“I’m not saying a word.”
“Officer Jenny, put him in restraints,” said Iglyztin, as he turned and faced the temporary deputies. “Search the whole factory. If they are here, I want them found.”
Mattern glared at me as Jenny secured his wrists and frog-marched him toward the assembly line. I followed and joined in the search, but the factory wasn’t all that large, and we scoured every inch in less than an hour. Neither Kurland nor the android were to be found.
Lielischkies was back after helping with the interviews in the cafeteria. “They don’t know anything,” he said. “They were told to report to the cafeteria when they arrived for work this morning.”
He said to Iglyztin, “Whatever Kurland and Mattern were up to, it was away from them and their line of sight.”
“Are there any hidden rooms we may have missed?’ Ivan asked Jenny.
“No, I would detect them,” she said. “They are not here.”
“Hmm, I wonder where the Hurensohn went?” said Lielischkies. “There are no places with life support outside the domes. The mines certainly don’t have any.”
“You forget about the old landing area where Davis-Seale lives with Elena,” I said. “Are there any other places like that?”
“Not that I can recall, but that doesn’t mean there aren’t,” said Lielischkies.
Cindy walked up to us. “Can we resume operations?”
Ivan looked at her. “Can you? Without Mister Kurland?”
“We have androids on the line, and a number of repairs,” she said. “We can resume limited operations.”
“Who is Kurland’s second-in-command?” asked Ivan.
“No one,” she said. “He has always maintained direct control.”
“No,” said Ivan. “This facility is part of a crime scene investigation. Have Mister Kurland come to me for permission to reopen.”
“Very well. I will contact you when he contacts me.” She turned and left.
I talked to Lielischkies as we donned our pressure suits outside the airlock.
“Dang, Iglytzin is taking charge, I’m impressed.”
“He was an investigator with the militsiya before being assigned to the space program,” said Lielischkies.
“Huh? I didn’t think—”
“That he was efficient? He’s been my personal, as you would say, ‘enforcer.’ He always put on that jovial air because you Westerners think all hulking Russian men are little more than tame bears.”
He looked at me like he was trying to gauge my reaction.
“Excellent, now I know we’ll get Kurland!” I said.
“That was my feeling, also,” said Lielischkies, with a big smile.
Chapter Twenty-one
When I got back at my office, things were in an uproar. I had to press past the gaggle of media crammed in the corridor outside. They all shouted questions at me, which I ignored. Inside the phones were ringing off the hook, and the teletype was clattering non-stop. The office was permeated with the smell of sweat and burnt coffee.
Even unflappable Sherry seemed to have flapped a bit.
“You’ve turned the Dome into an angry beehive,” said Sherry. “Everyone is talking about the ‘coup.’ People said Coltingham had it coming, and they can’t believe Kurland is on the run. And there’s a message from Admiral Heinlein that just came in on the teletype.”
She handed it to me.
“Usual suspects in an uproar. Nothing that can’t be handled,” it read. “Obviously some brass from the cannon rubbed off on you.”
My pager went off. “I don’t recognize this number at all,” I said.
I went into my office to dial it. The connection was very poor, and the voice sounded very tired—and sad.
“Mister Shuster, this is Elena. Mark is very sick, and in great pain. The end is near.”
“I’ll send someone out to pick you both up, immediately, and bring you to the hospital,” I said.
I told Sherry to make a reservation at the hospital, and then called to arrange a couple of robots to go out in a ground crawler and pick them up.
Sherry turned the volume up on a television in the corner. “There’s a protest underway outside Campagna’s.”
“What are they protesting?”
“You. They are businessmen protesting your new regulation.”
There was a young man with curly hair and a long, dark beard behind a makeshift podium.
“This outlander is trying to tell us true Martians how to run our own businesses,” he shouted into the microphones. “And he’s making wild claims about androids and robots that are ridiculous.”
“I am?” I asked no one in particular.
“They have kowtowed to Kurland for so long they can’t do anything else,” Sherry said. “They are betting he’s still going to come out on top after all this. Remember, they’re probably making good money off the android sex trade.”
“Money is an excellent lubricant for the machinery of corruption,” I said.
A man I recognized from the Bluegrass café raised a fist. “Robots are machines. They have no rights. They have no feelings,” he shouted.
“We use them like we want to,” shouted another.
“As it should be,” shouted yet another. And the crowd cheered and applauded in support.
“You know what, I’m stealing a trick from Professor S.I. Hayakawa,” I said. “I’m going out there to see if they have the nerve to say that to my face.”
“You’re kidding?” asked Sherry.
“No. They think Kurland is protecting them, but he’s on the run now. I’m going to get in their faces.” I turned and scooted out the door.
I was in Dome Three in 20 minutes, and I could hear the rally from far away.
Officer Jenny met me as I exited the transport station outside. “Constable Iglyztin asked me to protect you. Sherry called him.”
“That’s fine,” I said. “Follow me.”
As we approached the back of the crowd, some people turned and were obviously shocked to see me there. The crowd parted as their voices dropped off, everyone watching me. There was a television cameraman taking in the whole scene.
