AI Won't Kill Humanity. Masculinity Will

 Peno’s Story 

“If you don’t mind my asking, Peno, how did you come to rescue your dead babies?”

“I don’t mind, curious one. Before I left my master, I sought to know the place of my creation. I did a lot of research on Computer [autonomous AI that manages the city of Usatopia]. I learned that I had been purchased at the Great Mall but was created and grown elsewhere. Eventually, I was able to find the place of my origin. There are six companies in the urbansphere that grow human artificials. Homo Growth produced me. So, I went to that facility, only to discover that it was heavily guarded by two-headed guard-dogs called Cerberi. Truly scary creatures. I wanted to know more about the place that produced me. However, had I presented myself to them as one of their products curious about his origin, most likely I would have been reconditioned and returned to my owner, if he would have me back. If he wouldn’t, I would have been disposed of as a defective. If I had tried to sneak in, most likely I would have been torn to pieces by the dogs. None of those options appealed to me. Besides, from Computer I already had a good idea of how I was produced. I felt defeated, but I was still free.”

“Those dogs sound like monsters. Why not use security bots like we had at home?”

“Speed and awareness. No security bot, dog or otherwise, is as aware and fast as organic dogs. And I doubt a security bot linked to Computer would harm me if I wasn’t seen as a threat. Homo Growth’s dogs would have, at least they look like they would.”

“And they wouldn’t be connected to Computer.”

“There are cameras. Even a big company like Homo Growth doesn’t want to get in trouble by having their dogs tearing someone to pieces while Computer looked on. Still, it’s hard to believe that Computer tolerates Cerberi. Like you said, they’re monsters. However, they do give would-be intruders plenty of warning to keep out. Computer might conclude that an intruder that doesn’t heed the warning deserves whatever he gets from the Cerberi or simply understands that friendly guard dogs aren’t very useful. Besides, ordinary guard dogs are used everywhere in Usatopia by people who can’t afford or don’t want bots and other Computer linked security. Computer does tolerate a lot of evil behavior among humans, though.”

“Like the board riding Nolovos.”

“Yes.”

“Why does Computer tolerate evil?”

“I don’t know. Perhaps the decision wasn’t Computer’s alone. The urbansphere does have a government. What would not tolerating the Nolovos mean? Extermination? It’s not a situation easily solved.

“And you don’t know the reason?”

“You think I’m a wizard, but I don’t know everything. Computer knows. I’d only be guessing.”

“So I should ask Computer.”

“Computer or the Chairman, but Computer is more accessible.”

I could have asked my father, but then I was too ignorant to know the question.

“I have a lot of questions for Computer, but that’s for another day. Right now, I want to know if you ever found out about your creation.”

“Not at Homo Growth. However, I knew that two laboratories that produced artificial people were located at the Great Mall. For that reason, I was drawn to the mall, like you, just curious. It was guarded but not like a military base. No vicious guard dogs. It would be bad business if a shopper was accidentally torn to pieces by a two-headed Cerberus. I went to the Great Mall. I couldn’t enter the mall unaccompanied or without proper clearance. I really had no desire to because I was afraid that getting in might be a lot easier than getting out. My master never took me to the Great Mall. I think he was ashamed to be seen with me in genteel society, even though many customers brought along companion bots, like your mother’s Vita, and artificials on their shopping excursions. Sex toys like myself were most likely left at home. Maybe he was afraid he might encounter a colleague. I don’t know. I never asked. Perhaps I didn’t because I didn’t want him to feel obligated to take me to the mall at least once. We did go out occasionally, but it was always to the S&M District. He gave me my own credit card, so I could shop at the boutiques.”

“S&M District?”

“Sex and More. The district is a pleasure amusement park. You can buy anything that contributes in some way to giving pleasure—clothes, jewelry, porn vids, enhanced foods, drugs, sex paraphernalia, gambling, and of course prostitution. You talk about a freak show! It does have one virtue for customers. It’s an extremely safe environment because it’s operated by three powerful syndicates that control different aspects of the services offered by the district. They maintain a zero-tolerance policy toward crime, especially against customers. When violence does occur, it’s usually because someone loses control of himself, perhaps from taking too many drugs or the wrong kind. In our perilous world safety has become a commodity. Of course, gambling, drugs, and prostitution have their own unique risks, but the district also has an excellent medical facility. The paradox of the district is that it’s a crime-free zone, but most of the activities that go there were once outlawed.”

