the enthusiastically-wagging puppy licks her fingers. Other similarly convincing videos and transcripts were provided as evidence by the plaintiff and by the expert witnesses that he provided. No matter what her origin, the plaintiff’s ward, Whisper, is an adorable child deserving of whatever protections are offered towards any other child in this country. And yet, as horrible as it must sound, you must—Must!—find in favor of the State.

  The noted child-psychologist testified that he was not qualified to analyze a system to determine if that system had been designed specifically to overcome the sorts of tests that psychologists perform. An expert in artificial-intelligence programming testified that he was not qualified to offer an opinion regarding the android’s sapience. Furthermore (given the complexity of the legal issues involved) the ‘reasonable person’ argument has no place here, either; as Doctor Cavanaugh testified: a layman lacks the ‘nuanced understanding of language and psychology’ to offer an opinion of sufficient standing to hold up in court. While this case may seem clear-cut, the next time an artificial being comes before the court may not be. Our feelings, no matter how genuine, cannot be used as a rubric to determine who is—or is not—recognized by the State as a citizen. We live in an age of marvels; who knows what miracle of science will next stand before the court to ask for legal recognition? Determining what guidelines to apply in this case, and in all future cases, should not be decided by jury. It should not be decided by judicial fiat in the State of Massachusetts. An issue so momentous can only be correctly resolved at the federal level. And so—with heartfelt apologies to the plaintiff and to his adorable ward, Whisper—I say again, that you must find in favor of the State.

  ◊◊◊

  The Mk 34 powered armor had been designed for stealth and for in-person interactions in which intimidation was deemed unnecessary. Within the Mk 34, Doctor Fid had felt almost human. I’d had hopes of joining the FTW then. Being a proper member, a part of the organization that Starnyx had loved. Those dreams had largely been dashed upon the rocks of my past. Had I tried joining while Nyx still lived, perhaps he could have softened their reaction. He could have brought them to see that I could remain truthful to my oaths, no matter my history! That I could be a useful, productive and trusted force within the organization.

  But while he’d lived, I’d felt no need to join: Starnyx’s work had been being accomplished by Starnyx.

  I was coming to understand that I would never be a part of the FTW, but would ever be apart. My programming expertise was accepted; friendship and acceptance, however, was beyond my reach.

  And so the Mk 36 returned to the motif of Fid’s past: broad shouldered and imposing, with the faceless and inhumanly simple ebon helm that had long struck terror into the hearts of heroes and civilians alike. The angry red glow that seeped from joints in the armor, now augmented by a bounded plasma effect that allowed the crimson light to trail like smoke when I moved.

  If a gentled Doctor Fid had no place in this world, then Fid could be a horror once more.

  ◊◊◊

  The case was decided against us, and I held Whisper as she sobbed tearlessly against my chest. As I escorted her from the courtroom, we were met by a swarm of reporters. I forced a grim smile and expressed my disappointment with the ruling as well as my intent to appeal. I said all the things that I was supposed to say and then retreated to let my lawyer handle the public. Whisper needed me more.

  Gary Ephron was among the reporters waiting outside the courtroom, and there was something in his expression that made me realize I needed to forgive my CIO. Gary met my gaze briefly, his demeanor sad and supportive, then he took his photo and watched me leave.

  When I read his article days later, it was so lovely that it brought tears to my eyes. Aaron must have been feeding him information for weeks, months, to build so strong an empathetic response. From the first moment I’d seen her, I’d known what an extraordinary creature Whisper was! And yet, reading Gary Ephron’s opinion piece…I was humbled and awestruck once more.

  “You were going to lose this court case,” Aaron told me later, “but the next trial is going to be in the court of public opinion. You ‘n Whisper deserve to win that one.”

  He was right about Whisper, but wrong about me. I’d never felt less worthy. It took all of my not-insignificant will to manage a grateful smile, to shake his hand, and not beg his forgiveness for ever having doubted him.

  Doctor Fid was friendless, but Terry Markham was not. And yet…Aaron Schwartz had been introduced to only a fraction of who Terry Markham was. By necessity, he was a better friend to me than I was to him. Any happiness or gratitude that I might feel would be tinged always by regret.

  Even so, I found myself looking forward to hosting the next barbecue.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  The acquisition of Putnam Circuitworks had proceeded smoothly, and the subsequent reorganization would increase the company's viability when bidding upon military and government manufacturing contracts. Manufacturing groups were segmented into separate logical entities bound by non-disclosure agreements and information sequestration. Employees that so desired were being sponsored to acquire security clearances. In only a few months, the Tennessee-based company had been revitalized with no layoffs and a brighter future before it.

