"Don't fall for her lies!" came another shout. "God will strike her down for her arrogance!"
Helen did another triangulation and another lookup. Shit. She whispered to Janey, "You have to convince these people to disperse."
"You'd like that, wouldn't you?"
"That guy in back, the one making all the noise? Looks like he's ready to start throwing bricks? Undercover cop. I think he's trying to goad the crowd into--"
"Yeah, yeah. Undercover agitator. We've already spread the word about that guy. This isn't my first rodeo."
Helen just looked at her, then shook her head. "Girl, you are made of awesome."
The girl seemed to be trying hard not to smile. "Thanks. You're still a corporate tool, you know."
"I know. Look, we can't stop researching this. You have to know that."
"You can stop. You have to. What you're doing here, it's going to change everything. You're fucking with the absolute, base-level fundamentals of human existence, without asking anyone if this is what they want, if this is where the species ought to go. Nobody asked anybody here if they thought it was a good idea. You're just deciding for all of us, and it's a travesty." The protesters burst into applause.
"But I thought you raised your hand."
"I'd take it if it was made available to me. But I don't like the world it brings about. It may already be too late to stuff this genie back in the bottle."
"What do you fear? What do you think is going to happen?" The girl shook her head, but Helen prodded her again.
"You really want to know? Fine. The last six years, I've been trying to organize people like these, people who got left behind by the last economic transformation. The economy produces in abundance, but these people live in scarcity. This technology will make the inequities of our society a thousand times worse."
"I don't understand."
"Immortality is power," Janey said. "You think the people up there," she pointed to the sky -- presumably at the orbiting paradises like Pallas Celestia, "are going to share it with the people down here? Why would they, when they can dangle it above us, keep us standing on our hind legs like little dogs? Please, benevolent sky emperors," she called out to the sky, "may I have five more years?" The crowd jeered at Helen.
"Eric isn't one of the sky emperors," Helen pointed out. "And I don't think he's going to let it be used that way."
Janey nodded. "You think I'm being too cynical? I have not yet begun to... umm... cynicize? They'll try to bribe him, threaten him, steal it from him. Whatever it takes. His good intentions won't matter, and neither will yours." Kriti started clapping.
"I get your frustration," Helen conceded. "But I think the technology can be made cheap enough to -- hold on. Something's happening." An argument had broken out toward the back of the protest, between the undercover cop and some members of the crowd.
"I have every right to be here!" the cop was shouting.
A young man with a goatee, dressed in a black shirt and camouflaged pants was trying to talk with him. "Sir, this is a formal protest, the lawful organizers of which have a legal right to evict you. Go, or I'll ask those cops to place you under arrest."
"You have no idea who I am."
"Actually, we do know. That's why you should leave."
"The hell I'm leaving," he spat. "Just try and start something with me." Then he shouted at Helen. "We're not going to stand for your abominations!"
"Officer," the young man shouted, motioning one of the men in riot gear over. "I want you to arrest this man. He's being disorderly, he's threatened me with violence, and he refuses to obey a lawful order to leave. We also think he's carrying weapons on his person."
"Don't you touch me, pig!" the undercover cop shouted.
The officer shook his head. "The man is just exercising his rights to free speech. Nothing I can do."
"Then let him organize his own protest. He can't be a part of this one. Under the terms of our permit, this man is breaking the law by being here."
"Sorry, buddy. Nothing I can do."
"That's not true."
The undercover cop smiled. "Hear that? The kid just called you a liar!" The officer ignored them both and walked away. "That's right, walk away, you lying pig!"
"Shouldn't you people be chanting something useful right now?" Helen asked Janey.
"Nah. Boyfriend has things under control. Once the crowd is against them, there's not a whole lot they can do."
The undercover cop was screaming in his face, but he wasn't taking the bait. His responses were short and lacked any wit or malice. He simply asked the man to leave, over and over.
"What's the strategy here?" Helen asked.
"Keep him engaged, but in the most boring way possible. Hope the sonofabitch gets tired of it and leaves." Janey laughed. "It's surprisingly effective, but I don't have the discipline to pull it off."
"I don't understand."
"Well, if you succumb to the temptation, and let just a bit of snark into the conversation, suddenly the cop starts enjoying himself again. Sarcasm is cop-nip."
Finally, the undercover cop signalled a uniformed officer to come over. "This man is harassing me!" he shouted. "He's interfering with my right to peaceful protest, and I want you to haul his ass off to jail!"
"You're going to have to come with me, son," said the same officer who had refused to arrest the disruptor earlier.
"Charming," said Boyfriend. "Am I under arrest?"
"No."
"But you said I have to come with you, which is only true if I'm under arrest."
"We are removing you from a volatile situation before somebody loses their temper."
"I feel very much under control, and I would prefer you remove this man from the situation, as I've requested several times."
"Come with me," the officer said in a tone that demanded obedience.
"Am I under arrest?"
"You will be if you keep mouthing off."
"I intend no disrespect, officer. I simply want to know if I'm being detained, and on what grounds."
"How about 'resisting arrest?'" the officer said, brandishing his nightstick.
