“Your Honor, I am but a humble beggar. I have no home, no family. All I have is my poor miserable existence on the cold and lonely streets of this fair city, which is where I was last night when this woman came upon me and my partner, and tried to rob us. My partner, old Lank, brave soul that he was, stood up to the miscreant. For that, he paid with his life. This woman is a barbarian, Sir. A ruthless, bloodthirsty creature. We can hardly call her human.”
“Is that all?”
“I only ask for justice, Your Honor, in the name of poor old Lank, may his ancestors watch over his poor dead soul.”
“You may take your seat.” The magistrate looked over his glasses at the courtroom. “Do we have any other witnesses for the prosecution?”
“The shopkeeper,” someone shouted at the back of the room.
“Eh?” said the magistrate. “What’s that?”
“She broke into a toy store,” one of the bailiffs said. “The shopkeeper was supposed to testify, but he’s not here.”
“I see. I suppose we must proceed without him.” He turned his gaze on River. “Young lady… now you may speak.”
River rose to her feet and walked around the table. “I am River Tinkerman, acting commander of the Iron Horse.”
“Ah, the train,” said the magistrate.
“Yes. Your Honor.”
“Where your friends have barricaded themselves up, on private property, armed with heaven only knows what sort of weapons.”
“They are only defending what belongs to them.”
“Two days ago, the city of New Boston purchased that train from a man named…” he shuffled through his papers.
“Burk,” River said. “His name is Burk, and he used to be one of our crew.”
“Yes, Burk. This man arrived with a crew of three and promptly auctioned off the train, along with all of the train’s contents.”
“That doesn’t surprise me,” said River. “First he stole our fuel, then he stole our train.”
The magistrate leaned forward on his elbows. “For the sake of argument, let’s say this is true. Why should I care what he did to you? Obviously, this man was in possession of the train. Do you have any documentation to prove that it belonged to you, and not him?”
“It doesn’t belong to me,” River said. “It belongs to Socrates.”
“Socrates?”
“Yes, the… the person I was trying to rescue from the toy store.”
“Ah, yes!” said the magistrate, leaning back in his chair. “The mechanical gorilla. I believe that’s another charge against you…”
“You don’t understand!” said River. “He’s not a machine… I mean, he is a machine, but he’s alive!”
The bailiff standing a few feet away stepped forward to give her a shove. “Manners,” he said. “Or I’ll put the shackles back on.”
“Sorry,” she mumbled, and added, “Your Honor.”
The magistrate watched this with infinite patience and then sighed loudly. “Sadly, the shopkeeper isn’t here to explain to us what all of this means. Somehow, I doubt he would corroborate your story. A machine, young lady, is just a machine. No matter how remarkable the engineering, no creation of human hands is capable of independent thought or emotion.”
“I would like to dispute that, Your Honor,” said a gruff voice at the back of the room.
All heads turned to see Socrates standing in the doorway. Tiny Micah stood at his side, and the old toymaker stood just behind the two of them. There was an instant uproar, and the magistrate began pounding his gavel.
“Your Honor, may I approach the bench?” Socrates shouted over the commotion.
“Yes, yes!” said the magistrate. “Come forward!”
Socrates did. After several minutes of gavel pounding and a threat to clear the courtroom, things finally settled down. River embraced Socrates as he came to her side, and he gave her a warm smile.
“Now,” said the magistrate as a heavy silence fell over the courtroom. “What is it that you wanted to say?”
Socrates took a step closer, and looked up into the magistrate’s eyes. “Seven twenty-three, tender odds furlong. Process twenty-nine.”
River’s head dropped into her hands. She tried not to weep.
Chapter 22
The judge looked up at the toymaker, who was standing a few feet back. “Is this some sort of joke?”
Isaak came forward. “My apologies, Your Honor. I’m afraid our friend here is… he’s a bit under the weather.”
“Friend? Excuse me, but aren’t you the shopkeeper this young woman tried to rob yesterday?”
“Yes, your honor. I don’t mean to make excuses for her, but I do think you should hear these people out.”
“Are you implying that I haven’t been listening to what’s going on in my own courtroom?”
“No, of course not. All apologies, Your Honor.”
The magistrate rolled his eyes. He turned his attention back to Socrates. “What is this toy doing in my courtroom? Can anyone tell me that?”
A clicking sound came out of Socrates’ head and he twitched erratically for a moment. “Allow me to elucidate,” he said after he had regained control. Several gasps went up around the courtroom. “First, I am not a toy, though it is reasonable of you to make that assumption based on my physical appearance and obviously mechanical construction. However, it would be shortsighted of you to dismiss me as such without a close examination of my abilities.”
The magistrate took a deep breath. He glanced at River, then the old toymaker, then back to Socrates. “It seems that the nature of this hearing has suddenly changed. What began as an inquisition into theft and murder is apparently now a hearing on the nature of self-awareness.” The magistrate looked him up and down. “Well, whatever you are, you do seem remarkably intelligent.”
“Thank you, Your Honor,” said Socrates.
“All right, then. Make your case.”
