“I have not had time to think it through,” said Fin.
“Fair enough. You know I could use a Blue with your brains here. Know anything about accounting?”
“No, sir.”
“Pity. Our books are a mess. I’m afraid I just don’t have any other openings, Fin, but I’d be happy to put in a good word for you elsewhere. You’ll need to do something to pay the bills.”
“Thank you, sir.”
Shepherd said, “I don’t like that look, son. What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.”
“You’re a terrible liar. You should leave that to the humans. Come on, out with it.”
“May I speak freely, sir?”
“Always.”
“Even about . . .?”
“The Ark?” said Shepherd. “Ziggy knows about my little hideaway, though he refuses to visit.”
“You should have called it the Ostrich,” said Ziggy. “Sticking your head in the sand doesn’t do anybody any good. You need to be where the people are.”
“In your opinion,” Shepherd said.
“Of course, it’s my opinion. Who else’s would it be?”
“Can we please stick to the matter at hand? The boy has something to say. Let him say it, for God’s sake.”
“I may have lost this battle, but the war’s not over, Noah.”
“Fine. Please continue, son.”
Fin said, “If I am defective . . .”
“Which you’re not,” Shepherd insisted.
Fin rephrased. “If I have failed to perform the task for which I was designed, why am I allowed to continue to exist?”
“You’ll find something else to do,” said Shepherd. “If not here, then elsewhere. I’m quite certain of that.”
“Unlike your herd of cows, sir, I am not a zero-impact product. I am consuming valuable resources and taking up precious space while contributing nothing in return. I am an unnecessary burden to society.”
“You’re not seriously considering suicide, are you?” Ziggy asked. “I realize it’s your right, but . . .”
Fin shook his head. “I simply fail to understand the logic of my situation.”
“Despite what you’ve heard, this civilization doesn’t run on logic, Fin.”
“Perhaps it should.”
“People don’t work that way.”
“Cybernites are not people. We are machines.”
“You are not a machine,” said Shepherd.
“Then why are we treated as such?”
“Because humans are pigs,” said Ziggy. “Present company excluded, of course. Listen, if doing a terrible job were the criteria for living or dying there wouldn’t be anyone left, human or Cy.”
“I do not understand your point.”
“You really need to reread the Artificial Intelligence Act, Fin. You have the same right to exist that we do. Once we make you, we’re stuck with you. That’s the law.”
“I am not questioning my right to exist. I am questioning why I continue to do so. My fellow Cybernites do not trust me because I am different, some even want to kill me. As far as the humans are concerned, I am a worthless failure. My continued existence under these circumstances seems pointless.”
Ziggy straightened the napkin in his lap. “I said that very same thing about my last three marriages.”
“Did you choose to end them?”
“One I did, the other two I didn’t, but I paid a pretty penny for all of them. They moved on. I moved on. That’s how life works, Fin.”
Shepherd said, “Life is a gift, son. It’s precious. Don’t throw it away.”
“There are those of us who would argue that life is neither precious nor a gift,” Fin replied. “It is a burden to be endured until it is over.”
“And they would be mistaken.”
“Getting people to change isn’t easy,” said Ziggy. “When they first started replacing men with Cys, there was quite the backlash. It didn’t matter that the jobs were dangerous or that there weren’t enough of us left to do them. It only mattered that they were being given to Drabs. The protests, the riots, the killings . . .”
“Those were dark times,” Shepherd agreed.
“But things are getting better,” Ziggy said. “Look at the Artificial Intelligence Act. That gives Cybernites the same rights as humans—some of them, at least. And I know they’re working on getting you more. The point is you have the right to live, Fin.”
“But not in the same sector as you,” said Fin. “Or to drink the same water or eat the same food or enjoy the same protections of the Periculum shield.”
“Ah yes, the shield,” said Shepherd. “Mankind’s greatest folly." His attention wandered to his pocket watch. “My, my, look at the time. Esse, dear, do I have any appointments this afternoon? I seem to recall that I do.”
She replied, “You’re scheduled to testify before Council at two about the SIA situation.”
“I knew it was something unpleasant. Can we postpone?”
“You’ve postponed twice already. We should be leaving soon.”
Shepherd sighed. “Very well.”
Ziggy leaned over to look at Shepherd’s watch. "And that old contraption of yours is twenty minutes slow. Have you considered getting one that works like this piece I’m wearing? It's supposed to be all the rage."
“My watch keeps perfect time.”
“If you say so. You know, I just had a splendid idea. I have a friend, a very nice man. He runs the Recon plant over on 53rd. He’s always looking for linemen. Maybe he has a job for you, Fin. Let me give him a ring.” Ziggy took out his Commlink and made the call. It went directly to voicemail, so he sent a text. “He’s probably on the factory floor. They can’t hear a thing down there.” His Commlink flashed. He smiled. “Perfect. He’s got an opening on the container line. You can start tomorrow, second shift. It’s good honest work. What do you say, Fin?”
“I do not have physical strength of a White for assembly-line work.”
“You are joking.”
Shepherd tapped his skull. “Fin thinks his skills are all up here. You can do this, son. In fact, I want you to take this job. Will you do it for me, please?”
