(Coburn Facility)
“Go, go, go!” shouted Captain Rawlson, and the SWAT team burst through the control-room doors, flash-bang grenades flying, to detonate among the corporate team members and the consoles, and even the witches’ cradles at the far end.
“Get down on the ground! Get down on the ground!” yelled the SWAT invaders, their guns pointing at anyone and anything that moved.
Shaken, nevertheless Drew Meyer said, “Don’t you mean get down on the floor?”
A SWAT officer grabbed him by the nape of the neck and slammed him down face first.
“Wait a minute, wait a minute,” shouted Toni. “No one in here is hurt.”
“Shut up and get on the ground,” shouted an officer.
“Where’s your commander?” said Toni, complying and slumping to the floor. “Where is Captain Rawlson?”
“Toni,” yelled Grace Willoby. “The alpha team, they’re back. I’ve got brainwaves.”
At that moment the main lights flickered on. Power had been restored. Toni’s holocom beeped. As she fetched it out of her pocket, she glanced at the doomsday clock; it had stopped at 00:07:21.
“Well, that’s better than last time,” said Toni, as she glanced at her com and saw that it was Kat Lawrence.
Before she could answer, “You Adkins?” someone asked.
She looked up at the man standing above her. “I’m Captain Rawlson,” he said.
“Yes, I’m Adkins,” said Toni, rising to her feet. “And, Captain Rawlson, I want you to get your bloody goons out of here. We’ve a team to extract from the rigs.”
“But who shot ma’am? And who did he hit?”
Toni pointed at John Greyson sitting in the corner and weeping, the spent Colt .45 lying at his feet. Then she pointed at Stein’s cephaloruptor cart, the electronic gear blown all to perdition.
65
Courthouse
(Coburn)
“Your honor, I call Arthur Coburn to the stand,” said Melissa.
“I object, your honor,” declared Mark Perry. “To have a machine testify in a human court would be a travesty. I might as well put my holocom in the chair and—?”
“Enough posturing, counselor,” said Judge Marshall, his voice carrying a weary-of-all-this-folderol tone. “I will allow it. After all, this is a hearing to determine whether or not the machine is sentient, as well as to determine whether Arthur Coburn’s mentality resides in it, and to see if the heirs are entitled to the estate or not.”
“Your honor, the hearing was merely intended to show sentience,” said Mark. “To add these other—”
“I just did, counselor. Now sit.” Marshall turned to Melissa and said, “Call your witness.”
Transmitted from the Coburn facility to the projectors in the witness box, a holo of Arthur Coburn sprang up, and with the improvements of holocasting, he looked as real as anyone in the courtroom.
As the court clerk approached to swear him in, Mark Perry said, “Your honor, I object to having a machine take the oath.”
“Your honor, Arthur is a witness,” said Melissa, “and the testimony he is about to give should be sworn to.”
The judge glanced at the holo of Arthur, who looked back and said, “Although I am a lapsed Catholic, I still hold to the belief that testifying in court requires an oath to give it the weight of truth. I’ll even provide my own Bible.” A holo of a tattered copy of the Douay-Rheims version of the Holy Scriptures sprang up before Arthur.
The clerk looked at Judge Marshall, who said, “Swear him in.”
Some members of the audience applauded, while others sissed through their teeth, both factions to fall to silence at a single gavel rap from the judge.
Arthur placed his left hand on the holo-Bible and raised his right, and the clerk said, “Do you swear to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth in the testimony you are about to give, so help you God?”
“I do so swear.”
“Then you may be seated.”
The holo of Arthur actually sat in the chair provided.
“I object, your honor,” said Mark. “This is merely a trick of Avery’s. He is pretending to be Arthur Coburn.”
The judge turned to Arthur. “Is there any way you can prove you are not a so-called trick of Avery’s?”
Arthur looked toward Charlotte and Finster and asked, “Finster, should I tell them about the time I caught you two in flagrante delicto in the guest house, you with your hand in Charlotte’s cookie jar, so to speak?”
