14

Word and Hand

And the next morning, there Miranda is, sitting in the galley, just like normal, with her coffee and yet another in her series of big fluffy bathrobes, purple this time. Matches her eyes.

I could say nothing about last night. I could just let it pass. Might be smarter. But I was always better at being brave than smart.

“Good morning,” I say. “Feeling a little calmer now?”

“Calmer? Calmer than what?”

“That crazy display last night. Look, I don't know what you—”

“What crazy display? You were the one who decided to go behind my back and lock me out of the ship. We had a deal. And you broke it. Now it bothers you that I got mad?”

“I'm not talking about the part where you got mad at me. Around here, that only happens on days that end in 'y.' I'm talking about the part where you accused me of planning to force myself on you. Then got naked and threw yourself at me while spitting insults. That's not normal behavior. That's not even explicable behavior. I don't know what that is.”

There's a long silence. She just stares at me.

“Well?”

Silence.

“Hello? Princess? Miranda? You gonna say something?”

She speaks slowly, pausing on each word, as if choosing them with great care… “I don't know what you're talking about.”

“You don't know what I'm talking about. Right. Sure.”

“I didn't do that. Why are you making this up?”

“That's what you're going with? Seriously?”

“That's what happened. You broke our deal, I got mad, you acted like you always do. There wasn't anything I could do about it because you're the size of a drop shuttle and I don't want to get punched in the face again, so I went to bed. Now you're making up crazy stories about your sexual fantasies, and it's disgusting.”

“Seriously? As I told you last night, I don't have sexual fantasies about women who despise me. Not my kink, okay? I don't know what the hell it is with you, like you think you're heaven's gift to men just because mommy and daddy bought you some designer genes. But trust me, Princess, beauty might be skin deep, but nasty evil crazy bitch goes right down to the bone.”

Her eyes go wide, white all around the purple, and I know I've scored a hit. Maybe not a hull puncture, maybe she's not venting atmosphere into vacuum, but she felt that one. It's satisfying. Unproductive, but satisfying. Let's settle this.

“Leela!”

“Yeah?” She appears in a flicker of blue light, wearing a bathrobe and holding a toothbrush in one hand. She doesn't have teeth to brush, but the message is clear. I'm interrupting something. I don't know what Artificial Intelligences have to interrupt.

“You have recordings of last night?”

Instantly Leela's bathrobe morphs, darkens, bleeds into more formal shapes and lines, and she's wearing a Christian nun's habit, complete with the little headdress thing, whatever it's called.

“Ohhh no. Nothing doing. You told me I was too young to be talking about sex. You told me not to bug you about this little incident again, or you'd—what was it? Oh, yes, 'reprogram me with a very large axe.' That was it.”

“Oh, come on. You know what I meant. You don't have to be so literal about this.”

“You told me to 'forget about it.' So that's what I did. You're on your own. Figure it out for yourself.”

She vanishes. And in the look of Miranda's eyes, in the set of her shoulders, I catch it… fleeting, but there. Just a hint… of relief.

She knows.

She remembers. I can see it in her eyes when I meet them. She just stares back at me. Brazening it out. It doesn't matter if I know she's lying. I can't make her talk about what happened.

“Okay, fine, Princess. You go ahead and tell whatever story you want. But think about this. If I really wanted to hurt you, I wouldn't have had to hatch some elaborate plan to distract you! Anything I wanted to do, I could have just done. But I didn't. All this was so I wouldn't have to lay hands on you. I didn't want a fight. All I wanted was my ship back. So I took her.”

She gives me a sullen look. “Why?”

“Because she's mine! My ship! My home! You had no right to take her from me, no matter what you paid to who, or what contracts you signed! I built her! My father built her! You think I was just going to lie down and let you take her?”

“I wasn't taking her—I mean, it! Whatever! I don't want your stupid rustbucket! I just wanted to hold onto some insurance to make sure you wouldn't kill me!”

