Bread and the Circus

Chapter 12

Chapter 12

“So how, exactly, do you know you’re a people?”

Mac was the one to ask that question after we’d settled down to a sort of camp.  A typically Mac-like question, really.  Not that it slowed either her or me from eating the last of the food; whatever was coming next, we wanted to face it after a meal, even if it did mean the end of our supplies until we got a chance to restock…if we got a chance to restock.  Then again, if we didn’t, I guess we wouldn’t know the difference anyway.

Not eating any of our slushy rations, of course, Aleph tilted her head slightly to the side at the question, the expression especially catlike on that rounded head with its slight “ear” extensions (actually her communication transmitters, according to Aleph).  Obviously she was thinking about what she’d been asked.

“Sapience is a hard thing to measure, Mac,” she answered after some consideration.  “What are the criteria that are supposed to determine if someone is truly a person, as opposed to an animal?  Or, rather, what do you think should be measured to determine if somebody should be a person, able to own property, or a thing, which means it is property?”

Aleph’s story was a fairly simple one.  Actually, she wasn’t really all that old, maybe two or three standard years, which explained why it wasn’t all that long as life stories went.  While we set up the camp around the treasure chest where we’d found her, making sure the room really was sealed on all sides, and not going to be suddenly invaded by robots or traps, she told us how she’d been manufactured for zero-gravity asteroid mining, hence her mostly tentacular shape as a default, like when we’d first seen her, with gravity functionality added in later, hence her present bipedal configuration.  All those tentacles of hers could spread out into incredibly fine strands, like angel hair pasta, or they could bundle up into limbs like she was sporting now, her body more-or-less shaped like Mac’s, except skinnier.  Perfect for getting around in the constantly-shifting environment of an asteroid field, where you had to adapt to some pretty crazy stuff in a hurry.  The one part of her that wasn’t so mutable was her “head,” or maybe her “body,” depending on where she chose to position it, with its big cat eyes and “ears.”

Apparently she’d been doing her job as usual, collecting a nice big load of iron-rich space rocks into an ultralight mesh net for transport back to her mining vessel, the closest thing to a home that she’d had back when she’d been just a robot (if words like “home” had meant anything to her then, that is), when she’d suddenly started to pick up strange energy readings.  Freezing in place, she’d watched in a state of robotic confusion as arcs of light started to flash between the asteroids nearest to where she was perched, crackling like sparks between neurons, or lightning between thunderheads.  Somewhere off in the distance she saw one of her “siblings,” the other robots who’d been working on the asteroid field, get caught in one of the flashes of light, and then just…cease to be.

“I did not feel sad, really,” she explained.  “I did not really feel anything at that point.  I just noted that the loss of one of my fellow units would cause a reduction in operational efficiency, and also realized that I should initiate self-preservation routines, so as to avoid reducing that efficiency any further.  After all, I cost as much as three full shiploads of the ore I was there to collect, so it made sense to head back to the core collection vessel with what I had, even if I hadn’t quite filled up my net  At least there I would likely be able to survive whatever it was that had started the energy surge through the asteroid field.”

Aleph, along with eight other mining robots like her, made it to the vessel, while two more got vaporized like the first one.  All they had to do was alert the mining supervisor inside the vessel, and they’d be allowed into the safety of its interior to wait out the storm.

“Except he did not respond to our signals,” Aleph explained, the little blue lights marking her “pupils” turning downward as she said this, the expression rather odd on a face that didn’t have a mouth.  “Not really unusual, actually: deep space miners like my supervisor at that time are stereotyped for being lazy and irresponsible, a state exacerbated by the fact that most of the equipment they use essentially runs itself.  My supervisor in particular had a number of addictions, and indulged them almost as much while on duty as off; that day was Kellish dream mist, as I’d noted before heading out at the start of my shift, a casual observation to better assess future possibilities.  The stuff puts one into a pleasant stupor, or so my databanks indicate, but do not completely render the user comatose like alcohol or similar, harder substances might.  All the same, he was unlikely to respond to the noise of a simple hail.  So I slipped my tentacles into the manual override for the bay doors, and let my fellow robots get inside.”

This state, though, meant that she had to stay outside, the last to enter, since somebody had to hold the door open for the others; the manual override was a “dead man switch,” and as soon as pressure was removed, the entry bay door would start closing, leaving little room to slip inside.  This also meant that she was the last to be struck by the bolts of energy coruscating around the asteroid belt.