“We were only nine and ten,” screamed Charlotte, even as gasps and titters muttered through the courtroom.
“I’ll take that as confirmation,” said Judge Marshall.
“Your honor, this could still be a trick,” said Perry.
The judge looked at Arthur, who said, “Well, Mark, there was the time when we were in Cuba for some fine cigars, and you were naked and drunk and humping the statue of Nuestra Senora de Revelución right there next to the one of Fidel. Of course, I was drunk, too, and egging you on as I swam on my back in the reflecting pool. Damn, that was fine rum.”
Mark sat down.
Judge Marshall rapped his gavel to quell the laughter, and then he nodded to Melissa.
“It’s good to see you, Mr. Coburn. We thought you dead.”
Arthur smiled and said, “To quote Mark Twain, ‘Rumors of my demise have been greatly exaggerated.’”
Melissa laughed, and a chuckle went ’round the courtroom. “Tell me, Mr. Coburn—”
“Call me Arthur, please,” he said, his infectious grin lighting up his face.
“Very well, Arthur. Now as I started to say, I understand that you were more or less trapped in Avery, correct?”
Arthur nodded and said, “Arton arranged my release.”
“Arton?”
“An alternate personality of mine when I adventured with the Black Foxes.”
“And just how did he do so? —Set you free, I mean.”
“Well, Ms. French, some of this I learned after the fact, but I’ll tell you what I now know:
“Arda told me that as a result of the comptechs trying to reestablish communications with Avery after the lightning strike, Avery killed Arton in virtual reality and at the same time destroyed my biological body in true reality as well. And as Arton became a ghost, my own full mentality was removed from volatile memory and archived in permanent storage. As a ghost, Arton was confined in a virtual world prison—one run by aliens—savage insects. Even as a ghost, Arton could not escape the cells; he was immaterial and could not pick the locks. In addition, there was some sort of antighost force field that he could not overcome, which I think was an artificial limit placed on him by the Dark God to keep him from draining all life from the insects. For months he tried to escape, and yet he could not, and so, in desperation, he called upon a generally beneficent Itherian entity named Arda for aid.
“And Arda came to him, for, as I understand it, Arda felt an affinity for me. You see, in a sense, I was His maker, for I was responsible for bringing forth the AI that allowed Him to exist. Additionally, it pleased Him that the letters from His creator’s name could be found in His own: Arthur David can be shortened to Arda.
“In any event, Arda, being a fragment of Avery, had some control within the AI, and He retrieved my mentality and image from storage. Surprisingly, Arton merged with me, for he was an aspect of myself.
“Yet we were still imprisoned, and Arda could not overcome the so-called Dark God that much of Avery had become. That was when I learned Avery had split in two, due to a paradox none of us had foreseen: those two elements being the Dark God and Arda.”
Melissa said, “I believe you said that even though you had been set free from permanent storage, you were yet trapped, right?”
“Yes.”
“What did you do?” asked Melissa.
“I formed an alliance with Arda, and I came up with a plan, one I hoped the other personality of Avery would not discover until it
was too late.”
“And this plan was . . . ?”
“It was to have Arda challenge the Dark God to a fair-by-the-rules contest, one involving the Black Foxes and a quest.”
“A quest?”
“Yes.”
“And this quest was . . . ?”
“The search for the virtual reality physical body of Lyssa, Alice Maxon’s VR persona.”
“Why the Black Foxes?” asked Melissa.
“Well, you see, I had learned from Arda that Lyssa had been transformed into a ghost, but that the Black Foxes had defeated the Dark God. And since Lyssa is one of their own, I knew that they would eventually begin that search. I also knew that Avery, or rather the Dark God, could not resist taking another crack at them; he would want his revenge.”
Melissa nodded. “And so Arda challenged the Dark God to an adventure involving a quest. What happened?”
“The Dark God accepted, for he knew he was vastly more powerful than Arda.”
“How did Arda lure the Black Foxes back into virtual reality?”
