Expiration Day (33 page)

“But so do humans!”

“Any more outbursts from the teknoid, Mr. Guest, and I will instruct the sergeants to remove it.”

Mr. Guest looked angrily at me.

“Shut up, or you'll lose the case right here.”

I shut.

 

 

I guess I'd imagined myself, like Portia, speaking boldly to the court, astonishing them with my impeccable logic and oratory. Instead I was held mute by the laws that wouldn't recognize my voice.

Oh, to have been even Shylock—at least he could speak in his own defense.

 

 

At the end of the opening speeches Mr. Simpson spoke.

“I've worked with Mr. Lloyd on these sort of cases before, so he'll be familiar with what I'm about to say, but I understand this is the first of these cases that Mr. Guest—and of course Reverend Deeley—has worked on.…”

So proof positive that these cases do get contested … just not reported. Who controls the past controls the future.…

“I remind both parties that this is a civil court, not a criminal court. My job is to ascertain whether the contract under dispute is legally valid, having been freely entered into by both parties, and whether any breach has occurred to justify termination of the contract by either party, and whether the outcomes being sought are permissible under the terms of the contract, or under the laws of this land.

“So long as the law is clear, and the contract—and its subsequent amendments—are legally valid and have been willingly entered into by both parties, there will be no appeal granted. If, however, the law is not clear, then this court has no power to make new laws, and the case will be referred to higher judiciary bodies. I warn both parties that such a process is likely to be prolonged and expensive, and that this court is willing and able to act as mediator, to avoid such an outcome.

“And if there is evidence of coercion or deception by either party, then again this court has no jurisdiction, and I shall refer the matter to the Prosecution Service, which may lead to further proceedings in a criminal court.

“Those outcomes aside, there are just two possible outcomes. It may be that I'll decide in favor of Oxted. In that case, Oxted has requested that it take custody of their property immediately. It may be that I will decide for Reverend Deeley, in which case he will be free to return home with the teknoid Tania, for the remainder of the term of the contract.”

So we're fighting for just twelve more months.…

“As to costs, you should expect those will be awarded in line with the main judgment. Neither side is requesting damages. Is that all clear?”

Mr. Simpson paused and traversed the room by eye, eliciting a “yes” from each of the participants. Myself excepted.

He continued by asking Mr. Lloyd to stand.

“Mr. Lloyd, on the basis of your submissions, and taking into consideration what I've heard in the two opening statements, I'm going to ask you to elaborate on your arguments first. You've indicated that you don't believe there's anything in Reverend Deeley's submission that requires you to modify your own approach, and that you should be done by the end of the day. Is that correct?”

“Yes, sir.”

That's not good. Have they genuinely got all our bases covered?

“Very well. I know you've got a number of experts lined up. In the interests of keeping the costs of this case down, let's hear from them first. Mr. Lloyd?”

Unsubtle message from Mr. Simpson—do yourselves a favor, you're going to lose, so don't prolong this and maybe you won't end up broke.

The first expert was a Dr. Evans, a tweeded spinster—yes, I know I shouldn't judge marital status on appearances—with bottle-bottom glasses, silvering hair, and a cracked-earth complexion. Add a shapeless, green tartan cardigan. So tell me I'm wrong.

“I'm a technical historian. I did my first bachelor's degree in neurotronics at Banbury New University, worked for five years on the second-generation neurotronic web design—the N2—to earn my master's and then my doctorate, but then I took a sabbatical, where I worked with Neil—that's Neil Oxted, of course—up till his death in 2034, as his technical biographer, with access to some of the earliest records, to catalogue and summarize. Classic designs, such a privilege to be able to handle the original design documents…”

“Dr. Evans, you're saying that you're technically qualified as a neurotronic designer, and moreover have intimate knowledge of current and historical designs, yes?”

“Yes, I am.”

“And how have those designs evolved over the years?”

