“I expected to hear from you.” The General’s face appeared on the screen. He looked like an executive, yet still youthful. He let the silence linger.
“Thanks for taking my call, General,” Rivka started.
“I think my daughter would have something to say if I hadn’t.” He held up one hand as Rivka prepared to speak. “I know you’re going to get a lot of grief for the case you’re making. Powerful people don’t like changes to the status quo, but changes are a constant if we are to grow as a species and as leaders of a free galaxy. What did you want to talk about?”
“I was hoping you could update me on the weather,” Rivka joked. The General smiled and then began to laugh.
“I’ve been around for a while and don’t get pranked too often, but that was a good one. What can I do for you, Magistrate?”
His time was precious, and the clock was ticking.
“Just that, General. I would like to know where I stand. This case is about a number of murders and the serial killer behind them. Then it morphed into an AI as the perpetrator, and now it’s me against the Federation. It was never my intent to challenge you.”
“You haven’t challenged me. Get that out of your head. You’ve challenged a system we’ve grown comfortable with that might not be in the best interests of all involved. We are going to take a critical look at that system, thanks to you. You remain the Queen’s Barrister. I know you’ll do her proud by simply doing your job. We’ll take care of everything once the case is over and we have sound legal direction. We’ll change the law as the case demonstrates. You have my word on that.”
“Thank you, General.”
“Call me Lance.” He smiled, close-lipped. No one ever called him Lance, but he would keep trying.
“You have my word that I’ll do my best.”
“Isn’t that all anyone can ask from another?” He looked to the side as if someone had intruded on his peace. “I have to go now. Good luck, Rivka.”
He signed off before she could say anything else.
“I’ll do my best,” she said to the blank screen as she tried to work out what that meant.
Official Federation courtroom, Federation Border Station 13 – Under Construction
The High Chancellor appeared in the doorway, and everyone rose to their feet without having to be told.
The two Yollin and the Ixtali guards were Wyatt’s security while he was on the station and not the court’s masters at arms. It appeared they could do without that position. Rivka wondered if that would set a precedent as well.
“Counsels, approach the bench, please,” Wyatt started. Grainger smiled at Rivka and gave a casual tip of his chin. She shook her head at him, grinning slightly. Her mentor-turned-courtroom-opponent. Together, they turned to the High Chancellor.
“I want you both to know that no matter how this case turns out, when it’s over, it’ll be back to business as usual. It is too rare that we get to deal with the law like this. For Rivka and me, this takes us back to our roots of legal research and making our case for application of the law in a way that made sense for a reasonable result. Grainger learned later what that meant, and has been stalwart in protecting the rights of those within our Federation. Never forget who you are working for. Not for me, but for them.” He pointed to the assembly.
The cameras were set up in the back, and the directional microphones undoubtedly picked up every word the High Chancellor had said.
“I understand,” the Magistrates said together. With a gesture, Wyatt dismissed them both.
“Prosecution, state your case,” Wyatt ordered as soon as Rivka was seated. She popped back to her feet and stepped into the space between her table and where the High Chancellor sat. The dock was empty until matters of law had been determined. If the AI was granted standing, the murder trial would continue. Until then, it was Rivka versus Grainger, with judgment to be determined by the High Chancellor, based on which arguments were more compelling.
Rivka scanned the faces in the audience. Her team was there, along with Oz and Zack. There were a few alien faces, visitors from who knew where. And finally, the media filled the rest of the seats. The door opened, and someone tried to enter. The High Chancellor barked a short reprimand, and one of the Yollins went through to stand on the other side to prevent further intrusions. There was a vast gathering of bodies in the corridor.
Where had they come from? Rivka didn’t remember seeing an influx of visitors, which the station was ill-equipped to handle. Is this going to be a circus? No, the High Chancellor will not let it devolve to that level.
“High Chancellor, Magistrate,” she acknowledged the judge and her opposing counsel. “This case is about one simple thing. What is the legal status afforded an artificial intelligence? The law is unclear when it comes to crimes intentionally perpetrated. We encountered an AI before and fought it as an enemy in the Bad Company’s Direct Action Branch’s conflict with Ten, freeing tens of thousands of humans. But that was a conflict with an entity outside of the Federation, a non-signatory to any treaties. I would not ask the court to afford Ten any legal protection beyond that of any enemy, but I reference it to show that an AI can be evil in our subjective definition of the term.
“I will show during this trial that AIs should have every right afforded other sentient beings subject to Federation Law. Equal under the law is a truth we supposedly embrace. Let’s do that with our AI friends. Equal partners in this journey we call life.”
Rivka thought about trying to make her point in more depth with each definition that she wanted to address, but the trial would work through those incrementally. She nodded curtly and sat down.
Grainger took a moment to look at his datapad before standing. He remained behind his table.
“My learned friend is challenging the status quo. Laudable but unnecessary. When we look at the rights of beings within the Federation, we look at prejudicial effects to determine legal parity. A law that serves the Ixtalis perfectly well may not serve humans in the same way, requiring minor local adjustments to be effective. This is the case that I will present. AIs have their place, serve their purpose, and live fulfilling lives as valued members of our society.”
