Adams ladder, p.24
Adam's Ladder, page 24
Throat clearing. “This describes The Estate?”
“Yes. Pod 366’s main funders were Andrew and Sophie, though Cecily was the initial Trustee. When associate members were invited, they were vetted by the Wares with the corporate oversight regarding their numbers. They chose associates they could control regardless how potentially problematic I found them. These were poor and discarded fringe people who’d have died and been cremated. In The Estate, the associates experienced elevated conditions they’d never have known in life, but the tradeoff was that the Wares had full control of them. They took in deviants and criminals for amusement, but not easy folks to control. They were trouble.
“I should make something clear before I go on. In stasis, T-pods build their world in consensus; creating a mutual set of laws, or an anarchist society, with only the corporate law absolute. Those laws were three. First law is for an LST to remain separate and impartial. Second law is for all, do no harm. Third law is for an LST: never terminate without express instruction from SM or corporate.”
“Are there other laws?”
“Hundreds, as in real life. T-pods are the exception … practically free from all regulation, but those three.”
“Unless requested by the trustees?”
Sighing. “Yes. If they choose to have their LST become an active part of their world or allow virtual physical harm or obtain the right of termination, they can do so. But, they pay for that.”
“So, harming or terminating another is unlawful and receives consequences?”
“Yes, in all but T-pods where restrictions are lifted. As I monitored Pod 366, the many avatars and associates they used and threw out, I learned to adjust to their … lawlessness.”
“Did your Section Manager know the disturbing composition and perversity of your T-pod and if so, were you ever instructed to intervene or interfere in any way?”
“Everything I did, everything that happened in the T-pod was fed unaltered into the Section Manager. Anything that alerts SM to a corporate infraction would’ve been flagged instantly. This never happened.”
Suspicious tone. “So all data stream received by Section Manager would have been unaltered?”
“As far as I’m aware. In training, we’re told that glitches rarely occur. Hacks, yes, but they’re handled so quickly, LST personnel might not be told. I wouldn’t know if something occurred unless there was a sudden and extreme change or my connection to the data stream was interrupted. Subtle changes can occur over time, and I wouldn’t be made aware from SM. If I missed it, so would SM.”
“This is good information. Opens a reasonable doubt window. Continue.”
A whir. Hum. “After eleven years witnessing every sort of deviance and perversity, I grew inured. Being disconnected from the T-pod over the last five months, I see how passive and accommodating I’d become. They never broke their own laws. They had none!
“Perhaps some personal member background will give the context.”
Detached tone. “Absolutely. Specificity is essential here.”
Soft chuckle. “Where did real Jon go?” More chuckling.
“He’s tired. Apologies.”
Cheery voice. “Accepted. Okay. Cecily raised Andrew and Sophie. Their parents died very young. Mr. and Mrs. Ware became earth-fodder rather than use life/mind-extension. They surely never imagined they’d die in a transport accident in their late twenties, hence the lack of preparation for post death. Next of kin, Cecily, took on the role of parental figure and started a trust.
“She was nineteen at the time, Andrew five and Sophie an infant. Inheriting WareCorp, with wealth beyond our comprehension, Cecily had a lot of help raising them, but for an immature, spoiled and not-quite-bright girl, she responded to motherhood as a bother. She preferred leaving the wolves in charge.
“Cecily was a fat, unattractive girl who desperately sought high society’s acceptance and a handsome, rich husband. After five years of relative invisibility through outright disdain, she became reclusive. Andrew became her new best friend. He was a good-looking boy, but his parent’s death and early abandonment issues gave him much shame. The easy-going charming façade he took on in public faded away at home. Cecily’s attentions and now-constant presence gave him a false sense of belonging, according to the psyche-eval.
“Cecily began seducing Andrew when he was ten and it continued until her death fifteen years later. There’s no proof, but Andrew’s recollections are that he began molesting Sophie when he was fifteen. It gave him some sense of control. Sophie was eventually complicit in this. No different from Andrew, she longed to feel a part of a relationship, to be seen, heard, felt. A decade on, when Cecily learned of this ongoing relationship between her niece and nephew, she had a jealousy-fueled psychotic break, viciously attacking them both. She spent three years in a sanitarium where she received heavy monitoring and reprogramming. The day she was to be released, she hung herself in a treatment room. It was fortunate that she’d set up the Post-PD trust after her brother’s death, and was linked in immediately.”
Weary voice. “Sophie and Andrew Ware died years apart, according to the data stream. She of ovarian cancer, he of an accidental drug overdose. How were they received by Cecily when they entered the T-pod?”
“Coolly. Sophie arrived first. Cecily had acquired brain injury from the sanitarium treatments, which caused recurrent bouts of dementia. She requested partitioning soon after Sophie arrived. In the partitioned area, she created her own world. There, she’s gorgeous, slim, happily married to a handsome adoring man, and the two of them freely sexually abuse the children.
“When Andrew arrived, he and Sophie acclimatized, creating The Estate environment, where they continued their incestuous relationship. Initially, and for a few years, the familiarity of it gave them comfort. They grew dissatisfied eventually, and began to experiment with avatars and brought in the associate members for as long as they remained of interest.”
