the tubby little man who was now inviting them into the hallway. There he went, wringing his hands together, leading them into the lounge, nervously pulling out a canister of real coffee and waving it vaguely in the air, offering to make them both a drink.
“Sit down, sit down,” said Peter Onethirteen. His hair had been allowed to recede, leaving just a little tuft at the front of his head, a fashion that Helen had never liked. He wore a transparent floating gown, his pale green pajamas clearly visible beneath it. He was almost fat, probably just at the upper limit of the EA’s acceptable parameters. No doubt his kitchen would be stocked with low-kilojoule supplies, his exercise routine just a little more vigorous than the average person’s.
“Are you sure you don’t want some coffee?” he was saying. “It’s very good, genuine Arabica.”
“No, thank you,” said Judy. “Peter Onethirteen, I would like you to cast your mind back fourteen years. You were a crew member of an Inner System ship back then, weren’t you?”
“Yes…” said Peter. Helen didn’t need the effect of the little red pill of MTPH to sense the fear that rose in the man. She could see it in his eyes, in the way his frame suddenly stiffened. He placed the coffee container on the kitchen counter and gave Judy a tight smile.
Judy’s face remained expressionless, her arms folded, hands tucked in the sleeves of her kimono. She withdrew one hand, brought her right forefinger to her mouth. A tiny spot of blue showed on her tongue as she licked the little MTPH pill from her finger. A little tick was pulsing just below Peter’s eye. Judy watched it for a moment and then she asked her question.
“What did the ship do?”
“The ship?” said Peter, looking at Judy’s hands as she returned them to the sleeves of her kimono. “We dealt in luxury goods: mainly permitted drugs, coffee, tea, whisky. A little refined heroin. We took them out from Earth to the space-based communities.”
“What about the Moon? Mars?”
Peter shook his head. “We didn’t like to get too deep into gravity wells. Too much time spent in traveling.”
“And restricted access points, too. Is that right, Peter?”
Peter shook his head, the tick pulsing away. He was looking flushed. He shrugged his way out of the floating gown. It hung in the air and-after a moment’s pause, and to Helen’s delight-it drifted slowly back towards the bedroom, maintaining its shape and form. Then Helen felt the wave of nauseating-panic that rolled out from him.
“We weren’t smuggling,” he was saying, waving his hands. “Everything on board the ship was strictly legal.” He nodded his head in affirmation, his stomach wobbling slightly. “Come on. They constantly measure the mass of every ship traveling through the Inner System and compare it with the registered manifest. There’s no way to fool the EA.”
“Precisely.” Judy gazed at him. “At 04.10.33 GMT, on the fourteenth of September 2226, the mass of your ship decreased by just under twelve kilograms.”
Peter blinked rapidly. “We were testing the reaction engines. They burn a lot of chemical fuel. I imagine we could easily have burned twelve kilograms’ worth.”
“You seem to have a very good memory. I’m sure I couldn’t remember what I was doing on the fourteenth of September, fourteen years ago. What was your job on the ship?”
“Systems,” Peter said, rubbing at the tick below his eye. “The ship’s Turing machine was old. The self- diagnostics weren’t all they should have been: they needed some backup.”
“A systems man, eh? Then you’d know what a type two VNM was.”
“Yes…” He was slowly collapsing as Judy gazed at him, Helen noted with contempt. He looked as if he was about to break down now and confess everything. This was the sort of man who had kept her imprisoned? He was pathetic.
Now Judy half closed her eyes. “So, given access to suitable raw materials and the library code, you’d be able to construct a type two VNM?”
“Yes…” Peter sat down, folding himself into a chair. He was mentally preparing to run up a white flag. Helen could see it.
“That’s what you did, wasn’t it? Formed a processing space out of a type two VNM and then released it into space. How many personality constructs were there aboard?”
Peter slumped forward, his head in his hands. Helen could almost see his thoughts. He had been found out, so now he was going to bargain.
“Look, it wasn’t me. I’m a PC myself. I was only created twelve years ago. You need to go and see the
Judy’s voice was matter-of-fact. “Oh someone will, Peter, but that’s not the point. Your personality construct is based on a personality that has operated beyond the acceptable parameters laid down by the EA after the Transition of 2171. The behavior patterns of the atomic Peter will be the same as yours. You need correction just as much as he does.”
Peter looked up at this, his eyes darting around the apartment, looking at the door, at Helen. Judy shifted just a little, drawing his attention back to herself. Back to her white skin, her black kimono. Back to the collar falling away from her neck, exposing the long white curve leading up from her smooth back to be lost beneath the elaborate black design of her hair. When she knew she had his full attention, Judy lowered her voice a little more.
“Now, Peter Onethirteen. Do you understand that you are about to begin corrective therapy as part of the Social Care contract?”
He crossed his arms and gazed at the floor, looking like a petulant child.
“There are three copies of me. Will they all be punished?”
Slowly Judy knelt down before him. Her black hair, so smooth and shiny, banded in shades of violet under the light like a blackbird’s wing. She reached out and took both of his hands in hers.
“This is not punishment, Peter,” she crooned. “That will be decided upon later by the EA. I’m neither qualified nor interested in deciding punishment. My talent lies in healing, and we begin the first step of that process today.”
Peter snatched his hands away. “Why should I be punished? I thought that this was supposed to be an enlightened society.”
Helen was incensed. How dare this fat, pathetic little man expect the understanding of an enlightened society when it was he who had imprisoned her in that processing space? The words that leapt to her lips were stilled as she realized that Judy had turned to stare at her. She
“Peter, the threat of punishment will be enough to prevent some individuals from following in your crimes. That’s part of the reason that you will be punished. Now, I want you to swallow this.”
She pulled her left hand from her sleeve and held it out towards him, the palm facing upwards. Helen could just make out a tiny red dot lying upon it. Was it maybe a deeper red than the pill that Judy had invited her to swallow earlier, outside the door?
“No,” Peter said, entranced by the little red pill. “You can’t make me.”
Helen looked on, breathless, wondering what would happen next. Judy knelt on the floor before Peter, her little feet pressing into her round bottom, back braced by the thick obi she wore around her waist, hair immaculate, the black rod of her console a horizontal line emerging from the complicated knot at the back. Helen was certain that all Judy did was stare into Peter’s eyes…
“Okay,” Peter said suddenly. Shivering, he reached out and pressed his finger onto the little red dot. “I’ll take it,” he said, and placed it in his mouth. He swallowed.
“Good,” Judy said. “Now, before there can be repentance there must be understanding. Before punishment there must also be understanding, for without understanding, all we have is vengeance. Let us begin.”
Peter gave a hesitant nod.
Judy said nothing. Helen moved around so she could see them both better. The pair seemed to be locked in a silent conversation, Judy’s impassive stare conveying something that caused Peter’s lower lip to begin trembling.