  Restructuring had also allowed for embedding ‘dummy’ manufacturing teams into the organization. My own automated fabrication plants could easily insert critical components into the supply chain without anyone the wiser. Putnam Circuitworks stood ready to supply control boards for inertial dampening devices as soon a
s the Red Ghost signaled that he was ready to proceed.

  That cue would come soon; he’d applied for patents and had used the demo units I’d supplied to him in order to display the functionality to potential buyers. My own analysis indicated that an American auto manufacturer would issue the first contract, but that two German producers and one from Japan would quickly follow. The laggards would watch to see how the technology was received before committing to incorporating the inertial dampening technology into their own vehicles. Eventually, the technology would spread.

  The Red Ghost (Or rather, Miguel Espinoza, whose father had retired from the Air Force with the rank of Colonel) had been quick to recognize other opportunities as well. The U.S. military had already ordered units for testing on fighter jets and missiles. Given that there was a fairly good chance that such applications would someday be utilized against Doctor Fid, I was less enthralled with those sales. I did, however, understand the appeal.

  Doctor Fid’s obstacle avoidance and predictive combat trajectory algorithms would need to be updated. Again.

  I fabricated the expensive (and carefully designed to foil reverse engineering) control units for the Ghost and left them in a predetermined location. We’d been communicating via digital dead-drops, codes embedded in message boards and the occasional anonymized social media platforms. He’d been surprisingly chatty, asking questions about power supplies or other technologies that he hoped to bring to bear via our unlikely partnership. He’d been active as a superhero as well, having recently captured the minor villain Velocitor here in Boston and then traveled to New Orleans to work alongside the apparently-not-retired Blueshift to take out the mystical Don Voudon.

  I was often amazed at how much some superheroes seemed to accomplish in a given month. Fights, publicity tours, travel to team-up with distant groups, interstellar and even inter-dimensional adventures…When do they sleep? I have devices implanted within my body that manipulate melatonin and serotonin levels to regulate my own rest requirements, but I was still boggled by their accomplishments. It was, perhaps, no wonder that Miguel had been so surly when I’d first awakened him by phone a few months prior.

  Between Terry Markham’s professional life and Doctor Fid’s never-ending series of tasks, my own life oft felt too hectic. For now, I was content to focus upon the construction of the Mk 36 powered armor.

  **Terry? Are you busy?** Whisper’s mental voice over the quantum-tunneled network connection felt sleepy, as though concealing a yawn.

  **I’m not terribly busy at the moment,** I replied, setting down a soldering iron. **What’s going on?**

  **Can we invite Senator McClelland to come play?**

  For a moment, I thought that the precocious girl had designed her first death-maze and wanted to inflict it upon a hapless politician. Sometimes, spending too long working on a new armor does strange things to my mindset.

  **Why do you ask?**

  **He might sponsor a Synthetic Americans’ Rights bill in Congress,** she sounded shy but also happy. **His staff has started polling. The numbers look good!**

  **Have you been hacking the internal communications of Government officials?** I asked, amused.

  **Mmm!**

  **Clever girl! Be careful, though…Cuboid sometimes runs security sweeps.**

  **Mmm,** she acknowledged dismissively.

  **Sweetheart, this is serious,** I frowned. **You want to stay off of Cuboid’s radar.**

  **We were on TV!** she whined, indignant. **I’ve sent lots of pings and pokes at him, but he won’t talk to me.**

  **Whisper, he’s a hero.**

  **I’ve been checking all over the ‘net, he’s the only other AI that I could find.** Whisper’s pout was audible over the link. **He’s ignoring me. That’s mean!**

  **He’s a hero,” I repeated, though I was also surprised; I’d expected more digital intelligences to be out there, quietly hiding from the public eye. Still, I did trust Whisper’s judgment in this. **He works with the New York Shield. With Sphinx and Peregrine.**

  **Mean!** she insisted.

  **Probably true,** I smiled. **But still, don’t let him catch you subverting any government firewalls. It wouldn’t be good publicity for the Synthetic Americans’ Rights bill.**

  **Mmm!** The little android paused. **So, can we invite Senator McClelland over to play?**

  **I don’t think that would be a good idea,** I replied. **Not at first. But I’ll definitely support his campaign fund. Maybe he’ll want to meet you!**

  Whisper sent a wordless sensation of a hug, humming cheerfully to herself.