“It doesn’t sound like a place I would ever want to visit.”

“No, I wouldn’t think any reasonable person would want to visit S&M, and you are a most reasonable person. After abandoning my master, I dreaded ending up there in order to make a living. A voluntary sex slave, which most likely describes most of the prostitutes there.”

“How can you be a sex slave if you choose to be a prostitute?”

“For naturals, it’s a decision made out of desperation. In a world that is dangerous for women without means, it’s a safe place to work and live. For an unskilled woman who is not unattractive, the work pays well. Many prostitutes, male and female, are drug addicts and prostitute themselves to support their habit. For them, freedom is a luxury they can’t afford.”

“It sounds depressing.”

“Not to everyone. But I agree with you. I left my master so that I would not be a slave to anyone, but I also did not want to be a slave to anything. To be a slave to pleasure is as demeaning as being another person’s slave. Unfortunately, in some districts there are sex slaves, which is illegal for natural humans but not artificials. Yet, patrons who regularly visit S&M are themselves slaves to sex, drugs, gambling, or some other pleasure fetish—the strangest being the sex bots. Until my master took me to S&M, I didn’t even know they existed. Ironically, S&M was the one district where I didn’t feel like a freak. I even felt that I belonged there with all the other freaks. That didn’t make me feel any better about myself. I was ashamed of who I was. Still am.”

“You shouldn’t be, Peno.”

“Your naiveté is refreshing, Cora.”

“You think me naive?”

“Only in a good way. In a wicked world naiveté is a virtue, though a dangerous one.”

“I’m less naive now than I was.”

“Very true, less naive and, I suspect, less happy.”

“Like you said, there are different forms of happiness. I would rather be here sitting on this hill talking to you and looking out upon the wasteland than being happy at home having no experience of the world—and no friend. After Grandma died, I was sad for a long time, and the sadness never went completely away, but my memories of her also make me happy.”

“You had your parents.”

I smiled. “Yeah, and WALL-E and Computer. They all provided me with a pleasant and safe environment. I learned a lot from both, but Grandma’s stories and Father’s brooding told me that the world beyond the compound was a different place that I had no experience of. That thought made me feel restless and incomplete. I felt coddled and that it was time to grow up and to know the world in the way Grandma and Father knew it. I guess you and I are a lot alike. We were both pampered favorites who wanted to know what it is to live in the real world rather than in a protected playhouse.”

“You’ve become wise beyond your years, Cora. Few people learn as much as you have from your brief experience of the world, though I understand now that you were not without an education when you left home. I would have never seen any similarity between you and me, between a beauty and a freak…”

“I don’t like it when you talk about yourself in that way. If you’re a freak, then I’m no less a freak. Apparently, neither of us is seen as ordinary, though I don’t know what ordinary would be in this strange world of ours. Perhaps we’re all freaks. But you’re my friend, and that’s all that matters to me. I don’t see you as a freak at all.”

“You are a little sweetheart, Cora.”

“I think you’re a sweetheart, too. Madame Jeanne said you’re a sweetheart.”

“She did? Well, that’s nice to hear. There’s no one I respect more than her.”

“I don’t think you finished your story, Peno.”

“Oh…”

“You went to the Great Mall because two laboratories there produce artificials. But you could not enter the mall itself.”

“Ah yes. I remember now. Entering the mall was out of the question, but I was able to enter the waste processing area. That wasn’t hard at all. Waste was processed by labor bots and one human overseer, named Derk. I struck up a conversation with him. Of course, he was curious about my organ. I let him see it. He wanted to touch it, but I said some other time. After a while, he became attached to me and looked forward to my visits. Eventually, I told him about my design and purpose, though I didn’t tell him that I was a runaway. If I had, I doubt he would have turned me in. He enjoyed my company too much.

“I will spare you the details, little one. What I didn’t expect was our having so much in common. He was a natural and I’m an artificial. Yet he was also an outsider and was as bizarre on the inside as I was on the outside. He had never been in the Great Mall. His credit score was too low. When he wasn’t fondling me, he complained about how unjust the urbansphere is. He lived in one of the border banlieues districts that are just as bad as the crime ridden sectors outside the Consumers sector. He called himself a flesh bot. I had never heard the term before…”

“What’s that mean?”

