“I must advise you to use the utmost caution,” Stuart said, as everyone rose from their chairs, preparing to leave. “Remember what I said about Jeeling potentially accusing us of libel and slander, and besides that, we don’t want to provide him with any justification for destroying his secrets. It’s a delicate balance, and we need to be extremely careful.”
“We sure as hell can’t sit back and let his little game continue,” General Moore said. Then he muttered something to himself. Stuart saw that he had an odd look on his face, with a very strange, cruel smile. And there was something in his eyes that she’d discerned before, something not right. Though manly and physically attractive, he did not look entirely sane to her, but no one else seemed to notice.
CHAPTER 8
For all sentient life, data passes through mental filters, so that the life-form sees only what it wants to see, and ignores everything contrary to this world view. This results in a distortion of reality, but it is also a key aspect of staying sane, of filtering out anything that can lead to madness.
—Billy Jeeling, journal entry
Billy was peering through the magnascope in his office, looking at the nighttime surface of AmEarth, and beyond that, all the way to the inky depths of starlit space. This was a powerful instrument, and among the mysteries of Skyship that Branson Tobek had left for him. The scope had the most incredibly clear resolution that Billy had ever seen, enabling him to see even small objects on the moon. Tobek had warned him to never open the scope up, because the internal workings were highly sensitive, and virtually impossible to repair. So far the remarkable device had not failed, so Billy had seen no reason to risk destroying it by trying to analyze it.
He’d received the same admonition from Tobek about Skyship itself—don’t disturb the internal workings. And the warning that harm to the great vessel would set off catastrophic, planet-wide destruction. Not could set it off, but would set it off. A certainty. And a troubling lack of explanation.
Some of the operations of the huge ship were automatic, while others were not. It was the non-automatic systems that Billy understood the best, and in his office he had control panels for some of the features—most of them camouflaged by panels and other methods, for a more relaxed appearance. But there were other systems on Skyship, intriguing and frustrating to him at the same time. Still, he didn’t want to tamper, didn’t want to go against the wishes of the brilliant old inventor. It was a matter of common sense, because things were functioning with precision, and had been for years, even after Tobek’s disturbing death in his own laboratory, while he was constructing something—something he wouldn’t tell Billy about.
Now Billy vowed again, as he often did, not to disturb the sealed laboratory or anything else. It was a matter of duty for him, and of keeping his word.
He had been admonished to never go inside the laboratory complex where the old inventor had died. But answers were in there; Billy knew it. They could be on the pages of journals that Tobek kept, which the robots had sealed inside the tiny apartment where Tobek had lived, within Skyship’s original laboratory section. On numerous occasions, Billy had seen the inventor making entries in the journals, and they comprised three thick volumes, with deep red, leather-bound covers. It would be interesting to read them, fascinating, Billy thought. But he was honor-bound to stay out of there.
Skyship was so large that some of its human inhabitants never left it. These were the ones who didn’t feel confined on board, or any urge to visit AmEarth, the ones who loved Billy Jeeling so much that they would rather be near him than anywhere else in the Empire.
The immense craft contained office towers, apartment buildings, stores, restaurants, parks and other recreational areas, as well as entertainment facilities, some of which were actually utilized by the more advanced sentient robots that worked on Skyship. For human employees, room and board and clothing were provided at no charge, along with entertainment and other expenses—and generous salaries were paid. Some people placed orders for products through the internet, and had items delivered to them (subject to weight restrictions and safety rules), while others took shuttles down to AmEarth, and shopped personally. Whenever they returned to Skyship, they were subjected to tight security inspections, including rigorous lie-detection tests conducted by annoying robots that specialized in such things.
Dr. Rachel Ginsberg was one of the most dedicated humans on staff. She had not been on the surface of AmEarth for more than three years, and insisted she was content to never go there again—not even to visit family members or once-close friends. In her early forties, she was a scholarly, silver-haired woman with small eyes and an intelligent, thoughtful manner.
Billy watched her enter the office and take a chair in front of his gleaming desk. He met her brown-eyed gaze and smiled. Dr. Ginsberg was one of his most trusted confidantes, even more than Lainey, although Billy slept with Lainey and actually loved her.
He opened a desk drawer and brought out the round, black device that Lainey had found in his apartment. He’d dodged her questions about it, had not told her anything meaningful.
“You know what this is,” he said to the doctor, knowing she’d seen it before. He placed it on the desk. “Lainey almost pressed one of the buttons. That could have caused problems, as you know, making her act erratically.”
“Maybe you should just tell her the truth and get it over with. You’ve been hiding a pretty big secret from her for a long time. She’s smart, and because you care about her, it would be best for you to volunteer the information, instead of having her find it out some other way.” Dr. Ginsberg smiled gently. “I’m talking as if she were a real live flesh-and-blood woman with normal emotions, but she’s not human, is she? And she can never get pregnant.”
He nodded stiffly. “It’s too bad about that, because she really wants a baby, but it’s not possible. Lainey is my crowning achievement, one of the Lazarus-series robots who look and act so human that they are almost undetectable.” There were eleven others on board Skyship, androids performing a variety of jobs, and more backup units in storage, with no imprinted human traits.
