* * * *
“It’s a missing body, who do you think is responsible? Don’tcha think it might be the guy with the key to this cage?”
“You were the person who took my brain out of it. I’m just asking.”
“Yes, but might I remind you that the whole reason we’re arguing over this is that some intelligent being, whose identity we don’t know, is messing with us? And probably trying to spark this kind of conflict in the first place, I may add.”
Uriah sat and gestured for Sabrina to follow suit. “I’m not arguing with you. I’m just trying to sort out a mystery.”
Sabrina was not so at ease, remaining standing. “Yeah, well, I assure you nothing I can tell you would solve it. Let’s just focus our energy on more pressing matters, like, I don’t know, getting out of here alive? That’s exactly what he doesn’t want us to do, hence the distraction.”
“You said, ‘he’,” Uriah mumbled.
“Because I’m sexist. No, yeah, I admit it, you were right. It’s probably Livingston after all.”
Uriah thought of how best to minimize the puppeteer’s chances of overhearing their plotting. He motioned for her to follow him, seized the remainder of the second blanket to cover them, and whispered, “All right, let’s think carefully. How do you get out of a cage?”
“You pick the lock.”
“Or you get the key from the person who put you in there.”
“Which only comes from kissing his ass, which I’m not prepared to do.”
“You’re censoring yourself. Come on, we can do better than that.” He stared at the emerald carpet floor. “This captor’s almost certainly human if it’s cornered us this far. The only robot that might have the motivation for this is Jane, but that’s impossible. She’s just not a smart cookie, and the incentive isn’t there. What kinda weaknesses do all humans have that can we use to get the key?”
“Ego comes to mind. And fear. Naivety. Bias.”
“All easier said than exploited.”
“Well, what’s your idea?”
He had no immediate answer. “We can’t know how to manipulate him,” he said slowly, “until we figure out what he wants. Promising some gain for the manipulated works best, after all.”
“Does it?”
He scoffed. “Whaddya mean, ‘does it’? It’s the most rational conclusion. After all, everyone does what they do for some benefit to themselves, or to a cause they care about.”
She gave a you-say-the-darnedest-things smile. “If there’s one thing I hope I teach you after all this, it’s that people aren’t rational, Dennis. You don’t persuade people with rewards. You use tested psychological methods, like convincing them you’re similar to them. Humor also helps, and it’s even easier if you talk about the matter over a meal. Heck, get them to answer other questions positively that you know they’ll say yes to anyway.”
“That is irrational. But assuming you’re right, how do we talk to this guy? I’m still not sure he’s not dead.”
“We could just ask.” Without ado, Sabrina got out from under their quilt and looked all around the room as she said, “Okay, Livingston, we’re at our wits’ end here. Dennis and I would like to talk to you, so if you’re there, give us some sorta message. Thank you.”
They waited. Nothing happened.
“And here I was thinking that’d work,” said Uriah as he saw Sabrina return. She leered but seemed to let it go with a sigh, as if at least his comment had diverted her mind from more depressing matters. Like that their minds were at the mercy of the puppeteer every second, and seeing no effects of this was all the more terrifying. “How about we find something that Livingston probably doesn’t want us to do, and threaten aloud to do it? It’s more blackmail, I know, but what other choice is there?”
“I guess there isn’t one.” Sabrina concentrated. “Let’s not assume this person is necessarily Livingston. All we know about – let’s say ‘him’ for simplicity’s sake – is, first, he confined us in a house devoid of electronics, most likely using nanobots based on what I’ve seen of the windows and doors. Second, he waited about half a day after we entered the house to trap us in this basement, and he’s since provided food, liquor, and the Libertas of Marshall Patterson. He tried to subvert our wills with Neurehab-like technology, but when we found a loophole he let us get away with it.”
“Not for long,” he interjected. “I never told you … I didn’t get the rum on purpose. It’s hard to believe, I know, but I felt this literally uncontrollable urge to keep my mouth shut and sneak out from under the covers to get a drink. I know I drank a couple bottles, but after that I don’t remember a lick.”
“That’s not normal. But I believe it after all this. Anyway, what have I missed?”
“You said I would’ve bled to death, right? Did you give me any drugs before making the switch?”
She nodded. “A painkiller and an anesthetic. That’s important. It’s like he’s planned this, especially considering the Libertas.”