“Surprisingly little, Mr. Lloyd. The first designs were in some senses quite crude, but that was more a matter of the limits imposed by the state of the art—specifically, our ability to grow the necessary three-dimensional structures at sub-micron scale. The N2 was far more compact, with the basic neutrotronic link element being a full order of magnitude smaller. The N3—which was the first model produced after Oxted's death, and the N4, which is the current model—are each in turn a little more compact than their predecessors, but by nowhere near as much as an order of magnitude.”

Oh, John, I wish you were here. I need to understand this stuff. I think they're trying to blind the judge with science. The magistrate, I mean.

“So is it fair to say, Dr. Evans, that all Oxted neurotronic designs are refinements of Oxted's original design, and differ merely in the number of—what did you call them—neurotronic link elements? This being achieved through successive improvements in miniaturization. Yes?”

Dr. Evans's desert-bottom face crinkled further, if that were possible, so that she looked even more annoyed.

“That rather neglects the improvements made in long-term stability by my own team, and the work of Greene et al. in taste perception, and similar sensory enhancements, but yes. Oxted was an intellectual giant, a genius, and he gave the world an almost-perfect invention.”

“And how does that compare in complexity with the human brain, Dr. Evans?”

“It depends on what you measure, Mr. Lloyd, but the most commonly quoted example is to compare the number of neurons in the human brain with the number of neurotronic link elements. Certainly in that respect the human brain is significantly more complex than even the N4—which, for the benefit of the court, is the model installed in Reverend Deeley's teknoid.”

“And how about the rest of the animal kingdom, then? How does the N4 compare to, say, a dog, or a cat, or a chimpanzee?”

“Oh, it well exceeds a cat or a dog, Mr. Lloyd. It's up in the region of the higher primates, no doubt. But I don't think we'll ever get close to a human on that measure. Quantum effects limit how much miniaturization we can achieve, and the N4 is pretty much there. We've tried, believe me, but beyond the N4 level, the neurotronic link element is destabilized by quantum effects.”

“Let me sum up, then, Dr. Evans. The neutrotronic web is less complex than the human brain, so comparable to a chimpanzee. Therefore Oxted's teknoids are sophisticated pets at best. Is that what you're saying?”

“That's about right, Mr. Lloyd. Anticipating the next line of questioning, though, I will say that unlike the primate brain, or the brain of a dog, the neurotronic web has been specifically designed for human companionship. So neurotronic teknoids can speak, can learn—within limits—and can mimic human emotions, through specific programming.”

“And this human companionship is the sole purpose of such teknoids?”

“Precisely. The teknoids are designed to substitute for children during those years when the urge to reproduce is strongest in humans. Oxted made it possible for vast numbers of humans to ‘adopt' children, which was a significant factor in bringing to an end the Troubles.”

“How was that, Dr. Evans?”

“The Troubles were so very nearly the End of the World. The Last Days of Rome. Barbarians at the Gate. Without children, there is no hope for the future. With no hope, there is nothing to restrain me-firstism. The Child is a pillar on which our society rests. With the restraining influence of the family removed, hedonism and nihilism soared, particularly among the hormonal young, and violence quickly followed. You will doubtless recall from history the terrifying clips showing prowling packs of young men, raping and murdering, looting and burning our cities. Social background meant nothing—the rapist was as likely to be the university-educated son of a respectable stockbroker as an unemployed immigrant from the East End. While sending in the riot police, desperate politicians blamed other nations for the problem. Demagogues re-ignited old national rivalries for their own purposes, then found they could not control what they'd started. The Sabine Wars were the result.”

“And the teknoids solved this…”

“In part. One shouldn't discount the shock effect of the LeClerc Solution in bringing an immediate end to violence, not just in France but ultimately worldwide. But yes, back to Oxted and teknoids. Oxted restored the appearance of normality—women pushing babes in prams, kids playing in parks, and so forth. Surprisingly quickly, the psychology changed. People felt hope was restored, and some sort of stability returned.”

“And for that purpose, how perfect a simulation was needed?”

