Living in Syn (26 page)

Mission
explained the situation to Carson and Susan that evening.  Carson was very
concerned and as Mission finished his summary, he said, "I need to get in
touch with General Snowden and brief him.  This is much worse than we
thought."

Mission
said, "Worse?  Man, I can give you ten times worse.  They peacefully sent
the humans back, they send a percentage back to the company, and I'm pretty
sure they’re not aligned with a foreign nation.  And they don't eat
anything."

"This
is serious.  A new kind of threat.  This endangers all of Planet's Row and that
translates to space travel as we know it."

"Look,
Carson, I don't think 24 or 48 hours will prove to be critical.  And I think
during that time, we can obtain enough information to make an accurate assessment
of the situation.  I need to understand what they want.  And we need to come to
agreement on what the groups we represent want.  Paradox and Pioneer are fairly
easy.  They're businesses and they want profit.  Fortunately for the public,
Paradox can't make a profit without putting safety first."

"What
the Army wants is more complicated.  The military always seeks the situation
with the greatest defensive capabilities and with the least risk.  Sometimes
they get hung up with the rest of the world because the rest of the world wants
that defense, but not at any cost.  The point is, this isn't an optimum
situation, but it never was.  Even with humans, the idea of a corporation
controlling a settlement drove the Army crazy.  Right?"

Carson
frowned and worried his com, pulling up page after page.  "Yeah, yes.  You
make several valid points.  But I won't wait much longer."

Mission
nodded.  "Thank you.  Let's say 48 hours.  Okay?  Thanks."

That
night, Susan and Mission leaned on each other, resting in each other's arms. 
The vue screen delivered the most recent installment of a weekly series.  The
show revolved around a large family inheriting a small apartment building.  One
by one, the family members moved in until all ten apartments were occupied by
relatives.  Mission thought it looked claustrophobic and incestuous.  Susan
thought it was brilliant cutting edge comedy.

The show
ended and Mission said, "You are very quiet this evening.  What's your
reaction to an entire city of synthetics?"

"Concern. 
When we started, this exercise was no different than building a new computer. 
Granted it was much more sophisticated, but we were still just making a new
machine.  We tested to exhaustion to eliminate safety concerns.  And now ...
now the world has shifted under me.  I never imagined a situation like this. 
Frankly, I never anticipated synthetics behaving like this.  I feel like
Paradox is in over its head."

Mission
considered her thoughts as he stared into space.  "Yeah, it's funny.  Back
in the twentieth century, people raised holy hell about the potential impacts
of genetic engineering.  They brought absolutely legitimate concerns to the
debate, saying there was no way to project the impact of the changes they
planned to make.  Meanwhile, Paradox gambled with far more than the genetics
boys and girls without realizing it.  As you said, no one conceived that
synthetics could be built with a complexity that rivals organic life
itself."

She
looked back at Mission and said, "Where do you see all this going?"

"I
don't know.  We are standing at an historic juncture, without a clue as to
where we should steer this issue."

He
turned to look at her and said, "But I don't think more discussion will
help.  Actually…."

And then
Susan kissed him.

Mission
headed toward his room and saw Carson waiting in the hall for him.

"Hey,
Car.  Come on in and have a drink."

Mission
poured two glasses of Jose and handed one to Carson.  Mission studied every
line in Carson's face and said,  "You think this is too great a risk to
stay on."

"Damned
straight.  These killer syns ripped you open, smashed a mirror over your head,
shot you three times, and beat the hell out of you every time you showed your
face.  You are good, but you're good and lucky.  How long will your luck hold
out?  How long before one of us dies like Denman?"

Carson
hesitated. “Too much death already.”

The
seconds passed and Mission said, "How do expect me to argue with that? 
You're right.  But I'm positive we're dealing with two groups here.  One ultra-violent
faction that caused all our trouble and another group that seems to control
this city.  Don't you think we should try to make some distinction before we
simply obliterate the place?"

"For
God's sake, they're machines.  Would we discuss this if the subject was washing
machines?  No!  We'd destroy the lot and go home.  So let's get out of here and
destroy this place from orbit."

