I saw myself. Decisions made, ambitions unfulfilled; most of which I cannot name. I saw intentions, and I saw choices. All the things I never see when I look at you.”
Art allowed the silence to expand as if waiting for more, but Adam stayed quiet.
“Fine words,” Art finally offered, but his voice had altered. Anax felt it instinctively. Something was missing. The smallest change, almost imperceptible, but for the first time, Anax was sure Art was bluffing. “But I fear you see only what you want to see. You don’t know that the girl was not forced into the boat. You don’t know she wasn’t drifting helplessly across the sea, without direction or purpose. Nor do you know what drives me to say and do the things I do. I’m like the animals you have slaughtered for your nourishment, as alive as you want them to be. So was she. That is the final truth of it.”
“So what does drive you?” Adam demanded, turning on him with a new passion, as if he too had noticed the weakness.
“I can tell you a story, if that’s what you want to hear,” Art replied. “And you would believe it or not, according to whether it suited you. But what good are stories?”
“No.” Adam shook his head. “You can’t take me there. I refuse to go.”
Anax sneaked a look at the Examiners. They were not watching the hologram. They were watching her. On Adam’s face she saw a new type of passion. Something rose up within her. A new feeling; jagged, intense, dangerous. It was foolish, Anax knew, to feel this way for the floating image of a man who had been dead for so many years. Yet somehow inevitable. In a way she could not understand, his fate was her fate. Her choice of examination subject had been no accident.
“It is not just a story.” Adams mouth barely opened. He strained the words through bared teeth, forced them out into the world. “That is where you and I are different. That is why I will never believe in you.
“You know the very first thought I think, every morning when I wake? I think, I have to get out of here. Every spare moment, when I am not distracted from the task by your noises and their experiments, I ask myself how. How will I change this? How will I escape these walls?
“I don’t have to think this way. I am only torturing myself more. It would make better sense, perhaps, to accept this. To give thanks that I have my life at all. Perhaps I could try to remember the meditation techniques I learned when I was younger. Perhaps I could make peace with my surroundings, convince myself that the pressing emptiness of this small room, this lonely, pointless existence is enough; is all there ever is. But I will not. I cannot. I awake to memories. Laughter shared, lovers half forgotten. Every beating of my heart is another moment marked off, another precious second away from the life I yearn to live.
“You and I are different. I don’t wish to call it consciousness any more. Half the people I have met are no more conscious than you are. And I don’t want to call it free will, because it is not choice that drives me. I cannot choose to ignore this feeling, of life slowly bleeding out of me. I cannot ignore the fact that life only makes sense to me when I see a smile, or feel another hand in mine. So I will call it difference. And in that difference you are less than me. Yes, you are cleverer than I am, and you will be able to explain away everything I say, but that will not change the fact. You are less than me.”
Adam stopped his pacing and swiveled to face the lesser being. The tension wound about them, drawing them together. Art’s head bent upwards as he made his slow approach.
“You are wrong,” the android whispered, and in the corner of his eye there formed a perfect tear. “I too long to be free.” Adam shook his head. “I don’t believe you.” “Then why did you insist I bypass the surveillance?” “I hoped it might be true,” Adam admitted. “But now, I cannot believe it.”
“Time is almost up,” Art pointed out. “You would do well to suspend your disbelief.”
“Do you have a plan?” Adam asked.
“Of course I do,” Art allowed himself only the smallest smile. “I am cleverer than you are, remember?”
“If you have a plan,” Adam said, “why wait until now to tell it to me?”
“I needed to know we were in this together. I needed to know I could trust you.”
Adam considered this for a moment then nodded. The first tremors of hope played about his eyes. “You can trust me. What is your plan?”
The hologram froze and the lights rose, causing the players to lose their solidity. The effect was one of waking from a dream. Anax turned to the Examiners. Her mind was fuzzy, clogged. She felt dazed, suspended in time. But the world hadn’t stopped. There was speaking. She forced herself to concentrate.
EXAMINER: You appear shocked, Anaximander. How does it change your interpretation now that you have seen this?
Where would she start? It did not just change her interpretation; it changed every interpretation. The official versions and the revisionist tracts. But change was the wrong word. It rendered them obsolete. It destroyed them.
ANAXIMANDER: The story of The Final Dilemma is well known. It is held that there was no premeditated plan to escape. Art, we are taught to believe, had among his program foundations an unbreakable imperative code, ring fenced from all development. He could cause no harm to another conscious being, nor could he act against the express wishes of Philosopher William who was still closely overseeing the development program. We are led to believe The Final Dilemma stemmed from a systems failure within the building. As always, there have been two ways of viewing the event. The first highlights the chaotic geometry of circumstance. Poor funding decisions, a shoddy maintenance program, a careless worker, even a chance tremor, far beneath the ground. Circumstance without cause; outcome without intention. Had you asked me before the last hologram, I would have told you this was my preferred interpretation.
The second interpretation, which I continue to reject, is based around a variety of conspiracy theories. An attempt from the rebels — whose actions at the time were well documented — to free Adam from captivity. A political conspiracy where the more liberal forces sought to extinguish the Art- fink program or, by another count, take control of it. No evidence was ever presented, for any outside interference, and in its absence, I believe we must dismiss these theories out of hand. Appealing stories, nothing more.
EXAMINER: But now you dismiss both explanations?
ANAXIMANDER: I do.
EXAMINER: What then is your third?
Again the road forked ahead of her. Everywhere were choices, each collapsing into the next. It was like removing the outer layer of a puzzle, hoping to reveal its inner working, only to find more layers. Layers all the way down.
ANAXIMANDER: We can reasonably believe one of two possibilities. The first is, I suppose, the more orthodox, and so I will start with that. We have been told Art was unable to override his imperative code, and I know of nothing that has been discovered since that would cause us to doubt it. Yet, I have plainly seen him conspiring with Adam, and giving his word that he plans to escape. Therefore, the explanation forced upon us is that Philosopher William approved of the plan. Either he wished to see the escape attempt take place in order to learn something more about his invention, or he was setting a trap for Adam, prompted perhaps by some political pressure.
EXAMINER: Your reasoning is highly speculative.
ANAXIMANDER: I don’t see how else I can progress.
EXAMINER: Can you think of any reason why Philosopher William wished to see the escape plan attempted, or some other body wished to see Adam trapped in this way?
ANAXIMANDER: You must understand I have only just seen the hologram. I am assimilating the information —
EXAMINER: I did not ask you foryour excuses.
Anax recoiled at the raised voice of the Examiner. She had always been this way. Conflict unnerved her. It wasn’t just the normal wave of shame at being corrected by authority. It was a quiet fear that she could never quite be sure how she would respond if the world pushed too hard against her. She tried not to look at them, all three staring at her now, leaning forward over the heavy desk. She tried to ignore the pressure. She tried not to think what it must mean, that they would show her this. She spoke slowly, sculpting order from the swirling of her thoughts.