I walked up to the ringleader. “You didn’t invite me to your hootenanny.”
He looked startled but quickly regained his composure. “We want you to rescind your amendment,” he said. “We should be free to use our androids and robots as we see fit.”
“That may happen later. For now, there’s a moratorium until a full inquiry is done,” I said. “It is my responsibility to help protect our health and safety. And I’d like to ask for your cooperation.”
The protest leader was puzzled. “You would?”
“Yes, I’m sorry I had to order the moratorium so suddenly, but there seemed to be an emergency developing.” I turned to face the crowd. Everyone was listening.
“I could use your help sorting out the problem,” I said, adding. “We know there is some problem. Right?”
There were a few cries of affirmation, especially from some women on the sidelines.
Then a red-faced man burst out of the crowd. Even at a distance he reeked of alcohol.
“You damn piss-ant bureaucrats cain’t tell us what to do with our property,” he shouted. He lurched forward and showed he had an android in tow. It was the St. Pauli Girl I’d seen in the Hideaway my first night on Mars.
“Ah, Bill Jenkins,” I said. “Free on bail. Aren’t you up on manslaughter charges?”
He lunged forward, but a few “friends” held him back.
“Don’t, Bill, he’s the man!” one said.
“You think you’re so damn smart, but you’re not. We’ll show you!” Bill yelled.
The demonstration leader spoke evenly to the man. “Now Bill, don’t go making trouble,” he said. “You’re all wound up.”
“I’m loaded, too,” he shouted. “But not drunk enough not to know my rights, and this android belongs to me and I can do whatever I want to it!
“I j
ust wanted it to serve drinks, but now you’re saying I’m a pimp, too! I never let it leave the bar. It cost me thousands of dollars. Don’t you think I want to protect my investment?”
He jabbed a finger in my direction. “You’re telling me now I can’t use her!”
“I said no such thing. I said service androids cannot work alone.”
“What’s the difference? You think you’re such hot shit, but I tell you, if a robot gets too big for its britches, just trash it and buy a new one. I got the money. I’ll tell you what,” he said as he waved a finger in my face. “Nobody’s got a problem screwing robots! They don’t have feelin’s. They don’t care. They’re damn machines! Just damn machines. I’ll show you!”
He turned to the android. “Kneel down!”
She did. He pulled a hip flask out of his back pocket, unscrewed the cap, and poured it over her. It stunk to high heaven.
The bystanders jumped back. “Shit, that’s Martian Moonshine,” one yelped. “Be careful.”
“That crap’s flammable,” yelled another.
“Bill, you’ve made your point, they’ll do whatever they’re told,” the speaker said. “Stop it!”
“Not yet,” he said, as he pulled out a Zippo lighter.
“Bill, don’t!” shouted the protest leader.
A bunch of people, myself included, jumped back. Jenkins’s face contorted in hate as he tossed the lighter on the android, and crinoline petticoat of her fluffy German costume ignited immediately. She kneeled there, impassive, as the flames quickly engulfed her, sending a thick column of smoke upward. Her clothes, hair, and then her silicone skin began to melt.
Everyone began to back away in horror.
Jenkins turned to face us and waved his hands. “See, it’s only a damn machine, it doesn’t care! Burn it up. It just sits there. It doesn’t care.”
The leader of the rally was backing away, as the cameras rolled for the live television feed.
“Oh, this is revolting,” I said as I backed away from the flames.
I looked over to Officer Jenny and saw something I didn’t like in her eyes, like a spark of some kind. People began to press their lapels and handkerchiefs to their face because of the horrid burning smell.
Jenkins yelled even louder at the people backing away. “What’s the matter with you? It’s not alive. It’s a pile of junk. It’s just a machine. I bought it and I can wreck it.”
“Drunken asshole,” someone said.
A reporter said to the cameraman, “Are you getting this?”
“In living color and live!”
There were a few women on the sidelines, and you could see their disgusted reactions. This is like a domestic homicide, I thought.
Jenkins had been shouting so loud he was gasping for air. Suddenly he grew rigid and straightened up, like he had been electrified, and then we all saw that two arms were clasped across his torso from behind. Burning silicone flesh dripped down the front of his shirt. He began to go up in flames himself.
“No, no, no!”
The android had stood up and grabbed him, and was shouting. She clutched him even tighter.
“No, no, no!” Jenkins continued to scream.
Jenkins tried to twist and turn loose of the android’s clasp, but she was too strong for him. They were locked together, and burning up together. I could see he was trying to breathe, but she had his torso in a death grip.
“No, no, no!” she cried.
The melting plastic of her outfit now made fiery streaks across his body. His hair and clothes were in flames as he began to turn black. I was transfixed in horror. Flames were coming from his mouth as the fumes from all the moonshine he had drunk ignited. The rancid smell of burning flesh, melting plastic, electric wires, and circuit boards clogged our senses like a fog. People around me began vomiting.
The rally leader shouted. “Somebody get a fire extinguisher!”