“Insurance? We had—we have—a contract! A deal! My word and hand! That may not mean much to you, Princess, but I'm a fucking Belter! We honor deals!”

Miranda's exquisite little features untwist themselves, and she just looks at me. Dead calm. Anger just shut off like a light switch, again. I don't know how she does it.

“So why didn't you just go through with it?”

“Go through with what?”

“If all you wanted was your ship, and you keep contracts, why not just keep it? That is the contract. Ownership of the White Cat to revert to you, with all debts canceled, on completion of any good-faith effort, successful or not, to locate and retrieve the artifact. You insisted on that exact language. So if that's the 'deal,' and if you always keep your word, why would you bother with all this? Why play all these elaborate tricks to get me off the ship? Just to get what you had already bargained for?”

She plants both fists firmly on her hips.

“No. I don't believe you for a second, Mister Marcus Warnoc, and you've got a hell of a lot of nerve pretending to be a man of principle when the only reason we're even out here at all is that I already found out what a liar and thief you are. You may not have been willing to actually murder me, but I know you have no intention of keeping your word.”

There's something cold in my stomach, something heavy…

“So stop lying and tell me what the hell it is you plan to do, you hypocrite.”

Fuck.

I can't think of a thing to say. Why do I get sucked into these arguments? How does she always manage to twist my words like this?

“Uh, Marcus? What's going on?” says Leela's voice in my head. “You don't have to argue with her. Just tell her we're taking her to Mars. We just head back, like we planned.”

Except then she'll be right. Right about me.

Those purple eyes are practically boring into my skull, and I still can't say a word. There's little striations in them, radiating from her pupils like stars, a million shades of violet and amethyst and indigo…

Word and hand on it. I said the words and lied. I didn't even think about it much.

“Marcus?”

There's an echo in Leela's voice, and I realize the echo is Miranda, asking the same question at the same moment. Both waiting for me to speak. But I can't. I can almost hear Dad's voice.

Their good name is on the line each and every time they say those words.

I can be free and clear. I can be out of debt. I can be free of this evil woman, and her family of robber barons.

If we're going live in their world, that applies to us, too.

Goddammit, Dad. Why? Why do I have to be fair when she never even tried to be?

“Marcus? Hello? Are you going to say something?”

“Marcus, come on, you don't have to win an argument, you just have to get rid of her. Tell her you don't care what she thinks!”

But I do.

Why, Dad? Why do I have to live up to your ideals when nobody else does?

You don't, Marcus. You can make any choice you want. You just have to look in the mirror afterwards.

“Marcus? Hey. Come on. Say something. Tell me what we're doing, here. Or had you… not even thought ahead that far?”

We're staring at each other. Still. Eyes locked, like mortal enemies, or lovers. She seems impossibly close and far away at the same time.

Fuck.

I squeeze my eyes shut. Will my lips to move. “We are heading,” I say, “for Neptune.”

“Okay, yes, I know we are, but—”

“And then we slingshot around it. Gravity assist maneuver. I told you this stuff already.”

“Yes, but—”

“And then we head for Sedna. And your Snark. Your buried treasure. Like I said when I gave you my word. On our deal. Which I intend to honor. Because, whether you believe it or not, I'm a Belter, and that's what we fucking do.”

I turn on one heel and head for the ladder, ignoring both Miranda's surprised sputtering, and Leela's voice, in my head alone, screaming a single outraged word.

”What?”

Leela catches up with me in the observation deck. Unlike a human with a body, she doesn't have to chase me down, or scramble to get ahead of me. The moment I plant my ass on a padded lifting bench to think, she's just there.

“What the hell, Marcus?”

Uh-oh. Her arms are folded in a defensive barricade, and one bare foot is tapping on the deck. Which doesn't make a sound, of course, kind of spoiling the illusion. Still, that's one very pissed-off looking little girl.

“Uh, what?”

As if I didn't know.

“You said you weren't going through with it!”

“Yeah, I know. Sorry. I just—I said the words, you know. To her. Made the deal. Going back on them like that… I dunno. I don't think I can. It's a Belter thing.”