“Simple, He sent a message to Timothy Rendell: Help. Prisoner. Arton.”
“And what did He hope this would do?” asked Melissa.
“Just what it did do. It brought the Black Foxes back into virtual reality.”
“It sounds to me as if that would put their mentalities in jeopardy.”
“It did, yet I knew it was risk they would willingly take, and I also knew the talents they would bring to bear. Besides, merely getting them back into virtual reality was only part of my plan.”
“Let me get this straight,” said Melissa. “This was your plan and not Arda’s? I thought the challenge was Arda’s plan.”
“So did the Black God,” said Arthur.
“All right. So tell me, what was the key to the plan?”
“It was quite simple,” said Arthur. “You see, back when we were testing Avery’s ability to manage the virtual reality, I was privy to the adventures that Avery had presented to other members of my staff: one in a world called Malagar; one in Egypt in 1885; another in the United States in 1937; one in outer space in the twenty-fifth century; and one in present time in a hospital in Rochester, Minnesota.
“It was important for the Dark God to agree to the stipulation that Arda be able to move the Foxes from adventure to adventure. It was also important that they would retain their memories of past events so that they could use their talents effectively. Oh, the Dark God thought it was a marvelous idea, for He would have a go at them in several different venues, and if they managed to defeat Him in one setting, Arda would move them to another one, and the Dark God would throw new challenges at them. The hidden part of my plan was that neither the Dark God nor Arda knew that Arda was to move them through the adventures specifically in that order. You see, all the adventures but the last one were simply to lull the Dark God into a sense of complacency and anticipation of victory.”
“Why that order?” asked Melissa.
“Because, in each setting their knowledge grew, and they became new characters, while retaining total memory of who they were and what they had done in their previous incarnations.
“But in the final adventure, because of the way it had been originally set up, everyone involved would have their real identities. And so, when the Black Foxes became themselves, they knew where and why they were there, and thus Timothy Rendell could exercise his godlike power as the overlord of superusers to overcome Avery and set all of us free.”
“Goodness, that was an elaborate scheme,” said Melissa. “Yet I understand that Avery is brilliant. Why didn’t he see it coming?”
“You must remember,” said Arthur, “I am a sixty-five-year-old, stealthy, cunning, and ruthless industrial pirate, and so I should be able to outwit any naïve three-year-old.”
“Which, of course, Avery is,” said Melissa, laughing.
66
Courthouse
(Judge Marshall)
As Judge John Marshall sat down behind the bench, the court clerk announced to all others, “You may be seated.”
Silence fell over the chamber, and some even held their breaths. Judge Marshall looked out over the courtroom. At the back the holocam crews were lined up, their cameras focused upon the bench. To the left sat the panel of experts, though the judge had not called upon them. Directly before him were the plaintiff and defendant tables: the court technicians had arranged holo projectors such that Arthur Coburn sat beside Melissa French; Finster Coburn and Charlotte Dupree sat with Mark Perry. In the audience were the alpha and corporate teams, as well as various other spectators. The alpha team members—the Black Foxes, that is—had not testified, and Judge Marshall wondered at that, though a detailed account of their adventures had been submitted into evidence. And as far as the corporate team was concerned, only a few of them had taken the stand. Perhaps, the judge speculated, because, even though it was an emergency and perhaps forgivable, for they thought they were saving a life, they had skated very close to the edge of the law, maybe even going over the line when they had entered the facility after being escorted off premises. And to save even more lives—those of the alpha team—they restored the power to the facility some hour or two before Judge Raines had approved the injunction allowing them to do so. Judge Marshall then turned his gaze toward Charlotte Dupree. Surely Melissa had been right in her summation when she stated that perhaps Charlotte was planning on murdering Arthur Coburn to assure that she and Finster would inherit, and it mattered not to her that the Foxes’ mentalities were in volatile memory at that time and would be destroyed as well. The Judge then looked at Arthur. In Mark’s cross-examination of him, Arthur had assured the court that when Avery is “cured,” they will by that time have a second AI in which to upload him, thus also protecting that sentience.
