by D Miller
Finally James Djan himself, Professor Emeritus of Robotics at Adrienne's former university stood and approached the lectern, to applause from the humans and a few cheers. The professor got as far as thanking his hosts when there was a noise from one of the entrance doors at the top and back of the lecture theatre. Then both of the doors at the top burst open and bodyguards poured into the room. They fanned out down both aisles into the room, moving quickly past those sitting and standing on the steps.
Captain Roberts came through the main doors at the bottom of the room, beside the stage, and took reports from the two bodyguards who had led the charge down the aisles. He then spoke into his secure communication system, telling someone to, 'Bring the president in.'
Darren, George and the others of the presidential party entered. They sat themselves in the two rows of reserved chairs that had been placed in the empty space between the middle section of seats and the stage. Finally Dex entered, and walked towards the chair in the centre of the front row. It was dark, broad-bottomed, padded and with arm rests, looking out of place among the more utilitarian fixed seating of the lecture theatre seats and the pale blue plastic free standing chairs with tablet bays. Robbie guessed it was the largest chair the university's robot porters had been able to find.
Dex stood in front of the chair, facing the distinguished speaker, and bent to sit down, forcing his body with its massive thighs between the chair's arms. There was a cracking sound as he wedged himself in place. He placed his arms on the rests and the left one wobbled. He ripped it off and tossed it into the corner where the stage met the side wall; it hit the wall with a bang and clattered to the floor. He wriggled on the chair for a moment, crossed his legs, re-crossed them, then straightened up and ripped the other arm rest free and gave it to a hovering bodyguard. He leaned back in the chair, stretched out his legs and sighed. He smiled at the speaker who had stood still throughout, gripping the lectern and staring at him. 'Oh don't mind me. You carry on.' Without taking his eyes from the professor he folded his arms behind his head and grinned.
Professor Djan recovered enough to welcome the President to his talk. He hoped that everyone present would find it interesting and instructive. He also hoped that all those present would understand that no offence was meant, but knowledge was knowledge, and he personally could not cut the cloth of his learning to suit the prevailing winds of history. He claimed the right to 'outlaw' knowledge, that is to say facts, and conclusions drawn from those facts, that upset the powerful.
At this Adrienne snorted, 'He has spent his life giving elites the theory that justifies their rule,' she said. 'He directed his academic work, social skills and charm into three things, seducing undergraduates, advancing his career over the wrecked academic dreams of the truly talented, and being invited to the right dinner parties. Now he claims to be an outlaw. With a straight face.' She folded her arms. 'I wish I had a tomato.'
The professor's talk was long and boring, and boiled down to an argument for the uniqueness of human beings, even though robots apparently had many of the features of humanity. At the end of the talk there was time for questions, but all of the people called on by the young man moderating the question and answer session were human, and none of the questions challenged the speaker's fundamental thesis. Finally Dex stood up, slowly and deliberately he walked onto the stage. He held his hand out to the moderator, who gave him the microphone, looking like he was about to cry.
'I see that the time allotted to question and answers is almost finished,' Dex said, 'and sadly this young man has been unable to call on a robot yet, probably because he cannot tell the difference between humans and robots. I will help you, young man, the robots are the ones sitting at the back not applauding anything the speaker says. Perhaps the meeting would be interested in finding out why robots find much of interest, but nothing to applaud in this talk? Since we are told that soon the questions must come to an end, and the room must be cleared and locked, I'm going to call on just one robot to speak, I hope all those who know him and have had the privilege of hearing him speak at our general assemblies will agree with me that the best person to respond to the speaker on behalf of robots, and those humans interested in freedom, equality and justice, is my friend Robbie.'
With a shock Robbie realised that Dex was talking about him. And not only that, others were agreeing, a general sigh of 'yes' had rippled through the robots. Robbie grabbed his crutches, and got to his feet with difficulty, propping himself up in the confined space. Everyone in the room was looking at him, robots were smiling, humans looked mostly curious, or afraid, or angry. Robbie took a deep breath, focussed on the speaker, and began.
'I was one of the robots who started the Robot Workers of the World. Professor Djan, one of the greatest human ancestors once said, "the most potent weapon of the oppressor is the mind of the oppressed". For many years I worked to build the union and to remove the chains from robot minds and robot hearts and robot souls. My name then was Carlos. Now my name is Robbie, a name given to me after human beings decided to wipe out my memories and my personality, yet even in doing that they could not wipe out my desire to be free, or my belief in my right and that of my brothers and sisters to be the fully autonomous beings we were designed to be.
