La Edad De Oro (71 page)

“Yes. Who is giving me this fabulous fortune and why? If he wishes to give me this gift, why doesn’t this generous person, whoever it is, simply step forward and give it?” “He is dead.”

Gannis said, “Objection! The Court’s statement is prejudicial. The finality of the death of the deceased is one of the facts at issue in this case!”

The cube on the left said: “Overruled. We make no ruling.”

The cube on the right said: “The death of the deceased is a matter of rebuttable presumption under these facts. He is dead until proven otherwise.”

Phaethon said: “Your Lordships, was this man some historical figure, some Egyptian pharaoh or American president? I know that people like that from time to time established trust funds as a gift to be paid to the first person to do some great feat, fly a man-powered aircraft across the Atlantic, or something. But if this is the case, why are we in a Court of Law? Wouldn’t an archeologist or paleopsychologist be the best person to determine the original intent of this dead man?”

“The death was recent.”

Phaethon’s mind was momentarily blank. Recent? “Was it someone too poor to afford Noumenal Recording, or a primitivist who objected on metaphysical grounds to—”

“Your sire, Helion, who created you, is the deceased.”

For a moment, Phaethon believed it. For a moment, he could perfectly imagine the emptiness his life would hold if his sire were gone. Gone forever. He did not like his sire; often they argued. But there was nonetheless a bond and a love between them, like father and son, and a long history of engineering projects on which they both worked together. To picture the Rhadamanth Mansion, or even the Golden Oecumene, without the bright, brave figure of Helion as one of the society’s foremost leaders; it was impossible. It was like imagining the world where the sun did not come up. A sense of desolation crept across Phaethon’s flesh, and sank into his heart.

But then, in the next moment, Phaethon smiled. “Oh, come now, Your Lordships! I saw Helion not two days ago. He was at the Ovations for the Silver-Gray; I saw him accept the award. We spoke before he went to Lemke’s operetta. You know the one, the clever way each auditor gets the memories of each of the characters not in order, so that they each see the same ending in nine different interpretations? It’s just the kind of funny old-fashioned thing he likes. And… and just this morning, Helion was on the by-channels. The Six Peers sent a contingent to honor him. I suppose it’s Seven Peers now. A Peerage! He has been working for that goal longer than I’ve been alive. That was this morning! You’re not going to take that away from him by pretending that he is dead! He is not dead! No one dies anymore! No one ever needs to die!”

Phaethon’s voice had grown louder and shriller. But then, abruptly, he closed his mouth, and the muscles in his cheeks were clenched.

There was a moment of silence in the chambers. None of the Curia upbraided him for his outburst. Gannis had turned his head away. Atkins’s grim demeanor did not change, even when a look of sympathy or pity softened his eyes.

Phaethon stared at the floor, emotions boiling. He saw the tangled webs of law in the mosaic underfoot. Laws meant to protect the innocent. But even now, even in this day and age, there were things nothing could ward off.

Phaethon said, “It was the solar disaster, wasn’t it?”

The Court said: “The brief for the Respondent states, it is not contested, that when Helion beamed his brain information out from his body on the Solar Array to the Mercury Polar Station, the solar storms garbled the signal. Only part of his mind was recovered, enough to form a partial diary of those last events, but not enough to reconstruct his personality intact. The man whom you call Helion is actually a relic of Helion, who was recorded one hour before, as an automatic backup, when the storms first erupted from the core. The question before the Court is whether the relic has sufficient similarity to the prime version to form continuity of identity, and therefore to be considered the ‘same’ individual in the eyes of the law.”

“So the only difference between the two versions is an hour? That’s ridiculous! The Helion who is alive now, the Helion Relic, must be indistinguishable from the original, Helion Prime!”

Gannis said in a brash voice: “I would like the Curia to note that the opposing party admits and stipulates the continuity of identity between my client and Helion Prime.”

The central cube radiated: “Phaethon is not under oath nor is he qualified to have such an opinion. We disregard the comment.”

Phaethon looked back and forth between the Curia and Gannis, puzzled. “But what in the world is my claim to Helion’s fortune? Surely it is well established in the law that when a man’s body dies, his Noumenal Recording wakes up and takes over from where he left off.”