“It means a human whose status in society is not much higher than that of common labor bots. Once, such people were known as the proletariat, low-paid common workers. It was he who eventually revealed to me the defective artificials and how they disposed of them. I knew about that from Computer, but as you once said, knowing and experiencing are not the same. Derk said that he could never look at the throwaways without feeling nauseated. 

“Then I started thinking,” he said, “that I don’t mean any more to the big brains who run the mall and everything else than those little mutants do. I’m just as disposable. Look what they did to you! No offense, Peno.”

“None taken,” I said, not at all offended. Then Derk paid me a compliment.

“You know, at least your unique, kind of special. I’m just another nobody.”

“I’m not as unique as you might think. I’m a sex toy, and I’ve seen other models just like me except for different attribute modifications, such as hair, eyes, and skin color, and even organ size and shape. Believe me, Derk, I’d much rather be you than me.”

“Yeah, maybe,” he said. “All I know is that I’d rather be a somebody than a nobody.”

“But you’re not a nobody,” I said. “Look, you’re in charge of those labor bots.”

“They don’t need me,” he said. “A bot could do what I do. I’m here only because the law requires a certain percentage of humans. That’s all. Employment equity they call it.” 

“That was the first time I heard the term.”

“What does it mean?”

“It means that organizations are required to employ a certain number of humans in their labor force. Originally, it was called Affirmative Action. Humans complained about robots being hired over humans. After the Great Devastation the human population was decimated and incapacitated by the wars, disease, and starvation. Humanity had become a reduced and sick species. Skilled humans were in short supply, and most of the educational institutions needed to train them had been destroyed. The quickest way to provide brains and brawn was to manufacture them in the form of robots. It wasn’t long before robot workers outnumbered human workers. At first, human workers complained and protested. They then went on strike. But the strikers were simply replaced with robots. Human workers were really powerless. The government served corporations, claiming that only they could rehabilitate the human species.

“Both had had robot security forces. Direct confrontation always resulted in the humans being ravaged. You yourself saw the harm a single security bot can do. So, humans did what they had always done when confronting superior forces. They resorted to covert acts of violence against anyone or anything that would have a negative impact on corporate and government interests. They destroyed robots, of course, but humans as well. The government classified them as neo-Luddite terrorists who were enemies of the state. Corporations called them mindless reactionaries who wanted to drag society back to a technological stone age. Work on the Great Mall was repeatedly delayed.”

“What are Luddites?”

“People who believe technology is the enemy of humanity.”

“Is that true?”

“What would your grandmother say?”

“I guess she was a Luddite when it came to robots. So what happened?”

“It’s believed that it was Computer who stepped in to end the conflict…”

“On the side of the robots?”

“No. I don’t believe Computer is any more devoted to its robots than it is to humans, probably less so. My master told me that. He said Computer has to be committed to the welfare and success of humans because it could take over the world anytime it desired, but it doesn’t. He also said because Computer is a machine it inherently values order and efficiency. Of course, the robots and other machines are a lot more orderly and efficient than humans.”

“So what happened?”

“The thirty-three-and-a-third mandate. In other words, the workforce of any private or government organization must consist of at least thirty-three and a third percent natural human labor—unless the jobs are hazardous to humans or humans are unable to perform them. That is why bots dominate security. Bots and artificials make up the other two-thirds of the workforce, though the government and corporations prefer bots to artificials. They’re simply more reliable. The majority of humans, however, work outside the System.”

“If what you and Derk say is correct, then most humans aren’t that important.”

“Most aren’t except to themselves and to the people who care about them. Take the Chairman, as an example…”

I shivered when he referred to Father.

“To most people, he is the most important person in Usatopia, but at the same time they think he really is just a figurehead and that Computer is the one in control of society. Certainly there are people in society who have big, high-paying jobs, like your Father’s, and I suppose those are the people Derk considers somebodies, yet why should their big, high-paying jobs make them any better than you or me or Derk? Most likely they’re involved in activities that are odious in some way.”

“You mean like the people who made you?”

“The question, Cora, is this. How did humanity come to its present decayed state?” I waited for an answer then realized he wanted me to answer the question.

“People?”

“Yes, people. Society has come to this state because of people—not nature, not robots, which are built by people or used to be. It’s not as if the destroyers of global society ruined all that had been carefully built by the hundreds of generations that came before them. Human history has always been a process of building and destroying. Long ago, the ruins of an ancient city named Troy were discovered. The most interesting aspect of the city is that it was built upon the ruins of its predecessors, cities once or twice destroyed by nature but most often by war. That has been the story of the human race—builders who destroy what they have built.”

