Artificial Absolutes (Jane Colt Book 1) (4 page)

As Jane trudged through another mind-numbing day at Quasar, her thoughts wandered back to her run-in with her brother. Why had Devin been so distracted? Or had he really cared more about someone on the other side of a screen than the person right in front of him? The latter seemed rather sad, but he was far from the only one guilty of it; she’d often done the same to Adam.

Pull-data, copy-paste, run-app, copy-paste…

Jane gave her eyes a break from the screen and looked around. As always, the office was full of well-groomed employees arranged in tidy rows, immersed in their work. It was exactly as it looked in the Quasar ads: Vibrant. Engaged. Energetic. It was smart. It was efficient.

It was the loneliest place she’d ever known.

Still resting her eyes, Jane looked up at the internal defense guns mounted on the ceiling. Yes, the office had guns in it. Every major building in the galaxy did.
Have one deadly attack on a high-profile place, and suddenly they’re standard issue. Yikes.

The thought of going back to her copy-paste-pull-data made her brain hurt. Instead, Jane did what she, as a very bad employee, often resorted to when the monotony got the best of her: gaze at the giant fish tank across the room and daydream.

A bright green fish, translucent fins flowing behind it like a pair of scarves, swam across the aquarium.
Fuy Lae. That species is from Fuy Lae in the Zim’ska Re system.

What a pity Zim’ska Re was such a dangerous part of the galaxy. The beauty of its planets was legendary.

Maybe one day an alien race would be discovered. Not extraterrestrial creatures from other star systems like that fish.
Intelligent
aliens, as advanced as or more advanced than humans. Maybe they would be wiser, see everything wrong with a society in which status determined success and happiness was measured in numbers. Maybe they could introduce humans to a new way of living, one that allowed them to untangle their desires and release themselves from material pressures.

Maybe those hypothetical aliens sounded a lot like Adam.

Jane set her tray down on the café table. “I don’t have much time. I have so much work, I really shouldn’t leave my desk today. There’s data to be pulled and put into pretty charts! I seriously wonder how they haven’t managed to replace me with a computer.”

Adam took the seat across from hers. “I actually don’t have much time either. I volunteered to help out at a shelter in the city’s Outer Ring this afternoon.”

“Of course you did.” Jane unwrapped her utensils.

Adam smiled. “I know, I know. ‘Why do you waste your time with these things? The marginal difference they make is negligible.’”

Jane pointed at him. “Exactly!” She was desperately hungry, despite having barely moved all day. She started scarfing her dish of Eryatian meats and fruits, which had been arranged in a rosette on her plate before she wrecked it.

“Jane?”

Jane swallowed a bite. “Hm?”

“How do you feel about capital punishment?”

Seriously? Talk about an appetite-killer!
She looked up. “Why do you always drop these heavy, meaning-of-life type questions on me?”

Adam backed away. “Sorry… I’m just… curious, I guess. We can talk about something else.”

I’m full anyway.
Jane put her utensils down. “It’s okay. I think capital punishment’s necessary. I mean, the prison planets are full-up as it is, and there are some truly horrible people out there. Why?”

Adam’s gaze fell. “I started taking my… medical courses yesterday.”

“Oh.”
Shit. That sucks.

The Interstellar Confederation had a humanitarian resolution, signed by all the member planets, declaring that criminals on death row had the right to be executed by a religious leader in a manner in accordance with his or her spiritual beliefs. Therefore, Via seminary students received schooling in the use of lethal drugs. Adam had often expressed his reluctance for that part of his future duties. At the same time, he believed that those about to die should be sent to the beyond by a trusted guide instead of a clinical stranger.

Adam fiddled with the napkin on his tray. His usually bright eyes clouded with gloom. “I wish they would do away with capital punishment altogether. Life and death shouldn’t be decided by people, no matter how wise or intelligent they are. They’re making us watch the execution of a drug dealer tomorrow. He was still on the run when the tribunal found him guilty and sentenced him. Didn’t even have a chance to speak for himself. I know it’s not uncommon for trials to go on without the suspect, but… I don’t like how Kydera handles its justice system. From trial to execution in a matter of days—seems heartless.”

What am I supposed to say?
Jane picked up her cup and took a swig of her sugary, stimulant-laced drink. “At least it’s efficient. With all the fancy forensics tech out there, it’s always pretty clear what happened.”

Adam didn’t look up. “Nothing’s infallible. It doesn’t seem right that the sentencing is so absolute.”

Jane put her cup down. “Why? If a person does something knowing it could kill someone, he gives up
his
right to live.” She leaned down to peer into his face. “That drug dealer’s a murderer. What about the people who died because of his poison? They didn’t get to choose who sent them to the beyond.”

Adam sighed. “I know. But it won’t be easy, watching a life end, no matter what he did.”

He’d barely touched his food. Jane had never seen him in such a dark mood before. She scrambled to find another subject. “Hey, they invented a robot that can solve riddles.” She grinned. “Pretty amazing, right? If robots can solve riddles, they’d definitely replace me if it weren’t for the IC’s anti-AI rules. How much intelligence does it take to copy-paste-pull-data?”

Adam returned her smile. “More than you give yourself credit for, I’m sure.”

