us. But there are people—like those of us around this table—who need to work for other, psychological, reasons. Work is what gives people like us satisfaction, or maybe a big part of our reason for being.
“A fair number of the other ninety percent—say half of them—stay just as busy as we workers do, but are busy with things that might not be considered ‘jobs.’ Art, or music, or gardening, or sex. Most—nearly all—of the rest of the unemployed don’t really do much of anything but let the robots take care of them. Harmless drones. Maybe they amuse themselves by sleeping a lot, or by shopping, or by watching entertainments or playing games. Maybe they are vaguely discontented. Maybe they’re bored and depressed. Maybe they love each and every day of life. No one really knows. I wouldn’t want to be one of them, and I don’t think much of them—but at least they don’t do any harm.
“But that leaves us with the leftovers. The ones who have no work they love, no consuming interest, and no capacity for accepting passive inactivity. Troublemakers. Mostly male, mostly uneducated, mostly young and restless. Bissal fits the profile of the people who commit—what is it, Donald—ninety-five percent?”
“That is approximately correct,” Donald said.
“Close enough. People like Bissal commit ninety-five percent of the violent crime on Inferno. Compared to Settlers, we have very short jail sentences here, for all but the most serious offenses—and leaving a bored troublemaker to rot in jail for years didn’t seem to make much sense anyway. So the powers that be remembered a very old saying about idle hands and the devil’s playthings, and passed a law.”
“The idea is,” Devray said, “if you’re forced to have a job, then there is at least a hope that you will become interested enough in the work, or at least be kept busy and made tired enough by it, so you won’t be bored and energetic enough to commit fresh crimes. And it works fairly well. People find out that doing something is more satisfying and interesting than being bored and angry.” Devray nodded toward the report Donald was reading. “It doesn’t sound like it’s worked on Bissal, though.”
“Well, yes and no, unfortunately,” Donald said.
“What do you mean?” Kresh asked. “What sort of work did he do when he did work?”
“At first he held a number of jobs wherein he seems to have done very little work at all—not exactly the intent of the Criminal Employment Act. Most of his jobs seem to have consisted of little more than watching robots do the actual labor. He seems to have been discharged from a number of these positions for absenteeism. Then, for a time, he did jobs that entailed unskilled work unsuitable for a robot.”
“What the hell sort of work is beneath a robot but suited to a human?” Fredda asked. “No offense, Donald, but it seems to me Infernals stick robots with all sorts of silly, useless demeaning tasks. I can’t imagine anything they wouldn’t make a robot do—especially anything that a human would agree to do.”
“Your point is well taken. However, there are a number of unskilled or semi-skilled tasks that are unsuited to robotic labor, mainly because of the First Law. Certain forms of security work, for example. A guard must be able to shoot his gun if need be, and a guard that a thief would have no compunction against shooting would be of limited use.
“Other jobs would require robots to be so highly specialized in order to meet a job situation that comes up so rarely that it is not worth designing and manufacturing specialized robots for the task. Certain seafaring jobs, such as deep-sea fishing, for example, entail a small risk of falling overboard. Robots sink. It is certainly possible to build robots that float and yet are robust enough to survive salt air and the other hazards of a maritime environment, but it is far easier and cheaper to hire a human and give him or her a life preserver. There are other jobs that would be dangerous to a robot but entail little or no risk for a human.”
“Thank you, Donald, we get the point,” Kresh said. “So what line of work did Bissal finally settle into?”
“Mobile security work,” Donald said, the note of distaste in his mouth unmistakable. “Armed protection of valuable shipments.”
“Oh, hell,” Kresh said. “That’s perfect. Absolutely perfect. The one sort of job we don’t like crooks taking on.”
“Wait a second,” Fredda protested. “You’ve lost me again. What’s so bad about that?”
Kresh held up his right hand, his thumb about a centimeter from his index finger. “It’s about that far from smuggling and contraband running,” he said. “Grieg’s appropriation of robots gave us a labor shortage and an illicit labor source and a need to find a way to pay for the illicit labor, all rolled into one. Smuggling and contraband are a big part of the means of payment.”