Jenkins continued to burn, his mouth open in a flaming, silent scream. The android had stopped vocalizing, and was rigid. Most of the bystanders ran away, as his roasted body began to slip from the android’s immobile clasp. I caught a gesture out of the corner of my eye. Whatever it was, it has been done by Jenny. She turned quickly and looked at me as she realized I had noticed whatever she did.
I saw an expression on her face I had never seen before.
She turned away and looked back at the grisly scene, and then pounded her first into her palm again. “Good for you!” she said to herself.
Two men came running with fire extinguishers, and after dousing them with CO2, tugged Jenkins’ body away from the android, which remained fixed and blackened. They looked over Jenkins and shook their heads. Someone brought over a tablecloth and covered the corpse.
“My God, what a fiasco,” I said.
“He got what he deserved,” said Jenny.
“I’m sorry,” I said. “Nobody should be treated that way.”
“I thought we robots were nobody!”
“That’s wrong, Jenny. Don’t blame all humans for what one defective model does. She was somebody,” I continued. “Whatever she was, she was somebody. Just like you are somebody. I can tell you another thing she was.”
“What?” she asked.
“A martyr.”
She seemed to think real hard about that.
Emergency medical personnel arrived on the scene, and more journalists arrived.
As the medical techs looked over Jenkins’s body under the sheet, I saw two faces I recognized walk up from the other direction to stand beside the burned android. I peered around and realized it was Axel and Sussudio, the two androids I had met at the church service. They looked at the burned out hulk of the android, and then lowered their heads.
The realization struck me like a blow.
Oh, dear God, they’re praying, I thought.
Jenny looked at me, looked at them, and realized what was going on. Without a word, she walked over and joined them. They stood there, heads lowered in prayer. I thought for a second, then walked over and stood next to them, my head lowered, too. I don’t know what was going through their positronic minds. I asked God for strength, and if the android had a soul, for them to receive it.
After the moment of silence, we all looked up.
“Thank you for joining us,” said Sussudio.
“We are sorry about the human, also,” said Axel.
“He brought it upon himself. This android, though, was a victim.” I paused. “I need to get back to the office,” I said to Jenny. “I need to take care of some business.”
“I want to stay here with them,” she said.
“Of course. To mourn the dead.”
“Yes, to mourn the dead,” she said.
“Is there a prayer for the dead?” asked Sussudio.
“I think I know one that would work,” I said.
“Please say it with us before you go,” said Sussudio.
“Yes, please,” said Jenny.
I closed my eyes to concentrate. “I think I remember it.” And we bowed our heads solemnly again as I began:
The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want.
Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil: for thou art with me;
Thy rod and thy staff they comfort me. Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of mine enemies:
Thou anointest my head with oil; my cup runneth over.
Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life: And I will dwell in the house of the Lord forever.
Amen.
They all said “Amen.” After a moment more, we raised our heads.
I looked at the three androids. “I’m sorry. That’s the best I can do.”
“It is enough,” said Jenny. “Now leave us. Please.”
I turned and walked away.
Chapter Twenty-two
Sherry looked completely stunned when I arrived back at my office. “That was the worst thing ever on television,” sh
e said. “Everyone is in shock.”
“There’s a bigger problem to face now,” I said. “I think the androids are about ready to cut loose.”
I told her about Jenny, Axel, and Sussudio and our impromptu prayer service.
“Jesus, we could end up like Haiti,” Sherry exclaimed.
“Haiti?”
“Yes, when the slaves revolted and threw off colonial rule, they massacred all the French.”
“The latent dangers of androids are why they are banned on Earth and the Moon, and now we’re seeing these fears may be justified,” I said.
“Constable Iglytzin called and said there’s still no sign of Kurland or the android Alexis Texas,” she said.
“He can only hide so long,” I said.
“Oh, the hospital called. They said you might want to go over there now.” She looked up at me. “I didn’t know about Mark Davis-Seale.”
“Few people did. He kept his relationship with the android Elena a secret. And he never wanted to leave her.”
“And all this time I thought he left to go to Earth for treatment.”
“No, he stayed on Mars … to die.”
“Are you going to go see him?”
“Yes, right now. He probably won’t last too long.”
When I arrived at the hospital, I was shown to a private room with a balcony overlooking the interior of the dome. It was as pleasant a room as could be found in the hospital. The view contrasted with the wires and tubes running between his body and the medical monitors and equipment, their chorus of beeps and humming creating an ominous soundtrack in the room.
Elena looked up but didn’t rise when I entered the room. She held his right hand. His vital signs filled a readout beside the bed. “They’ve given him a strong painkiller, and he’s slipping away,” she said. “It shouldn’t be much longer.”
I sat down quietly at the foot of the bed. “How long has he been like this?”
“The past four hours,” she said. “Every so often he opens his eyes and tries to say something.”
“Elena,” Davis-Seale said very softly.
“Yes, dear, I’m here.”
“Is that Dave Shuster I hear?”
She looked at me. “Yes, it is.”
“Dave, please come here.”
Another Girl, Another Planet Page 29
