by Vicky Savage
“I was promoted two years ago.”
“Please tell the court why your predecessor, Director Zarbain, was removed from that position.”
Canto assumes a concerned expression. “Zarbain was removed by the agency’s directors for his actions in returning Miss Beckett to her home earth against her will and for concealing the fact that she is a Transcender from her.”
Cathcart paces behind the podium. “Then the board of directors of IUGA did not condone Zarbain’s actions toward Miss Beckett, but rather punished him for them. Is that correct?”
“Yes. That’s correct. He was let go from the agency,” Canto says.
“Now Director, was it your province to fulfill the order of this court and offer Miss Beckett the opportunity to return to Domerica?”
“Yes.”
“And what were the terms of the offer made to Miss Beckett?”
“They were quite straightforward, actually. She would remain in Domerica for thirty days after which she would freely choose her own destiny.”
“Did you make this offer to Miss Beckett personally?”
“No. Because Agent Ralston had a previous relationship with Miss Beckett, I thought it best that he deliver the offer to her. He had previously been demoted, and I gave him the opportunity to regain his old position.”
“And according to Agent Ralston’s testimony, Miss Beckett readily accepted the offer?”
“Yes, she did.”
“Director, why was Miss Beckett not informed at the time the offer was made that a possibility existed that she would be assassinated if she returned to Domerica?”
“Because no such possibility existed at that time,” Canto says with a relaxed smirk. “Her loved ones and the rest of Domerica had presumed her dead for twelve months. Also, and perhaps more importantly, we never disclose to a subject predictions regarding their future. It would be a direct violation of our charter.”
“I see,” Cathcart says. “Now sir, I ask you, did you or anyone acting under your orders deliberately instigate a plot or conspiracy to assassinate Miss Beckett?”
All good humor vanishes from Canto’s demeanor. “Certainly not.” He gathers himself up with dignity. “That is not the function of IUGA. Our function is to guide and direct matters once a clear destiny path emerges.”
“At some point, did you send agents to Domerica to assist a group of soldiers from Dome Noir with their already developed plan to assassinate Miss Beckett?”
“Yes.”
“And when were these agents first dispatched?”
“Immediately upon learning of Miss Beckett’s clear destiny path.”
“What was the purpose of sending agents to join the Dome Noir forces?”
“To advise and guide them in order to ensure that Miss Beckett’s destiny was properly fulfilled.”
“In accordance with IUGA’s public charter?”
“Exactly.”
“Exactly,” Cathcart repeats. “Now, were you aware of this supposed alternate destiny of Miss Beckett to one day become the leader of the Transcenders and facilitate the downfall of IUGA?”
Canto flutters a dismissive hand. “We had been aware of it, but it was not a likely scenario since Miss Beckett planned to remain in Domerica.”
“Very good. And were the agents IUGA sent to Domerica ever intended to be actual combatants in the attack on Warrington Palace?”
“No. Never. They were present only in an advisory capacity.”
“What about the automaton who attacked Miss Beckett at the palace? I believe the Transcenders have furnished a photo and an IUGA ID number on this agent.”
“That agent’s shell was recovered and analyzed after the battle,” Canto says. “It appeared to our technicians that its programs had been corrupted or tampered with in some way. In any case, it was deemed to be a malfunction.”
Cathcart leans an arm on the podium, “What about the testimony of Lieutenant Hunter that he witnessed IUGA agents kill humans during the battle?”
“Not a shred of evidence exists to support that. I can only surmise that Lieutenant Hunter was mistaken. Perhaps he was suffering from combat stress reaction or something similar. His violent background in his home nation of Demonstadt is fully set forth in our filings. I urge the justices to review his testimony in light of those facts.”
Ted jumps to his feet. “Madame Justice, this is outlandish, No evidence regarding combat stress reaction or anything remotely similar exists in the record pertaining to Lieutenant Hunter, and Director Canto is certainly not qualified to render an opinion regarding anybody’s mental state but his own.”
Goodspeed leans forward across the bench. “Director Canto, please confine your answers to the question asked.”
“Yes, Madame Justice,” Canto says.
Cathcart makes an apologetic nod to the court and faces his client again. “Now Director, we’ve heard testimony that IUGA agents captured Agent Ralston during the battle at Warrington Palace. Is that correct?”
“Yes. It became obvious to us that this agent’s program had been corrupted. It was guilty of numerous violations of direct orders. Agent Ralston was dismantled and taken to the parts facility on Earth Z772 for further examination.”
“That is where its remains were found and removed by Transcender Police. Correct?” Cathcart asks.