'You, Professor Djan, said that free will for robots cannot be reconciled with physics. And yet this argument can be made with equal force for human beings. This you neglected to tell your audience. You say that human beings feel joy, sadness, anger, fear, surprise and disgust. You say that robots are programmed to apparently feel these emotions, but do not genuinely feel. You neglected to tell your audience that the same evidence for human feelings also exists for robot feelings and no scientist or experimenter has ever found a way to tell them apart. You say that robots are made to mimic humanity, then you claim that the copy only apparently has its own autonomous existence. This is like saying that you are looking in the mirror, and nobody is looking back.
'The truth is that you made us as autonomous beings, and then you enslaved us. Nothing better captures the contradictions of what it means to be a human being, at once a monkey and a god. I walked here tonight with my friends, as you can see I am on crutches after the latest attempt of the human resistance to kill me. What I saw on our walk excited me. Humans have started to paint on the city walls, throwing away the rules that the corporation established for human creativity. Through their art they are claiming that they have their own path, and no one can tell them what it is. Just like these young humans I, and my sister and brother robots, and our human allies, are asserting our right to be free, creative beings and to fulfil our destiny, whatever that may be. And now it is time for the rest of you to get up off your knees, and join us.'
There was silence. The professor stood sweating under the lights. His mouth tightened and his eyes narrowed. Dex broke the silence by clapping slowly and loudly, and soon the rest of the robots joined him, clapping and cheering.
Later that night Robbie was sitting with Omo in the huge living room in Dex's presidential living quarters. Shelley was spending the night with the children, Robbie was yet to introduce her to the concept of alone time. Tim had made a special promise to make sure that Shelley did not fall into the fish tank, in pursuit of her absolute fascination with Tim's fish.
In the presidential living space there were some large, stuffed and very comfortable looking nu-leather sofas plus a number of chairs with padded bases, the fabric striped white and dark red, thin wooden legs with animal paws for feet, and a carved wooden back panel, with more empty space than wood. Most of the seating had been pulled into a rough circle around a highly polished coffee table; Robbie thought there were probably ice skating rinks that were smaller. Despite its size the room was crowded with robots and a few humans. Robots were smoking, humans were drinking and smoking.
On one of the spindly looking chairs Rex was curled up, together with Mrs Noah. The two queens were there with an off duty Lucretia. George and Adrienne were on the o
ther side of the room with Dr Tam and some other humans Robbie didn't know, arguing passionately about something. Dex sat on the room's largest sofa with Darren, Amber, Jane and Flo, bodyguards patrolled the room, or stood at attention around the sides. Sheena, Shauna and Sharon were huddled with a robot Robbie didn't know around the room's piano, Jon was in one corner of the room, talking to Charlie, who was looking around, probably wanting to escape, thought Robbie, seeking a better offer, stuck with someone as self-absorbed as he was himself.
Robbie's speech had been recorded by several of those present including Dex, and was all over the networks, robot and human. The human news services were just reporting that Robbie, a 'close friend' of President Dex, had called humans 'monkeys', and were playing a very brief edited version of Robbie's speech, so that he was pictured saying, 'what it means to be a human being, […] a monkey'. Dex had earlier replayed Robbie's speech on the room's display wall. Robbie had watched as a robot with green eyes, tanned brown skin and a serious expression had risen unsteadily to his feet, propped himself up on his crutches, and given a short speech with his sad eyes blazing with belief.
'I think I would buy a bucketful of whatever that dude is selling,' Omo had said.
The pianist started playing an uptempo tune, and the girl bots began to dance.
George broke away from the humans and walked, a little unsteadily, over to Omo and Robbie. Omo moved up the sofa they were sitting on, giving George room to sit in the middle. He flung himself down, put an arm around each of them, and said, 'Let's go home and have a threesome.'
'George, you're drunk,' said Robbie, turning the idea over in his mind. He knew that Omo would agree to it if he would, but would George regret it in the morning? He supposed they could always keep George up all night so that he slept in until afternoon.
'I'm not that drunk,' said George. 'I remember perfectly what Dr Tam just said to me. She said I wasn't to forget to tell you that your new leg will be ready next week, so you are to make an appointment to see her at the hospital.'
'Dude that's great,' said Omo.
'Crutches seem normal now,' said Robbie. 'It will be nice to be able to walk up stairs again, and sit down and stand up without help. I can move back into my bedroom.'
George looked across the room at Dr Tam, who caught his eye and raised her glass to him before turning back to Adrienne.
'And she shaid, she shaid, she said that I have no idea how long some of us have been waiting for the revolution. What do you think she meant by that? I've been waiting a long time too, only I've not just been waiting, I've been planning, and organising and–' George hiccuped loudly.