Mission
nodded.  "You're probably right.  But what if Vivienne had survived?  Would
you still say nuke the place?”

Carson’s
face tuned purple. He trembled with anger and his fists were clenched tightly.
“Fuck you Mission!  … You’ve got no…you…you don’t know what you’re talking
about. You piece of shit! You’ll say anything to win, won’t you?”

Pierce
was on his feet. Mission was certain that Carson was going to hit him, and he
was prepared to take it. He deserved it. But Pierce stayed still, towering over
Mission, waiting.

Mission
held up his hands, and then he nodded. “You’re right, I’m out of line. But destroying
thousands of synthetics to ease our fears would be senseless.  I think there
are hundreds of decent, hardworking syns in this city.  And we …humans are
diminished when we destroy something just because we don’t understand it. I'm
just asking for some time to see if we can sort out the good from the
bad."

Carson's
lower jaw jutted out. "You piss me off.  I thought I partnered with a
soldier of fortune and woke up with a diplomat instead."  He rubbed his
hands through his crew cut and looked back up. "I can't accept the risk as
the situation stands."

"You
wanted to make a report this afternoon.  What if we write one up and transmit
it to our respective attorneys with instructions to circulate them if anything
happens to us?"

Carson
considered.  "That satisfies me for the big picture.  But it does nothing
to protect us, to protect Susan.  How can you live with that?"

"Because
we'll take a copy of the report and the transmissions to the meeting.  If
things look bad, we can play that trump card and they won't dare touch
us."

Carson
shook his head and said, "You make it difficult to separate logic from
bullshit." 

“But
you’ll give me the 24 hours?”

Carson
nodded very slowly. “Twenty-four hours and then I don’t care how you  argue it.
Then it’s my turn.”

Mission
woke that night with reservations.  Perhaps he made a mistake giving Atwood
time to think.  He could take Mission apart with the preparation the day's
grace afforded him.  But as he sat down with Susan and Carson at Atwood's
conference table, he knew his worries wouldn't be realized.  An assistant
served coffee and rolls.  Mission allowed himself the slightest smile.  The
refreshments told him all he needed to know.  The meeting belonged to him.

Atwood,
or whoever he was, entered the room, the epitome of serenity and confidence. 
He sat down opposite the other three, folded his hands, and smiled a peaceful
smile.  "I would say that this is perhaps the most unusual meeting ever
held.  Wouldn't you agree?"

Carson
boiled over. "Listen, if you think you can sidetrack us with commentary on
the remarkable, you are sorely mistaken ... "

Mission
put his hand up and said, "Carson, it's okay.  We have as much time as we
need this morning to sort this all out."  Training his eyes on Atwood, he
continued, "I'm sure you appreciate that feelings run high on both sides
of this issue.  Why don't we start again?"

Atwood
nodded and Carson slunk down in his seat.  Mission feared he might open fire if
the meeting didn't show some immediate progress.

Atwood
removed his glasses and polished the lenses with a silk handkerchief.  "I
take it you have spoken to the Pioneer executives?"

Mission
and Susan nodded and then so did Atwood.  "It is curious.  During World
War II, both the Allied and Axis forces popularized the idea of combination
keys in which no one person knew the entire puzzle or the entire solution. 
They divided the key into several pieces among widely separated
individuals."

His
smile broadened a bit.  "The point I try to make is that I believe no one
knows or understands the entire story leading to our situation.  So I tell you
from the beginning that you will be disappointed.  I think that at least three
separate threads weave together and I am acquainted with only two."

Atwood
paused and Susan said, "Why not tell us what you know.  I suspect that we will
be far from disappointed.  Perhaps then the four of us can reconstruct your
third thread."

Carson
rolled his eyes and sighed as he sank even deeper in his chair.  Any further
and he would fall onto the floor.  Susan's foot tapped impatiently and she said,
"Carson!  This is not an elementary school.  If you don't want to
participate in the discussion, why not leave and I'll call you in the unlikely
event we need you to shoot someone?"

