Tower of Glass

12





“Enough,” Krug said. “It gets cold. Now we go down.”

The scooprods descended. Snowflakes were beginning to swirl about the tower; the repellor field at the summit deflected them, sending them cascading off at a broad angle. It was impossible to run proper weather control here, because of the need to keep the tundra constantly frozen. A good thing, Krug thought, that androids didn’t mind working in the snow.

Manuel said, “We’re leaving, father. We’re booked into the New Orleans shunt room for a week of ego shifts.”

Krug scowled. “I wish to hell you stop that stuff.”

“Where’s the harm, father? To swap identities with your own true friends? To spend a week in somebody else’s soul? It’s harmless. It’s liberating. It’s miraculous. You ought to try it!”

Krug spat.

“I’m serious,” Manuel said. “It would pull you out of yourself a little. That morbid concentration on the problems of high finance, that intense and exhausting fascination with interstellar communications, the terrible strain on your neural network that comes from—”

“Go on,” Krug said. “Go. Change your minds all around. I’m busy.”

“You wouldn’t even consider shunting, father?”

“It’s quite pleasant,” said Nick Ssu-ma. He was Krug’s favorite among his son’s friends, an amiable Chinese boy with close-cropped blond hair and an easy smile. “It gives you a splendid new perspective on all human relationships.”

“Try it once, just once,” Jed Guilbert offered, “and I promise that you’ll never—”

“Quicker than that I take up swimming on Jupiter,” said Krug. “Go. Go. Be happy. Shunt all you like. Not me.”

“I’ll see you next week, father.”

Manuel and his friends sprinted toward the transmat. Krug rammed his knuckles together and stood watching the young men run. He felt a tremor of something close to envy. He had never had time for any of these amusements. There had always been work to do, a deal to close, a crucial series of lab tests to oversee, a meeting with the bankers, a crisis in the Martian market. While others gaily jumped into stasis nets and exchanged egos for week-long trips, he had built a corporate empire, and now it was too late for him to give himself up to the pleasures of the world. So what, he told himself fiercely. So what? So I’m a nineteenth-century man in a twenty-third-century body. So I’ll get along without shunt rooms. Anyway, who would I trust inside my head? What friend would I swap egos with? Who, who, who? He realized that there was hardly anyone. Manuel, perhaps. It might be helpful to do a shunt with Manuel. We’d get to understand each other better, maybe. Give up some of our extreme positions, move toward a meeting in the middle. He’s not all wrong about how he lives. I’m not all right. See things with each other’s eyes, maybe? But at once Krug recoiled from the idea. A father-son ego shift seemed almost incestuous. There were things he didn’t want to know about Manuel. There certainly were things he didn’t want Manuel to know about him. To swap identities, even for a moment, was out of the question. But what about Thor Watchman, then, as a shunt partner? The alpha was admirably sane, competent, trustworthy; in many ways Krug was closer to him than to any other living person; he could not think of any secrets that he had kept from Watchman; if he intended to sample the shunt experience at all, he might find it useful and informative to—

Shocked, Krug crushed the thought. Trade egos with an android?

He said quickly to Niccolò Vargas, “Do you have some time, or you have to get back to the observatory right away?”

“There’s no rush.”

“We can go to the ultrawave lab now. They just set up a small working model of the prime-level accumulator. You’ll be interested.” They began to walk across the crisp, mossy tundra. A crew of gammas came by, driving snow-eaters. After a moment Krug said, “You ever try the shunt room?”


Vargas chuckled. “I’ve spent seventy years calibrating my mind so I can use it properly. I’m not that eager to let somebody get into it and change all the settings.”

“Exactly. Exactly. These games are for the very young. We—”

Krug paused. Two alphas, a male and a female, had emerged from a transmat and were walking rapidly toward him. He did not recognize them. The male wore a dark tunic open at the throat, the female a short gray robe. A glittering emblem, radiating energy up and down the spectrum in steady pulsations, was affixed to the right breast of each. As they drew close, Krug was able to see the letters AEP at the center of the emblem. Political agitators? No doubt. And he was caught out here in the open, forced to listen to their spiel. What splendid timing! Where’s Spaulding, he wondered? Leon will get them out of here fast enough.

