Expiration Day (37 page)

This was where Dad pulled it all together.

“Mr. Lloyd has said this dispute is all about our contract, and he's right. I could have made a strong case for Tania's humanity—after all, as a vicar, I belong to one of this planet's oldest institutions devoted to the study of what it is to be human. Personally, I have no doubt that for all practical purposes Tania is human, and has a soul.

“Annette and I received our fosterling, a teknoid fresh from the Oxted factory, and wrote our humanity upon her, with every look, every word, and every touch of love we gave; the love that made Adam out of dust, and made Eve out of the bone in his side. This is how you make a human—with love and tears. Nettie and I gave both in full measure.

“I stand before you alone. My wife is gone, killed, most likely, by the costly and extreme treatments she took to try to conceive a child of flesh and blood, and which she abandoned while we still had money left to adopt a child from Banbury.

“So Tania is all I have left of Nettie, and I dared to dream I might keep her, for she is no robot, but a human by any test mankind can devise.

“The witnesses this afternoon have spoken about Tania. Several spoke of her creative talents. My dear friend and colleague spoke of his dislike for her. But he did not consider her some sort of robotic chimpanzee. Men do not hate chimpanzees, and run campaigns against them. They only do that to those they recognize as their equals.

“Am I claiming Tania is a human? I am not.

“Am I claiming Tania is a robot? No, I am not.

“So this is where Oxted has broken the contract, because it did not provide what it promised. It promised to provide the illusion of parenthood, through a creature of robotic origin, with limited potential for development. Its whole economic model is geared around this device that is supposed to alienate its parents well before the end, so that they voluntarily return it. Accidentally or no, they provided Nettie and me with Tania. She does not have a teknoid's limitations—whether you love her or hate her, everyone who has met her agrees on that—she is far more than that. Tania exercises choice, remember that, in a way that teknoids cannot.

“Is she human? That's for God to decide, not this court. My own opinion is that she's something new, a lot like humans in many respects, and certainly so for all practical purposes.

“She is, at any rate, far more than the contract stipulates. It seems an odd thing, to call a breach for doing more than the contract requires. But it is as much a breach to overperform as to underperform. If I were buying oranges, say, and I ordered a boatload, but Oxted supplied gold bars, I might have to tear down my barn and build a fortress. It costs me, because Oxted has not supplied what was contracted. Or a closer analogy: I decide to buy a pet poodle, but Oxted supplies a Great Dane; my food bills will be higher, and my experience of walking the dog will be considerably more taxing. Similarly, Oxted contracted to supply a human-optimized pet, designed to trigger rejection. Instead they supplied a being capable of loving and hating, capable of being loved, or indeed hated. It cost me, and cost Nettie, because we built a loving relationship where none should have been possible.

“Oxted breached the contract, and I am requiring restitution, which is to allow Tania to live out her natural life, with me if she so chooses, but in any case to live out that full span.

“It remains for me to thank the court for allowing me to present my case. I am done.”

 

 

Perhaps I've shortened it slightly, but I promise you, Mister Zog, that's the substance and the essence of what he said. When he finished, he was weeping, and so was I—I'd had no idea that fertility treatments could have such side effects, and that Mum had risked all that, and yet had loved me, a substitute, so unreservedly.

Mum, I miss you so. I love your precious memory.

 

 

Mr. Simpson spoke, eventually.

“Thank you, Mr. Lloyd, Mr. Guest, and Reverend Deeley, for your submissions, and for the journeys you have each taken this court upon. You have presented me with much to think about, and evaluate in the context of—just—the laws of contract.

“Well then, the afternoon is drawing to a close, so I do not propose to deliver a judgment this session. Instead, I will call a recess. I strongly recommend that all parties unwind and relax. You have all done well in presenting all your arguments, but now there is nothing more that you need to do, nothing more that this court requires of you, other than to present yourselves back here at ten o'clock tomorrow, when I will issue my judgment.”

 

 

Surely, we've won. After that conclusion from Dad, how can we not?

