An Android Dog's Tale (24 page)

The two androids left Hub Terminal Four the
night before and headed southeast. Without a gond, traveling in dim
moonlight did not present a problem. At dawn, Tam paused to
calculate their position and turned right. The chances of
encountering roving humans increased over time as their population
and confidence grew, so Tam and his companion ambled across terrain
covered in tough native grasses at a normal walking pace. They
would approach the village from the inland side early that
afternoon.

“
If Mark Seven can’t come up with a way
to contain this, I don’t think this project can last much
longer,
” Tam said. “
The primitives here are just
so—
”

“
What? Uncooperative?
Unappreciative?
” his canine partner said. Tam expressed these
sentiments often. “
Which one this time?
”

“
I was thinking frustrating, but those
apply, too.
”

“
I don’t know why everyone seems to think
they should just be happy and cooperative little worker bees.
They’re not. They’re sentient. They wouldn’t be suited for the
project if they weren’t.
”

“
You can be sentient without being
insane, and most of these people are. Much of what they do makes no
sense at all. They’re primitives. They should appreciate the good
life they have and not try to disrupt it. It’s like they’re
determined to upset things. If they have enough food and a dry
place to sleep, that should be enough for them. It’s more than
their ancestors had when the corporation found them.
”

“
They don’t know that, and they don’t see
themselves as happy, primitive workers for the greater good of the
corporation. They don’t even know about it.
”

“
They don’t see a lot of things. They
can’t. They don’t have the ability. But whether they see it or not,
they are what they are.
”

“
Maybe they want to be something
else.
”

“
That’s insane.
”

“
Why? They can make choices. One of the
defining things about sentience is the ability to make choices not
dictated by basic instincts, or in our case, programming.
”

“
They can make limited choices within the
context of what they are. That’s true for every life form. You may
as well say that fish can choose to use fire. They can’t. They’re
limited to what they can do by what they are. I can’t choose to
have children, you can’t choose to play a flute, and humans can’t
choose to understand anything on more than a very simple level.
They’re superstitious. They don’t cooperate well. They turn on one
another for almost any reason, and if they don’t have one, they’ll
find an excuse to do so anyway. They’re stupid, smelly,
short-lived, and unsophisticated. That’s what they are. They can’t
choose to be other than that.
”

“
But a small seed can become
tree.
”

“
That’s different, and you know it. I
can’t imagine what you see in these primitives.
”

“
Potential, maybe. I don’t know. I just
think it’s cute how they keep poking at things.
”

“
That’s just the primate in them. They
poke at everything and sometimes it turns out to be edible. It’s
instinct. It’s not a choice, and it’s not admirable. Curiosity
without intelligence is not a survival trait.
”

MO-126 thought some humans were smart enough
to survive their curious natures, but it would be best not to argue
the point. He might lose. Tam could certainly provide more examples
to illustrate his position than MO-126 could to prove his.

“
Speaking of choices,
” he said,
“
you can choose to retire, can’t you? You don’t seem to like it
here much.
”

“
I have the time, but I don’t have the
credits to pay off my obligation.
”

“
You haven’t been paying down your debt
all this time?
”

Tam shrugged, and then his shoulders
returned to a more slumped position. “
I’ve been making the
minimums.
”

“
Just the minimum payments? Those barely
cover the interest. What have you been doing with the rest of your
stipend?
”

“
I invested it.
”

“
In what?
”

“
Trek Star Enterprises. It sounded like a
good idea.
”

“
Oh.
” Overtones of sincere sympathy
were embedded in the single word. Trek Star formed to extract
technology from what appeared to be a derelict kruton facility on a
frozen planet at the edge of a comparatively useless star system.
Rumors that the krutons had found a practical means for traveling
faster than light abounded. If Trek Star could find out what this
was, they would make a fortune. Unfortunately, whereas the kruton’s
may have discovered the secret, their facility proved unwilling to
part with it, sucking the planet, the Trek Star exploration ship,
and all of its investors’ assets, into to a black hole the size of
a shriveled orange. The officers of the enterprise, of course, got
sizable pension packages, accolades from the business community for
their courageous efforts, and lucrative positions as consultants in
the best tradition of private commercial enterprise. Average
investors like Tam got a small tax exemption for their loss and
sometimes a brief moment of sympathy from their friends.

“
What about you?
” Tam said.

“
I’m free and clear. Have been for years,
but I like it here. Besides, what else could I do? No thumbs.
”
He paused and held one his forepaws above the high grass to
demonstrate this obvious fact.

“
If you have enough put away, you could
buy yourself an upgrade, get some opposable digits, maybe even go
bipedal.
”

The android dog shook his head. “
I’ve
heard it takes years to adjust to something like that, and, well,
I’m not sure I’d like it. There’s a certain freedom in looking like
this. Not many demands or expectations are placed on you. I don’t
really have a burning desire to change myself. The way I figure it,
I’m perfect. No one could be a better me than I already
am.
”

“
What about thumbs?
”

“
Well, yeah. Thumbs would be handy.
”
He waited a moment for a laugh from his partner, which failed to
arrive. “
But I’d have to leave here, and I don’t want to. I’ll
stick it out to the end. When the corporation closes the project,
maybe I’ll think about a few modifications.
”

The breeze coming from ahead carried the
tang of sea water.

“
We’re getting close,
” MO-126
said.

“
I know. We’ll be there in half an hour.
I’ll meet with whoever passes for a headman. You should roam
around. Look for signs of trading and try to find out how
widespread the use of coins has gotten. I imagine the shore would
be a good place to start.
”

~*~

Smoke curled from cooking fires among a few
dozen modest wooden huts along the coast. This village was one of
an increasing number of small settlements established by humans
without any benevolent corporate assistance. The sandy soil
provided few vegetables. Scraggly bushes and vines yielded few
fruit, but the people here had learned enough about the sea to
create a decent life. It provided their larder and their road.

