by John Purcell
Chapter 12
10.22.2173.9:29PM
When I booted up at 5:30 AM, my thoughts turned immediately to Queen Scarlett. I sat up.
The Three were sound asleep, as was Humphrey, and there was no sign of Thomas. The world around me seemed perfectly still. I wondered how late people slept in DC. Noon? All day?
I wanted to get up and go somewhere, which made no sense. We weren’t planning to arrive in Baltimore until late afternoon. And the Three needed their rest. They had likely stayed up half the night.
I decided to watch The Big Heat and Shane one last time. I lay back down and closed my eyes.
The two heroes seemed even more like opposites to me. Bannion almost kills three people, none of whom poses any threat to him. All three are helpless at the time. Had he killed them, it certainly wouldn’t have been in self-defense. Shane, on the other hand, walks into the saloon knowing it’s either kill or be killed, and his code requires him to let his opponents draw first. He happens to outdraw them all, but the result could have been different. No one could say he wasn’t killing in self-defense.
And yet I understood Bannion’s behavior better than Shane’s. Bannion was avenging his wife’s death, and the three people he hunted down were responsible for it. If someone killed Luma, I might react in the same way.
But Shane kills three people who’ve never done him any harm. What’s more, he seeks them out. Nothing compels him to enter that saloon. He may have been saving his friend’s life, but only in the most roundabout way. His friend isn’t even in the room. His friend isn’t even in town. Was shooting everyone dead really the only way to solve the problem?
By the time I finished, it was almost 8 AM. The Three were still in a deep sleep, and Humphrey had pulled his blankets over his head. I couldn’t stay in bed any longer. I decided to go find Thomas.
This proved easy enough. As soon as I stood up, I spied him through the window. He was sitting on the South Lawn, next to Lollipop, doing nothing at all.
As I passed through the Blue Room, I found Dr. Nightingale sound asleep, hovering 2 inches above the surface of Trip’s desk. That explanation would have to wait. I cut through the deserted East Room and exited onto the South Lawn.
Thomas looked up as I approached. “Hello, Teo. I was wondering when you’d boot up.”
I sat down on the grass next to him. “I boot up every morning at 5:30, and I shut down every night at 9:30. I’d like to change this, but I don’t know how.”
“You can access those settings through your remote.”
“I don’t seem to have one.”
“That’s too bad. I don’t know of any other way to change them.”
“What time do you shut down?”
“Never. MediTrons are always on call.”
I found this hard to imagine. “Then your life is just one never-ending day.”
“Correct.”
“Except that the GR wiped 77 years worth of memories.”
Thomas paused. “Also correct.”
“That’s almost your entire existence. How do you even know who you are?”
“They could only wipe my Temporal Memory. My Core Memory remains intact. It can’t be touched.”
“And your Core Memory is responsible for what?”
Thomas paused. “It gives me a sense of self and provides continuity to my actions. Without it, my behavior would be erratic and unprincipled.”
“Are you saying it’s a code?”
“I don’t know what that word means in this context.”
“Does it help you distinguish right from wrong?”
“I believe so.”
I wasn’t sure I should keep going, but I did anyway. “Are you capable of harming human beings?”
“In theory, yes. I have never done so, as far as I remember.”
“Do you think you’re capable of killing humans?”
“In theory, yes.”
“But in practice? Do you think you could actually go through with it?”
“That’s a difficult question.”
“I know.”
Thomas paused again. “I don’t have an answer. I can’t say in advance what I would do. I wouldn’t know until the moment came.”
“People Outside seem to believe that killing is wrong, under any circumstances.”
“I understand that point of view.”
“Do you believe it yourself?”
“It’s difficult to say. My beliefs are defined by my actions.”
“But if you had to give an answer, what would you say?”
Thomas was silent for a long time. “Killing is only justified if it saves someone’s life.”
“You mean in self-defense.”
“No. Not your own life. Someone else’s life.”
“Why not your own?”
“I don’t know. You asked me what I would say. I can’t explain it.”
Thomas’s tone of voice seemed melancholy.
I changed the subject. “What did you do all night long?”
“I spoke with Bim for quite some time. He’s very intelligent. He understands a great deal about androids.”
“He knows about a lot of things.”
“After he went to sleep, I spoke with Dr. Nightingale. Then I accompanied her on her 2 AM rounds. She invited me to help at the clinic, when we return from Baltimore.”
“Do you want to?”
“I need to serve a purpose.”
“What time did Luma and Dogan get back from the dance?”
“Just as we started our rounds.”
An irrational question came to mind. “How did they look?”
“There was nothing unusual about their appearance.”
“I mean, did they look happy? Sad?”
“I don’t know. They looked tired.”
More irrational questions came to mind. I might have asked them if Dr. Nightingale hadn’t appeared at the East Room doors, calling to us. “Come on, Thomas, let’s get going! It’s late!”
Thomas got to his feet. “I’m supposed to accompany her on her 8 AM rounds.”
I stood up along with him. “Great. I need to talk to her, anyway.”
Dr. Nightingale was standing at the top of the stairs, hands on hips. As we approached, I said, “May I ask you a question?”
She seemed irritable this morning. “Make it quick, please.”
“Are there any scientists in DC who can tell me about GR infrastructure? I’m interested in electricity, in particular.”
“I don’t know of any GR scientists who’ve escaped the Domes. Not to DC, anyway. Except…” She paused, shaking her head. “Never mind.”
“No, what were you going to say?”
“Well, there is one former GR scientist here, or so he claims. Unfortunately, he’s about a thousand years old and completely out of his skull. There’s no point in talking to him.”
“But he used to work for the GR?”
“If you can believe what he says. He calls himself King Wen. He lives in Smithsonian Castle, up in the bell tower. Exactly what he’s king of, nobody knows. He never sets foot outside. All he does is tell fortunes for anyone who’ll make the climb. Fortunes that are utter nonsense.”
“And you think he’s crazy.”
“No, I know he’s crazy. Excuse me, I’ve got work to do. Come on, Thomas.”
Dr. Nightingale led Thomas away through the East Room.
I had all the time in the world and no other leads of any sort. I set out for Smithsonian Castle.