The male alpha said, “How fortunate we are to find you here, Mr. Krug. For some weeks we have sought an appointment with you, but it proved unattainable, and so we have come—I should introduce myself, first. Forgive me. I am Siegfried Fileclerk, certified field representative of the Android Equality Party, as no doubt you have already discovered by these emblems. My companion is Alpha Cassandra Nucleus, AEP district secretary. If we might have just a word with you—”

“—concerning the forthcoming session of the Congress, and the proposed constitutional amendment dealing with the civil rights of synthetic persons,” said Cassandra Nucleus.

Krug was astounded by the audacity of the pair. Anyone, even an android of another employ, was free to come here via transmat. But to accost him like this, to bedevil him with politics—incredible!

Siegfried Fileclerk said, “Our boldness in approaching you directly is the outgrowth of the seriousness of our concern. To define the place of the android in the modern world is no slight challenge, Mr. Krug.”

“And you, as the central figure in the manufacture of synthetic persons,” said Cassandra Nucleus, “hold the key role in determining the future of the synthetic person in human society. Therefore we request you—”

“Synthetic persons?” Krug said, incredulous. “Is that what you call yourselves now? Are you crazy, telling me such things? Me? Whose androids are you, anyway?”

Siegfried Fileclerk stumbled back a pace, as though the vehemence of Krug’s tone had shattered his amazing self-confidence, as though the enormity of what he was trying to do had burst upon his mind at last. But Cassandra Nucleus remained poised. The slender alpha female said coolly, “Alpha Fileclerk is registered with the Property Protection Syndicate of Buenos Aires, and I am a modulator assigned to Labrador Tranmat General. However, we are both in free-time periods at present, and by act of Congress 2212 it is legitimate for us when off duty to carry on overt political activity. On behalf of the rights of synthetic persons. If you would grant us only a short while to explain the text of our proposed constitutional amendment, and to indicate why we feel it is appropriate for you to take a public position in favor of—”

“Spaulding!” Krug roared. “Spaulding, where are you? Get these maniac androids away from me!”

He saw no sign of Spaulding. The ectogene had wandered off on some sort of inspection tour of the site perimeter while Krug had gone to the tower’s summit.

Cassandra Nucleus drew a glistening data cube from the bosom of her robe. Holding it toward Krug, she said, “The essence of our views is contained in this. If you—”

“Spaulding!”

This time Krug’s shout conjured up the ectogene. He came from the northern part of the site at a frenzied gallop, with Thor Watchman running more smoothly beside him. As he approached, Cassandra Nucleus showed alarm for the first time: in agitation she tried to press the data cube into Krug’s hand. Krug glared at it as if it were a psych-bomb. They struggled briefly. To his surprise he found the android female in his arms, in a curious counterfeit of a passionate embrace, though she was only attempting to give him the cube. He caught her by one shoulder and pushed her away from him, holding her at arm’s length. An instant later Leon Spaulding drew a small shining needier and fired a single bolt that penetrated Cassandra Nucleus’ breast precisely in the center of her AEP emblem. The female alpha went spinning backward and fell without uttering a sound. The data cube bounced along the frozen earth; Siegfried Fileclerk, moaning, snatched it up. With a terrible cry of anguish Thor Watchman slapped the needier from Spaulding’s hand and with a single thrust of his fist sent the ectogene toppling. Niccolò Vargas, who had looked on silently since the arrival of the two alphas, knelt beside Cassandra Nucleus, examining her wound.

“Idiot!” Krug cried, glaring at Spaulding.

Watchman, hovering over the fallen Spaulding, muttered, “You could have killed Krug! She wasn’t a meter away from him when you fired! Barbarian! Barbarian!”

“She’s dead,” Vargas said.

Siegfried Fileclerk began to sob. A ring of workmen, betas and gammas, collected at a safe distance and looked on in terror. Krug felt the world whirling about his head.

“Why did you shoot?” he asked Spaulding.

Trembling, Spaulding said, “You were in danger—they said there were assassins—”

“Political agitators,” Krug said, eyeing him with contempt. “She was only trying to give me some propaganda for android equality.”

“I was told—”

Shivering, crumpled, Spaulding hid his face.

“Idiot!”