“Maybe …” Uriah trailed off and nonverbally tried to dismiss it.
“Maybe what?”
“He was trying to do all this to force one of us into an exoskeleton, but why? With your hands on an EM gun it’s easier to nab an Unnat–” He knew the problem with this as he said it. “A Transhuman, I mean. But if he wanted to kill us he could’ve gotten it over with. Either he just likes to play with his food before he eats it, or we need to read more between the lines.”
“It could just be a power complex. Suppose this fella has never had so much control over the fates of human lives before. Suppose he was like you, someone who just wanted to work hard to live a humble dream, but who got maligned by a culture that didn’t have room for people like him. After so many years of learned helplessness and being labeled lazy by the haves as the cause of your being a have-not, wouldn’t you grab hold of whatever source of practically godlike power you found? Assuming you didn’t have empathy, which about five percent of the population doesn’t anyway.”
“Most of which are people who’ve purposely mind-modded themselves.” He shivered. “It’s hard to imagine not having empathy in the first place.”
“When the chips are down, I think anyone’s capable of overriding any altruism they have.”
Uriah noticed she was getting slightly closer, touching his hand and likely surprised at how it wasn’t cold.
“I’m not saying this is necessarily what’s going on,” she said, “but it’s my best guess. I’d like to think it’s been Livingston all along, since then at least we’re dealing with someone we know something about, but I still have my doubts, Dennis. I mean, I saw the body. Out of the corner of my eye, on Sunday. His head was so bloody, I just … don’t see it.”
“True, I can’t see why he’d bring us together, specifically.” Seeing her look, he said more defensively, “Hey, it could just be because we’re the only other kids in his playground, or this is all about what we suspected it was before. Might not fit all the data, but this looks a lot like a Mission: Repopulation to me.”
Sabrina wasn’t convinced. “Oh yeah, well then why the Libertas? They don’t exactly make those things for reproduction.”
“I could’ve –” His heart sank. “I didn’t. Did I?”
“What?”
“Do I have to spell it out? I was drunk, anything could have happened, even …” Was that why Livingston had waited so long to Unnaturalize him?
She was now a little more sympathetic, but there was a hint of something else he couldn’t put his finger on. “Dennis, I promise I’d tell you if I were pregnant.”
“Would you? Come on, you have every reason to hide it. I wasn’t in control of myself, and if you acknowledged the alcohol screwed me up royally, then maybe you just didn’t want to make me guilty.” Nothing in his expression betrayed guilt, but he was undeniably tense. “Chrissakes, like I said, I could’ve done anything, p
robably something so horrible you’ve repressed it.”
“Oh, please!” She was about to cry. “Repressed memories are a myth! No one forgets something so traumatic that it changes her whole view of the world and – and the amount of faith she puts in people. Including herself!”
The dam broke. Uriah hated himself for turning away. He knew he should do something, but he was never good with womanly tears. Pat had never cried. That was one of the things he’d loved about her.
Sabrina, by contrast, let the sobs flow for half a minute before speaking again. When she showed her face, or at least what could be seen of her face with the quilt, it was red and soaked, her thick golden hair ruffled. “I’m sorry, Dennis, I shouldn’t let myself get like this, but dammit, I just hate it when people use bad psychology when it comes to this stuff. It’s not your fault, you just don’t know any better, but a lot of therapists do know better and do nothing about it!”
To say he felt awkward would be as tremendous an understatement as that Earth had a rather short supply of conscious humans. “Could you please just, uh, keep it down?”
“They belittle real people’s real experiences by seeing these memories of awful, awful things that aren’t there.” She sniffled and wiped her nose on her sleeve. “And they delude themselves so much that they get children to believe these atrocities about themselves. Then not only do innocent people, their parents even, suffer for this, but these kids have to carry that pain of alienation from people they trusted and the scars of something that did – not – happen!”
“Sabrina, do you wanna talk –”
“No! This is another distraction, we need to move on and get outta here!”
Uriah touched her arm and gave her the most sincere appearance of concern he could have for this pathetic, ugly woman. “Sabrina, please, listen to me. We can break out all we want, but it’s not worth it if we’re not human by the time we do. It wouldn’t be human of me to let you bury this.”
Part of him was afraid he’d already let himself surrender his humanity. That was why he was looking into her eyes not with his own, but with those of a man evidently disillusioned with the extent to which real humans can love.