Devray turned to Donald. “This mobile security work Bissal was doing. I realize we’re still working with very preliminary information, but is there any likelihood he got mixed up in rustbacking?”
“There is every likelihood,” Donald said. “Indeed, it seems he has only worked for firms on our rustbacking watchlist.”
“One more time,” Fredda said. “Sorry, but I just don’t know what you’re talking about. What’s rustbacking got to do with anything?”
“You weren’t around,” Devray said. “One of my Rangers picked up a ’backer on the east coast of the Great Bay. The rustbacker named a Ranger involved in the rustback trade. Huthwitz. The Ranger that got killed.”
“So what?”
“So rustbacking keeps showing up in this case,” Kresh said. “And remember Grieg was considering the idea of getting rid of the New Law robots. That would have put the rustbackers out of business. Someone in the business would have a terrific motive for killing Grieg before he cut into profits.”
“But wait a second,” Fredda said. “I think we have to assume that whoever killed Grieg also killed Huthwitz. Unless we had two killers wandering the Residence that night.”
“Pardon, madame,” Donald said. “One slight correction. I think we have to assume the two murders are linked, whether or not the same individual carried them both out. It may be that another member of the same team killed Huthwitz. There is a great deal of evidence of a conspiracy as it is.”
“Even so,” Fredda said. “You’re talking about the rustbackers plotting to kill Grieg before he could be bad for business. But if Huthwitz was on the take from the ’backers, why kill him?”
“Space only knows,” Kresh said. “Maybe he was about to talk. Maybe he was demanding too much pay for his silence, and they thought of a way to save some money. Maybe killing Huthwitz wasn’t part of the plan, and Bissal was taking care of some of his own personal business on company time. If you think one smuggler wouldn’t kill another just because they worked together, forget it. But just in terms of parsimony, I think that we can at least start with the working theory of only one killer. And it seems pretty clear that killer was Bissal.”
“There is something further in Bissal’s criminal record that does point to him,” Donald said. “I was about to come to it. His most recent arrest. Just about nine months ago, he was picked up on the shore just south of Hades and charged with the illegal transport of New Law robots and tampering with robot restriction devices. He could not make bail and thus served a full month in jail before his lawyers managed to get the charges withdrawn—according to the court record ‘for lack of evidence.’ However, the arrest report indicates a strong case against Bissal.”
Kresh grunted. “So either his lawyers were better than what a low-class hood should have had, or else someone paid someone off. Or both. Except they didn’t want him on the loose so they didn’t pay his bail. It suggests someone was taking care of him—but not out of the goodness of their hearts.”
“Yes, sir. But there is one other interesting point. The arresting officer on the case was one Ranger Emoch Huthwitz.”
“Huthwitz!” Justen said. “So there’s your motive.”
“Motive?” Fredda said. “Wait a second. You lost me. Motive for what?”
“For killing Huthwitz,” Justen said. “It’s obvious. Huthwitz must have been bribed to turn a blind eye to the rustbacking delivery, but either he couldn’t prevent someone else spotting it, or else he double-crossed Bissal. And Bissal knew who to blame for his rotting in jail for a month.”
“Which reminds me, sir,” Donald said. “You have not given any orders regarding the arrest of Bissal.”
Devray looked startled. “You mean we’ve been sitting here all this time and there’s been no one out looking for him?”
“No, there hasn’t,” Kresh said. “My standing orders to Donald are not to issue manhunt orders without my specific instruction. Cases vary too much to set standard orders.”
“Well, what about it?” Devray asked. “Isn’t it about time to pick Bissal up?”
“Maybe, maybe not,” Kresh said. “Bissal is either on or off the island. If he is on the island, he’s not getting off it. He is either in hiding or else he’s slipped back to his regular daily routine, trying to pretend nothing happened, hoping we’re not on to him. He’s not going anywhere. We have time—a little time—to do things right rather than in