Watchman said hollowly, “It was an error. An unfortunate coincidence. The report that was brought to us—”

“Enough,” Krug said. “An android’s dead. I’ll take responsibility. She said she belonged to Labrador Transmat General; Spaulding, get in touch with their lawyers and—no, you aren’t in shape to do anything now. Watchman! Notify our legal staff that Labrador Transmat has the basis for a tort action against us, destruction of android, and that we admit culpability and are willing to settle. Tell counsel to do what has to be done. Then get somebody from staff working on a press statement. Regrettable accident, that kind of thing. No political overtones. Clear?”

“What shall I do with the body?” Watchman asked. “Regular disposal procedures?”

“The body belongs to Labrador Transmat,” said Krug. “Freeze it for them. Hold it pending claim.” To Spaulding he said, “Get up. I’m due in New York now. You come with me.”





13





As he walked toward the control center, Watchman went through the Rite of Balancing the Soul two full times before the numbness began to leave him. The hideous outcome of his ruse still stunned his spirit.

When he reached his office, Watchman made the sign of Krug-be-praised eight times in succession and ran through half the sequences of codon triplets. These devotions calmed him. He put through a call to San Francisco, to the offices of Fearon & Doheny, Krug’s chief counsel in liability cases. Lou Fearon, the Witherer Senator’s younger brother, came on the screen, and Watchman told him the story.

“Why did Spaulding shoot?” Fearon asked.

“Hysteria. Stupidity. Excitement.”

“Krug didn’t order him to fire?”

“Absolutely not. The bolt came within a meter of killing Krug himself. And he was in no danger.”

“Witnesses?”


“Niccolò Vargas, myself, the other AEP alpha. Plus various betas and gammas standing by. Should I get their names?7’

“Forget it,” said the lawyer. “You know what a beta’s testimony is worth. Where’s Vargas now?”

“Still here. I think he’s going back to his observatory soon.”

“Tell him to call me collect later in the day. I’ll transmat out and take a deposition from him. As for that alpha—”

“Don’t bother with him,” Watchman advised.

“How so?”

“A political fanatic. He’ll try to make capital out of it. I’d keep him away from the case, if I could.”

“He was a witness,” Fearon said. “He’ll have to be called. I’ll neutralize him some way. Who owns him, do you know?”

“Property Protection of Buenos Aires.”

“We’ve done work for them. I’ll have Joe Doheny call and buy him for Krug. He can’t very well make trouble for Krug if he’s owned by—”

“No,” Watchman said. “Bad move. I’m surprised at you, Lou.”

“Why?”

“This alpha is an AEP man, right? Sensitive on the issue of androids as chattels. We shoot down his companion without warning, and then we try to buy him to silence him? How does that look? We’ll make ten million new members for the AEP within twelve hours after he releases a statement to the press.”

Fearon nodded bleakly. “Of course. Of course. Okay, Thor, how would you handle him?”

“Let me talk to him,” Watchman said. “Android to android. I’ll communicate somehow.”

“I hope so. Meanwhile I’ll call Labrador Transmat and find out how much they’re asking in damages for the loss of their alpha girl. We’ll settle this fast. You tell Krug not to worry: this time next week, it’ll be as though the whole thing never happened.”

Except that an alpha is dead, Watchman thought, breaking the contact.

He went outside. The snow was falling more heavily now. Snow-eater teams were efficiently keeping the whole area clean, except for a circle some fifty meters in diameter centered on the place where the body of Cassandra Nucleus lay. They were carefully avoiding that. A light dusting of snow now covered her corpse. Beside her, motionless, whitening in the storm, stood Siegfried Fileclerk. Watchman went up to him.

“Her owner is being notified,” he said. “I’ll have some gammas carry her into storage until they call for her.”

“Leave her here,” Fileclerk said.

“What?”

“Right here, where she fell. I want every android working on this job to see her body. Hearing about a murder like this isn’t enough. I want them to see!”

Watchman glanced at the dead alpha. Evidently Fileclerk had opened her robe; her breasts were bare, and the path of the needler’s bolt was visible between them. It had seared a window through her chest.

“She shouldn’t lie in the snow,” he said.

Fileclerk compressed his lips. “I want them to see! Watchman, this was an execution! A political execution!”

“Don’t be preposterous.”

“Krug summoned his henchman and had her shot down for the crime of seeking his support. We both saw it. She posed no threat to him. In her enthusiasm she came too close to him while presenting our viewpoint, that’s all. Yet he had her killed.”