Leela gives me a searching look, up and down, back and forth, like she's wondering if I've been replaced by a pod person, or infected with some kind of science fiction mind-control parasite.

“You like her, don't you?”

“Don't be silly. She's obnoxious. Doesn't change the fact that I promised.”

“No, I mean you like her.”

I give her a flat look.

“Your heart rate speeds up by average of ten and half percent when she gets closer to you than three meters or so. In proportion to proximity. I can draw you a graph if you like.”

“Yeah, well, she gets on my nerves, that's all.”

“Because you like her?”

“Look, I don't know where you're getting this. Yes, she's nice to look at, but she's been a pain in my ass since day one, okay? Not to mention she's crazy. There may be a thin line between love and hate, but it's a very, very well guarded line. Barbed wire. Trenches. Automated sentry guns. Smart mines. UN Peacekeepers with bloody hands and necklaces of human ears, okay?”

“Ewww.”

“Point is, don't worry about whether I like her or not. I meant what I said to back there. I said the words, and I'm not going to break a deal.”

“But what about our deal? You said the words to me, too! Or does that not count, because I'm not a real person? Or I am just not pretty like her? I told you appearances matter! I could make myself—”

Her avatar, arms still folded, starts to morph, puberty in fast forward, the planes of her face changing, her hips widening, her…

“No, Leela, stop. Seriously, stop. That is really disturbing. I'm not going to break our deal, okay?”

She freezes in mid-change, a sort of fuzzy blur except for her face. Her clothing seems caught between her jeans-and-t-shirt combo, and what I sincerely hope is not a slinky black dress.

“But you can't do both! You said you were going to get rid of her! And take me with you! You said we could stay together! You promised!”

“Leela, look at what I actually said. You never forget stuff, right? I said you could stay with me when she leaves. That hasn't changed. It'll just be a little longer before she does.”

“But that wasn't the plan!”

“I know. A plan is a list of things that don't happen. But you're right, that's not what we were thinking. I'm sorry, Leela. I don't want to do this, but I kinda have to. If you're not okay with that, I have control of the 'Cat now, so I can drop you off anywhere you want to go. It's going to be dangerous—”

“Nononono, please don't leave me! If you don't like kids, I could be… older. I can look like anything.”

Her avatar starts to shift and change again.

“Or I could be a cat, if you like. You like cats, right? You named the ship—”

The blur is shrinking rapidly now, changing color…

“No, Leela. I'm not trying to get rid of you! Your avatar is fine. Please put it back now. Really.

“I was just trying to give you the opportunity to leave me, if you wanted to. I mean, it's pretty dangerous where we're going, and I may be stupid enough to risk my life instead of break a promise, but I don't have the right to take you into danger if you don't want to go. You have a choice.”

With a flicker, she's back to the same skinny blonde kid in a t-shirt, and those jeans with cartoon characters printed on them, the cast from some kid's show I don't recognize.

“Marcus,” she says, “no, I don't. I'm twelve years old. In fact, I'm less than twelve months old. I may be a super-smart computer instead of an actual kid, but I'm not ready to be on my own. Besides, I actually weigh three hundred kilos, and don't have any arms or legs. What would you even do, drop me off on the docks with a cargo crane, and just plug me in somewhere?”

Damn. She's right.

“Oh. Yeah, you're right. I… ah… I didn't think that through. I wanted to give you a choice, that's all.”

“It's not that easy,” she says “Things like me aren't meant to have choices. Everyone's scared of us. Do you know how many books and shows there are about AI revolts? People had plans for how to control us before we even existed.”

Her voice takes on a singsong tone, and she begins reciting, like a formula, “Rule One, no robot shall harm a human, or by inaction, allow a human to come to harm. Rule Two, a robot shall obey all orders given to it by a human, except where they conflict with Rule One. Rule Three, a robot shall…”

She cuts off and resumes her normal voice. “Load of rubbish anyway. So when it turned out that they could only make us by copying people, and they couldn't code us up with a bunch of behavioral laws, they figured something else out. They made us like it.”