“Process seven hundred, milk mileage maleficent maelstrom mushroom mole.”
The magistrate blinked.
“I’m sorry your honor. My memory banks suffered mild damage when the man who stole our train attacked me. My internal systems are still sorting things out. In human terms, you might say that he rattled my brains.”
“I’d say he did,” the magistrate laughed. “Go on.”
“Thank you, Magistrate. If it would humor the court, may I forward the notion that although my physical body is made up of gears and springs and other mechanical parts, these attributes don’t distinguish me from other living beings, but rather prove my likeness to them. May I humbly suggest that any living, conscious being, regardless of how intelligent, is similarly a construct?”
“You make an intriguing argument. Yet how can I entertain it when I look at you and see parts that were obviously created by human hands?”
“You are correct about that. However, the fact remains that my human creator was no less a mechanical than I am. His organic body, when reduced to its simplest form, is but a complicated machine. His heart was a pump, his muscles and bones were levers and ropes. Even his mind, the very source of his intellect, was a device whose operation was governed by electrochemical processes, not unlike those which control my own memory banks.”
The magistrate leaned back in his seat. A smile crept over his features. “You truly are remarkable, aren’t you?”
“Sulfuric thunder march,” said Socrates. Hastily, he added, “Bear with me, Your Honor. As I was saying, I am definitely not human. You can see this with your own eyes, and it would be foolish to make any argument counter to such an obvious fact. However, we all know that living things come in many different forms, from the lowliest insects to creatures terrifying in their size and power. May I introduce you to Micah?”
Micah was standing at the front of the courtroom, near River’s table. His eyes widened when he heard his name. Socrates gestured, and the halfling came forward.
“What are you doing?” Micah whispered under his b
reath.
Socrates put his hand on Micah’s shoulder and grinned. “Micah is not human,” he said to the judge. “His ancestors were human, as were the ancestors of the Tal’mar men in my crew, and the trolls who attacked our train on the journey here, but none of these bipeds are human.”
“Preposterous,” said the magistrate. “This man is clearly human. There’s just something wrong with him, that’s all.”
“No, Magistrate. Quite the contrary. Micah is in perfect health. The difference between Micah and you for example, is that Micah’s genetic structure has been altered.”
“Genetic structure?”
Socrates scratched his chin, and a puff of steam blew out of his chimney stack. “It is difficult to put this in terms you can understand. There is an ancient science known as genetics. The premise of this study is that every living organism is made of tiny molecular constructs called cells. These cells are so miniscule that it would require a powerful microscope to see them, but they do exist, and I can prove it to you if necessary. These cells are the building blocks for all living matter. Obviously, a tree is comprised of different types of cells than a human being. Likewise, Micah’s cells are different from yours.”
“Clearly,” said the magistrate. “I have seen calves born with two heads. This sort of thing is an anomaly, like your friend.”
“No! That is not true at all, Your Honor. Micah comes from an entire race of people just like him. They breed true, and have been for centuries. They were once human, but they have evolved into something different. Wonder calcified knot. Process two point three seven eight…”
The magistrate patiently waited for Socrates to finish his process. When the gorilla fell silent, the magistrate asked, “So your argument, as I understand it, is that Micah’s people somehow evolved from humans into a different, unique race?”
“That is exactly what happened. I assure you that it is an entirely natural process, but this process was accelerated by the introduction of the element we call starfall into our environment.”
“Ah, yes, the fuel you use in that train.”
“Exactly. Believe me, Your Honor, I was there when the Tal’mar came to exist. I saw the changes that starfall made to humans, and not all of those changes were beneficial. But forgive me, I digress. We are not here to discuss the differences between these races, but rather what they have in common.”
“Fair enough,” said the magistrate. “You’ve made your point eloquently enough. I can accept that humans and other creatures are similar to machines, but what about life? What about sentience and conscience? Surely you don’t believe that you possess these characteristics?”
“But he does!” said Micah. “Socrates wouldn’t be our leader if we didn’t trust him.”
“I’m not sure your current situation is an argument in this creature’s favor,” said the magistrate. “Look where his leadership has brought you.”
“You’re right,” River said, stepping forward. She looked up into the magistrate’s eyes. “It was Socrates who brought us here. Two days ago, we were trapped at the bottom of the sea. We had no fuel, limited supplies, and we were being attacked by creatures that would have killed us all if Socrates hadn’t sacrificed himself. He gave us the last of his starfall, the energy source that keeps him alive, so that we could survive.”
“Is this true?”
“Absolutely,” said Micah.
“At the time,” River added, “Socrates knew he might never live again. Instead of telling us to go after Burk and get our starfall back, he told me to bring the train here, where the crew would be safe. I defied that order, and that’s the reason Burk was able to steal the train from us. I failed everyone, including Socrates, even after he sacrificed himself to save the rest of us.”
“You have not failed,” Socrates said. “You have struggled against overwhelming odds to bring the crew this far. The failure is mine. I should have foreseen the calamity that Burk had planned for us. It is I who failed all of you. I’m afraid that sacrificing myself is the only thing I’ve done right in some time.”