“Yes,” Canto says. “But the automaton’s remains were never intended to be disposed of in the way they were—that is, placed on a refuse pile. I gave orders that the robot’s memory module, software, and main processor were to be analyzed to determine in what ways they had been tampered with.”
“Then the placement of Agent Ralston’s remains on a garbage heap outside the facility was a mistake?” Cathcart says.
“Most certainly.”
“Thank you, sir.” Cathcart pauses and looks pointedly at the Justices as if the issue is now resolved.
“Director Canto,” he continues, “how important is it to IUGA to retrieve the memory data from this automaton?”
“Goodness, it is of the upmost importance. Contained within that memory data is highly confidential information of IUGA regarding prediction model statistics. It must be protected at all costs. If this information fell into the wrong hands, it could be disastrous. Also, the data in that memory module is crucial to our investigation into what happened to this automaton that caused it to go rogue. It is vital to the public that this never happen again.”
“Director, is it possible that Agent Ralston could have rewritten his own code to provide himself with the ability to ignore IUGA orders and disclose confidential information to others?”
Ted leaps out of his chair. “Objection, Madame Justice. The Director is not a technician or expert in the area of computers or robotics. He is not qualified to answer that question.”
Cathcart quickly responds. “He has worked with automatons for thirty years, Madame Justice. He can certainly offer an opinion on the matter.”
Justice Goodspeed rubs her fingertips along her temple. “Mr. King’s point, that the witness has not been qualified as an expert, is well taken. I will, however, allow the witness to respond with a personal opinion, which we will consider in light of his experience.”
“Director?” Cathcart says.
“Absolutely not,” Canto replies. “Agent Ralston could not have altered his own program.”
“Why not, in your opinion?” Cathcart says.
“The whole idea is preposterous. It would take an ultraintelligent, self-aware machine to reprogram itself in such a manner. If this were possible, not only would complete and utter chaos result within the ranks of IUGA, but our entire human society would be threatened. Under such a scenario, machines could reprogram themselves to take over civilization.”
Canto leans across the rail of the witness box and speaks directly to the justices. “That is one more compelling reason why this memory data must be recovered and analyzed by our experts.”
“Thank you,” Cathcart says. �
�One last question, Director. Miss Beckett has asked this court to make the temporary restraining order against IUGA permanent because she feels her personal safety is threatened by the agency. Is Miss Beckett’s life or safety in danger from any agent or employee of IUGA?”
Canto raises his chin. “Of course not. That’s absurd. IUGA is not in the business of harming people. We are in the business of helping them. We bear no ill will toward Miss Beckett. We simply wished her true destiny to be fulfilled.”
“Thank you Director Canto. I have no more questions, Madame Justice.”
Justice Goodspeed looks to Ted. “Questions Mr. King?
“Yes, Madame Justice.” He walks to the podium with his notebook.
“Director Canto,” Ted says, “during its long history, how many complaints have been lodged against IUGA agents?”
“I’m sorry,” Canto smoothes his silk tie. “I oversee the entire IUGA operation—millions of employees, volumes of information. I don’t keep track of those exact statistics.”
“Would it surprise you to know it’s close to ten million?” Ted asks
“No. Not over the course of eight hundred years.”
“And on how many earths has IUGA’s charter been suspended or permanently revoked?”
Canto shifts in his chair. “Again I don’t have those exact numbers.”
“Does six hundred and thirty-five sound about right?
“Well, over the course of our history that isn’t such a bad number.”
“What if I were to tell you that three hundred and twenty-two of those suspensions and revocations, that’s over half of them, came within the last ten years?”
Canto’s eyes skate to his lawyers for help. He’s obviously unhappy with this line of questioning. “I’ll have to take your word for that, Mr. King. I’m not currently in possession of that information.”
“Hmm,” Ted scratches his chin. “And yet, you’re the Director.”
“Objection!” Cathcart is on his feet. “Mr. King is badgering the witness.”
“Mr. King, please refrain from commenting on the testimony,” Goodspeed says wearily.
“Yes, Madame Justice. All right, Director Canto, although I suspect you may not know the answer to this question either, is it not true that IUGA’s stated response to the majority of the complaints lodged against it has been that the agent in question had malfunctioned?”
“It would not surprise me to hear that. We employ over a million of these mechanical men. Failures in programming are inevitable.”
“Very well, Director. Then, since IUGA’s standard response to the vast majority of complaints is: The agent malfunctioned, would you concede that it’s possible a portion of these malfunctions or failures in programming were due to automatons altering their own programs?”
“No!” Canto is adamant. “As I’ve already testified, I do not believe that is a possibility, and the human race better hope that it is not.”