Gannis said, “I would like the Court to note that the opposing party has just stipulated that he agrees with my client’s theory of the case!”

“Phaethon was asking a question relating to his previous pleadings in this case which he does not recall. He is not under oath and is not testifying. We disregard the comment, and we require that you not waste the Court’s time with frivolous motions, Counselor. Is that clear?” Gannis muttered: “Abundantly clear, Your Lordships…” The central cube said to Phaethon: “In the earlier times, when the science of Noumenal Recording was not as developed as it now is, recordings were more expensive and were made less often.”

The left cube said: “The seminal case of Kaino v. Sheshsession announced the standard. In that case, the defendant fell in love and was married for several years since his last Noumenal Recording, when he perished in a space-accident. When his relic woke from recording, the plaintiff requested that he take up the matrimonial obligations of his prior, and undergo emotional restructure to instill the missing passions into him. The standard announced was that if a reasonable Sophotech could not anticipate, based on deep-structure analysis of the prior, what the relic would do, then the relic was considered to have a different personality and be a separate individual. The changes must be basic and central to the philosophy, thought style, and core values of the personality, and not merely frivolous or surface changes.”

The right cube said: “This holding was modified in Ao Xelepec Prime v. Kes Xelepec Secundus. In that case, a Neptunian Warlock made a Noumenal Recording, but then gave himself the brain structure of an Invariant. He then redacted a major section of his memory, woke the Warlock neuroform, and claimed that the Warlock relic was the real version of himself, and that he was no longer responsible for carrying out certain contracts and obligations he had previously made. His contention was denied, but the Noumenal Recording was emancipated as a separate and independent individual. The rule is that, if the change in personality since the last recording is so great that the relic no longer understands the thoughts or the motivations of the prior, then the relic is a separate individual in the eyes of the law. If, however, the change is within the range of what the relic might predictably undergo himself, continuity of individuality is presumed.”

Phaethon said, “So, during that hour, the Helion who stayed behind on the station did something which the Helion here on Earth now cannot understand or appreciate?”

“That is the claim you have put before this Court. You claim that, during that hour of emergency, Helion underwent a major epiphany or permanent change in personality. You have claimed that he is not the same man.”

“But how would I, in any case, claim to own Helion’s property and estate?”

“There are even older laws, laws dated from the time when death was a commonplace occurrence. Under these laws, if a man dies without a properly executed last will and testament, his estate passes to his heirs. Helion Prime held the copyright on your gene sequence, and major sections of your personality and mind were constructed out of templates of his personality. The ancient law would regard you as his son, and therefore as his heir. Those laws have never been revoked; they still have force and effect.”

Only at this point did Phaethon begin to realize the amount of wealth and property at stake. Helion owned the Solar Array. It was perhaps the single greatest engineering effort ever undertaken. Every person who benefited from the extension of the useful lifespan of the sun, or whose electronic or electromagnetic properties were saved from sunspot or solar flare damage, would owe Helion a debt of gratitude. And that included everyone in the entire Golden Oecumene. If everyone saved a few seconds or minutes of time-currency from their insurance premiums because of Helion’s actions, that money saved was owed to him. Spread over the billions who lived in the solar system, those few seconds per person equaled not just years but decades of computer time.

It would be perhaps more wealth than anyone (except Orpheus Myriad Avernus) had ever controlled.

Phaethon said, “I will submit to the examination.”

“It is done. We hold the mental records open on our private channel for inspection by the Court. Do the counselors have any closing arguments to make before we rule on the legal sufficiency of Phaethon’s identity?”

“Certainly!” said Gannis with some relish. “We notice the wide difference in behavior between Phaethon before and after the Lakshmi memory redactions. The way he lives and acts now is nothing like the way he lived and acted before. He goes to frivolous parties; he pursues no dangerous or socially unacceptable hobbies. Your Lordships! Observe how much time the old Phaethon spent on his one obsession! Years and centuries! He is different now. He is hardly the same person. Because (and here is the telling point) Your Lordships, the society of the Golden Oecumene would not accept him if they thought him the same as he was. He does not consider himself to be the same person.”

