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SECTION II.
c)
"Things can't go on like this," declares Air Marrowman. "It's wrong."
"Is this going to be another lecture on optimization?" groans Pulse as he plucks a beer from the train. He cracks the seal. "Because I've optimized my listening to the point where I don't actually have to be here to hear you talk anymore. It's a breakthrough."
"I'm not talking about efficiency," snaps Air. "I'm talking about human rights."
Pulse swigs beer as he taps at his console. "Human rights have no place in a robot shop," he says with a smirk. "This is grad school. We don't have rights. We exist to serve and dissert."
"Your rights aren't my concern," she replies icily. "It's about the Zorannics."
Pulse ignores her, leaning deeper over his glowing blue command-trees. She stares at him. I pause from oiling the wheels on a boxcar, turning to look from him to her. "Zorannics aren't human, Air. The law doesn't look at them that way."
"I'm not talking about the law. I'm talking about morality."
Pulse narrows his eyes without looking up. "If your next sentence is about either Jesus or Xenu I'm officially declaring you an open target for beer caps. That goes double if you start in about Oprah, Commercial Islamic Futurism or the flying spaghetti monster."
"Morality," persists Air, "is about doing what's right. It's also about helping those less fortunate than ourselves. It's about fighting to secure rights for those who have none."
"Zorannics have rights," I point out. "They own themselves, and you're not allowed to murder them."
Air shakes her head. "I'm talking about what happens right here, guys. I'm talking about what we do. We're complicit in a system that is fundamentally anti-feminist."
Pulse's eyes widen as he spits out a mouthful of beer through the carefully arrayed holographics over his console. The numbers sway and distort. Coughing and wincing he squeaks, "What?"
"Anti-feminist," repeats Air seriously. "I'm talking about reproductive rights. Can't you see that it isn't fair for their continuance to be predicated on our cooperation? It isn't ours to veto. What right do we have to hold any power in the process whatsoever?"
"We help," I say. "We facilitate."
"No, a uterus facilitates. It's an organ. You and Pulse and me -- we're agents. We're autonomous. We make choices. We decide. You're right that we help, but he could withhold that help."
I furrow my brow. "Why would we want do that?"
"We wouldn't, but what if somebody else did? We're just students -- what could we do about it? The system as it stands is vulnerable to corruption. There's no good reason why any Zorannic should need our permission to reiterate itself. There's no good reason why they should expose themselves to that risk. Their life cycle should be under their own control."
"None of them has ever complained."
"None of them has ever been given an option."
Pulse looks up at her and rolls his eyes. "What option?"
"That's the point. We have to come up with one. It's our responsibility."
"Why ours?" I ask.
"Because of all the people on this planet who have any inkling about Zoran's mathematics -- of all the academics and philosophers and lawyers -- there's only three people here at Huo Hsing who actually get their hands dirty with Zorannic grease. That's us. What if we were all killed tomorrow?"
"The university would replace us."
"Yes, and in the meanwhile every Zorannic this side of the Marineris would be helpless. Now think about what might happen if the university didn't replace us. Or couldn't."
Pulse snorts. "That's crazy."
"Is it?" asks Air, standing at her desk, caterpillar eyebrows spiked out with emotion. "Do you ever watch the news, Pulse? The Solar System is changing. Ares has practically been run by universities since pioneer times, but these aren't pioneer times anymore. Jupiter is rising. We're no longer the uncontested arbiter of Solar affairs. If something happens to tilt the balance of power, Ares will react. Don't kid yourself. When the most powerful planet in the system is forced to become reactive, dramatic things are going to happen. Our stability is a product of peacetime."
I shake my head and sniff. "Ares would never betray Zoran's mandate."
"Ares will do whatever she needs to do to maintain rule," declares Air, eyes hard. "If that means pressing the Zorannics into our service by denying them the right to repair, it'll happen. Have you even heard the things the military is saying about Saturn?"
"They want a base at Titan," says Pulse. "So?"
"They want indefinite martial law for offworld colonies. For the sake of security there will be no democracy at Saturn if the generals have their way."
"They're just trying to protect us," I point out.
"Maybe," she agrees. "And we're here to protect the Zorannics."
That was a strange notion: I'd always thought of the Zorannic robots as so much more free than human beings. Geniuses, each of them, and strong beyond imagining. Paragons of metabolic efficiency. Tireless. Near-perfect memory. How could such godlings as these be at the mercy of regular old virtuoso idiots like us?
"I've just invented a new kind of finger," announces Pulse triumphantly. His hands tap across his console and in response a holographic projection of a Zorannic Type II hand appears floating over his desk. "Same operational parameters, half the code." He taps out a final sequence and the disembodied hand folds in all fingers save the middle one. "Look, Air -- it works!"
Air glowers. "You're a child," she says.
"Yeah," he agrees, hoisting his beer as if in toast. "Ain't I a stinker?"
I don't know where to look so I just go back to greasing the wheels.
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