Ted shrugs. “Very well, Director Canto, let’s move on. Why was Agent Ralston originally assigned to Earth H87D?”
“He was shepherding, er guiding, a high value subject—a subject whose destiny was to eventually save that earth from destruction.”
“And who was that person?”
Canto ducks his head slightly and wets his lips “Chief Ryder Blackthorn.”
“That would be Miss Beckett’s late husband?”
“Yes.”
“And did it show up in your prediction models that Chief Blackthorn would be a casualty during the battle of Warrington Palace?”
Canto swallows audibly. “It was a possibility.”
“And was it IUGA’s intention to allow this to happen, knowing of his importance to the fate of that entire earth?” Ted asks.
“No. We had a rescue team in place to ensure that Chief Blackthorn would survive the attack on the palace.”
The breath abandons my lungs when I hear this. I had no idea they planned to save Ryder. I turn to Narowyn, clutching her arm. She shakes her head in bewilderment.
“So what happened, Director? If these prediction models are so finely tuned and accurate, why was Chief Blackthorn not rescued as planned? Why was he allowed to fall to his death while attempting to save his wife?”
“I can only surmise that it was due to the interference of Miss Beckett and the rogue agent, Ralston, as well as that of Lieutenant Hunter, who insinuated himself into the situation. They are to blame. Their actions would have thrown off all of our models. In such a case, there was nothing we could do.”
“I see. Well then, please tell the court, what is the current fate of that earth, now that IUGA’s rescue plan failed and Chief Blackthorn is dead? What’s going to happen to it?”
Lowering his chin, Canto mumbles something inaudible.
“I’m sorry,” Ted says, cupping a hand to his ear. “I didn’t hear you.”
“It is uncertain,” he says stiffly.
“Meaning IUGA does not know whether that earth will even survive in Chief Blackthorn’s absence?”
The Director studies his manicure. “That’s correct.”
“Thank you,” Ted takes a moment to check his notes, letting the point sink in.
“Director Canto, you stated that you sent agents into Domerica to join the Dome Noir fighters as soon as Miss Beckett’s destiny path became clear. At that time—at the point the agents were dispatched—what was the exact probability percentage of that destiny coming to pass for Miss Beckett? The probability that she would be assassinated?”
Canto rubs the back of his neck. “I don’t recall exactly.”
“Well then, approximately? Surely, since you dispatched the agents, you must know.”
“I believe it was somewhere around a thirty-five percent likelihood.”
Murmurs ruffle through the courtroom.
“A thirty-five percent probability? And you consider that a clear destiny path?”
“In some cases, it is. Yes.”
“Well, at that same time, what was the probability percentage that her other destiny path would come to fruition? The destiny where she joins the Transcenders?”
“I believe it was around sixty percent,” Canto says, looking at Ted and not the Justices.
Ted scratches his head. “Let me see if I understand this, Director. Your testimony is that there was a higher probability of Miss Beckett joining the Transcenders and taking down IUGA than of being assassinated by the Dome Noir thugs, but you sent agents in to facilitate the less likely scenario, thus raising the likelihood of its success?”
“Mr. King,” Canto says with an edge of distain. “Agent Ralston had already informed us that he was certain Miss Beckett would elect to remain in Domerica. After all, she had just ascended to the throne and was planning her wedding. That was an observable fact which had not yet been programmed into the models. We independently took that into account before agents were dispatched. Sometimes one must apply reason and greater knowledge to these prediction models and make adjustments accordingly.”
“I see,” Ted says. “Who decides what adjustments are made?”
“On a matter of this importance, I do.”
“Well then, Director, do you sometimes make adjustments in order to benefit IUGA and its interests?”
“Absolutely not. We have a duty to the public which we take very seriously.”
Ted opens his mouth, as if to challenge this, but he appears to think better of it and scrolls down his notes instead.
“Director, you are a very, very rich man are you not?”
“Objection!” Cathcart roars. “The Director’s finances have no relevance in this proceeding.”
“Oh but they do,” Ted says. “My intention is to show that Director Canto has become extraordinarily wealthy working for IUGA, and that it would mean a great deal to him if his livelihood were threatened.”
“I’ll allow it,” Goodspeed says.
“What is your annual salary at IUGA,” Ted asks, “including bonuses and in
centives?”
Canto brushes a hand across his shoulder as if to remove some lint. “Just over twenty-two million CD,” he says.
“Twenty-two million a year,” Ted says. “Then if the existence of IUGA were threatened, you would stand to lose a rather large fortune. Isn’t that correct?”
Canto’s lips form a tight line. “Oh, I imagine I could find another job Mr. King. I’m still relatively young.”
“Good luck with that,” Ted says under his breath.