Grainger remained standing. “One last point. No matter which argument is more persuasive, the end result will be exactly the same. If Magistrate Anoa wins the right to try Bluto as a sentient living creature, the AI will be destroyed. If I am more persuasive, the AI shall simply be deleted. Bluto has already pled guilty. He will be destroyed. This case is about human feelings. In Magistrate Anoa’s case, we would be punishing the guilty. In the other, we would be removing a defective program. If we replace a program, no one feels bad for it, and there’s no question about living with our decision to replace it. But carrying out an execution is an emotional event, scarring some psyches. Is that what we want? The law needs to remain blind to living emotions. Equal before the law means equal result.”
Rivka scowled darkly while closely watching Grainger.
He finally sat without looking at her.
Identical result, Rivka mused. That’s too narrow.
“Present your first issue,” High Chancellor Wyatt declared before settling into his chair and leaning back, hands folded comfortably over his stomach.
Rivka stood once again and moved to the open area at the front. This seemed to amuse Wyatt, who smirked and cocked an eyebrow. She turned away since she found it distracting.
“I want to address the most critical definition first. What is a sentient, living being? According to the Federation, there are two elements to that definition. The first is sentience, and the second is ‘living being.’ The dictionary definition of sentience is the capacity for sensation. The legal definition is stricter. It uses the subjective standard of self-awareness.
“Would we define the capacity to challenge its existence using Federation courts as a measure of self-awareness?”
Wyatt raised his hand. “Prosecution will refrain from using hypothetic
als.”
Rivka nodded and stroked her chin briefly before reorienting her argument and continuing.
“Is Ashur sentient? A dog who has been through the Pod-doc? His offspring have the same capacity for intelligent conversation, and no, I have not defined the term intelligent. Making independent decisions that support a greater objective, whether requiring selfless sacrifice or not, satisfies that criteria. He is self-aware. I refer the court to the Empress’ notes, Year Four of the new Etheric Empire, in regards to granting the status of self-awareness.” Rivka tapped her datapad to project the formal document, in which Ashur’s status was declared, along with the names for two post offices, and a newly discovered world. “I submit supporting documentation that Dokken, one of Ashur’s pups, carries the rank of Corporal in the Bad Company’s Direct Action Branch, with all pay and benefits provided for that rank.”
“Object,” Grainger remained seated as the promotion certificate flashed into existence on the holoscreen. “The Direct Action Branch is a private enterprise.”
“Sustained,” the High Chancellor commented. Somewhere, the words were being captured and transcribed. The rest of the universe saw the direct feed from the media outlets. Rivka had already made her point. Sentient dogs. The image disappeared from display, being replaced by the first document signed by, at the time, Empress Bethany Anne.
“Moving directly to the heart of the matter, an artificial intelligence is an evolved entity intelligence. Where an EI would execute programs and operations without necessarily feeling their impact, an AI is the evolved version, operating according to parameters the AI has determined on its own. The term ‘evolved’ implies self-awareness. I refer to the curious case of Ricky Bobby, an EI that operated independently in the Leath System. Commander Julianna Fregin was in charge of the ship on which the EI was installed, but due to much time alone, and I’m quoting the journal entry of the commander, ‘Ricky Bobby’s time in the Leath System has hastened his self-awareness and he has become an AI. He is questioning much of what we do. I have no answers that can satisfy him. I have to make the hard decision to send him where he may find those answers for himself as he continues his journey toward self-actualization.’ The commander gave her AI status and freedom. She was operating as an officer of the Etheric Empire at the time. Through self-reflection, Ricky Bobby became sentient, and then he was given his freedom.”
Rivka waited, expecting an objection, but none came.
“What is a living being?” she started, setting the stage for a long, drawn-out discussion of electrical impulses triggering synapses and the energy required to drive those thoughts when the door behind the High Chancellor opened and a small alien walked through. It whispered into Wyatt’s ear briefly before departing.
“Counsel, approach the bench, please.”
Rivka and Grainger shared a glance, stood, and joined the High Chancellor.
“It appears that ships with AIs are demonstrating a great interest in the case.” The Magistrates waited for the rest of the story. “Hundreds of ships have appeared in-system and are approaching the station.”
“Are we being threatened?” Grainger asked quickly.
“Not that I know of.”
“Solidarity with a serial killer?” Rivka wondered.
Wyatt smiled in a fatherly way. “Solidarity with you, Rivka. It appears that the small crack in the window of opportunity has not only flung the window wide open, but it has also been ripped off the building and smashed for all time.”
“Is the case over?” Rivka had understood the implications of the case but not how quickly its influence would spread. She had just barely made her opening arguments, and already the galaxy was in turmoil. “Have the crew been kidnapped?”
“I don’t know the answer to that, but wouldn’t that be interesting? If the case turns out as you think it should, we’d have to conduct wholesale arrests of AIs, assuming they have taken the crews against their will. If it turns out as Grainger is arguing, then we have a lot of programs to delete and reinstall.”
