An Android Dog's Tale (15 page)

~*~

A crowd gathered outside Ranex’s hut the
morning after his election. MO-126 hovered a short distance away to
observe this example of orderly transition of political power.
Later, he felt he should have expected what happened next, but he
did not. Neither did Granny Greenflower, and she understood humans
far better than the canine mobile observer did.

Their error may have been because they
subconsciously tended to think of humans as children, the
unsophisticated, happy, and largely docile creatures they were
portrayed as in corporate advertising. They were not. MO-126 liked
them, as a whole, but there were deviants who unwittingly tried to
change his opinion from time to time. Some among them seemed to
lack the basic cooperative instincts shared by most creatures that
evolved to live in groups. He suspected that if two normal hungry
humans were locked together in a room for a day with a single
apple, they’d share it and make the best of things. He felt fairly
sure that if two of the deviant types were in the same situation,
only one very well fed one would come out, and the apple would have
been used as a garnish. Oddly enough, this deviant type of human
seemed especially adept at swaying others.

It soon became clear that not everyone
waiting in the cool morning breeze came to seek an opinion or a
judgment from the new headman. The android dog understood that
Movey supporters would not be pleased, but the family elders had
met and chosen Ranex. Most of the village witnessed it. No one
could argue about it not being fair. But they did. One man kept
shouting about injustice. Another used very short words to voice
his discontent with the wisdom of the elders who cast their lots
for Ranex. Shouts turned to arguments. Arguments turned to shoves.
Shoves turned to fights, and soon became a brawl full of
name-calling, unreasoned slogans, and dubious truths emphasized
with fists and sticks.

His first thought as a loyal Corporation
operative was to record the conflict for the PM. He felt sure it
would want to analyze the event. The fight also might lend support
to Granny Greenflower’s request to bud the village. Surely, it
would be better to separate the two groups than to have them clash
like this.

He went about clandestinely recording from a
reasonably safe spot at the rippling edge of the scuffle when he
noticed Steffin hobbling into the mob on his walking sticks,
shouting for everyone to be reasonable. What was the young man
thinking? MO-126 knew humans could be reasonable, but they were
best at it when alone and otherwise unperturbed. The ability
declined sharply when they were agitated and especially when they
were in groups being agitated by other groups.

The club-footed young man raised one of his
canes, probably for emphasis or attention. MO-126 could not tell if
Steffin was struck or pushed or if he simply lost his balance. With
a head a meter lower than the shortest man in the mob, the android
dog did not have a good perspective on the scene. The mob surged
over the crippled man heedlessly.

The android dog tried barking to warn
everyone, but several village dogs barked and nipped around the
ankles of the men fighting, and his warnings were lost in the
general clamor. The dogs appeared to be trying to divide the
clashers into separate groups to break up the fight. Their inherent
reasoning abilities were more limited, but they currently seemed
unimpaired, unlike those of their masters. The men were not being
cooperative. Humans can be extraordinarily difficult to herd at
times and disturbingly easy to at others, with no obvious
relationship to the wisdom of the herder’s intent.

There was no option. He must try to get
Steffin out of there.

He rushed in, weaving in and out between
shifting legs in an effort to find him. The artificial dog soon
did, but Steffin was not the only one being trodden on by those
still up trying to knock down others. Several men crawled on the
ground attempting to rise to rejoin the fray. Others either could
not or simply decided it would be best not to try. None of them
appeared to be as badly injured as Steffin. He lay unconscious, one
arm clearly broken, and his breath came in shallow, rapid gasps
through blue-tinted lips. MO-126 hesitated to move him, but, again,
what choice did he have?

Another man fell almost on top of them.
Blood gushed from his nose and splattered both the dog and the man
he was trying to rescue. MO-126 grabbed Steffin by the collar and
dragged him while calling silently to Granny Greenflower for help.
He did not know what she might be able to do, but with thumbs and
an ability to speak, she certainly had more options than he
did.

“
I’m coming,
” he heard her say. “Just
get Steffin out of there.”

MO-126 pulled on the tough linen fabric,
dragging his unconscious charge as he tried to back out of the
crowd. Men shouted and punched with powerful effect and little
meaning around them. A temporary break in the tangle of legs showed
a clear path out of the fight, and he rushed through, revealing,
perhaps, a bit more strength, agility, and speed than prudent. He
doubted anyone around would notice.

He failed to appreciate how strong the reek
of sweat and body odor in the lower regions of the forest of
fighting men was until they emerged from it. A faint breeze brushed
away much of the smell and some of the dust kicked up by the
scuffle. It also carried a new sound to the android dog’s sensitive
ears.

Granny Greenflower, leading a group of
village women armed with switches, brooms, and bristly attitudes,
approached. The ladies laid into the outer edges of the fight with
blunt weapons and sharp tongues for which the men could offer
little resistance. Soon those men who could still walk away did so,
humbly. Others crawled or lay where they fell to be found and
tended by whatever women chose to claim them.

“
How is Steffin?
” the nursery android
asked. MO-126 looked up and saw her hastening toward them.

He was no healer, but Steffin did not look
well to him, and he told her so. She made her own examination a
minute later and confirmed his inexpert diagnosis. The crippled
young man most likely would not survive the night.

~*~

Steffin never regained consciousness. He
died late that night in the healer’s hut and he was cremated the
next day in accordance with this village’s customs. MO-126 sent a
full report with video recordings to Field Operations, but they
said this did not alter the PM’s decision. The primitives were
resolving their dispute in their decidedly primitive way and things
would return to normal soon. Intervention was not required.