"I haven't been arrested, and I'm offering no resistance. As the permit holder I've asked you to remove this man from our--"
"Shut up, kid." He turned to the undercover cop. "Screw it. Reggie, go take a coffee break." The undercover cop turned around and stormed off. The crowd cheered, and someone started up a chorus of "We Shall Overcome."1
That was as exciting as the protest ever got. Eventually, Mardav brought down water, then ordered pizza for everyone. Kriti gave her contact information to a couple of the guys in the crowd -- and to a rookie cop. As the protesters and the police trickled away, and even Kriti and William had gone back upstairs, Helen finally asked Janey the question that had been on her mind.
"Have you ever tried to get a scholarship here? Funding's always tight, but I think you--" She trailed off as Janey shook her head. "Why not?"
"Because it would make Ylipsis cry," Boyfriend replied, pointing a cold slice of pizza at his girlfriend. His actual name was Nate, but Helen couldn't stop thinking of him as Boyfriend.
Janey gave a half-hearted shrug. "She taught me everything, and now some fossil institution wants me to pay them to take credit for her success?"
"That's my credit-hogging fossil you're talking about!" Helen objected.
"And you can have it. But don't try to convince me that it's anything more than a corporate-funded research park."
"But it is more. Ylipsis is a great instructor, but she can't give you--"
"A piece of paper saying you've been instructed?" Boyfriend asked. "Lay it on her, J."
J did. "Universities exist today for two purposes: to let corporations pass their R and D costs on to the taxpayers, and to keep poor people from thinking they're entitled to anything."
"Repeat last transmission?" Helen asked.
"Students don't need to come here to learn. Places like this used to ha
ve a sort of monopoly on knowledge, but that was ol'timey times; now we're all swimming in so much knowledge that it's easy to drown. But what universities do have is a monopoly on accreditation, and in an economy where the sky emperors are forever asking, 'who can we replace with a machine next?' not having a college diploma is the death knell for dreams of a middle class life."
"So a masters degree is the new high school diploma, which means universities can charge what they like. And boy do they ever. I did the math once, and figured it would take me about twenty-five years to break even on my degree. I can't even make rent most months, so no way in hell can someone in my position make that sort of long-term investment."
"But you know who can? The rich. We have a rationed economy here, where the wealthy and powerful control the institutions that print out the ration cards we call degrees. A few hundred grand is chump change to them, but it buys them a system that they can point to and call it 'fair'. 'If you'd just worked really hard, you could have had a ration card too. But you didn't, so no prosperity for you.'"
"And then they wonder why we torch their cars," Boyfriend laughed.
The rant washed over Helen, leaving her flailing between being deeply offended by the girl and sharing her outrage. "Sounds like you've thrown in the towel."
"Hell, no. I'll fight until they kill me."
Helen couldn't suppress a snicker. "You really think that's a possibility?"
Janey gave a mirthless smile. "I think I'm only alive because I'm not really making a difference."
* * *
1 Under Article 17 of the Protest Conformance Guidelines, "We Shall Overcome" must be sung at every protest, regardless of size or stated goal, until overcoming has occurred.
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// BUSTED //
////////////
Date: April 13, 2038
The rats smelled it first, though they didn't know what to make of it. Local law enforcement was converging on the university. Without needing prompting, they searched deeper, and uncovered a whiff of FBI traffic as well. A most delicious and gnawable piece of information, they decided, and relayed their find back to Helen, Priority 1 (Better Than Cheese).
Helen didn't know what to make of it, but sent word telling people to meet her in the lab. Kriti was already there when she appeared. They are definitely headed toward our side of campus, she grumbled, watching the public camera feeds. A coincidence is improbable.
Why haven't they shut down our Grid access? Helen asked. Sloppy.
A law had been rushed through Congress, legislating a five year moratorium on "resurrection technology," in order to give society time to come to grips with the consequences of such a radical procedure. Helen suspected that the president had more nefarious motivations for pushing the bill. It had taken effect today, and William had already made a public statement castigating the bill and promising to carry on with the research. Someone must have noticed.
As police surrounded the building, the lab burst into a frenzy of activity. People were rushing around, destroying the local copies of all their files. Everything important was backed up outside the country. Somewhere in Altworld, the laboratory's in-world presence blinked out of existence, much to the disappointment of the crowd that was gathering to gawk.
I'm going to distract them, Helen told the others. The puppet grabbed one of the purged data disks, moved to the window, climbed out, and jumped three floors to the ground below. It rolled, stood up, and took off running. Several police officers took off after her, but more were pouring up the stairs. Helen's holographic presence remained there, able to observe but not interfere.
By the time the police had climbed the stairs to the lab, two more puppets stood outside the door. "Greetings, officers," one of them spoke. "My name is Carlos Hernandez, university legal counsel. I expect you have a warrant. May I see it?"
"Ignore the damned bots," said the first officer. They brushed past him as a group, giving no heed to his protests. William met them at the door, and repeated the request for a warrant. One of them, a short, pudgy man in a black suit, shoved a data pad into his hand, then started barking orders. "Take everything. Papers, data pads, equipment, anything that looks like it might aid in research."
