Garfield waved a hand in dismissal. “Be my guest. Now that we have Bender back, it's not so much a priority for me.”
Bridget laughed and stood. “Alright then. Stephen, it's time for Quinlans 101. Shall we?”
He stood, and the two vanished.
Bender then stood up. “I think it's time I go take a look at this Moot Pub. You guys seem like you have more to talk about anyway. Bob, I’ll see you later, okay?”
“Sure, Bender. I’ll be off to the pub myself in a while. Remember: surprised.”
Bender nodded and vanished, which left Bill, Will, Garfield, and me. We eyed each other silently for a few mils, unsure who should talk first.
Finally, Bill took point. “Annek will be at the moot today, as a guest account of course, but we have the VR interface all set up. And I'll be presenting the UFS's policy statement on human-replicant relations going forward.”
Will added, “Also human-Pav relations, but I think that'll be of less interest overall.”
“It’ll be bad, won’t it?”
“However bad you think it'll be, you’re underestimating. The humans are mega-pissed. The communications interruptions played hell with commerce, the destruction of autofactories has thrown monetary policy into a loop, there's some danger of a deflationary spiral, and governments are scrambling to head that off. More costs, more hits to the economy. There’s talk of suing the Bobiverse. If they managed to make it happen, it could wipe us out financially.”
“So what?” I said. “The whole point of being a post-human space ship is that we don't have to be dependent on anyone or anything. Maybe that would be better for us?”
Will smiled “Yeah, you're probably right. We've gotten way too involved. Again.”
“Sounds like the feces will be flying in all directions,” Garfield muttered. “This should be fabulous.”
31. It Hits the Fan
Bill
September 2334
Bob Moot
I glanced around at Bob, Will, and Garfield, and spared a glare for Hugh, who studiously ignored it.
“Okay, moment of truth, gents. First alien presence in the moot.”
The others nodded, and I sent a text to Annek. A moment later, a perfect avatar of a Quinlan popped into the moot hall. Or maybe not quite perfect - I was pretty sure Quinlans averaged around 4 feet tall, but this one was just under 6 feet. Ego? Psychological positioning? I couldn’t be sure of Annek’s motives, but I was damn sure that modification was on purpose.
Annek rolled its eyes around, taking in the entire scene. “My thanks for hosting me at this function, but the numbers seem small. Have I misapprehended?”
Hugh spoke up first. “The moot hasn't started yet, Annek, and we wanted to have a private meeting with you beforehand, just to iron out any issues.”
Annek cocked its head. “‘Iron out’ did not translate well, something about clothing?”
“To clarify through discussion,” I said. “This moot will be contentious enough, without additional misunderstandings about details.”
“Understood. I have a verbal agreement with Hugh. Is Hugh here? You all look the same to me.”
I chuckled at the ironic reversal of human prejudice. “I'll turn on metadata for you. This is Hugh,” I pointed. “And Bob, who you were chasing around with the replicant cube. That's Will, and I'm Bill,” I finished off, pointing to myself.
Annek rubbed its upper and lower bill sideways, the Quinlan equivalent of a smile, and said to Bob, “That was amusing, in retrospect. You have… slapstick. This is correct?”
Bob nodded, grinning back. “About right. Also, about the ‘in retrospect’ part.”
Hugh cleared his throat. “Um, about the deal…”
“Fine, Hugh.” I gestured to Annek. “If you’d care to start?”
Annek popped up a window with a list on it. “I am most impressed with this virtual reality system. Very convenient for quick presentation of data. Here are the main points of the agreement. Technologies that the Bobiverse will provide to me, technologies that I will provide to the Bobiverse, milestones for delivery, treaties regarding movement within each other’s territories, agreements in principle for trade and diplomatic relations.”
I raised my eyebrows at Hugh. “I'm impressed. There's a lot more here than you mentioned earlier.”
“All ‘in principle’ stuff, Bill, but none of it is critical to the overall deal.” We spent a few minutes discussing details, but nothing popped out as being a large issue, as long as you accepted that the deal itself was the biggest damned elephant in the room.
“Okay, I think we’re good,” I said. “Everyone ready? I expect this will be a bumpy ride.”
‘Bumpy’ didn't even begin to cover it. Annek stood to one side of the podium, eyes blinking slowly but otherwise showing no reaction, as Bob after Bob went on a rant. The targets were many and varied. Will, who was representing the UFS for purposes of this moot, took a huge amount of abuse. His constant reminders that he was simply presenting the human stance, not supporting it, didn't help in the slightest. Annek was the target of more than one tirade, which I thought odd, since all it had done was enter into an agreement with Hugh. Fortunately, the AI seemed to have an amazing level of patience and calm. Or maybe it simply didn't have emotions - that was one of many things I hoped to get a chance to ask at some point in the future. Its only reaction was the occasional roll of one eye on the other, to follow whoever was speaking. Starfleet, despite not being present, was another target of a fair amount of abuse, but not nearly as much as I expected, strangely. Perhaps they were now old news. Hugh, representing the Skippies, was the big winner in the hate sweepstakes. Fully half of the rants were directed his way. Topics ranged from ‘who do you think you are?’ to ‘what gives you the right?’ to ‘who asked you?’ and the ever-popular ‘where do you get off pulling this crap?’ After the first three or four attempts to insert a rebuttal, Hugh gave up and just let it wash over him. Finally though, everyone appeared to