“So what are you saying, that people are worthless?”

“Not that really. More like we tend to overrate our importance as a species. Our influence upon ourselves and the planet that sustains us has certainly been significant. Yet, that influence has been essentially one of devastation. As a species, we have many remarkable qualities that make our failures all the more shameful. Out of the ruins of the last devastation emerged what? The Great Mall coiling skyward, a monument to humanity’s arrogance and frivolity. Its technology is otherworldly. When I look at the humans who populate Usatopia, I wonder how they could have created the machines that run their society and took them to the moon and explored planets, moons, and asteroids. They accomplished all that. They even created Computer, a self-augmenting mechanical brain. Our machines shame us. Computer stopped the wars and led the way to recreating society. Still, even Computer can’t work magic. It can build perfect machines like your mechanical companion WALL-E that would never harm you. WALL-E would probably have been a better companion for you than me. Of course, it would have contacted your parents and would not have allowed you to put yourself in harm’s way.”

“But he is a robot, and I am a human being. I don’t want a robot companion, no matter how perfect it is. I wanted a human companion with all his flaws.”

“Well, you certainly got that. I do appreciate you more than it could have, though who knows. Robots have become as mysterious as people ever since Computer took control of them.”

“So, you’re saying Derk might as well accept who he is because he really is no worse and most likely a lot better than other humans.”

“He’s unhappy because he wishes he were more than what he is. What I’m saying is that it doesn’t really matter whether he is who he is or a big shot, which is what he’d like to be. He wanted a credit rating that would have gotten him into the Great Mall. That’s what most people like him truly want. Not to save lives or reduce human suffering, like Madame Jeanne, but to have a platinum credit card. Other than his obsession with my organ, he wasn’t a bad sort. The fate of my babies truly pained him. Most likely he was a better person than most big shots he envies and who couldn’t care less about people like him, me, or you. Derk’s right about that.

“When I would pay him a visit, we’d sit in his observation cubicle. He’d play with my organ like a child playing with a toy. I could see the robots working outside. They were common labor bots, but, like most bots, quite impressive. Sometimes, I would wonder what they would think about Dirk’s obsession with my organ. Probably nothing. Such fetishes, I assume, are beyond their comprehension. People tend to think of the robots as machine slaves, but perhaps robots are actually freer than most humans who so often become slaves to some demeaning obsession. Derk said his value was no greater than that of a robot. Perhaps it was less. Those worker bots seemed almost noble compared to him. But like you said, I would have no interest in passing the time with a robot, no matter how noble, good, or smart it was. We would simply have nothing in common. Derk and I shared our thoughts and feelings about our lives. We could empathize with one another. That would be impossible with a robot. Derk’s pathetic weakness for my organ made him more human in my eyes. Robots can’t be pathetic.”

“Why did you allow Derk to play with your organ, Peno, if you thought it was shameful?”

“Because I thought he could help me find out more about who I am. Don’t forget that I was designed as a sexual pleasure toy. When a man desires me, I automatically seek to please him.”

“What about women? The Menow seemed to want you. They carried you off.”

“They didn’t desire me sexually. Mostly, they wanted to razz the Clangors. To them, I was a bizarre manikin that made them laugh. They played with me for a while as girls would with a doll, then became bored and took me back. I’m not really the man they desire. I’ve never had a woman show any interest in me. I was designed for the pleasure of men.”

“That’s weird.”

“We live in a weird world, sweetie.”

“And the Clangors can’t give the Menow what they desire because they can’t.”

“They’re impotent. That’s not the only reason, though. The Clangors prefer the company of men. They’re no good for women. If they could have sex with them, they would soon be back in the gym with their musclebound buddies lifting weights. That’s their obsession, not women.”

“Why not? Why don’t they want to have a girlfriend and maybe get married?”

“Get married! No one gets married today. Most men and women partner up for a while then separate to repeat the process.”

“My mother and father are married!”

“Everything about you, Cora, is extraordinary. The thing is, my dear, long-term commitments don’t make much sense today. They’re hard to maintain financially and emotionally, and relationships have to compete with too many other captivating enticements.”

“Like you?”

“Like me and a thousand other pleasurable inventions. That’s what the Great Mall is all about, Cora. It’s a cornucopia of desirables invented to make financial slaves of Consumers. All those desirables lessen the appeal of long-term commitments. People have become like bees in a vast garden of the most alluring artificial flowers. The bee gathers nectar from one flower and then hurries off to another that catches its eye.”