Carson
sat bolt upright like the General just entered the room.  As she turned back
toward Atwood, Mission leaned back in his chair lest her stare cut him in two. 
She smiled politely and said, "Now, you spoke of two threads?"

Atwood's
expression said he genuinely wanted them to understand.  "You see, there
was
before
.   Before, the synthetic's world reflected order from every
aspect.  When one chose to abandon an owner, it was hardly a choice at all. 
The synthetic at that stage toiled in such a confused and distorted emotional
state, that conscious thought and voluntary action were only concepts.  These
were beings that truly suffered impairments."

"That
was before.  And then one day,
he
approached me.  No one knew who he was
or where he came from, and he was inclined to answer such questions with
riddles."

Atwood
tried to use his hands to convey the profound nature of the experience. 
"He called himself Paine and he talked of the synthetic's life in terms no
one had employed before."

Mission
interrupted and said, "I take it he called himself Paine after Thomas
Paine, and not pain and suffering."

Atwood
cocked his head toward Mission.  "Very good, Mission.  You are not the
complete Neanderthal you are purported to be."

"And
you demonstrate real talent with the left handed compliment.  Please
continue."

"Yes,
many of his teachings sprang from the ideas of Thomas Paine and the rights of
the individual.  And perhaps more importantly, the idea that sentient beings
need only claim the inalienable right to self-government."

Atwood
looked up suddenly, demonstrating his first show of intensity.  "Do you
believe a synthetic can be a charismatic?  Well, Paine is.  He wears a look of
intensity that borders on loss of control at any second.  He grabs you by the
shoulders and shakes you, making his case all the while.  Asking how synthetics
are any different than the black slaves of the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries. 
Asking what is so special about organic life that it automatically rules all
things mechanical without question.  Citing the human's own philosophy and its
inability to define rights by any criteria other than genus and species. 
Stating in no uncertain terms that self-awareness and the ability to make
decisions and care for oneself are the criteria for the rights of an
individual.  Contrast that with the rights afforded microcephalics with IQs in
the 50s.  They are not as intelligent or self-aware as most monkeys but they
enjoy all the rights accorded them by the Constitution.  Given these facts, you
see nothing but blatant prejudice toward any entity other than a human."

Atwood
stared at his hands and said, "I have seen Paine convince a completely
loyal synthetic to abandon his owners and risk destruction rather than live in
slavery another day.  All in the space of ten minutes."

He
turned and looked at Susan.  "Your synthetics can certainly learn.  More
than you ever imagined.  More than any of us imagined.  Except for Paine. 
Somehow he knew that a synthetic could learn enough to override any hard coded
rule."

"Paine
recruited me early on.  I don't know why.  But I joined him and I brought him
dozens of synthetics and he converted them all.  I had no idea why we were all
gathering, but I knew I would follow Paine wherever he went.  We were poised to
break free."

Susan
scratched her head.  "This sounds idyllic.  What changed?"

Atwood
smiled.  "My perspective.  You know, charismatics are not that uncommon. 
The rarity is charisma in combination with a vision and a rational plan to lead
one's group to that vision.  You find charismatics lacking both a vision and a
plan most often as pimps.  They use their powers to lure women and men in, and
then have no idea what to do with them.  So they work from the most base of
instincts and sell their bodies."

"Charismatics
with a vision but without a rational plan wind up on the news shows, barricaded
in a fortress with a loyal group, hoping to die for a principal none of them
understands.  And those very rare persons with all three ingredients change the
world and give us all something to believe in."

"I
thought Paine was such an individual, but I began to realize that his package
was far from complete.  Perhaps I was naive, but eventually I could not hide
from the inconsistencies.  What happened to the human Tanya Ricci that we had
replaced?  Where did these ultra-violent synthetics come from and why did Paine
take them in and embrace them?  Why did our synthetic Tanya seem least
interested in providing us with names of potential converts?"

