I stared at the tableau for what seemed like forever. I could turn Kenneth off, right now. But would it do any good? Could I sabotage him? Should I? Would they figure it out?
I felt shame as I realized what I was contemplating. I wasn’t going to be that guy. Not even in theory. I’d let myself be switched off before I’d save myself by climbing on someone else’s back.
With a heavy heart, I turned around and left.
Bob – August 6, 2133
I was in the roamer room, working on an exercise, when I realized that Dr. Landers wasn’t alone. He always stood at the window, watching me and talking, and it took me a few moments to realize that the steady stream of commentary had stopped.
I directed one of the roamers to give me a video feed. Dr. Landers was talking to someone that I would have sworn was Minister Travis’s brother. Seriously, did they have that look listed in the job requirements? MUST LOOK LIKE SCARY GUY FROM POLTERGEIST 2. Jeez.
Dr. Landers had turned off the intercom system, but that represented about three milliseconds worth of inconvenience. Amateur.
I directed a roamer to move to the wall immediately below the window. By pressing its body against the wall, it was able to pick up transmitted vibrations. I had to crank the gain way up, but I had all the audio filtering tricks that two centuries of electronic media had developed.
“This is the work of the Devil. You are placing your immortal soul in jeopardy by participating in this enterprise.”
“The Ministry of Truth advised me otherwise.”
“These are poor imitations of God’s Creation. They mock humanity with their false display of intelligence and emotion.”
“The Ministry of Truth is of the opinion that, while they are without a soul, they are merely based on God’s creation and not an attempt to usurp His authority.”
The air grew momentarily brittle with that silence you get when someone is glaring. I stole a glance using one of the roamers on the table. Yep. Glaring.
“This unholy activity can have no good end. Especially considering the purpose—”
“—Which is officially sanctioned by the Ministry—”
“—Apostates! Heretics!”
Another quick glance verified that Dr. Landers was trying very hard not to roll his eyes. I took a moment to wish I had the option. This guy was seriously whack-a-doodle.
The barrage continued for several minutes. The minister alternately berated and threatened Dr. Landers, who remained carefully non-confrontational and showed a lot more patience than I could ever have. If Minister Loudmouth had been on this side of the window, I think I’d have tried to disassemble him.
I managed to remain objective and treat the running stream of vitriol as information rather than a condemnation of my very existence. It would seem that I was either a product of witchcraft or a result of hubris not seen since the days of Babel.
Dr. Landers took it for a few moments longer, then snapped. Sort of.
“Minister Jacoby, I understand your opinions and concerns. By which I mean only that I comprehend what you are saying. However, the Ministry of Truth is not only supporting but actively funding this endeavor. It seems to me, since we’re talking about blasphemous acts, that by opposing this activity, you are opposing the Ministry. And as they point out—in fact, as you yourself have pointed out twice—FAITH is the direct, revealed Word of God. Doesn’t that make your opposition an instance of blasphemy?”
There was a moment of indignant silence as Minister Loudmouth, looking like a fish desperately struggling to breathe, tried to de-hoist himself from his own petard.
“You have chosen the wrong friends, doctor. You will learn that soon enough.”
And with that, he turned and flounced out, stage right. Yes, flounced. Honestly.
Dr. Landers leaned on the wall for a few moments with his eyes closed, breathing deeply. Then he turned to the window and played with his tablet for a moment.
“All done, Bob?”
I wasn’t going to play that game. “Who the freaking hell was that? And don’t tell me ‘Minister Jacoby.’ ”
The doctor rubbed his forehead. “Just an example of some of the extreme viewpoints we have to navigate in this great nation. Bob, if he had any real power, he non’t, er, wouldn’t have been trying to browbeat me into line. I wouldn’t give his threats any extra credence.”
Which is not the same as saying you wouldn’t give his threats any credence at all.
“And I will note for the future,” the doctor said with a smile, “that turning off the intercom doesn’t appear to deter you at all. Shall we continue?”
He pointed at the semi-assembled mess on the lab table, and I got back to work.
Bob – August 10, 2133
I snapped back to consciousness. As usual, I did a systems check.
Wait, August 10th?
“Hey, doc, I seem to be missing a few days. Have you had me on ice for a week?”
Dr. Landers looked everywhere except at me. “Well, yes and no. Someone managed to sneak a small explosive into the computer room and take out the replicant matrices. We had to ship in a spare unit and restore you from backups. It took a few days.”
I was silent for a few moments. That meant that I wasn’t the Bob who woke up on June 24th. On the other hand, even back then I wasn’t the same Bob who got killed by a car. Did I have a soul? Did it matter if I was restored from a backup?
I realized that in the more than a month that I’d been back as a computer program, I’d somehow managed to avoid coming to any conclusions about my exact status. ‘Rolling with it’ had become a code phrase for avoiding the issue. But I knew that I had a tendency to avoid dealing with painful issues. Jenny had certainly proven that.
And being switched off when not in training contributed as well. I wondered if Dr. Landers had a plan, or if he was just going to wait until I was in space and hope for the best.
I had three issues that bothered me. Was I conscious? Could I actually consider myself to be alive? And was I still Bob? Philosophers had been going on and on about this type of thing for centuries, but now, for me, it was personal. A human, regardless of their opinion on the subject, could depend on being a human. The minister’s offhand reference to me as ‘it’ and ‘replicant’ had stung at a level I was just now starting to appreciate.