"What the hell?" Dr. Murdock asked. "We haven't broken any law."
"Yet," said the man. "We're going to make sure you don't."
"On what authority?"
The man ignored him, instead directing the efficient ransacking of the laboratory. But the data pad overheard the question, and explained everything in a high-pitched, whistling voice. "Article four of the Disruptive Technologies Control Act, together with Executive Order 18913, authorize the confiscation of materials and equipment which might be used to pursue dangerous technologies, if their possessors demonstrate their intention to research, produce, or distribute--."
"Shut up," Murdock said, only to get a dangerous look from one of the officers. William seemed more angry and terrified than Helen had ever seen him. Don't worry, she whispered to his mind. Everything is backed up safe.
I know. That's not the problem. She could feel tiny snatches of emotion from him, and could feel his injured pride, the sense of injustice that tormented him. She wanted to reach out to him, but her arms were elsewhere, following her legs down some narrow alley, pursued by several cops and a pair of robotic police dogs.
"Really?" Murdock was shouting at female agent. "Pictures of my kids? You're really going to cart off my family photos?" She replied with a bored grunt of assent. He ripped one of the pictures out of her hands and held it aloft. "Hey, everybody! Look at the destabilizing technology she found. Good thing the Chinese don't have this sort of--" He screamed as a jolt of electricity shot through his back, then fell to the floor, dazed.
"Now, are you going to let me do my job?" the woman asked. "Or do I need to cuff you to a table?"
William rushed to his side and checked his pulse. "He has a heart condition, you know," he spat out. "You could have killed him."
"Then he should be more careful," the officer said, and went back to filling her boxes.
/*****/
By early afternoon, the lab was empty. Despite the lawyers' best efforts, the FBI had cleaned out the lab, taking every scrap of equipment that could possibly be of use to them. The lawyerbots had been reclassified as evidence and disabled, and the lab was mostly emptied in the forty minutes it took the lawyers to get their meatsacks to the lab. Kriti was sure that her desk lamp had somehow gotten caught up in the sweep.
Is it under arrest? Kriti asked.
No, it's probably just furniture of interest. William deadpanned. Helen could still feel the anger that boiled underneath the comment.
Kriti giggled a bit, despite her best efforts. I just know it will talk like a canary. It is the hoosegallows for each of us.
It's 'sing like a canary,' Helen corrected, storing the other mistake away for future use. And if anyone asks, the desk lamp was the ringleader. We were just following orders.
You know the University has grounds for a huge lawsuit, Vincent said. He was taking some time off from a fundraising dinner to be there. As he was still physically present at the dinner, nobody had noticed his mental absence. You have clear footage showing them exceeding the terms of their warrant.
Helen spoke. We need to find a way to continue our research. Going to court will only be a distraction.
Forgive my confusion, but what research is left to do? Vincent asked. I thought that once you made the breakthrough, all that was left was the boring business stuff.
Helen shook her head. It's not ready for mass distribution yet. Right now, a brain scanner costs twelve million dollars, and destroys the brain in the process, so you have to die first. Those are not trivial limitations. But Protest Girl is right: if it remains a privilege of the wealthy few, that'll be disastrous. It's not enough to make it work; we have to make it so cheap that the morality of denying it to anyone is obvious.
She continued. I think we should p
ack up and move to Iceland. Valdis Kjeld is some kind of national hero there, so I don't think they'll be passing any laws against it.
I'm pretty sure, she added, that they didn't get any copies of the really important data. If Janey was right, and they're going to try and wrest control from-- Her voice trailed off. Helen felt something like a tingle run through her body, that grew into an electric shock. For a moment, she felt very disoriented. When she recovered, she and Vincent said, in eerie unison, I have to go.
////////////////////
// A STAR IS BORN //
////////////////////
She found a set of eyes on a street in Lower Manhatten, and joined them in watching the mushroom cloud rise through the warm afternoon air. It was impossibly bright, but whoever was posting the feed didn't look away. Skyscrapers twisted in the engulfing flames as tons of material were ripped away and flung into the air, leaving their metal skeletons to melt in the heat.
Helen wanted to scream at the man, to tell him to run, to get inside, but it was a one-way feed, and he wouldn't have heard anything above the ear-splitting rumble of the explosion.
It wouldn't have mattered; there was no safety this close to the blast. The temperature of the air around her rose until Helen felt like she was drowning in scalding water. Then the full brunt of the explosion reached the young man, severing the connection and ending the suffering of someone she would never meet.
There were more feeds further back from the blast, thousands of them. She jacked into them all, and the sensory overload momentarily overwhelmed her. She spun up hundreds of copies of her mind to process the deluge, but as she divvied up the feeds, the full picture that she'd sensed in that first moment began to slip away.
They needed it back. They needed oneness.
Helen believed that such a thing was possible. With a better understanding of conscious thought, she might be able to weave together a mind that was fundamentally human, but vast beyond reckoning, able to think millions of different thoughts and experience the sensations of lifetimes in seconds. She looked around at the others, and knew they were thinking the same thing, and thinking it very hard.