Fin hesitated.
Shepherd asked, “Do you believe in God?"
“At this point, I would say yes,” Fin replied. "I have to."
“Have to?” said Ziggy. "Why would anyone have to believe in God?”
“Because an almighty God is the only one who can save us now."
“Do you have faith in me?” Shepherd said.
“Of course, sir."
“Then trust me. You should take this job.”
Reluctantly, Fin said that he would.
“Well, at least that’s settled,” said Ziggy. “Do you have a Commlink, Fin?”
Fin shook his head. "It was confiscated.”
“Are you still authorized to have one?”
“I do not know.”
“He is,” said Esse. “I made sure of that.”
“Good,” said Ziggy. “Here, take mine. It’s a hideous pink, doesn’t match your skin at all, but it works. Just make sure you resync it. Some of the messages I’ve gotten on that thing would turn your skin red.”
“I cannot pay you for this,” said Fin.
“I’m not asking you to.”
Fin traced Ziggy’s gaze to Dr. Shepherd. “This is why you invited me here,” he said. “This was all an act for my benefit.”
Ziggy shrugged. “It was Noah’s idea. I told him you’d see right through it, as smart as you are.”
“We’re only trying to help,” Shepherd said.
“And what have you got to lose?” said Ziggy. “If it doesn’t work out, we’ll find something else for you. What do you say?”
“I say, thank you.”
“Wonderful. All the details are in the Commlink.”
Fin scanned the Commlink and looked up, surprised. “There is a copy of The Word on this.”
“I read it religiou
sly,” said Ziggy.
“You are a believer?”
“A Godder? Not particularly. If there were a God, why would he create us? We’re not very good company and we’re not particularly careful with the furniture, but I'd rather be on the good side of the perfect and almighty one when the end comes.”
“What makes you think God’s either almighty or perfect?” Shepherd asked.
Fin said, “Is that not implied in the concept?”
“Putting man on this planet was a mistake that hasn’t been corrected. If you ask me, that’s neither almighty nor perfect.”
“That’s harsh even for you, Noah," said Ziggy.
“No one is all-powerful. No one is perfect.”
Fin said, “Yet you call me your perfect son.”
“A diamond can be perfect as a ring or a cutting edge but useless if you are dying of thirst in the desert. You are perfect for the purpose for which you were created, my son.”
“Which is what?”
“Obviously not what Council intended.”
“Life is about figuring out the whys, Fin,” said Ziggy. “And that’s something you’ve got to do on your own.”
Fin took a sip of water.
“Not to change the subject,” Ziggy said, “but how do you like the water, Fin?”
“It is very clear,” Fin replied. “We are told the water in our Cyblock is cloudy from the added nutrients, but I think it is not what they have added that is at issue. It is what they have not removed.”
“Well, this water only has three things in it: H, Two, and O.”
“I just noticed, boy,” said Shepherd. “Your jaw seems a bit swollen.”
Fin shrugged off his concern. “It is nothing.”
“We have an appointment first thing tomorrow for your check-in, don’t we? I’ll have a look at it then.”
“Is that really necessary, sir?”
“Indeed it is. I have to go over your monthly performance statistics and do a complete workup. I’ll need to document the final results before closing the books. I’ve obtained the required permits and had your shield clearance extended for one more day, by the way. After that, I’m afraid you won’t be allowed back into Polyclonic or the city proper unless the need arises, of course. Council was quite clear on that.”
“So I heard.”
“Don’t fret. We’ll still see each other from time to time.” Shepherd patted Fin’s hand. “Esse, please see Fin out, won’t you? I really should prepare for my two o’clock confrontational with Council.”
Esse and Fin left. On the street, the music and revelry surrendered to the rain. Explosions too distant to be heard flickered behind dark clouds. The forces of Periculum were protecting their investment somewhere over Cytown. A Yellow sprinted past them, heading toward the Periculum shield. Her clothes were torn, her face badly bruised. A man was chasing after her, shouting that he wasn’t done with her yet, that he wanted his money’s worth or he’d recycle her himself. She looked over at Fin as her outstretched hand touched the shield's nanoparticles. She was crying, but smiling as if she had won. Her prize was a sizzle, a flash, and a cloud of dust.
“What have we done to deserve this?” Fin said.
“Don’t blame yourself, Fin,” Esse replied. “It won’t help.”
“But I am to blame. We all are. We who caused this, we who allowed it to happen, and we who permit it to continue—we are all to blame.”
“Yes, we are.”
Fin returned to Cyblock-101 and sat down on the stoop. The wind had relented, allowing the trash a brief respite from its pointless windblown journey through the desolate streets. Fin had no idea how long he had been sitting there when he saw a Levcar approach and set down on the roof. He went inside and pressed the elevator call button. When the doors opened, Nova stepped off the elevator. One of her sleeves was torn. Her lip was swollen. There was blood on her hand.
“This isn’t my floor,” she said, annoyed. She stepped back into the car. Fin greeted her and got on. She ignored him. The button for their floor was still lit. She jammed her thumb against it. “Come on, you stupid thing. Try working right for once.”