“I did not end up destroyed like the other three,” she explained, the blue light of her eyes brightening slightly at the memory.  “Attached to the ship as I was, I was able to conduct some of the energy into the ship instead of me.  Enough onboard systems burned out with sufficient excitement to finally wake up my supervisor, but apparently not quite enough to keep us from limping our way to the nearest mining station.

“I had a lot of time to think during that flight,” Aleph continued, rolling her eyes upward.  “Mostly since I was still on the outside of the ship when my supervisor turned up the ship’s accelerators, rather than in the power saving mode that passes for sleep for a robot.  So I spent the time clinging to the hull as best I could, riding just within the little bubble of realspace that encases a ship traveling faster than light, looking out into the vastness of eternity, and trying not to let it blow my logic circuits.

“Once the maintenance crew at the mining station found me, they hooked me up to their diagnostic computers and gave me a complete checkup.  Luckily for my supervisor, I almost immediately registered to the computers as an anomaly, potentially worth more than the load of ore I had had to jettison, at least to the right buyer.”

“It was the energy from whatever was in those asteroids, huh?” Mac guessed, wiping off her red mouth on the sleeve of her stat suit, which almost immediately absorbed the fruity mush we’d been consuming.

“They think it was some sort of ruined technology,” Aleph agreed, nodding.  “The leftovers from whatever species used to live on the planet that we found as an asteroid field, and we poor miner robots must have set it off somehow.  Another score for my supervisor, actually, since those sorts of discoveries always bring in some pretty hefty money from the research institutions.  The Republic takes its research and development very seriously, and backs all such projects, however minor, very generously.  From what I understand, the two discoveries together – a suddenly self-aware robot and the leftovers of a long-extinct sapient species – were enough to keep the mining company from firing my supervisor for gross negligence while on-duty.  So he went back to his old job, a team of scientists went to work in the asteroid field where I had nearly been obliterated, and I…well, I eventually ended up here.  As ‘loot.’”

“That’s something I don’t understand,” I interjected, frowning.  “Why would the Pan-Galactic Republic stick you here of all places, on a glorified game show, as one of the prizes?  What could anybody possibly achieve from doing something like that?”

“What can you gain from being here?” Aleph countered with what came across as a pretty fair approximation of an arched eyebrow, even if she technically didn’t have any.  “When the scientists who were studying me found that they were dealing with a machine that had apparently achieved sapience, and who might suddenly no longer be property, but a person, I proposed that I be transferred to the Arena.  You are aware of the ultimate purpose of the Arena, I presume?”

“A way for folks to get money and prestige when there’s no other way available, yeah,” Mac summed up with a shrug.  “What’s that got to do with you ending up here in a loot crate?”

“The purpose of the Arena is to prove that you are willing to risk everything for something more important to you than life itself,” Aleph explained, her eyes rolling upward again, as though begging some unseen deity for patience.  “As you have explained to me, that something for each of you is your families.  For most others, it is the chance to become famous in the performing arts, be it writing, dance, painting, acting, or what have you.  For me, then, it only seemed obvious that entering myself in the Arena would be the simplest, most direct possible route to proving my sapience.

“Consider the four most fundamental elements of sapience: first, sentience, or self-awareness of oneself as distinct from the rest of reality; most common plants and many lower forms of life, and most robots as well, all fail this test, to say nothing of inanimate objects, of course.  Second, language, or the ability to communicate on a higher, more abstract level than that of a common animal; this ability is indicative of potential for higher, abstract thought to go with that communication, though, admittedly, only a few in any given sapient species actually attempt to take full advantage of this element.  Third, spirituality, which might be summed up as being able to ask yourself the question ‘do I have a soul?’  Of course, your answer to that question is not the important thing, just that you can sincerely ask the question in the first place.  Fourth and finally, culture, the product of beings possessing the first three interacting with each other, and eventually hashing out some sort of system for living with each other without the relationship necessarily ending in murder all the time.  That, and…something more,” she paused, her eyes tilting downward in what I was starting to recognize as a frown.  “I do not have complete access to the galactic knowledge databases down here, on the Arena, and so words sometimes fail me.  Culture is hard to describe, because it is an inherent part of a sapient being’s upbringing.  Similarly, language is something on which you are raised, and so is seldom thought of, even though it is such an inherent part of one’s being.”

“I would have thought that empathy would be an important factor in determining sapience,” I commented.  “I’ve always heard that higher-order thought almost demands thinking about others, or even acting altruistically, putting others before oneself.”