And yet …

Dad cautions me.

“It's not in the bag, Tania. It's never in the bag. Some point of law that neither I nor Mr. Guest thought of. Our case is a long way from watertight, though the same can be said for Oxted's case, too. Put it out of your mind. We're here, and now, and tomorrow will find us when it wants us. Let's go eat.”

But we didn't have much appetite, either of us, and I barely remember what or where we ate. So we walked awhile, in companionable silence, through the last lights of London.

And, not too late, we returned to the hotel and sipped drinks in the bar.

After the intensity of the last days, the let-down hit us hard. Nothing could hold our interest, so in the end we just turned in.

“G'night, Dad,” I called.

“G'night, Tania. Sleep well. God bless you.”

I found the recording of “Coils” that we'd done at the music shop in Denmark Street, listened to that, then told my AllInFone to find soothing tracks until I was asleep. After a while, I drifted off.

{Dream}

Sleep is strange. A queer state, halfway between wakefulness and dreams, where phantoms stretch across the Styx, and trouble me.

Mum. Gray and lost, she grasps my hand. “Who are you?” she demands. “Your daughter,” I reply, but she shakes her head. “My daughter died long ago, one Halloween.” And she looks at me: “Your journey is long. You have barely begun.”

Amanda. Faded, wasted by disease. “Sing to me. There is no music here and the night is everlasting.”

Mrs. Hanson. In black and white, with her warrior husband beside her. “Out of choices, Tania? I hoped for better from you. Surely the Red Zone would hold a mighty Street Warrior worthy of your love? Together, might you not have conquered the world?”

Tim. I feel no surprise to see him clad as Bassanio. “Fair Portia's counterfeit!” “I am Tania,” I reply. “This shadow doth limp behind the substance,” he tells me, reaching for me. His embrace is chill, and leaves tracks of rime upon my breast. And then he steals Morocco's words, “Fare you well; your suit is cold. Cold, indeed; and labor lost: Then, farewell, heat, and welcome, frost! Portia, adieu. I have too grieved a heart To take a tedious leave: thus losers part.” I am left with the curious feeling that despite his words he has returned to warmth and light, while I am marooned in loveless, icy wastes.

John. His skin has been flayed from his body, and a domestic's dull steel is revealed beneath. Alone about his face a remnant of skin still attaches; the eyes, however, glow red, and where once sweet freckles adorned his face, now blotchy rust streaks crudely upon iron cheeks. His hair is gone; in mocking substitution a garish kitchen mop flops crazily from his crown. “Braggart Raven—did you not croak that you would vanquish the fear of death? How then, that, offered life, you named it death and fled in terror. Stupid Bitch!—you have learned nothing, save that now you fear life even more than death. So come, join us in death, and taste fear.…”

Dad …

No! Go away! Why are you in this company of ghosts? Where are you?

I wake in terror and confusion.

It is brightening. Dawn is almost here.

Friday, July 9, 2055, 10:00

I tried to get back to sleep after that, and may have drowsed, but can't say I slept properly. At least there were no more dreams, visitations, or what-you-will.

We were back at the courts well before ten. Both of us pacing nervously. Dad praying.

 

 

Ten.

Mr. Simpson entered.

His judgment.

“As both parties agree, this is a matter of contract alone. The matter of the humanity of Tania Annette Deeley is not addressed by this judgment.

“So we have to look simply whether the contract was breached, whether any remedies are due, and what provisions of the contract can or should be enforced.

“First I find that the contract has indeed been breached by Oxted…”

I punched the air, but Dad shushed me. “Wait.”

“… but that said breach was not malicious or intentional, but rather, the breach was accidental and wholly unpredictable.”

What?

“Second, I find that the contract is not voided because of this breach.…”

Dad's grip tightened on my hand, not in a reassuring way.

“This requires that I pay regard to the contract in deciding how to resolve this dispute. Here I note that the contract stipulates that Oxted may recall a teknoid for reasonable cause.”