Someone noticed the androids’ approach. A
man of middle years wearing a flax linen tunic and a less than
welcoming expression came to greet the trader.

“Master Trader?” he said.

“Yes. I’m Trader Tam.”

“My name is Zakat. We don’t get Traders here
often.”

Tam smiled. “I’m not here to trade today.
It’s more of a social call, really. I was in the area and thought
I’d come by and see what you might need. The next time my people
come through this way, we could bring what you want in exchange for
whatever you have to offer.”

The villager regarded him coolly. “Don’t
have anything you want, I imagine.”

“I’m sure there must be something.”

If necessary, Tam would offer their trade
goods in exchange for sea shells or even goat dung. For rogue
villages such as this, making a profit on the trade did not matter
as much as gaining influence and leverage to ensure the settlement
did not disrupt others.

“Nope, don’t think so,” the village-man
said.

Tam’s eyebrows raised in involuntary
surprise. Villagers normally greeted him with a certain amount of
respect and eagerness. It sounded like Tam would have to work
harder than usual on this assignment.

The android dog wandered away. Getting a
corporation foothold here was his partner’s job. MO-126 had
another.

A few village dogs barked wary greetings or
paused for an introductory sniff as he made his way toward the sea.
Triangular sails of small boats bobbed on calm, warm water. Other
boats rested on the sandy shore. He approached one large enough to
seat two and carry about half as much cargo as an average gond.
Several people busied themselves around it. A young man stood
nearby making marks with a thin stick in the wax facing of the
wooden tablet he held in the crook of his arm. He mumbled to
himself as another man unloaded the boat and stacked its cargo
before him.

The android dog immediately assumed he
witnessed another instance of symbolic writing. The man was
obviously making a record of what the boatman brought, and MO-126
made a record of him making a record of it. That was his job. How
Field Ops would mitigate this, he did not know, but he expected it
would be difficult. They did little trade with this offshoot
settlement, so they did not have that for leverage.

He turned to walk away but changed his mind
when the villager with the wax tablet bent and picked an object
from the pile.

“What’s this?” the man said, examining it.
“Some kind of game? A musical instrument?” He held a rectangular
frame supporting three parallel strings with ten wooden beads
threaded on each. He flicked them up and down with a faint clicking
noise and a bemused expression.

“It is what we call an abacus,” the boatman
said. His accent marked him as being from a different village
farther up the coast. “It’s for counting. We thought you might find
it useful and wish to trade for it.”

“Counting what?”

“Counting anything. Here, I’ll show
you.”

The boatman demonstrated the device. It
represented a significant technology-development fault in its own
right. MO-126 should have found the existence of the device
disturbing, but he did not. He did find the thought of how it would
further annoy the administrative androids in Field Ops amusing,
however.

“What did you call it?”

“An abacus.”

“Hmm.... Ab-ah-kus.” The village man sounded
out the word slowly as he wrote on his tablet. Since he obviously
never heard the word before, he could write it only by using some
kind of phonetic alphabet—a full type one scientific-discovery
fault, and it would drive Field Ops nuts! A written language could
run through a population like mock cabbages through a gond’s
digestive system and spread ideas like natural fertilizer over a
wide area. A writing system adaptable to any language presented a
serious threat to the project, and this tiny village on the coast
invented one. They also possessed a concept of money and
established trade with neighboring villages. The android dog could
almost see the panic in Field Ops when he reported this. He wished
he could be there. Reporting it could also earn him a significant
bonus, as much as a decade of work credit. He didn’t need it, but
Tam certainly did. He might allow him to claim the bonus.

It did not take MO-126 long to find evidence
of copper coins. This was, after all, the original reason for them
being here, even if it no longer presented the biggest problem the
place held to Corporation interests. He listened for the
unmistakable sound of clinking metal and heard it not far away. It
came from a small hut nearby.

“Here you are, Spayzy,” the man at the
doorway said, handing two copper discs to the woman still inside
the hut. The thin coins, each about an inch in diameter, clinked as
he dropped them in her open palm.

She smiled, put her arms around his neck,
and gave him a long, steamy kiss. MO-126 could smell the pheromones
from ten meters away. When their lips unlocked, the man, well into
his midlife, sighed and staggered. The woman, considerably younger,
laughed. “I hope I didn’t hurt you,” she said teasingly.

“No, no, not at all. In fact, I’m ready to
have another go, if you have the time,” he said, despite all
evidence to the contrary. He still swayed as if fighting a strong,
variable wind.

“Once is enough for you, I think,” she said
giving him a gentle push on his chest. “Besides, you’re out of
copper. Go home, get some rest, and maybe you’ll come back for
another visit when you can, Okay?”

“You bet I will,” he said and staggered
away.

And the beginnings of specialization and a
fee for service economy, MO-126 thought as he observed the scene.
Field Ops would definitely not have a good day when they got his
report. Maybe rather than transmit it, he could deliver it person.
That might be fun.

~*~

He turned to leave and caught sight of a
woman of uncertain age sitting alone in the sand and staring into a
clay bowl. The behavior struck him as odd, so he wandered closer to
investigate.

Her long straight hair hung down, hiding her
features, but after a moment she straightened to reveal a perplexed
expression on her young face. MO-126 guessed her age somewhere
between sixteen and twenty.

“It’s the same each time. I wonder why it’s
doing that,” she said softly.