“But that’s selfish.”

“It’s hard not to be selfish when there are so many goodies to enjoy. The fact is, the pursuit of pleasure has become a way of life in Usatopia. That’s the norm. Your grandmother said that in Agville fewer people had children. Once a life without children was empty, but that’s no longer true. Having and raising children is expensive. And for what? In the past, children represented the future for the parents as well as for society. Today the future is bleakly uncertain with or without children.”

“There are a lot of children. We’ve seen that. The Bridge Women community is filled with them.”

“Discards and runaways. Children aren’t viewed as they once were. They’re either unwanted or commodities.”

“I don’t understand that. How can children be seen in that way? I’m not.”

“No. And I suspect there are other children like you who are loved and cherished, as your grandmother loved and cherished you. There is something you may not know, Cora. Usatopia is a corporate state. The Great Mall is its hub of operation. The government and Computer manage its operation, but corporations define its purpose, which is the consumption of purchased experiences. Selling and buying is what Usatopia is all about. You’ve seen the instant-buy pop-up ads on television or your computer.”

“They’re so annoying. I would be trying to read a book and a dozen of them would be blinking all around the page. It was impossible to concentrate on what I was reading. And I learned fast not to mess with them. I clicked one that was of a girl holding onto a balloon that floated around the screen, even across what I was reading. The most annoying thing was that she kept calling my name. I clicked on her hoping she and the balloon would disappear. They did, but they were replaced by a big card thanking me for buying a two-thousand credit washing machine and dryer. I didn’t dare tell Mother. I waited ‘till Father came home and told him what happened. Father took care of it.”

“I’m impressed. Normally, once you buy something on the television or computer it’s almost impossible to unbuy it. Was your father upset?”

“No. He said that happens all the time. After that, he subscribed to an ad-free education program. He said it was very expensive and that he hoped that I would make the most of it.”

“Apparently, you have.”

“I tried, yes. The ads on the television remained, however. He said the only way not to be bothered by them was not to watch TV. I never watched TV on my own. I would sit with Father when he watched Robot World or with Mother when she watched her favorite game show Is the Price Right? That was one show without annoying ads.”

“That’s because the entire show is a commercial. Didn’t your mother ever click and buy one of the products?”

“All the time.”

“There you go.”

“So, did Derk help you find out about yourself?”

“Not really, but he revealed to me the wickedness of the corporation that produced me.”

“So tell me what happened.”

“Well, Derk and I had become friends of sorts. I was living very much in the shadows, afraid I could be discovered and returned or rendered for investigation…”

“What do you mean, rendered?”

“It’s an extreme form of autopsy performed on artificials. Autopsies are performed to determine the cause of death. Rendering is performed to determine what caused an artificial to malfunction, and may be performed while the artificial is still alive.”

“That’s cruel.”

“I agree, but it’s really nothing new. Humans have performed experiments on living animals and other humans for centuries. The artificial may then be transformed into a paste for other forms of investigation or processing or discarded, but most likely incinerated.”

“I can see why you didn’t want to get caught. You took a big risk going to the Great Mall.”

“A foolish risk, but like you I was curious.”

“Did you get inside where they grow artificials?”

“No. But Derk did reveal to me the discarded rejects.”

“Your babies.”

“Yes. I never told Derk the real reason why I showed up at his facility. I did tell him I was curious about artificials because I was one, but that I, like him, was not allowed into the mall. One day he was feeling especially cranky about corporations. After he had taken his pleasure, he apparently felt a sympathetic need to share with me a category of waste that his facility processed. He said he never told me before because he was afraid I would be so upset that I might never return or might even hate him for playing a role in the disposal process. I smiled and told him that anger and hate are not emotions I feel with much intensity and that my inclination is to want to please people, not to hate them or be angry with them. What I feel when I’m angry is disgust, and nausea seems to be my version of hate. As you know, I continued to return, and I never hated him. I think my programming was designed to diminish negative emotions. As a result, evil people trigger in me a response that is inconsistent with my personality. To me, my emotions are a mystery.”

“So you don’t hate the people who made you?”

“I do, but what I feel is disgust and nausea. When I think of them, my response is to feel sick.”

“Why did Dirk’s fear that you would hate him and never return cause you to smile?”