Jane rested against the back of her chair. “It’s too bad the Tech Council’s so paranoid, lumping AIs in with creepy shit like cloning and eugenics. It’d be pretty cool if they
could
create an artificial intelligence, don’t you think? Like, a sentient computer?”

Adam shook his head. “I don’t know. It seems… wrong. When does an experiment become a life? Besides, it can’t be done.”

“Why not? Brain science shows we’re all basically machines anyway, since everything we are, everything we
think
, is directed by stuff like chemicals and neurons.” She shrugged. “Wouldn’t be impossible to translate all that into code.”

Adam looked into the distance. “Are we the way we are because we’re ‘wired’ that way? Or do we make choices on a higher, intangible level, and our physical beings adjust to reflect them? I believe in the latter, which is why I don’t think anyone can create a true imitation of human behavior. Machine logic is no match for human irrationality.”

Ah, crap
.
He’s gone into moralizing mode again.
 Jane made a face. “Do you have a Via text to go with that?”

Adam placed his forearms on the table. “I know you were being sarcastic, but I actually do know one that’s relevant.”

Jane, interested, relaxed her expression. “Really? What is it?”

“It’s one of the fables from the Book of Via.” He leaned in to tell his story. “Eras ago, in ancient times, the Absolute granted a village a token with the power to create any one thing. This village was often ravaged by violent invaders, so the villagers created an obedient giant made of stone to keep them safe. They became greedy, and they ordered it to attack the neighboring lands. The Absolute was displeased at this abuse of power and punished the village with diseases. The villagers blamed the stone giant. They decided to destroy it.”

Adam drew back, and his gaze turned contemplative. “But it wasn’t the mechanical slave they’d thought it was. It had
chosen
to obey them out of love, and it was furious at the betrayal. It destroyed the village in its rage, but then was so miserable in its solitude and guilt that it threw itself off a mountaintop and shattered into a million pieces.”

Jane raised an eyebrow. “
That’s
your allegory for artificial intelligence? That has
nothing
to do with it.”

Adam turned his gaze to her. “It’s about creating life and the responsibility that comes with it.”

“I
 
think it’s a horrible, ridiculous story concocted by a bunch of dark-age idiots. Why would a stone giant become depressed? It was never real. Ugh, religion is so
full of it
!” Jane threw up her hand for emphasis. “Hokey lessons and nonsense masquerading as morality!” She put her hands on her hips. “Adam, why the hell do you want to be a Counselor when there are so many better things you could be doing?”

Adam just gave his good-natured and infuriatingly adorable smile that was somehow amused without being condescending.

Jane pulled out her slate and checked the time. “Crap. I’ve gotta get back to work.” She chugged the rest of her energy drink.

“All right. I’ll see you tomorrow, same time?”

Jane swallowed her last gulp. “Yup, ’s long as they don’t pile more work on me at the last minute.”

The afternoon passed as uneventfully as any other. As soon as Jane finished sending out her end-of-day reports, she locked her computer and zoomed out the door. She didn’t take long to reach the airtrain station.

She tripped as she pushed through the crowd, crashing into a woman in a doctor’s coat. “Sorry!”

The doctor reminded Jane of the distress that overcame Adam when he spoke of his “medical” training, a look she’d never seen before on his usually placid face. The expedience of the Kyderan justice system really seemed to upset him. She worried about how he’d handle watching an execution.

“The airtrain is about to depart. Destination: FFC Residential Complex. All aboard, please.”

I’ve gotta go see him. Make sure he’ll be okay, at least bring him company. Maybe apologize for insulting his religion—again.

Jane shoved her way off. She checked the screen at the station to see which train would take her to the seminary. It was about to leave, and that the next one wouldn’t arrive for another half hour. She sprinted to the platform.

“The airtrain is about to depart. Destination: Via Theological Seminary of Kydera Major. All aboard, please.”

Jane knocked people aside. “
Move
!”

She leaped onto the train as the doors closed. The train shot forward. She stumbled into a seat, internally grumbling about the slowpokes who had almost made her miss her ride.

Several minutes later, the seminary’s colorful towers appeared in the window. The train pulled into the station. She sped out.

Jane followed the landmarks from her past visits to figure out how to get to Adam’s place. She got turned around and ended up entering the brick dormitory through an obscure side door, one of those non-computerized kinds. It led to a stairwell walled off from the lower floors. Walking up seemed preferable to wandering the building’s complex layout, looking for another entrance. She silently cursed the ancient building, annoyed that whoever renovated it hadn’t added a few doors along with the central computer.

By the time she reached the level that let her leave the stairwell, only three flights remained.
No point in looking for an elevator now.

She finally arrived at Adam’s floor and wound through the corridors until she found his door. She grabbed the spare key he kept above his doorframe, stuck it into the old-fashioned manual lock, and burst in, hoping to startle him. “Surprise, surprise!”

She froze and dropped her smile, wondering if she was hallucinating.

Outside the dorm window hovered a triangular Barracuda spacecraft, the kind usually used by the interstellar fighter pilots. Its deep blue hull was unmarked. Through the square window on its side, Jane saw a boxy robot of the same color with multiple appendages and a rectangular head.

Inside the room, an identical robot carried a limp and unconscious Adam.