“A good question, Mr. Lloyd. Not totally perfect, certainly. Humans fool themselves into accepting so many substitutes. Pets, of course, and foster-children are the most obvious. Like the magpie, we accept the cuckoo chick in our nest and treat it as one of our own. But as I say, it's not perfect, and as the teknoid grows up, the foster parents begin to reject the interloper. Something happens that reminds the parents that their foster-child is not human. They pick up the phone, call Oxted, and within twenty-four hours, the cuckoo is painlessly removed from the nest.”

“But that doesn't trigger a return to violence?”

“Not at all. The foster-child is almost never returned during those critical, violence-prone years. Only when middle-age kicks in, when the hormones stop raging, and rationality returns.”

I could see Dad reacting to that, and so did Mr. Simpson.

“Reverend Deeley, you have a comment or a question?”

“Thank you, yes. You say there's no return to violence, Dr. Evans? But as a vicar, I see a very different picture. The loss of a child—even a foster-child—has always been traumatic, and we humans too often react to it badly, with the immediate family usually taking the brunt. You neglect domestic violence in your analysis, but it is the biggest single challenge for the parish priest of today. All the different ways in which one human can mistreat their partner. Infidelity. The breakup of relationships. Divorce. Murder and suicide. All vastly increased from their pre-Trouble levels. Unless you acknowledge this, your expert testimony is flawed and without credibility.”

Dr. Evans looked shocked, as if no one had ever dared to contradict her before. Her fingers clenched and dug into the rail of the witness stand, and her eyes narrowed angrily. Taking a deep breath, though, she gathered her thoughts and responded, smugness creeping back into her voice.

“Flawed? I don't think so, Reverend Deeley. But the problem you cite is outside the design parameters. We only need the teknoids to be good enough to stop the riots on the streets.”

“Indeed. The classic response of government to insoluble problems: make the problem invisible. But my main interest is in those children who are not returned before the due date. I suggest that a contributory factor may be that they do not trigger rejection. I further suggest that is because they are—barring biology—human by any meaningful test, and specifically through an eighteen-year Turing Test. Do you have any data on those children, Dr. Evans?”

“While it is technically outside my own field of responsibility, I understand the number of
teknoids
returned at the completion of the lease term is too small to be statistically significant. No analysis of such returnees has been, or will be performed.”

“In other words, you've prejudged the outcome of the research. How scientific is that, Dr. Evans? Don't you want to know?”

Hot damn! My dad has sharp teeth!

But Mr. Simpson intervened. “Reverend Deeley, I don't want this hearing to descend into wild speculation. Dr. Evans, you don't have to answer that question.”

“Oh, I don't mind, Mr. Simpson. At the end of their leases, the teknoids are reprogrammed. All teknoids undergo this procedure without coercion. If the teknoids are self-aware—human, if you will—where is the instinct to survive?”

Reluctantly Dad sat down. “No more questions, sir. For now.”

 

 

After Dr. Evans finished, the next expert was a Dr. Maurice Colyer. He was the UK Programming Director for the Fostering Division.

Forget what I said about trying to blind with science. Colyer's technique was to bore us to death. His hair was gray, his eyes were gray, his suit was gray, and his voice was gray. That is, he spoke in a monotone, and while he was speaking I knew what it was to die and to be carried off to a formless, frozen gray limbo where nothing … ever … happens.

As best I remember it (and Dad confirms it), Colyer testified in excruciating detail to the hundreds of thousands of lines of code that create the teknoid brain in the first place, and the millions more lines that set up the neurotronic patterns. He quoted statistics of how many lines of code it takes to mimic (say) sorrow, or backchat, or musical ability. And then the randomizing and correlating elements that mimic free will, and associativity.

The brain—he called it a neurotronic matrix—was therefore perfectly equipped to mimic creativity.

And I'll take my mimicry over your original any day, Dr. Colyer.

 

 

We'd broken—the magistrate called it “recessed”—for lunch. Mr. Guest joined us.