“An irrational interpretation,” Watchman said. “Krug had nothing to gain by removing her. He sees the Android Equality Party as a mild source of harassment, not a serious menace. If he had any reason for killing AEP people, why would he have let you live? Another quick shot and you’d have joined her.”

“Why was she killed, then?”

“A mistake,” said Watchman. “The killer was Krug’s private secretary. He had been told that assassins were making an attempt on Krug’s life. When he reached the scene, he saw her grappling with Krug. It looked damning; I had the same view of things he had. Without hesitating, he fired.”

“Even so,” Fileclerk grunted, “he could have aimed for & leg. Clearly he’s an expert marksman. Instead of wounding, he slew. He pierced her breast with great skill. Why? Why?”

“A flaw of character. He’s an ectogene; he has powerful anti-android prejudices. Just a few moments before, he had come into tense confrontation with myself and several other androids, and he had been thwarted. Normally he boils with resentments; this time he boiled over. When he found that the ‘assassin’ was an android, he shot to kill.”

“I see.”

“It was his personal decision. Krug gave no orders for him to shoot at all, let alone to shoot to kill.”

Fileclerk flicked snow from his features. “Well, then, what will be done to punish this murderous ectogene?”

“Krug will reprimand him severely.”

“I speak of legal punishment. The penalty for murder is personality erasure, is it not?”

Sighing, Watchman said, “For murder of a human being, yes. The ectogene merely destroyed some property belonging to Labrador Transmat General. A civil offense; Labrador Transmat will seek reparations in the courts, and Krug has already admitted liability. He’ll pay her full price.”

“Her full price! Her full price! A civil offense! Krug to pay! What does the murderer pay? Nothing. Nothing. He is not even accused of crime. Alpha Watchman, are you truly an android?”

“My vat records are yours to consult.”

“I wonder. You look synthetic, but you think too much like a human.”

“I am synthetic, Alpha Fileclerk, I assure you.”

“But castrated?”

“My body is complete.”

“I spoke in metaphor. You have been conditioned in some way to uphold the human point of view against your own best interests.”

“I have had no conditioning except normal android training.”

“Yet Krug seems to have bought not only your body but your soul.”

“Krug is my maker. I yield myself fully to Krug.”

“Spare me the religious nonsense,” Fileclerk snapped. “A woman’s been killed out of hand, for no particular reason, and Krug’s going to pay off her owners and that will be the end of it. Can you accept that? Can you simply shrug and say she was only property? Can you think of yourself as property?”

“I am property,” Watchman said.

“And you accept your status gladly?”

“I accept my status, knowing that a time of redemption is to come.”

“You believe that?”

“I believe that.”

‘‘You’re a self-deluding fool, Alpha Watchman. You’ve built a cozy little fantasy that allows you to tolerate slavery, your own and that of all your kind, and you don’t even realize how much damage you’re doing to yourself and the android cause. And what happened here today doesn’t shake your mind at all. You’ll go to your chapel, and pray for Krug to liberate you, and meanwhile the real Krug was standing right on this patch of frozen ground, looking on while an alpha woman was shot to death, and your savior’s response to that was to tell you to call his lawyers and arrange for settlement of a simple property-damage tort. Is this the man you worship?”

“I don’t worship a man,” said Watchman. “I worship the idea of Krug the Maker, Krug the Preserver, Krug the Redeemer, and the man who sent me to call the lawyers was only one manifestation of that idea. Not the most important manifestation.”


“You believe that too?”

“I believe that too.”

“You’re impossible,” Siegfried Fileclerk muttered. “Listen: we live in the real world. We have a real problem, and we must seek a real solution. Our solution lies in political organization. There are now five of us for every one of them, and more of us come from the vats daily, while they scarcely reproduce at all. We’ve accepted our status too long. If we press for recognition and equality, we’ll have to get it, because they’re secretly afraid of us and know that we could crush them if we chose to. Not that I’m advocating force, merely the hint of the threat of force, the hint of the hint, even. But we must work through constitutional forms. The admission of androids to the Congress, the granting of citizenship, the establishment of legal existence as persons—”

“Spare me. I know the AEP platform.”

“You don’t see the logic of it? After today? After this?”