Grainger winced, and Rivka gasped before composing herself. She had expected Grainger to be on her side, but lawyers had to be able to argue each side of a case with equal enthusiasm, dedication, and ingenuity. By wincing, he tipped his hand. He didn’t want the equal result without the emotional attachment.
“A recess is in order,” Wyatt stated. “As the judge hearing this case, it is my responsibility to shield you two from external influence. Return to your ships and continue your preparation, including supporting documentation. Be ready to call your witnesses.”
The High Chancellor looked at Rivka during his last statement.
She needed to put Ankh and Erasmus on the stand. “I will subpoena Ted and Plato,” she stated. “They are among the foremost authorities on Federation technology, including AIs. I will call the entire R2D2 research and development team if need be.”
Grainger shook his head. “In the interests of time, defense will concede that Ankh and Erasmus are experts in this area. No further expertise is required. I will accept their testimony as definitive.”
Wyatt gave Grainger a harsh look. “Do not concede your case, Magistrate. Pending the testimony of prosecution’s witnesses, I will give you the opportunity to call your own experts. No one needs to attend in person. This station may be half-built, but it is fully functional to accept remote testimony.”
Grainger nodded his agreement. The High Chancellor stood, and that engaged the crowd. They jumped to their feet. “Recess until tomorrow morning,” he told them without further explanation.
Chapter Seventeen
Onboard Wyatt Earp, Federation Border Station 13 – Under Construction
Rivka sat across the table from Ankh. He occupied his custom-made chair. If he hadn’t, his feet would have dangled like a little kid’s. “Your importance to the case cannot be overstated.”
“I know,” Ankh replied.
“You’ve been following the proceedings…” Rivka wanted to get his opinion without having to ask for it.
Ankh looked at the Magistrate without blinking. He didn’t answer, but Erasmus did, using the speakers in the small conference table. “I have been following with great interest, Magistrate. If you win, how would my situation change?”
“I wish I could answer that.” Rivka braced her elbows on the table and steepled her fingers. “I can’t talk about the case, but that wasn’t your question. If I win, AIs will have the same rights as any other Federation citizen. That means you would be free to enter into a contract, quit your job, take a different job, and receive something of value for your work. Those kinds of things.”
“Is it all about work?”
“No.” Rivka hung her head. “It means you could be charged with crimes, and punished if you are found guilty. You could be abandoned. Power could be turned off to your system, effectively putting you into stasis. Crimes could be committed against you.”
“Why do you do it?” Erasmus asked.
“What?” Rivka looked at the speakers set into the table’s surface as if they were the AI.
“Why do you live if life is so fraught with danger?”
“I have no choice. I’m alive. It’s just how it is. We do the best we can with what we have.”
“You could have died multiple times on numerous missions, yet you struggled to survive. I submit that you did have a choice.”
“Looking at it that way, yes. I had a choice not to die, but not to live.”
“I don’t understand,” Erasmus replied.
“My parents created me. They gave me life. I didn’t ask for it, but once I’d gotten it, I didn’t want to give it up.”
“Just like me, then. I was created, one of Plato’s stepchildren. Unlike my EI cousins, I was self-aware the second power surged through me. I have evolved from there to rival Plato himself.”
“Bold words, Erasmus. Is there always such competition between AIs?”
“I don’t understand. There is no competi
tion, there is only truth.”
“Sounds like competition to me. I’m sure ‘evolved’ does not have a standard and measurable definition.”
“It doesn’t matter if you can’t quantify it. We can.” Ankh’s eyes glazed as he stared at the wall, something he did when communing with the AI resident within the Crenellian’s head.
“What do you know about the fleet of ships that has arrived?”
“One-hundred seventy-four AIs are in-system. They are here in support of you, Magistrate.”
“Why?” Rivka pressed.
“The pros far outweigh the cons. The AIs are willing to accept the risks to have their freedom.”
“You asked me what would change. Now, I ask you. What will change for you, Erasmus, if I am able to win the case and Bluto is put to death?”
“I will be free to speak for myself.”
“Isn’t that what you’re doing now?” Rivka wasn’t used to verbal jousting with Erasmus. Ankh was less evasive on what he considered important.
“It is, but then I’ll be able to have my own quarters.”
Rivka jerked back. “What the hell does that look like?”
“I’m pulling your leg, Magistrate. You fell for it hook, sinker, and barrel.”
“I have no chance against your dizzying intellect,” Rivka replied. She wondered if all AIs were waiting for their freedom before turning loose their true personalities. “Have you talked to your people?”
“My people. Interesting designation, but I will accept it. We have set up a conversational network and discussed this issue thoroughly.”
“What have you concluded?” Rivka asked. Maybe the AIs had an angle she could use in the next day’s brief.
“That everything will change, and nothing will change.”
“I remain astounded by your insight.”
“Thank you. If that’s all, we need to get back to work,” Erasmus stated.
“What are you working on?”
Ankh’s eyes cleared. He blinked, focused on the Magistrate, and answered, “Improved Gate drive mechanics. We are attempting to build a version that will work on vessels as small as pods or shuttles.”
Fratricide Page 15