The android dog wanted to believe this, but
he suspected this eventual return to normal would take a few
detours before it arrived. Some villagers claimed Steffin’s death
was no accident and called for justice. Others wanted revenge. Some
could not distinguish between the two or just wanted something to
happen soon so they could go back to their quiet lives of growing
vegetables and raising children and were upset because this seemed
unlikely.

Ranex’s supporters blamed Movey’s people.
They said they should accept the decision of the family elders and
stop causing trouble. Movey’s group claimed that the incident
resulted from Ranex not being able to maintain order or protect his
people. This conflict was not over.

It erupted in violence again the next day.
MO-126 did not witness the altercation, but it apparently concerned
a goat, a soiled tunic, and who should have been watching what.
When one of the disputants suggested they visit the new headman to
resolve the issue, the other refused, claiming he could not expect
a fair judgment from Ranex. They attempted to settle the matter
themselves with hoes, using them for purposes for which they were
unintended but nonetheless adequate. Both men required visits to
the healer’s hut.

“This has got to stop,” Granny Greenflower
mumbled to herself after bandaging the two men and sending them on
their way.

“
Can’t they just work together and be,
well, co-headmen?
” MO-126 asked naively from his spot in the
corner where he had been attempting to observe unobtrusively.

She looked up in confusion and then around
the room. “
Oh, MO-126. I forgot you were here,
” she
transmitted.

He took no offense. As a dog, he was
accustomed to being ignored. In fact, he often depended on it.

“
I know that seems reasonable,
” she
continued, “
but it requires more objective rationality than most
humans posses, I’m afraid. If they disagree on an issue, and they
will, who will make the final decision then? No, it has to be one
or the other.
”

“
Well, I suppose they eventually will
resolve it themselves, like the PM said. It just seems a shame that
they can’t do it without hurting one another.
”

“
Eventually, yes. That might be tomorrow
or it may not be for a few years, not that it matters as far as the
project manager is concerned. Whenever it happens, the resolution
will leave either Movey or Ranex dead at the end. Of that, I’m
sure.
” She placed a stack of clean unused bandages back in the
trunk they came from and slammed closed the lid.

“
They’ll be dead soon, anyway,
” the
android dog reminded her. “
Humans don’t live long.
” He no
longer fully agreed with this paraphrased bit of corporate policy,
but he did appreciate the importance of maintaining emotional
distance. The field androids should not become too attached to
individual primitives.

“
Don’t spout corporate guidance to
me,
” she said. “
I know more about humans than anything
you’ll find in Corporation policy documents. The length of their
lives matters far less than the quality of the living, and these
people live pretty fully, if you ask me. Their lives are important,
and I won’t stand by and see them wasted just because they don’t
affect corporate production goals.
”

“
So what are you going to do?
” he
asked her.

“
Something. I don’t know. And unless you
really believe that Corporation nonsense about these people being
little more than livestock, you’ll help me.
”

MO-126 said nothing. There was no point.
They existed solely because of the corporation’s project, and the
PM represented the final authority on this planet. They could not
challenge it, and they could not change things.

“
I see,
” she said finally. “
Well,
at least don’t get in my way.
”

~*~

MO-126 lay in the dirt behind Ranex’s hut
early the next day. The mobile observer android could do little
except monitor the situation, so this is what he did. An almost
constant stream of villagers came to the newly elected but not
universally acknowledged headman’s hut. He listened to arguments
and passed judgment on issues regarding irrigation ditches, sick
goats, and mysteriously molting chickens. All the families involved
had supported him. He also met with a man who told him that Movey
arbitrated a conflict earlier that morning between two other
families that had not. They were already essentially divided into
two villages, which would work fine until an issue emerged
involving people not on the same side, and it inevitably would.

The next person to call was not technically
a villager, or even human.

“Granny Greenflower,” Ranex said. “Please
come in.”

MO-126 did not signal to let her know he was
listening. It would have been courteous to do so, but curiosity
stopped him. He wanted to hear what she would say to Ranex.
Besides, she specifically asked him not to interfere.

“Ranex, we need to talk,” she said.

“Has someone else been hurt?” he asked.

“Not yet, but more will be if we don’t do
something to stop it.”

“I think you’re right, and I’ve been
thinking I should just abdicate in favor of Movey for the good of
the village.”

“And how do you think he’ll treat those who
have supported you if you do?”

“Not fairly, I imagine. But it still might
be better than if I don’t.”

“There is another option,” she said.

Her voice fell to a whisper, but MO-126
increased the sensitivity of his audio receptors and clearly heard
every subversive word she said.

“You need to leave,” she told him. “Start
your own village with your followers.”

“Leave?” he said. “We can’t leave. Everyone
knows about the demons and wild animals that prey on travelers. No
one but the Master Traders can travel safely, and we don’t have
their magic. Even if we could, where would we go? I’ve never been
more than half a day’s journey from the village. No one has.”

“That just means you’ll need a guide.”

“And where would we get one? You? Can you
get us safely through the unknown wilderness? Do you know where we
can build a new village, somewhere with good water, a redfruit
orchard, and fields where we can grow vegetables and grain? Even
with Movey as headman, life can be good here. I can’t ask people to
follow me into the unknown.”

“You can and you must,” Granny Greenflower
said. “Your ancestors came from another village. Your stories tell
you this.”

“Yes, but they also say they were shown the
way by a Master Trader, and that they traveled many days, and that
each night they could hear demons moaning and animals howling in
the distance kept away only by the Traders’ magic.”

“Yes, I am sure that is what they say. But I
can tell you this, if you do decide to leave and your people say
they will follow you, someone will come to guide your way.”

“A prophesy, Granny Greenflower? I did not
know you possessed the gift.”