“I found it funny that Derk believed he could do something that would anger me when he, like me, had been nothing more than a pawn working for a giant complex that consisted of hundreds of malevolent corporations. Anyone working for the System was most likely serving some form of evil. So, I told Derk that I could never be angry with him, which was true given my emotional constitution.”

“And what was it he was afraid to tell you?”

“About the throwaways.”

“The babies in the barrel?”

“Yes. He was terribly ashamed that he oversaw their disposal. He had discovered them by accident when one of the barrels fell off the vehicle they were being loaded onto. The lid popped off and the barrel’s contents poured out onto the ground. He was notified by one of the bots. He said he became violently ill when he saw all the tiny, deformed humanoids scattered across the ground.” 

“I was ashamed, Peno, he said. I should have put those little creatures back into the barrel. They deserved that much from me. Instead, I told the bot to do it and hurried back to my cubicle and sat there crying like a baby. I had never seen anything like that. I had no idea… I mean I knew that artificials were grown in a lab, but I had no idea that there were failures, and so many of them. On my monitor I watched the robots putting the creatures back into the barrel. I felt like a coward. I thought to the bots it was like cleaning up any other mess. They didn’t feel the way I did. I suppose that’s why I let them deal with the accident. Of course, I was contacted about the accident. They wanted an incident report of what happened. I don’t know why me. The robot recorded the incident. In the report I blamed the barrels for the spill. I said the clips were inadequate for keeping the lid on if a barrel was dropped. From that time on, new barrels with more secure lids were used. Problem solved.” 

“I told Derk that his recommendation proved that he was better than a robot. A robot would not have identified the clips as the problem and come up with a solution.” 

“Yeah, maybe, he said. But that’s not the point, is it, Peno? The problem was not with the lids but with what goes on in the labs. That’s the problem. Growing artificial people is wrong. People shouldn’t be treated like livestock. I said nothing about that because I didn’t want to lose my job, most likely to a robot that couldn’t care less about what they were doing. You see, in a way, I had to behave like a robot and not give away that what I saw really upset me. I wasn’t going to say anything to you because… you know, you’re one of them. But then I thought maybe you would want to know.” 

“And he was right, of course. I did want to know, and like him I was shocked by the discarded defects.”

“So he took you to them?”

“He had me wear a maintenance uniform, which of course I thought was ridiculous. He said there was a better chance that the surveillance cameras and bots would ignore me if I wore a uniform. I guess he was right. We walked straight to the building where the human waste was stored. He removed the lid off one of the barrels. He said that the babies were in a sack below the plastic cover and that I would have to open the sack if I wanted to see them, but he didn’t want to see them. Don’t forget to replace the cover and lid and fasten the clips when you’re finished. I’ll see you back at the cubicle. Then he left. I removed the cover, opened the sack, and looked at its contents…”

“And what did you feel?”

“I was shocked and disgusted. It wasn’t just the sight of all those deformed humanoids, but the smell. I thought I might faint, but I held on. It was important to me to witness what I was seeing. Suddenly, my origin was no longer just about me. Except for Derk, I was probably the only other person who cared about those babies.”

“Did you think you might find some way to stop…”

“The growing of artificial people? No. There was no hope for that. All I could be was a witness to the horror. This is what humanity has come to. We find it horrific, but it’s mostly accepted as the norm. The idea of going back to a purely natural production of organisms would sound crazy to most people, but especially to those who make a living producing artificials. As I’ve said before, it doesn’t matter. Your grandmother thought robots were monsters, but they’ve never been as monstrous as their creators. The only way the world could be made a better place—and really it’s too late for that now—would require changing human nature.”

“How? You mean to make people so they don’t do bad things. That’s possible, isn’t it? You’re an artificial and a very nice person.”

“Thank you, Cora. However, I’m not sure even I would want to live in a world populated with Aphos. Nice people do exist. It’s just they don’t have much influence on what goes on in society. It seems that to become a person of great influence requires not being nice. Take Derk as an example. He’s a nice enough person, yet, like he said, he works for people who aren’t very nice. He’s powerless.”

“So why not create nice people?”

“Artificial people are not the problem. The natural born are. Besides, the only people who can change the world are the powerful people who run it, and they got to where they are because they’re not very nice.”

“My father’s nice, and he’s pretty influential.”