Captivated tone. “This jibes with the evaluations I have, but your telling gives them a softened, almost sympathetic version. Do you think spending so many years with them you grew to feel benevolence?”
“Perhaps. More disappointment softened by pity. As their LST, my feelings about them were tertiary to my remit.”
“Do you believe that the data your SM has from your years in service to the Ware’s T-pod will show that you were successful in separating your emotions from your responsibilities?”
Long pause. Silence. Forlorn voice. “It would take a long time for me to review that much data to assess the truth of that. I thought I did a good job.”
“You don’t sound certain.”
Soft machine noise. “Don’t I? Would you if this incident occurred on your watch? You’d have to go through the data and decide for yourself, Jon.”
“I need context. You have that. You experienced it.”
Awkward derisive snort. “That I did.”
Cough. “I need a break. Ten minutes?”
“Yes. Ten.” Firm bump sound.
INTERVIEW RECOMMENSED
10.25 MINUTES LATER
Soft bump. “Dominique?”
“Better if I’m just Five-Two, now.”
“If that’s what you feel comfortable with. We can continue. Do you recall where we left off?”
Soft tone. “Yes, Jon. I do.” Unintelligible noise. Detached voice. “I do.”
Gentle voice. “Let’s start at a point you were first aware of subtle changes that may have allowed the incident to occur.”
Resigned tone. “I can do that for you, Jon.
“At year nine, after going through a dozen associate members, their perversity had peaked in the extreme. Because of the depths of depravity he’d experienced and a general ennui, Andrew grew weary of Sophie and their incestuous escapades. He was bored. Unfulfilled. Sophie designed higher risk-taking adventures to include him, but he withdrew. He preferred nostalgia to activity, reminiscing over his youth for long periods, asking me to provide him scenarios of experiences from before his parent’s deaths. Sweet, poignant moments. He softened, began reading poetry, fiction.
“Then, strangely, he began talking to me, reading to me. Not merely thinking what he wanted without conceiving of me as anything other than an operating system link. In a way, I became a person, not his LST.
“He asked me questions about who I was, where I’d lived, my family, what it was like where I worked. We had conversations. So, when he asked me if I lived in The Estate, what my avatar would be like, I wasn’t alarmed. In any other pod, this would be in direct offense of the first law …”
“Breaking the Fourth Wall.”
Fascinated. “Interesting.”
“Did Andrew, Cecily or Sophie directly request that you break any of the OnCorp laws?”
“Indirectly. When Andrew asked me who I’d be in The Estate, I answered neutrally. No differently than wondering how many trees I thought should exist on The Estate. I said I’m female, forty years old, and I’d immerse myself in quantum entanglement conundrums because that’s my main interest. I explained that throughout my education, I wanted to be a physicist, but my psych-eval showed a high level of multitasking skills, compassion, and the technical skills used in LST work.
“Andrew thought that my choices were dull and laughed. He then asked me to describe what my construct would look like. Even with my infinite imagination, I said I had clear blue eyes, a boyish figure, and that my hair was short and brown. He thought that was dull, as well. It shouldn’t have bothered me, but the last word I’d use to describe myself is ‘dull’.”
“Did you feel hurt?”
Apologetic voice. “Yes.” Pause. Incredulous tone. “Then, he asked me if I liked him, found him attractive! I’d never thought about it. I identified as separate. I expressed that I felt neutral.”
“Did this trouble him? You?”
“In that instance, I registered the change in his behavior as minor, and he never questioned how I felt about him again. I thought it inconsequential. Pod members may think whatever they like, and if it was of concern, I believed my SM would’ve alerted me.”
“So your relationship became somewhat personalized?”
“In hindsight, yes.”
“What was the next instance?”
“Sophie’s world devolved further, taking in an associate, requesting she be free to cause harm, use torture if she wanted. Harm registers in their minds, but they feel it profoundly, so SM stepped in. They gave her strict parameters regarding consent.
“Andrew knew nothing of this. So when he began involving me peripherally in his creation of his Perfect Moment, play-acting as a surrogate avatar, not the actual avatar, I considered it a kindness. Running the avatar, I remained in his head, acting from his imagination.
“He said he wanted Sophie to become integrated in this female construct, so he told her about the Perfect Moment; a sequence of erotic events centered on his first experience with Sophie, but redesigned to fit his ripened fantasies.
“This felt the ultimate betrayal to her. She grew testy, mean-spirited. Yet, she didn’t confront him, choosing instead to behave as the perfect one, and get it ‘right’ as he saw it. The three of us then created Hanna.”
“Clarify this. How did you know how she felt, yet allow her to be integral to this scenario?”
Embarrassed voice. “She’d learned to shield herself from me, which I only know now. Sophie had become incredibly strong. But, as Andrew worked with Sophie to create his perfect Hanna, something felt wrong to him, so I sensed it as well. I thought it best for him to have a safe word in case Sophie chose to cause harm, of which I knew she was capable. If he said it, I’d freeze her and restart the situation in safe mode. Or end it.
