“Bring in twenty of me,” Art said, “and we’d all say your ass is prettier than your face.”
“There aren’t twenty of you.”
“No, you’re right. I’m unique. So I can safely say that all androids find you ugly. Not all humans find me ugly. So, technically, I’m better looking than you, using objective criteria.”
Adam looked Art over, as if seeking some sort of clue in his outer shell, something that would better explain this strange phenomenon. Art’s eyes tracked Adam’s gaze.
“You’re meant to keep talking. Otherwise this doesn’t count. I’ll stop the clock, for silences.”
Adam did not reply. He swiveled back toward the wall. A deep frown creased his face and his eyes darkened. “This is ridiculous,” he muttered to himself.
“What is ridiculous?”
“Talking to you. I’m not doing it. It’s pointless.”
“The point,” Art told him, “is the deal we made. Talking to me earns my silence.”
“Not talking to you will do the trick just as well.”
“I think you’ll be surprised how annoying I can become. Why don’t you want to talk to me?”
“You know.”
“It’s a prejudice you have isn’t it? You’re prejudiced against Artificial Intelligence.”
“There’s no such thing,” Adam responded, angry at heing lured back into the conversation, but unable to help himself. “It’s a contradiction in terms.”
“If I were a woman, you wouldn’t object to talking to me.”
“If you were a woman with a face like that, I’d want a drink first. Can you do that? Can you get me a drink?”
“You know drinking is banned among the Soldier class.”
“I’m not a Soldier anymore. They stripped me of my rank.”
“I don’t think they’d approve of my being programmed by a drunk.”
“I’m not programming you.”
“Yes, you are. Through my interactions with others, I learn who I am. So far I’ve had only William. Don’t get me wrong, I love him like a father, but in time every child must make his own way in the world, don’t you think? I’m sorry, that was insensitive of me, to mention fathers. William’s fault, you see. He grew up in different times. Do you ever wish you had been born before The Republic?”
“Don’t think I’m discussing politics with you.”
“Why not?” Art asked, his head cocked to the side in a parody of curiosity.
“They’re watching us. I’m not stupid you know. I know what this is about.”
“What is this about?”
“What’s anything about? Propaganda. They’re playing this into the communes, aren’t they?”
“That’s a remarkably paranoid point of view.”
“You can shut up now. Game’s over.”
“Time’s not up yet.”
“They didn’t give me a timepiece; I’m having to estimate. It feels like an hour. Has it been an hour?”
“Seven minutes.”
“Plus the other five. You’re almost out.”
“You’ll learn to like me eventually, and then you’ll want to talk all the time.”
“Daddy William tell you that did he? His last robot was a kiddie killer wasn’t it?”
“Does that make you nervous?”
“I have better things to worry about.”
“You shouldn’t be concerned. They found the glitches. For the first forty years, the arguments in enhanced consciousness circles —”
“What?”
“Enhanced consciousness. It’s the study of artificial replication of conscious states.”
“There’s no such thing as artificial consciousness.”
“I’m conscious.”
“No you’re not,” Adam’s eyes burned with conviction. “You’re just a complicated set of electronic switches. I make a sound, it enters your data banks, it’s matched with a recorded word, your program chooses an automated response. So what? I talk to you, you make a sound. I kick this wall, it makes a sound. What’s the difference? Perhaps you’re going to tell me the wall is conscious too?”
“I don’t know if the wall’s conscious,” Art replied. “Why don’t you ask it?”
“Piss off,” Adam snorted, but Art would not be discouraged.
“I think I’m conscious. What more do you need?”
“It’s just the way they programmed you.”
“I’m not denying that. So how do you know you’re conscious?”
“You wouldn’t have to ask that if you had real thoughts. If you had consciousness, you’d know.”
“I think I do have it,” Art told him. “I think I do know.” “Time’s up,” Adam declared. “I’ve got a minute left.”
“Yeah, well we’re going to spend that minute arguing about the reliability of your clock.” “At least I have a clock.” “I’ve been counting to myself.” “So why are you still talking if my time’s up?” Adam stared at the android, his smile grimly fixed, the tension clear along his jawline. Silence filled the unblinking gap between them. A single tear escaped from Art’s eye and ran down along his dark, furrowed face.
The Examiners froze the hologram and the image hovered, on the edge of dissolution. Anax turned to face the panel. She tried to swallow the feeling she could not explain, which came each time she saw this part of the hologram.
EXAMINER: That was an interesting touch. We will interrupt, when we feel the need to question your interpretation. Why is Art crying at this point? There’s no mention of it, in the transcript.
ANAXIMANDER: The transcript makes little mention of any expressions. But it seems clear to me that the programmers are interested in getting Adam to interact with Art, and will use any tricks available to them.
EXAMINER: Historians have argued about Adam’s feeling toward his mechanised companion. What, in these early stages, do you believe is happening?
ANAXIMANDER: Adam is angry; that is clear from the transcript. The aggression in his phrases matches no other conclusion. The question is what sort of anger are we dealing with? Is it an heroic anger? Is it a point of principle? I don’t think so. I have chosen not to display the defiance so often attributed to him at this point. I do not think Adam is defiant. I think he is scared.
EXAMINER: And what is your personal response to this weakness?
ANAXIMANDER: I wasn’t aware a personal response was required. As an historian, I am trying simply to —
EXAMINER: How does it make you feel, seeing him like this?
The Examiner snapped at her and Anax felt flustered. A personal response? Surely it was not the place of the historian to offer a personal response. It would be foolhardy to do so, even when instructed. Anax attempted to avoid the issue.
ANAXIMANDER: I feel uncertain. This is what made the hologram such a difficult task for me. I do not know how I feel. My feelings are ambiguous. However I portray Adam, I find myself believing there is an aspect of his behavior I am neglecting. It is as if I am a child, trying to put together a puzzle, unaware that a piece of it is missing. I am sorry, I know it must sound as if I am avoiding the question.
EXAMINER: Your hologram speaks eloquently on your behalf. Let us see how you have treated what happens next. The image clarified, both characters frozen.
EXAMINER: How, in your own words, is Adam feeling now? At this precise moment.
ANAXIMANDER: I think Adam is angry with himself for having engaged the android in conversation. He believes this is wrong. As you know, I support an intuitive rather than a calculating model of Adam. He has a feeling of injustice at having been arrested only for having followed his heart. I think he believes that by refusing to cooperate with the plan, he is making a stance of some sort in his own defense.
Also, he is in some kind of shock. At the sentencing, Philosopher William testified that Art’s development was still in an early stage, and that Art could in many ways be likened to a child, but the Art we have witnessed is