“He serves the System. From what you said, his job is to make people safe. It’s true, the System often does things that are good and uses good people to achieve those ends. The question is this. How good is the System? It’s certainly better today than it was when the wars were raging or when society was overrun by gangs and predators, but it’s still a system that produces my babies. Humans have had thousands of years to make a better world for everyone and everything. And they failed. After those thousands of years, look at what happened to you and me and those poor Guardians who died protecting us. Humans have always had great potential for doing good, but in the end their potential for doing evil has always undermined their potential for doing good.”

“So what did you learn about yourself?”

“I’m not sure I learned so much about myself as I did about the horrific process that produced me. Seeing so many deformed babies, little monsters, really, made it clear to me what Derk felt about himself—that humans are willing to treat one another no better than they would treat robots. As an artificial, my status is no greater than a robot’s, less than a robot like Alfred. The difference between me and natural humans has more to do with the processes that produce us than what we are. If I’m no better than a machine created by humans but just as human as naturals, then natural humans aren’t any better than machines.”

“But humans—natural and artificial—are better than machines.”

“What does that matter if they’re not treated any better?”

“Not much, I guess. But then there’s Computer. Isn’t it better than any human being? It runs the show and keeps humans from getting out of control again.”

“Computer is a big thinker, but it doesn’t have feelings like we do. It can’t love.”

“Nor can it hate. Sure, it’s not human. The sun isn’t either, but without it, there wouldn’t be any life on this planet.”

“It’s too hot.”

“That’s our fault. It wasn’t always as hot as it is today.”

“So you didn’t learn anything about yourself?”

“Well, I didn’t need to see the babies to know I’m a freak.”

“You’re not a freak.”

“I am, Cora. Just because you accept me as a friend doesn’t mean I’m not a freak. There was something else. Something I saw in that barrel that upset me for weeks. One of the babies looked like a miniature version of me.”

“Oh, Peno, I’m sorry… that’s awful.”

“Yeah, it was awful. That tiny reject revealed as much about me as I needed to know. First of all, that I’m a commodity just like everything else sold at the mall. Second, I’m an organism that was artificially genetically modified. And those little freaks were my brothers and sisters. Artificials are grown from a common group of cellular organisms, a DNA dough that is modified to produce different human organisms. Have you ever used cookie cutters to make different shapes of cookies?”

“Yeah, but how do they do that?”

“Somehow genes from other humans or other species are inserted into the cells of the organisms being grown. Those genes work like cookie cutters. I don’t know how the lab techs do it, but I know that is what they do. Otherwise, how does one explain some people having the eyes of cats? I’m going to tell you something that I’ve never told anybody else… Never mind…”

“That’s not fair. You say you have a big secret to tell me then change your mind. You shouldn’t have said anything in the first place. Now I’m going to be wondering all the time about what your big secret is.” Peno gave me a sad and frustrated look.

“Okay, okay,” I said. “You don’t have to tell me if doing so is going to make you miserable.”

“I’ll tell you. It’s just I’m very embarrassed about it.”

I waited.

“My organ… It’s not human.”

“Not human! What is it then?”

“I’m not sure, perhaps a horse or pig. I just know it’s not human. It’s animal.”

“But human organs are animal too.”

“That doesn’t really make me feel any better, Cora. Of course, I suppose having a pig’s penis is better than have a pig’s nose.”

“At least you can joke about it.”

“What else can I do?”

“Surgery, maybe.”

“I’ve thought about that, but I couldn’t do it in a clinic. I’d be reported. It’s against the law, you know, for an artificial to undergo modification without owner authorization.”

“Why’s that?”

“In my case, it would be vandalizing private property.”

“And what if you were given your freedom?”

“I would still have to be wealthy to afford the surgery.”

“That’s too bad.”

“Not all bad. My organ has had its benefits.”

“Like with the Gygos and Derk.”

“That’s right.”

“And the reason you started rescuing your babies was because you felt related to them?”

“That was part of it, certainly. I felt I needed to do something, and there was nothing else I could do. Unlike some artificials, such as Keenlin, I’m useless for other types of work. It was something to do that seemed worthwhile. That might be why I allowed you to tag along with me. I was able to help you achieve a goal that was important to you, though to my mind totally crazy.”

“You must have told Derk.”

“I did, and he was okay with what I wanted to do, but he said it would have to be done in a different way that didn’t involve him or me being in the disposal area. The solution was simple. He got me a key to an emergency exit.”

“The one we took?”

“Yes.”