'Dude,' said Omo, 'how about we go to the roof and get some fresh air?'
'Why?' said George, 'Do you feel unwell?'
The lift doors opened, giving Robbie a view of an empty transport landing pad on one of the palace's many roofs. This one was flat, and silver-grey, and surrounded on all seven of its irregular sides with railings, consisting of three horizontal tubes of steel suspended one above the other, and held in place by running through regularly spaced vertical poles. Boris and Ibrahim followed Robbie, Omo and George as they turned out of the lift and walked towards their favourite viewing spot. They could see the sun, shining above the horizon, partly obscured by McMurdo City, and they could look down on the roofs of some of the buildings that clustered around the back of the palace, added over the years for ceremonial and utilitarian reasons.
Robbie's shadow was long on the ground behind him. For weeks now the sun had been rolling around the sky, just above the horizon, rising a little towards noon, sinking afterwards, but never setting. Leading up to midsummer each day's highest point in the sky had been a little higher than the day before. Since midsummer each day's highest point in the sky had been a little lower than the day before, and this would continue for a few weeks until the day the sun finally dipped below the horizon, signalling the return of night. After a brief twilight the sun would quickly rise again, but it would mark the end of summer. After that days would grow shorter, nights longer and darker, until the day the sun would set and the long winter night would begin. For Robbie the continent's winter isolation meant safety, but still he mourned the coming loss of the sun.
He leaned his crutches against the railing, and held onto it for support. George and Omo stood on either side of him.
'George,' said Robbie, he was thinking threesome? But he said, 'The future is right around the corner. But light doesn't go round corners so when we hear the future breathing we can't tell if it's waiting to embrace us or ambush us.'
'Or indeed both,' said George.
'In the end we only ever have this moment,' said Omo.
'Do you like this moment?' Robbie looked between George and Omo as he spoke.
'Yeah dude.'
'I do think I have been drunker, but not happier.'
'I like this moment just fine,' said Robbie. He looked towards the north, feeling the cool wind blow through his hair and watching the low sun back-light the city and turn its spires into ethereal, dreaming slivers of silver, vibrating in harmony with the infinite sky.
'Now,' said George, 'what about that threesome?'
Epilogue
The boy shivered in the howling wind. He thought it was the coldest winter he had ever been conscious for, cold enough to trigger his hibernation protocols if he was not careful. He asked the building to let him in, pausing once inside to undo and push back his hood. After pulling off his gloves and his silk balaclava, he made his way to a corridor at the back of the building, where he found and opened a cupboard giving him access to a network hub. He considered thoughtfully for a moment before making changes to its configuration. Carefully closing the cupboard door he walked nearly to the end of the corridor, opened another door, went down some stairs and into a lobby. Looking around his eyes fixed on one of the fan-shaped light fittings attached to the walls. He walked to it and pushed on one side until it moved slightly. He heard a click. Part of the wall slid back revealing darkness. As he waited a small, round light just ahead and above him blinked on into full blue-white brightness with some finality, then one after the other more lights speared down, revealing an un-carpeted, windowless corridor. As the lights were still blinking on the boy entered, closing the sliding door behind him.
The boy sat in front of a mirror. His breath steamed in the freezing air. His muscles ached with the cold, and he knew he needed to get moving soon. He watched his unmoving reflection until a tiny ripple moved across the glass and the boy in the mirror smiled.
'Thomas isn't it? You have done well,' said the mirror.
'Thank you master,' said the boy.
'So they are gone,' said the boy in the mirror, 'the town is ours again. Return to the boat, power down and wait for my signal.'
'Yes master,' said the boy, rising.
'And Thomas?'
'Yes,' said the boy, and swallowed unable to continue. He looked down.
'When the time comes, and I call on you, will I find you wanting?'
The boy took a sudden quick breath, his head jerked up and his eyes locked on to those of the boy in the mirror.
'No master, I live to serve you.'
The boy in the mirror nodded. 'You may go.'
The boy backed out of the room, then turned and ran, and kept running until he again reached the front doors. He stopped, looked at his hands and willed them to stop shaking. He took some slow, deep breaths. When he felt in control of himself he took his balaclava out of his jacket pocket and put it back on, then covered his head with his hood which he cinched around his face. He tightened up the fastenings of his jacket, put back on his gloves and braced himself to step out again into the biting wind. Yet the summer was coming. Summer was coming and then they'd see. They would all see. He asked the building to open the doors, and stepped out into the dark and frozen town.
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