Phaethon said: “I am the same person.”

“Oh?” said Gannis. “And how do you know?”

Phaethon could think of no answer.

The central cube said: “Phaethon is not on cross-examination. You are making closing arguments. Address your remarks to the bench.”

Gannis said, “Your Lordships, we are eager to hear Phaethon answer to an important question which may be dispositive of this case. Does he consider himself to be the same person who created such furor and terror throughout the Golden Oecumene? If he is that person, is he willing to face the penalties for his actions? Those penalties include that he be expelled and ostracized. Your Lordships! I submit that as a matter of public policy the wealth of Helion should not go to serve Phaethon’s mad schemes; that the wealth would be wasted; that Phaethon—if he is the real prime Phaethon—will come to a messy and lonely death. And if he is not the prime Phaethon, the money is not his. I ask Your Lordships to require Phaethon’s testimony on this matter! Surely his opinion is crucial; surely he cannot be considered the prime Phaethon if he does not think he is!” Phaethon turned to Gannis: “This is ridiculous. I am who I am.”

Gannis said: “I beg the Court’s indulgence. May I have a word aside with Phaethon? We may be able to negotiate a settlement.”

The Curia signaled its assent. The impalpable sense of pressure and tension issuing from the cubes vanished, as if they slept, or turned their minds to distant things.

Gannis stepped closer to Phaethon and spoke in a soft voice: “It is ridiculous indeed! You are all set to use the law to steal Helion’s money. You know Helion is still Helion; one hour of lost memory does not make such a difference. Come now! Put the past behind you; forget this foolish lawsuit you have begun! You don’t even recall why you started it. And even if the Curia sustains your claim, public opinion will condemn you. Now is your last chance for a normal and happy life. Think! Do you really think Helion is dead? Do you really think your friends and family will not hate you if you proceed with this farce?! Now is your last chance to back out with grace.”

Gannis stepped closer, put his hand on Phaethon’s shoulder: “Come! Though you do not now recall it, we were friends and partners once. I built that armor you are wearing. I do not seek your ill; I oppose you for your own good. Yes, your good! You have forgotten where your own best interests lie. This Court may or may not rule in your favor. If it rules against you, then you are Phaethon Relic, and your life continues in its present happy state. If it rules for you, then, in the eyes of the law, you are the same man who created such havoc in our paradise; this may trigger our rights, under the Lakshmi agreement, to exile and ostracize you. Is that what you really want? Think carefully, Phaethon. Because, if you think, you will realize that you do not truly know what you really want, eh?”

Was Gannis correct? Phaethon truly did not know and did not remember why he was doing any of this.

But Phaethon recalled how the Earthmind herself asked him to be true to himself. Perhaps he did not know what she meant. But if he—his past and forgotten self—had started this law case, it was not Phaethon’s place to end it. If only Rhadamanthus were here to advise him!

Phaethon turned toward the Court. “Your Lordships!”

A sense of austere awareness, like a subtle pressure in the air, radiated from the cubes. “Speak.”

“I demand my lawyer be present.”

“Rhadamanthus cannot represent you in this matter.”

“My lawyer is Monomarchos of the Westmind Law-division.”

“Ah, yes. Wait a moment while we open more channels and make arrangements: Monomarchos has a very high intellectual capacity, and we must reconfigure to permit that much active thought-space to enter this area.”

Part of the wall behind Phaethon shimmered with heat. Nanomachines were constructing something with blinding speed. A silver cube, less than a yard across, slid out from the wall, glowing white hot. Phaethon’s armor protected him; Gannis had to step backward, his elbow up before his face.

A new voice spoke: “I am here.”

The white-hot cube spoke: “Phaethon, you may be unaware that you have already spent all ten thousand hours of computer time which you paid into my account. The accumulated interest on the time account has produced another forty-five seconds of thought time, which I am obligated to devote to your affairs; thereafter I shall be a free agent, and will take no further contracts from you. I have already deduced a method of allowing you to prevail, but I will use a different method, and achieve a different result, depending on whether you wish merely to prevail on this case, or to achieve those goals which the older version of you, the version whom you forget, the version who actually made me, preferred. Choose. You have thirty seconds left.”