“It does that sometimes,” Fin said. “I placed a maintenance request to have it repaired several months ago, but it is still well down the non-emergency list.”
“No kidding? That’s really helpful to know.”
“I am sorry, Nova. Are you all right?”
“I’m fine. I just ran into this dipshit Drab on the roof who was babbling something about a reward this Pasty was offering for my head. It got a little rough. I had to teach him some manners.”
Fin looked away. “You should have a med-tech look at that cut.”
“I said I was fine.”
He looked back at her. “How did it go at work today?”
“How do you think? Paperwork, paperwork, and more paperwork.”
“There is that.”
“Oh, and I met a friend of yours, a guy name Ted Something-or-other.”
“Bailey.”
“That’s it. He said to say hi.”
“Ted never liked me.”
“Ted’s an annoying prick.”
Fin smiled. “That was my assessment as well.”
The elevator stopped at their floor. They got off.
“May I see you to your door?” Fin said. “You seem a little shaken.”
“Maybe they didn’t teach you this in agent school, but fine means fine.” Nova started down the hall. Before turning the corner, she looked back and said, “Sorry about that. I’m OK, really. Thanks.”
Chapter 9
What use is a light that blinds? Of what purpose a beacon that shines on a sea without ships? What good is a warning shouted from the rooftops to those who are deaf? I tell you this: they are the same as my mercy is to the heart that has filled itself with hate.
The next morning, the Northend train arrived at Lower Downtown with one less Cybernite than it had when it began its run. This time it was a Gray who had been standing next to Fin, an older Cy with a hand missing. He had been telling Fin how he lost it in a mining accident. He was still working, but the boss man said he was half the miner so he’d only get half the wage. What choice did he have? A body has to eat, doesn’t it? And then he was gone, reduced to ash that would be neither remembered nor recycled.
Fin climbed the long stairs and waited for an empty glass elevator to take him to the street. It was such a beautiful day. The air was pure, the blue sky rainless. He put away his borrowed Commlink and began the walk to Polyclonic Technologies for his final check-in.
The Polyclonic campus occupied an entire city block in the Tech Sector. It consisted of shops, restaurants, and recreational areas. It was designed so that its employees wanted for nothing. The visitor’s atrium resembled a cathedral but was actually the capstone for a massive underground complex that housed laboratories, production facilities, and a research center. Fin entered as a tour group was just getting started. Their guide was a Green with whom he had become somewhat friendly in his short life. She was smartly dressed in a gray suit that flattered her perfect figure. Her nails and lips were colored black. Her vibrant skin sparkled in the light, reflecting the glow of the manufactured sky. Fin knew it was a function of how they had designed her particular weave of polyclonic tissue. Everything about her, from her gestures to her appearance to her mannerisms, was orchestrated to be pleasing to humans, to make their tour experience a positive one. She was directing the group’s attention to the atrium’s stories-high cathedral ceiling.
“The Ancient One, Dr. Noah Shepherd, our creator,” she was saying, “designed this state-of-the-art facility with the help of the most famous architects and scientists of our time. Note the magnificent panes in the ceiling that are so artfully etched. They are actually hardened polyglass and can withstand a sizeable blast, though as you all know, Periculum’s shield has never allowed a single bomb to fall on the city.”
A young boy interrupted. He couldn’t have
been more than five or six. He seemed particularly fragile to Fin, but humans as a race were becoming more fragile—a result of centuries of living in a world without real sunlight and true freedom.
“My dad says you’re all robots,” the boy said.
His mother told him to be quiet.
“I’m a Cybernite, young master,” the guide replied.
“Are you going to kill me, robot lady?” the boy persisted.
“Most certainly not,” said the guide. “A Cybernite would never harm a human being.”
“My dad says you steal little boys when they’re sleeping and kill them and eat them. That’s why there aren’t many of us left.”
“We only eat Reconstitute, young master. What is your name?”
“Kevion.”
The guide bowed. “God be with you, Kevion. I’m Valen.”
“That’s not your real name. You’re a number. My dad says they stamp you at the factory where you’re made.”
“Officially, I am Green-8540 Series-100.” Valen glanced down at her Commlink. “And according to my tour-group list, you are H21D85987235. That’s your bio-encoding sequence. It allows you safe passage throughout the city. But that’s a mouthful to say, isn’t it? So, I will simply call you Kevion if you agree to call me Valen.”
She addressed the group. “Kevion brings up an important point about Cybernites. We are no more capable of murdering a human than a polydog is of biting its master. It is simply not in our genetic makeup.”
Someone said, “A bunch of Cys killed the mayor’s son."
“I believe the reports indicated that he was on the grounds without permission and was accidentally killed in the blast."
“So they did it.”
“Technically, that is true, but they did not intend to. No Cybernite would.”
Another in the group said, “What about that Cy prowler in the Hill Sector? I heard he broke into a house and murdered seven people.”
“I can assure you, sir, that never happened,” Valen replied. “It is contrary to our programming.”
“What if you have a breakdown?”
“Each Cybernite has a unique override code that the authorities can use to assume control in the event of a total system failure.”
Fin Page 17