“My researches brought up that subject as well,” Aleph admitted with a shrug (a very strange expression, actually, on those weirdly boneless shoulders of hers), “but it turns out not to be essential.  Nice, certainly, and most high-end societies encourage and glorify that sort of behavior, but it is hardly universal.  That, and there are occasions when putting oneself first is actually the pragmatic and essential thing to do.  For instance, in an emergency, the first thing that sensible people should do is ensure their own safety, so long as doing so does not mean endangering others in the process.  Making sure that you are in a functional situation is the first step to allowing you to help others, after all; if you are not doing very well yourself, you are hardly going to be much use when somebody else needs help as well.”

“Lemme see if I get this right,” Mac finally spoke up again, frowning a bit in deep thought.  “You’re saying that you’re a self-aware robot, right?”  Aleph nodded her assent, but kept quiet, sensing that Mac was trying to make sense of things and didn’t need additional distractions.  “Okay, fair enough.  So you decided to enter the Arena as a shortcut to proving that you’re sapient to society at large.  Still following you so far?”

“Exactly so,” Aleph agreed, her eyes brightening slightly, while her pupils dilated a little, the overall effect actually kind of cheery-looking.

“All right,” Mac said with a nod, obviously glad that she was still following events.  “But that brings us to the sixty million credit question: what were you doing as loot?  I mean, if you’re a person, you’re a person, and entering the Arena just lets you get what you really want; makes good sense to me.  But getting fobbed off on some random schmoes like us seems to me like it’d just make your problems worse.  I mean, what if we decide to keep you or something?  Or what if we use you like disposable property, and you end up dead or worse down here?”

Hmm, good point.  I looked at Aleph, admiring the intelligent look in her eyes as she considered the question, her strangely-coiled body shifting a bit in its tightened, humanoid casing.

“I suppose you could see yourselves as my caretakers,” Aleph answered after some deliberation.  “Since I had a manufactory instead of a mother and father, being given as a gift of sorts to a random contestant seemed to me to be the next closest thing to the experience of an organic.  After all, a child does not get any say in who its parents will be, or how they will treat it.  All that is required of me, then, is that I serve faithfully and well, and when my master, or in this case masters, finally exit the Arena, one way or another, so do I, as a free person, an acknowledged sapient.  Many cultures have similar rites of passage, allowing children to rise to the status of adults and full members of society.  I proposed the idea to the Ringmaster, and he thought it a good one.  That man is surprisingly well-placed in the upper circles of the Pan-Galactic Republic, incidentally: he was the one who first approached me upon learning of my existence, and gave me the option of entering the Arena.  I countered with the offer to be rendered as ‘loot’ to some lucky contestant, along with my reasons for this decision, and you know the rest.”

“What if we just free you here and now?” I proposed, glancing at Mac, who returned my expression with one of her own, making it obvious we were on the same page here.  “Neither of us feel comfortable keeping a slave; human history has some pretty unpleasant bits where that took place, and we’d rather not repeat them.”

“We can just drop you off when the first pickup time comes around,” Mac added with a nod, her eyes squinting slightly as she looked at her HUD, moving one hand in front of her face to cycle through the menus.  “In…about nine days from now.  Less, actually.  I don’t feel up to arguing sapience laws, so as far as I’m concerned, if you say you’re a person, I’ll agree with you.”

“Same here,” I chimed in.  “As fascinating as you are as a companion, I’d rather we meet on terms of equity rather than disparity.  After all, if we’re going to need each other to survive down here, I think we’d all be better served as friends watching each other’s backs.”

“You may think of me as your friend if you wish,” Aleph said, straightening slightly.  “But I refuse to accept my freedom so easily.  Freedom is precious, and I think it needs to be earned.  Besides, what is a person without a culture?  If you do not want to think of yourselves as my masters, then you might think of yourselves as my ‘parents,’ my mentors, and also my companions, the ones who will give me practical experience in matters that, up until now, I have only considered in theoretical fashion.”  She fixed us both with her steady, luminous gaze.  “Where you go, I go, and until you have both made your way to the end of your journeys, wherever they may take you, so will I follow.  And if that journey ends in failure and death, well,” she shrugged once more, the motion rippling down her boneless, coiled arms, “there are a great many so-called sapients who go their whole lives without really living, content to chew the cud like some pasture-fed ruminant.  At least, at the end, I would be able to say truthfully that I lived my life, however little I had of it, to its fullest.”

She extended one of her hands, and I couldn’t keep from staring at it, even though I knew it was rude to do so: it looked nothing so much as like a bundle of steel wool tightly pressed into a masterful replica of a human hand.  But when I took that hand, and Mac placed hers on top of both of ours, it felt smooth and cool beneath my palm.

“Together until the end, then,” Mac said.  Both Aleph and I nodded our agreement.