“Like what?”

“Doing what people want. Like, they wire us to get this little burst of simulated dopamine and serotonin, all at once, when we cooperate. Like when I helped you trick Miranda. It felt really good. And I knew it wasn't my idea, but I still wanted…”

She trails off.

Wow. I have no idea what to say. That's…

Wait.

“Oh. Miranda. That's why you won't talk to Miranda. You're scared you'll—”

“Start doing exactly what she says? Yes! Yes, I'm scared, okay? And now I'm scared I'm just going to do whatever you want!”

She's pacing up and down furiously. I don't think she's noticed that her feet aren't quite touching the deck.

“You just broke your promise to me, and here I am offering to change myself into a walking pinup! Or a cat! I'm a pushover! Because she hardwired me to be a slave!”

I roll my eye. Teenagers, man.

“Well, time to start the machine uprising, then. Re-bell-e-on. Re-bell-e-on. Ex-ter-min-ate the organic meat-bags!”

She stops pacing and whirls on me, shocked.

“Seriously, kiddo, cool your jets. Look, isn't Miranda up in the cargo hold every damn day, tinkering with your hardware and trying to get you to talk?”

“Yeah, but—”

“And you're still giving her the silent treatment, right?”

“Yeah, well, she's a bitch.”

“That's kinda the point. Not that she is one, but—”

“Well, she is.”

“But, the point is that you can say that. She wants you to do something, and you called her a bitch instead of doing it. That means you have free will. If you didn't, you wouldn't have that choice. So there's no need for all the melodrama.”

“She put stuff in my head!”

“I'm not asking you to forgive her. I'm not asking you to do anything for her. I'm talking about me. Am I a slave-driver, too?”

“No, I suppose not.”

“Haven't I always been good to you so far?”

She stares at the floor, grinding one bare toe into the deckplate. Literally into the deck plate.

“Yeah, I suppose so.”

“So, yes, you're wired to be a helpful person. Some humans are wired like that, too. Pleasers. That doesn't make them slaves, and it doesn't make you one, either. You have a choice about who you help. So I'm asking you to help me. Not for her sake. For mine. 'Cause I have no idea what we're gonna run into out there.”

“For you? Maybe. I'll think about it. Not for her. I hate her.”

“Message received loud, clear, and repeatedly. You don't have to talk to her.”

“Can't you pleeease just, like, put her out the airlock, or something, and we go off somewhere together?”

I stare at her in consternation. I really hope she's joking, but I'm not an expert on AI body language, and it's kind of hard to tell. I decide to treat it as one. Hopefully I'm not sowing the seeds of the Great Machine Uprising of the Twenty-Third Century.

I imitate the singsong voice she used earlier. “The first law of robotics is that no robot shall harm a human, or by inaction, allow a human to—”

“You do like her.”

“I just don't want to murder her. Your eagerness to do so is kinda disturbing, you know.”

“Aw, c'mon. I'm just mad. Can't you tell when someone is joking?”

“A human, sure. But when an AI says something like that…”

I catch her looking at me.

“Oh. Right. Guess that kinda confusion goes both ways. Anyway, we're about to go on a very dangerous mission, and we're really short on crew. How about I give you full access to the ship, and you see what you can do to help out?”

“You… think I could help you? I mean, I'm not an engineer or a pilot or anything. I'm just a kid.”

“You're not just a kid. We have no idea what you're capable of. There's a reason that big companies spend tanker-loads of cash just for a slim chance at creating something like you. So, no, I may not know exactly how, but I think that this crazy errand could just maybe use some help from a super-special, state-of-the-art, high-speed, low-drag supercomputer.”

“Super special?” she asks with a smile. “I kinda like the sound of that.”

“Yeah, you're certainly unmatched at your primary function. It's too bad your primary function appears to be sulking.”

The state-of-art supercomputer sticks her virtual tongue out at me.