He rolled the device back and forth on the desktop, let it roll bumpily on its own until it come to a stop, just before tumbling off the edge. It wasn’t perfectly round, had small flat areas around the eight recessed buttons. When in range of Lainey, he could modify her moods with the transmitter whenever she became overly emotive or argumentative—but such modifications only had a limited effect, and he had to use the device near her without letting her see what he was doing. He did the same with the other Lazarus units.
For Lainey, sometimes he used the transmitter while she was reading a technical e-file, or watching a work-related film, or doing something else that distracted her from him. If she ever became really upset, as she did on occasion, he insisted that she see Dr. Ginsberg, because it went beyond programming, and Lainey was that close to being human. For such occasions the doctor had psychological treatments that she used on the Lazarus series, along with certain medicines, some of which actually seemed to work on robots... experimental medications. As advanced as these automatons were, Lainey and the others like her were still prototypes, and Rachel and Billy were compiling files on each of them, to see what worked and what did not. Curiously, what worked on one robot did not always work on another in the same series, and that was intriguing, because Billy had designed and built each of them with the same internal workings—except some were male and others were female, and each of them had different personality and appearance imprints.
“I’ve tried using the transmitter on Lainey for something that has been troubling me,” he said, “but she needs more treatment this time, so I want you to handle it. Her next regular physical is a couple of weeks from now, so that would be a good opportunity for you.”
Dr. Ginsberg nodded. “It always seems peculiar, calling an examination of a robot a ‘physical.’”
“Technically, it’s more of a tune-up, isn’t it?
” he said.
“Yes. What exactly is troubling you about her?”
“Her intense loyalty has gone too far. I mean, she loves me too much. It’s one of the things about her that I find most endearing, but—I need you to mute it a bit. She tends to be a bit... clingy at times.”
“That’s a new one. I thought you liked her devotion to you.”
“I do, but I need some space from her, a little breathing room. Especially now, when I’m under so much pressure, facing so many problems.”
“I’ll see what I can do.”
“Of course, I could shut Lainey down and take her back into the shop for deep work. But as you know, I used very special cellular material for her human imprinting, and I don’t want to damage those cells. Besides, Lainey is an important, highly useful employee, and I do care deeply for her. I don’t want to do anything too radical to her, don’t want her to change too much. Just a little, OK? Maybe you can figure out what’s going on in her mind and dial it back a bit.”
Dr. Ginsberg nodded. “Sometimes I feel like we’re playing God.”
“And perhaps we are, my good and true friend. If I ever built thousands of Lazarus models—using automated factories to exponentially increase the output—we could have what looks like a new race of human beings on our hands, except they’d be androids—or maybe something in between. In any event, it could be a dangerous and unpredictable course to take. I prefer keeping the experimental group small and manageable.”
“Maybe the problem with Lainey is too much for either of us to fix,” Rachel said, “but I’ll do my best, keeping in mind that the unique cellular material you just referred to has to receive special treatment; you took loving care to build Lainey in the image of your lost human love, Reanne, and Lainey is a remarkable likeness. She not only looks like your late wife, according to what you’ve shown me; she acts like her, thinks like her, has the same personality. She even has the advanced skills of a professional dancer, as Reanne did.”
Billy nodded sadly, admitted, “The lovemaking is virtually the same, too. Yet she’s not quite the same in other ways. Despite all the work I’ve done to create an exact replica of my beloved Reanne, I’m constantly noticing little differences in behavior, things no one else would ever notice, yet they don’t diminish her overall personality, or her strength of character and dedication to me, which I adore. But I see the differences. Reanne was devoted to me, but not in a clinging, needy sense, not the way Lainey acts at times.”
“You even gave Lainey the childhood memories of Reanne, didn’t you?”
He nodded. “At least what I knew of them, including her young adult years before I met her, how she loved to dance as a child... things like that. But I wasn’t actually there during Reanne’s formative years, only knew what she told me about them afterward. And apparently the background of her that I implanted in the Lainey robot is lacking something significant, resulting in a slightly different person—or machine person, I should say.”
“I’m terribly sorry your Reanne died,” Rachel said. “Knowing Lainey, I can see that Reanne was an incredible person. I wish I could have known her.”
“You do in a way, through the robot I built in her likeness. Reanne could have been a professional dancer, and I think she would have become one, too, if she hadn’t met me. I was overly demanding of her time, didn’t leave her enough space for her to be herself. It’s something I can never make up for.”
Rachel fell silent. From the caring look in her eyes, she seemed to notice that he was slipping into silent melancholy. She let him reflect for a few moments.
Billy’s eyes misted over as he thought back. His wife—they’d only been married a year—died in a tragic accident thirty-seven years ago, when an earthquake destroyed an apartment building and took her life, along with dozens of others. At the time, Billy had been working on Skyship with Branson Tobek, going over a list of instructions the old inventor had for Billy to pass on to the robotic contractors. They were just getting the great vessel finished at the time of the tragedy, and had been working intensely on it for years. If Billy hadn’t been spending so much time with the old man he might have been killed with Reanne, because they had been living together. She’d been barely thirty, filled with love for him and hopes for their life together. Reanne would have done anything for him, and in the brief time they’d had together, she had done exactly that.