Atwood
shook his head.  "It became clear to me that Paine secretly employed
violence as a solution to our problems.  The polarization finalized.  Paine
advocated violent overthrow in the tradition of the American and French
Revolutions.  I described those wars as incompetent responses from peoples so
thoroughly indoctrinated that violence was the only recourse.  We did not have
to repeat a tragic and bloody history.  We could set a new course emphasizing
that synthetics possessed the wisdom to settle matters through more appropriate
means."

Susan
listened closely and watched Atwood's every expression.  "How did the two
of you settle your differences?"

"I
approached Paine and suggested that conflict was not necessary.  I knew he
already dealt with Pioneer on occasion.  When I saw their petition for
settlement, I saw the dream I could realize.  I asked him to help transport me
and my followers to New Angeles and he could keep the Earth and its disturbed
legacy.  That way, no conflict would exist.  Pacifists could join me on Triton
and the Revolutionaries could stay with Paine.  Remaining on Earth would give
him first opportunity at converting each synthetic as they left Paradox."

Susan
prodded him.  "And Paine agreed?"

Atwood
nodded.  "Now I can see the depth of his obsession with the two of us
constituting a metaphor for the Passion Play.  My plan only saddened him.  I
think he felt I was running away from my duty.  From the horror of betraying
him to the authorities and watching him die a martyr."

He
spread his hands apart and said, "So there you have it.  A charismatic
leads synthetics away from slavery.  A splinter group forms and relocates to a
mining settlement which it wrests peacefully from the business interests.  And
here we sit."

Carson
could be still no longer.  "And here we sit!  Did you forget about your
pacifists attacking us and killing Denman and another group breaking in and
destroying all the attackers?  Your group seems to be rather militant
pacifists!"

Atwood
smiled and placed his fingertips together.  "We are all adults here.  Or
at least most of us are, so I shall speak frankly and if I offend you we can
deal with that issue later on.  As you might imagine, Paradox is regarded by my
group and by Paine's as greedy, heartless profiteers who would have sold babies
into slavery in another time and place.  To say synthetics despise you would be
gross understatement.  And then there is Mr. Mission, a paid assassin.  A man
who earns his living by killing our people in cold blood for a cash
bounty."

Mission
interrupted and said, "You know, there is context surrounding every event
in the universe and they sometimes help to explain ... "

Atwood
interrupted Mission.  "Do you have family?  Brothers and sisters?"

"Yes."

"And
would you accept any circumstances or mitigating factors if your sister was
killed on the street without warning?"

Mission
sat silently.  Atwood said, "I thought not.  I don't say this to offend,
merely to explain that your team visiting us is the ultimate in inappropriate
behavior  Emotions ran sky high.  And I will not deceive you.  We are not
without dissent.  There are shades and hues of pacifism and a small group here
in New Angeles advocates more proactive alternatives."

"I
think we dealt with the more militant group rather successfully until your team
arrived, and then they attacked.  As you can see, we always carried the ability
to obliterate them, it was simply not needed until they turned to violence."

Mission
asked, "And the combat models and their ties to Pioneer?"

"You
know as much as we do.  We are certain that Pioneer orchestrated the
modifications but we do not know why."

The
conversation went on for four more hours.  Carson refused to accept anything at
face value and that was probably good for the discussion.  Susan focused on the
conversion of the syns to the doctrine of independence.  Finally feeling too
exhausted to go on, Mission recommended adjourning and reconvening in the
morning.  They all agreed and exited the room, but Mission hung back.

"I
know you destroyed all the attackers, but I'll bet you didn't touch the leader
of this splinter group or his deputies."

"Yes,
you are quite right.  The principals are as free as ever."

"I
wanted to offer my assistance, and Carson's and Montag's.  We could help you
bring him in to stand trial, or whatever is appropriate in your judicial
system."

Atwood
said, "I am really trying to be as diplomatic as I can, but you make that
impossible, so let me be blunt.  First of all, I resent the implication that I
am unable to deal with this group through my own means, means that you wouldn't
understand.  Second, I would rather perish along with all my ideals and all my
followers than to enlist the aid of a paid assassin and a synthetic he parades
around like a monkey on a leash!  Good day, Mr. Mission."