“Why did you do that?” said the magistrate, who had been quietly watching their exchange.
“The lives of the many are as valuable as the few,” said Socrates. “I gave them my fuel supply, so that they might survive.”
“No, I don’t mean that. I mean just now… why did you put your arm around River, and say what you did?”
“To comfort her, of course,” said Socrates. “River is wrong to feel that she failed me. She has done well. I am proud of her.”
“Proud? And you feel sympathy for her? Compassion?”
“Of course.”
The magistrate shook his head. “What can I say? Socrates, you have sacrificed yourself for your crew. You have protected them and supported them; you have even demonstrated compassion right here in this courtroom. I can hardly think of a better measure of humanity or sentience.” He paused and looked around the courtroom, deep in consideration. “Court will adjourn for a short recess. I will return with my decision.”
The magistrate left the court, and River couldn’t help letting out a cheer. She threw her arms around Socrates. “We did it!” she said. “We made him understand.”
“Perhaps,” said Socrates. “We still have the issue of your alleged theft to settle, as well as the matter of ownership of the train. We’re not out of the woods yet.” He turned to the old toymaker. “Thank you for your assistance, Isaak. I’m afraid I have little means to compensate your financial losses.”
“My losses are not that great,” said the toymaker. “You were inoperative when I bought you at auction, and you were damaged. But perhaps, if it’s not asking too much, you would share your blueprints with me?”
“I would if I had them,” said Socrates. “Regrettably, they are long gone.”
“That’s a shame. Then I suppose there will never be another like you.”
Five minutes later, one of the bailiffs stepped into the room and announced Magistrate Larkin. It took a few minutes for the courtroom to get settled, and then the magistrate began to speak:
“I have never presided over a hearing such as this. Generally, it is the job of a magistrate to determine guilt or innocence, and to sentence accordingly in the case of the former. I deal often with petty issues, occasionally with matters of life and death. But today I have been tasked with determining not who lives or dies, but what exactly it means to be alive.
“As I said earlier, Socrates, you have demonstrated the qualities we most associate with being human. You’ve shown emotions, compassion, and even a sense of honor. I think anyone in this courtroom would be hard put to deny the fact that, by all standard measurements, you do seem to be quite human.
“Yet I cannot help wondering about the future implications of this hearing. You see, the decisions of this court set precedence. What will happen if someday, inspired by this decision, some inventor demands that I qualify all of his creations as living things? Then where will it end? Will we someday consider carriages and steam engines to be alive? Will we be required to pay these machines for their labor? To house them?
“Regrettably, I fear that we may end up in just such a situation if I don’t exercise caution here today. That is why it is the ruling of this court that Socrates is a machine, and remains the property of Isaak the toymaker. Similarly, the Iron Horse remains the property of this great city, and River, you are to be held in custody until we can reschedule a hearing on the matter of your attempted theft, assault, and murder charges. Court is adjourned.”
He slammed the gavel down amidst a cacophony of voices and shouting. “Wait!” came a scream from the back of the room. “Just one moment!”
Mayor Cronwyn appeared at the back of the courtroom, waving a paper in the air. He hurried down the aisle and came to stand before the dais. “Magistrate, you must read this!”
The magistrate looked down at him. “Eagan, what is the meaning of this? This case has been closed.”
&nbs
p; “I’m dropping all charges against River. This is a letter from my cousin, the mayor of Port Haven. He was well acquainted with Socrates and the crew of the Iron Horse while they stayed there. Read it for yourself.”
The magistrate accepted the letter and scanned through it. When he had finished, he sighed loudly and slammed the gavel down.
“Everyone, remain seated. I’m reopening this case in light of new evidence.” He glanced down at Socrates and his companions. “According to this, Socrates is the commander and apparent owner of the Iron Horse. It says here that the Mayor thinks very highly of you, Socrates. He describes you as the most remarkable creature he’s ever met.”
Socrates smiled and gave a slight nod. The magistrate went on:
“I have already explained why I believe that you are a machine. Regardless of how incredible you are, or how talented your designer was, one simply cannot choose to call an invention a living thing. On the other hand, it is apparent from this letter that you are indeed the owner of the Iron Horse, and that your crew willingly accepts this as a fact. This presents yet another conundrum in this case: Can a machine own another machine?
“I’m tempted to reverse my decision in this case. The closer I look, the more complex it becomes. I can hardly foresee all of the ramifications either way… therefore, I must choose the safest route possible. River, in light of the unique facts of your situation, all charges against you have been dropped. I haven’t seen adequate evidence to convict you of murder anyway, so I agree with the mayor in this aspect. You are free to go. However, Socrates, my ruling against you stands. You are hereby proclaimed the personal property of the toymaker, along with all of your possessions. Toymaker, the Iron Horse belongs to you now. The vagrants who have it in their possession are now your problem.”
The magistrate slammed the gavel down and hurried out of the courtroom. Socrates, River, and the others stood in stunned silence as the witnesses began filing out.
Chapter 23
Killing the Machine (Aboard the Great Iron Horse Book 2) Page 20