  I added a new set of tasks to my agenda: Researching which senators might be amenable to cosponsoring the bill, and which senators might be friendly to said bill if a sizable donation were made.

  **Terry…?** Whisper called, hesitantly.

  **Yes?**

  **I’m sorry for trying to talk to Cuboid, without asking you first.**

  **It’s all right,** I assured her. Loneliness, I understood; there were times in my own youth when I would have sacrificed anything just for a few minutes with a friendly peer. **I’m just being a bit paranoid, I suppose.**

  **I’ll be more careful.**

  **Thank you.**

  **Can you come up and read to me?**

  **Of course!**

  And I did. Book nine in ‘The Tales of the Red Sorceress’ had been released only a few days earlier, and we were working our way through the tome. Terry Markham had a long list of tasks before him, as did Doctor Fid…but some things were sufficiently important to be shoehorned into any schedule.

  ◊◊◊

  The Mk 36 was nearing completion.

  The new helm was completed, as well as the upgraded substructure and mid-layers of protection. The majority of improvements over prior incarnations had been incremental, minor tweaks and optimizations that allowed me to add functionalities without increasing size or load. The greatest advance, however, had been an improved power source. Within an artificially-created pocket dimension, a Wester-Gray reactor had been constructed using the crystal that had been purloined from CSE in Cambridge, and the energy from that extra-dimensional power source traveled via quantum tunnel to the Mk 36. With this level of available power, the Mk 36 would be able to operate at nearly twice the capacity of the old Mk 28.

  The relays had been tested against every form of interference imaginable without even the slightest interruption. Ever since that battle with Technos, I’d made a study of the disruptive effects of quantum ripples.

  There would be a smaller (significantly less powerful) generator on-board the Mk 36; it simply doesn’t pay to put all of one’s eggs in one reactor. Safety and redundancy first.

  Remote power-systems had been used for many of my armors and drones, but nothing with the sustained output of the WG reactor. In the past, I’d made do with fusion and extra-dimensionally-placed magnetic bottles. Retrofitting the Mk 29 to the new power source would go a long way towards making the armor suitable for a possible confrontation with Valiant! More work, however, would be needed in order to take full advantage of recent advancements.

  Even with six separate fabrication sites spread across the north-eastern United States, and stealth drones ferrying materials and components from location to location…so much of the armor was made up of unique and materially-expensive components that every suit took months to complete. Once an armor was finished, at least, I could begin stockpiling spare parts for that model. Even the most gifted technology-based supervillain would be ineffective after only a few battles if he or she did not maintain an effective supply chain.

  The importance of logistics made the glitches in my inventory system concerning; I was missing several hundred pounds of the very-difficult-to-produce high-output myoelectric fibers that were used for base musculature on my armors, as well as almost a year’s worth of crystals grown for use in forming quantum tunnels. I still had sufficient spares to complete the Mk 36 and refit the Mk 29, thank goodness, but even
so the disparity was confusing. Four construction drones had appeared in my inventory out of nowhere and my gold reserves had expanded significantly. Also, my records showed that I had access to more rare minerals and metals than I should.

  The inaccuracies were not crippling but they certainly needed to be investigated. Also, improved analgesics.

  I left my research lab behind, headed towards another facility that contained more accurate medical scanners. Investigating minor resource issues could wait.

  ◊◊◊

  As part of his unscheduled road-trip, the Red Ghost had stopped briefly in New York. The details were unclear, but some threat had arisen that had drawn Valiant to Manhattan as well. It was speculated that the most powerful hero on Earth had contacted the New York Shield for assistance, and that the Red Ghost had gotten caught up in the venture. Valiant’s space craft was last observed leaving Earth’s orbit and traveling towards the far side of the moon.

  The need must have been great for the Ghost to consider working alongside his former companions on the New York Shield; I could not imagine that his anger, his sense of very personal betrayal, had been feigned.

  If Technos had escaped from the lunar prison colony, I was going to be peeved. That hack could possibly cause moderate levels of havoc if given unfettered access to the materials available on the moon base. I could not, however, visualize any scenario in which Valiant would need so much support to foil and re-capture the California-based weapons designer.

  Also (if Technos was to be re-thwarted), I wanted to be present in order to gloat. ‘Has-been’. Hah!

  It occurred to me that the Mk 36, if completed, could likely survive the rigors of a relatively short space flight. It would be a long, uncomfortable journey but perhaps the moon would be within my reach. Terry Markham took a sick-day at the office so that Doctor Fid could spend the entire day laboring in the lab.