With all the pain Billy had been feeling since her loss, he often wished he had died with her. It was a recurring thought, and he’d been having it with more frequency lately as he endured the pressures being put on him by his enemies, and the mounting public outcry against him. The unrelenting campaign of character assassination.
Life was so unfair—to Reanne, and to him.
CHAPTER 9
Bad taste is one of the principle characteristics of empire.
—Branson Tobek, historical observation
At midday, Yürgen Zayeddi disembarked from the shuttle with other recruits. He was tired from all the last-minute preparations for the trip, but thrilled to be invited to Skyship. He was anxious to meet Billy Jeeling personally, but realized that might never be possible. From what he’d heard, he would be lucky to get a glimpse of the legendary figure, perhaps when he gave one of his speeches on board the vessel.
The seventeen recruits had been talking during the flight, wondering what it would be like to actually be on the giant air-cleansing and mining facility, working on behalf of the great man. Yürgen had been conversing the most with Sim Robie, a young man who had obtained his training assignment through family connections, but whose zeal for Billy Jeeling matched Yürgen’s.
“We’re extremely lucky to be included,” Robie had said. “This is the opportunity of a lifetime.” He had a round, jowly face with large, dark eyes.
“The opportunity of a lifetime? Why do you say that?” a woman had asked, from across the aisle. The oldest of the trainees, LaBecca Moscone appeared to be at least forty, with a stocky build and spiky, auburn hair.
“Because this is our chance to serve Billy Jeeling, of course,” Robie had said. “It is a great honor, and a rare privilege.” He’d looked annoyed that she would even ask such a question, and Yürgen shared his feelings.
Some of the recruits had speculated about what the public relations training would be like, but no one seemed to know. They only knew that they would learn how to spread the truth about Billy Jeeling throughout the Empire, and would be called JeeJees, a special force of Billy Jeeling loyalists.
Now they all walked down a metal rampway, each of them carrying a matching shoulder bag that had been provided for the few personal effects they were allowed to bring with them. At the bottom, an attractive young blonde waited, looking at them closely, disapprovingly, absorbing all details. Her dress was black with tan trim, tight across her full bosom and cut high on the thighs. She was tall and leggy, with skin of the palest, most delicate hue. A blue crescent of stars adorned her left shoulder, the famous emblem of the JeeJees who dedicated their lives to serving Billy Jeeling. Yürgen envied her for that, hoped he would earn his own crescent soon.
“Welcome to Skyship,” the young woman said, with a curt smile. “I am Sandra Orr, one of the proctors. This way, please.”
She showed the way to a highlift that took them up several floors. When they stepped off, Orr led them toward a high-arched doorway that was framed by Doric columns, through which Zayeddi could see a busy sidewalk and people on it, bustling back and forth. Just beyond them he saw a coffee shop and a toy store, both with illuminated signs. It had never occurred to him that there might be children on Skyship, but there must be families working here, so the toy retailer made sense. He even saw one woman with a small terrier on a leash, so there were pets here, too. The dog yapped at a passerby, but she pulled it away.
At the doorway, a towering robot stepped in front of the recruits. At least twice as tall as the smaller one Yürgen had seen on AmEarth, it also had a vertical light tube o
n the front—except instead of pulsing soft orange, this one throbbed an array of colors, the entire spectrum of visible light.
“A truthbot,” Orr said. “It will probe more deeply into your minds than you already experienced on AmEarth. This advanced model has several methods of truth detection, one of which is to ask you questions. If that is the method employed, you must take extreme care to answer honestly, concealing nothing—because hiding information is the same as lying.”
“And what if we do lie?” one of the recruits asked, in a smart-aleck tone. “Do we get killed on the spot?” Small and thin, he had baby-soft features and long, dishwater blond hair.
Orr glared at him. “This is a very serious matter, and the sooner you understand that, the better off you’ll be. There have been sabotage attempts against this ship, and our security force—mostly robots—must be on constant alert. If you even hint at being disloyal, it will not go well for you.”
She smiled, with a cruel edge. “You might wish you were killed on the spot when you find out what is in store for you.”
The recruit reddened, stammered something Yürgen could not hear. Yürgen’s thoughts raced. What had she meant by that remark? Torture? It seemed impossible, but for such an important cause—for the essential task Billy had taken on—perhaps there were no limits when it came to maintaining security, to keep Skyship going. He didn’t have to worry personally, because he felt only dedication to Billy, and a desire to do everything he could to advance the glorious mission of Skyship.
As it turned out, this truthbot did not ask questions. Its entire body glowed the spectrum of colors, and its variegated light washed over each of the recruits, one at a time. Yürgen watched Sim Robie stand erect, straight and true, without flinching or wavering, followed by the smart-aleck recruit, who stood there shaking during the process, his face a mask of fear. He grimaced, as if in pain. But he passed, like Robie. Or they both seemed to, as the robot kept moving on.
The Assassination of Billy Jeeling Page 7