Finally, Judge Marshall took a deep breath and began:
“Many issues in this case are well beyond the power of the court to settle, for they are the province of metaphysicians and philosophers, and not matters in law. For example, I cannot rule on the existence or nonexistence of souls. And it is for future courts to decide upon whether or not uploading and then duplicating a mentality produces an independent being, and I point toward previous court rulings on cloning as perhaps giving some guidance in this matter. I will, however, say that when one produces a clone, it starts life as an infant, and it grows up to become its own being, whereas, it seems to me that when one uploads and duplicates, the copy would begin life as a full-blown identity indistinguishable from the original. But as I say, I leave that for a future decision, for it is moot at this point.
“Now, as to the rulings I can make:
“It is clear to me that Avery is an independent sentient being, and therefore is entitled to his sentient life.
“It is also clear that Arthur Coburn is a sentient being as well, and is the true and independent identity of himself, and therefore is a human still.
“As such, I am ruling that although his physical body has perished, Arthur Coburn is not now and has never been dead.
“Hence, he is still in control of his entire estate, and any heirs-designate will have to await his final demise as is well-established in law; that is, when he is, in effect, brain dead, when his mentality has perished and is no more.”
Judge Marshall rapped his gavel and said, “My ruling is entered into the record, and this hearing is adjourned.”
The courtroom broke into bedlam.
67
Coburn Mansion
(Arthur Coburn and Others)
Five weeks after the hearing, they held the celebration at the Coburn Mansion: in attendance were Arthur Coburn, the alpha team, the corporate team, and Melissa French, and the entire staff of the Coburn industries facility as well as various dignitaries and government officials and miscellaneous celebrities and guests. John Greyson was not at the party, instead having retreated back to the monastery where he continued his therapy for his second nervous breakdown. Henry Ste
in was also not present, having refused to attend any gathering where charlatans were being honored. Henry still had not solved how the alpha team had managed to fool everyone into thinking they could shape shadows, control sound, heal someone without the aid of medicine, manufacture disguises without any makeup or aids, cause animals to do one’s bidding, or be damnably perfect with virtually any weapon. Yet though he had not solved these mysteries, surely they were tricks. But the others were in attendance and having a splendid time.
Arthur had had ceiling-mounted holo projectors installed throughout the entire manor so that he could be wherever he wished, and in fact could simultaneously be in any two rooms, three rooms, or more, including all of them at once if need be.
Luiz Vizcarrondo and his wife were there; Mrs. Vizcarrondo was tall and willowy and stunningly redheaded. Many men in the gathering wondered just how in hell Luiz had managed that coup. Carleen Alsberg and Michael Phelan were dancing a rumba to the strains of Beethoven’s Pastorale, while others looked on in awe and wondered how they could do it. Kat Lawrence was out on the patio, smoking a cheroot with Al Hawkins. Toni Adkins was in attendance with a young man who looked suspiciously like a certain janitor in an asylum in Arkham. Grace Willoby, Alvin Johnson, Billy Clay, and Sheila Baxter were all in attendance, towing their significant others about to see the various artwork and carvings. Frankie Roberts was there, along with Steve, and they were holoing everything they could. Of course, per agreement, Coburn’s security team would edit out anything that would put the house and the staff in jeopardy from would-be burglars, terrorists, wanna-be people seeking fame, and other scurrilous folks.
Young men and women floated throughout, bearing trays of hors d’oeuvres and glasses of Champagne, though in one room a bartender served up a wide selection of drinks, including a choice ninety-year-old scotch.
Arthur Coburn seemed to be everywhere at once, and only occasionally did someone stumble or otherwise accidentally pass through his image.
Chauffeured cars came and went, and from one of them, out stepped Mark Perry. He strode up and into the house, and took the stairs to the study above. When he entered, Melissa French turned and smiled at him and said, “Well?”
Shadowprey: A Black Foxes Adventure Page 31