“In retrospect, when instances such as this occurred, I felt protective toward Andrew, which wasn’t a good thing. I believed I’d remained as balanced as possible. Clearly, over time, subtle changes did occur.”
Jon interrupts. “The incident itself is a separate data log, viewable omnisciently by the parties in this criminal trial. So can you explain your experience of it for the record?”
“I was linked to Andrew and Sophie acting as Hanna from her appearance outside the conservatory. During the incident, as Hanna and Andrew enter Sophie’s room, Sophie essentially moves out of Hanna. I retained our link and followed her to Andrew’s gun cabinet. She was about to have her precious memory rewritten. To her, an abomination! She had to confront him now. I knew she wanted to harm him.
“At the same time, somehow I remained linked with Andrew and I force-inhabited Hanna. She wasn’t a true avatar; she was the construct’s husk. The system somehow pushed me, Dominique, into Hanna.”
“Could you have left Hanna to disappear or forced her to become a construct of her own?”
“This, I do not know. This situation was unprecedented. The system wasn’t addressing this situation, so to remain in service, I suddenly entered into Hanna. I can only explain the way I experienced it.
“I knew Sophie was coming after him, but as Hanna, I couldn’t change the scenario. When he saw Sophie with the rifle, he feared she’d cause him harm. He had no idea I’d taken Sophie’s place in Hanna, because he called out to me with his safe word, ‘Erase’”.
“Did you know ‘Erase’ was your T-pod’s corporate termination code? That your imperative was to fully terminate upon that order?”
“As LST, I must’ve known. But, pods can have unique termination codes. Still … I’ve retraced the events of that day, wondering why, if I had access to that information in my data stream, I’d follow Andrew’s command. He gave me the safe word. A termination code. Why didn’t I override it to simply freeze Sophie and reboot Andrew’s Perfect Moment?”
“Do you question why your SM didn’t intervene?”
A low growl. “Absolutely. Don’t you?”
“Yes, Five-Two. There’re no precedents for what occurred. This closed mind/life extension system has worked perfectly for nearly a century. Or so we’re led to believe. And you’ll be up against OnCorp. They’ll protect their interests.”
Tone of lament. “I can’t save myself, can I Jon. But you can. Will you save me?”
“I’m up for this challenge, and I’m on your side, no matter what.”
Resigned voice. “No matter what? You could be on my losing side.”
“Best case scenario, Andrew gets a rebooted Dominique back. You know the worst.”
Tone of lament. “So, paint the burning fence, or let it burn down. Forever.”
“But, I’ll be with you all the way.” Deep thrum.
INTERVIEW PART ONE
TERMINATED BY MC ANALYST JON ARENDT 21:15
PITY THIS BUSY MONSTER NOT
Scott Edelman
Julian found himself sitting at a narrow counter which ran along the coffee shop’s front window, a coffee shop which he knew should have been familiar to him, even though it was not. His head was down as he frowned while working with too great an effort on what should have been an easy crossword puzzle. He was frowning twice over, in fact, for he wasn’t just frowning because he found the clues which ran down the page to be tough ones. He was also frowning about even frowning over that crossword puzzle. For as far as he knew, he didn’t like crossword puzzles, at least, not that he remembered, which explained, he guessed, why he also couldn’t recall ever attempting to do one.
Actually, he wasn’t quite sure what he liked or didn’t like, was only sure that he shouldn’t examine too closely the nature of his uncertainty just then. So he returned to his struggling, a mental exercise accompanied by gently tapping the cap of his pen against his lip, a habit he found comfortable, and recognized as his own, even though he had no idea why, when, or where the gesture had become his in the first place.
He searched his memory, which he knew in his heart (he had a heart, didn’t he?; yes, he felt it there, beating) to be wide and deep (though he clearly had no true proof of that in this instant) to remember the name of a certain actress from a certain movie made during a certain year. This attempted dive into the past made his head hurt, because somehow he knew, somehow he was aware, that he should have remembered information like that easily. He always had before, hadn’t he? Though he wasn’t sure how it should be possible to remember that remembering, while at the same time having no clue as to the information itself.
Sighing, he lifted his gaze for a moment from the newspaper. It had been the only moment he’d raised his head since sitting down with his puzzle and his coffee and his banana nut muffin, and in that moment, he chose to glance out the large front window and onto the street.
He could have looked elsewhere in that instant. He could have turned his head, perhaps, looked to his right, and studied a wall decorated by a tromp l’oeil mural of coffee beans growing on a hillside. Or he might have tilted his head back, looked up, and admired the fanciful lighting fixture formed there by a spiral of glowing coffee cups. But no, instead, he chose that moment to stare straight ahead, to feel the sun on his face for what seemed like the first time, and so he, not just for what seemed like the first time, but for what actually was the first time, saw her.
Had he changed this element of his posture a moment earlier, she wouldn’t have yet reached that narrow stretch of side street, and so he’d have lowered his gaze before she passed, missing her. If he’d stirred himself a moment later, she’d have already been gone, having turned a corner, escaped the moment of their maybe, never to be seen by him. But, luckily for him, luckily for her, the puzzle which had been confounding him disturbed him just enough that he’d looked up at exactly the right moment.