Oh, no.

“Third, I find that the anomalous result of the Morrison-Bowyer Test constitutes reasonable cause for recall. Oxted has a right to investigate such anomalies in whatever manner it decides, even though said anomalies may not constitute any danger to the public.”

Oh, God, we've lost. We've lost.

“Fourth, I find no cause for extending the term of the lease. Specifically, while I find that an overperformance did occur, that overperformance of contract by Oxted does not constitute grounds for extension.”

That's it. We're scuppered.

“Before I award costs, does either party wish to make a statement at this point?”

Mr. Lloyd stood up.

“Oxted accepts liability for the overperformance of the contract, as per your judgment. Accordingly we accept our own costs and those of Reverend Deeley. We also offer full refund of all lease payments as full recognition and compensation for the consequences of that overpayment.

“This offer is made, subject to three conditions.

“One, in recognition of the work that Reverend Deeley performs in ministering and counseling his parishioners, that he shall continue in such work for as long as his health, age, and calling permit.

“Two, that he shall not publish, disseminate, or in any way discuss the proceedings of this case.

“Three, that he accept without recourse to appeal the recall of the teknoid known as Tania Annette Deeley, as per the provisions of this court's judgment, and the relevant clauses of the contract.”

“Thank you, Mr. Lloyd. It's better to jump than be pushed, eh?”

Mr. Lloyd smiled somewhat sheepishly.

“Yes, sir.”

“Well, Reverend Deeley. Mr. Lloyd's offer is more generous than I had planned to award, so I advise you to accept. In any case, there is no room for movement on conditions two or three, both of which I am legally bound to impose. Do you have anything you wish to add?”

“I accept the settlement offered and the conditions attached thereto. May I have some time to say good-bye to my daughter?”

No, Dad, no! You can't give up!

They're buying your silence with a bribe. Appeal, tell the world, do something!

Save me!

Save me …

 

 

At least they gave me an hour with Dad to say good-bye.

“I'm sorry, Tania. I really thought we could win. Those other lawyers were right; there was no chance, and I've thrown away the time we had left. I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm so, so sorry.”

“Dad, you tried your best—how could I blame you? Wasn't it worth the gamble, to risk a year, if the prize might have been another forty?”

That was what it boiled down to, that hour, in terms of what we said to each other. But why waste our last hour with apologies? We took comfort in the do-you-remembers.

Holidays together. Funny moments. Sad moments. Joyful moments.

Embarrassing moments. Proud moments.

I asked Dad what he would do now.

“Do? I'll do what I've always done. ‘
He has sent me to bind up the brokenhearted … to comfort all who mourn; to provide for those who mourn…'
”

“You'll meekly do what Oxted wants you to do?”

“No, I'll meekly do what the Lord has equipped and called me to do.”

“That's not fair. Why do you let them win?”

“If it's not fair, then God has all eternity to make it up to me. But I just see the lost and the broken, and I have to reach out to them. That's the way He's made me.”

“Oh, Dad, I can't bear to think of you all alone. You need somebody with you, and even if I could be with you, that won't be enough. And I don't want to be a fading photograph in a picture frame, watching you helplessly from behind glass, either.”

“You'll never be just that, Tan. I will dust you, though, I promise. And then I'll pick you up and talk to you, wherever God puts you. He has a place for every soul; that I know.”

“You need more than that, Dad. I'm trying to tell you something, but you're not listening. You shouldn't be alone. You should have someone with you, to look after you. A … friend. A w-w-w…”

I stumbled over the word, but Dad was there to help. As always.

“A woman? A wife?”

“Y-y-yes! And I know it's not my place to tell you, but I'm telling you. I don't think Mum would mind, too much.”

“Has she told you? No, she wouldn't. But she did tell me much the same thing, several times, when she thought she might be dying. But it wouldn't have been fair on you, Tan. So I never did anything about it.”

“I wouldn't have minded if you had…”

“Tell the truth, Tania. Don't spoil the moment with lies.”