“I see that humans tolerate your party, and even find its antics amusing,” Watchman said. “I also see that if your demands ever become anything more than token requests, they’ll abolish the AEP, put every troublesome alpha through a hypnolobotomy, and if necessary execute the party leadership just as ruthlessly as you seem to think this alpha was executed here. The human economy depends on the concept of androids as properly. That may change, but the change won’t come your way. It can come only as a voluntary act of renunciation by the humans.”

“A naive assumption. You credit them with virtues that they simply don’t have.”

“They created us. Can they be devils? If they are, what are we?”

“They aren’t devils,” said Fileclerk. “What they are is human beings who are blindly and stupidly selfish. They have to be educated to an understanding of what we are and what they’re doing to us. This isn’t the first time they’ve done something like this. Once there was a white race and a brown race, and the whites enslaved the browns. The browns were bought and sold like animals, and the laws governing their status were civil laws, property laws—an exact parallel to our condition. But a few enlightened whites saw the injustice of it, and campaigned for an end to slavery. And after years of political maneuvering, of the marshaling of public opinion, of actual warfare, the slaves were freed and became citizens. We take that as our pattern for action.”

“The parallel’s not exact. The whites had no right to interfere with the freedom of their brown-skinned fellow humans. The whites themselves, some of them, finally came to realize that, and freed the slaves. The slaves didn’t do the political maneuvering and the marshaling of public opinion; they just stood there and suffered, until the whites understood their own guilt. In any case those slaves were human beings. By what right does one human enslave another? But our masters made us. We owe our whole existence to them. They can do as they please with us; that’s why they brought us into being. We have no moral case against them.”

“They make their children, too,” Fileclerk pointed out. “And to a limited extent they regard their children as property, at least while they’re growing up. But the slavery of children ends when childhood ends. What about ours? Is there that much difference between a child made in a bed and a child made in a vat?”

“I agree that the present legal status of androids is unjust—”

“Good!”

“—but I disagree with you on tactics,” Watchman went on. “A political party isn’t the answer. The humans know their nineteenth-century history, and they’ve considered and dismissed the parallels; if their consciences were hurting, we’d have known it by now. Where are the modern abolitionists? I don’t see very many. No, we can’t try to put moral pressure on them, not directly; we have to have faith in them, we have to realize that what we suffer today is a test of our virtue, our strength, a test devised by Krug to determine whether synthetic humans can be integrated into human society. I’ll give you a historical example: the Roman emperors fed Christians to the lions. Eventually the emperors not only stopped doing that, but became Christians themselves. It didn’t happen because the early Christians formed a political party and hinted that they might just rise up and massacre the pagans if they weren’t allowed religious freedom. It was a triumph of faith over tyranny. In the same way—”

“Keep your silly religion,” Fileclerk said with sudden explosive intensity. “But join the AEP as well. So long as the alphas remain divided—”

“Your aims and ours are incompatible. We counsel patience; we pray for divine grace. You are agitators and pamphleteers. How can we join you?”

Watchman realized that Fileclerk no longer was listening to him. He seemed to draw into himself; his eyes glazed; tears ran down his cheeks, and flakes of snow stuck to the moist tracks. Watchman had never seen an android weep before, though he knew it was physiologically possible.

He said, “We’ll never convert each other, I suppose. But do one thing for me. Promise that you won’t make political propaganda out of this killing. Promise that you won’t go around saying that Krug had her removed deliberately, Krug’s potentially the greatest ally the cause of android equality has. He could save us with a single statement. But if you alienate him by smearing him with a ridiculous charge like that, you’ll do us all tremendous damage.”

Fileclerk closed his eyes. He sagged slowly to his knees. He threw himself on the body of Cassandra Nucleus, making dry choking sounds.

Watchman looked down silently for a moment. Then he said gently, “Come with me to our chapel. Lying in the snow is foolishness. Even if you don’t believe, we have techniques for easing the soul, for finding ways to meet grief. Talk to one of our Transcenders. Pray to Krug, perhaps, and—”

“Go away,” Siegfried Fileclerk said indistinctly. “Go away.”

Watchman shrugged. He felt an immense weight of sadness; he felt empty and cold. He left the two alphas, the living one and the dead, where they lay in the gathering whiteness, and strode off to the north to find the relocated chapel.