“Look, Allen, just breathe, that’s all ya need to do,” Sinclair continued. “Just … let’s get your mind off of it. Tell me somethin’, anything.”
“Like what, Detective Sinclair?”
“Tell me about … tell me about where ya came from. Usually that helps normal people — humans, I mean — try to get their mind to a more relaxed state. Maybe you work the same, Allen. Somethin’ about your ‘childhood’ … or the equivalent.”
“I was made exactly seven years ago in a secret location known as Camp Theta in midwestern America, but I was born far earlier than that.”
“What do you mean born? You’re a machine. Right?”
“In the early 1920s, China was conducting advanced research in human biology. This was feasible only with the increase of accessible technology due to the Tesla Battery’s widespread availability — America transported Manuals through China during the Great War, and proprietary technology had been ‘lost’ time after time. With that in mind, after China’s major breakthroughs in researching the human brain, most of their data was stolen through espionage by the Allied countries of America and France after rumours had begun to spread of such experimentation. These developments enabled further Automatic advancement with minimal effort and prevented China from getting an economic edge in either the Automatic or medical industry. American scientists endeavoured to enable true synthetic intelligence, and so a project was founded to create me. Or, rather, us — the Synthians. This was the briefing they gave to us after we developed true consciousness.”
“Really? And how do you feel about being ‘born’?”
“What do you mean?” Allen asked curiously.
“Well, a lot of people — me included — often look back and ask ourselves if our lives are any good, or wonder if we were born at the right time. For example, if I’d been born a few years later, I’d never have joined the military and learned to pilot Rotorbirds. If Elias had been born earlier, he might not have met …” Sinclair’s voice trailed off. “You got any thoughts on that?”
Allen stared at him for a while, pondering the question. “I suppose I believe I was born too early. As of now, we Synthians are still herded in with the common traffic of simple Automatics and are regarded as nothing more than programmed machines. The few humans who do learn of our true nature either fear us as imposters trying to replace humanity, or revere us as engineering marvels rather than seeing us as equals. I believe in a way that we were created by scientists just to prove they could play God. Maybe in several years — perhaps even decades — we will be accepted, but as for myself, I feel stuck here, attempting to set precedents that I will never be able to take for granted.”
“Allen, there’s no reason to say that.” Sinclair put his arm around him. “Maybe you will enjoy those precedents and rights, eventually. Everything takes work and time. Look at humanity itself: before you — I mean, before Automatics came along — there was a lot of inequality between races, sexes, ideologies. A lot of it has been swept under the rug. Overall, things have improved … marginally.”
Allen raised an eyebrow. “Marginally?”
“Look I’m just saying that things will get better. Maybe not now, while things are on edge, but it’ll happen, eventually you’ll be accepted …”
“Perhaps, but at whose expense? Another machine, far more advanced than I, might have to suffer as I do now, while I sit there powerless to help. I believe the cycle of scapegoating must end here, with us.”
“Yeah, good luck with that, Allen. Human nature — so your nature as well, I suppose — dictates otherwise.”
Sinclair leaned back in the chair, pulled out a cigarette, and lit it. He offered one to Allen, who shook his head. “Speakin’ of which, you seem more knowledgeable about human nature than most humans. What did you do while you were stuck in that camp out west for seven years?”
“I was educated through academic study, mostly. New areas of study emerged after the War in the fields of physics and psychoanalysis, which intrigued me, so instead of going out like many other Synthians, who attempted to integrate along with the Automatics, I decided to further my knowledge in hopes of using it to better human- and machine-kind.”
Sinclair nodded. “Why are ya trustin’ me with all this, by the way? This whole Camp Theta thing sounds shadier than mustard gas. Why do you trust me with all these secrets?”
“In our limited contact with each other thus far, I have observed you to be a trustworthy individual.”
“Right, you have that ‘seein’ things’ knack. I hope you’re right, Allen. But while we’re on the topic of honesty, we should really talk about your bedside manner.”
“You mean my lack thereof?”
“Yes, that.” Sinclair leaned against the sliding door frame. “Police work isn’t usually like this, Allen. Ya can’t go around telling everyone they’re wrong and you’re right. People have far too much pride to roll over and accept what you say, and some might even put a bullet in ya for disagreeing with them. Real police work is gut feelings, knee-jerk responses, and sometimes puttin’ a sock in your mouth if someone starts gettin’ hysterical. I just need ya to realize you can’t play the detective all the time. That sometimes other people have to be right, eh? Today you did somethin’ any sane officer would have in the situation, and you resorted to violence only when it was absolutely necessary. But as y’know, not everyone follows doctrine like me or you.”
“Like Detective Roche.”
“Like Elias, yes. Roche is risky and reckless, but I give him the benefit of the doubt in some areas. If there’s ever a case that needs solvin’, no matter how incredibly illegal it is to investigate or how insanely dangerous, I’d trust him with my life to get it done.