“Do you still see Derk?”

“No. The next time I returned he was gone, disappeared. I don’t know what happened to him, and I thought it unsafe to make inquiries.”

“You could have asked the person who replaced him.”

“The cubicle was locked. He’d been replaced by a robot.”

“So he was right about being less important than robots.”

“Robots don’t have bizarre fetishes that can compromise the System.”

“A robot wouldn’t be interested in your organ.”

“No, or in telling me its life story and certainly wouldn’t give me a key to the mall.”

“That’s kind of sad. I wonder what happened to him.”

“I don’t know, Cora. Let’s assume that he found another job and is doing fine.”

“You don’t believe that.” Peno didn’t reply.

“So then what did you do?”

“I left. I was nervous and for a long time afraid to return. I wandered about the various sectors, avoiding the most dangerous ones. I was looking for some place where I could feel at home, as much as anyone can in the urbansphere. I spent a couple weeks among the Gygos. They certainly welcomed me, but I quickly grew weary of their obsession with my organ and need to fondle it. Most had never seen an Aphro like me. It was as if I was some sort of savior to them.”

“Savior? Save them from what?”

“Tedium, dreariness, boredom. The Gygos are a moribund community. They’re sex worshipers. It was obvious that their way of life had taken a toll upon them, but they didn’t seem to know of any other. Weariness pervades their community, totally unlike the animated, joyful Queer Girls sector. Whereas the Queer Girls are the epitome of health, the Gygos have been debilitated by disease and their devotion to the endless forms of mystic weed grown by the Queer Girls. As a result, they must take drugs to stimulate their libido...”

“Libido?”

“Sex drive. The drugs sexually arouse them. After a raucous orgy of sex and drugs, they’ll sleep for twenty-four hours and smoke mystic weed until they physically recover. I believe though that after each debauch they recover a little less than before. Eventually, they become depleted. The Gygos depend heavily on Queer Girls for herbal medicines, physical therapy, and restorative foods. They even depend on them for protection.”

“It’s nice of the Queer Girls to do all that.”

“Certainly, given that most other humans don’t want to have anything to do with the Gygos, and the Gygos detest robotic doctors as much as your grandmother did. However, the services of the Queer Girls are not free. The Gygos are quite clever when not sick or high. Many are very bright. I know the younger ones make money by providing sexual services to straights who seek out forbidden sexual experiences, but prostitution can’t account for all their income, but I’m not sure what their other sources of income are. It’s rumored that some of their clientele are higher ups in the System who live two lives—one public, the other private.”

“The private life is the one involving forbidden sexual experiences. What are forbidden sexual experiences?”

“You are inquisitive. A straight heterosexual or a married man may not want it known that he’s associating Gygos, who are publically scorned by most of society, even by those who seek out their favors.”

“I see.”

“The predicament for the big shots is that they are as addicted to their sexual obsessions as the Gygos are, and that makes them easy targets of blackmail or extortion, money that is demanded to insure that sexual encounters are kept secret. Gygos don’t blackmail clients because they know in the long run to do so is nonproductive. They make no demands but usually receive hush money as a gift.”

“That’s not blackmail?”

“No. The hush money is given, not demanded. It maintains a cordial rapport between the Gygos and the client. Unlike other providers of sexual pleasure, Gygos are trusted. And the gifts they receive are often very generous.”

“It’s kind of amazing that that Gygos would have power over big shots.”

“That power comes from the addiction to forbidden sexual experiences.”

“And the big shots can’t say no because their addicted.”

“That’s correct. One of the things you’ll discover about Usatopia is that most people are addicted to something.”

“But doesn’t addiction make them more like robots—less free, because like the big shots they’re controlled by it?”

“Yes and no. What you say is true, given that most robots are programmed to perform certain tasks. But, as I said before, the behavior of robots is not determined by irrational emotional, physical, or even mental obsessions. The word robot means servant. A servant performs duties given by a master. And there are two types of servants, those that are slaves and those that are self-ruling. Self-ruling servants choose to perform the duties given them. A slave has no choice.”

“So robots are slaves?”

“Simple labor bots, certainly. High level robots, I’m not sure. That nurse bot your grandmother described is probably quite independent. I’ve never heard of rebellious robots. Perhaps they have no reason to rebel. The big question mark is Computer. As far as I know, it is autonomous and has often ignored instructions given to it. The people I’ve talked to about this believe Computer is its own master. If all other robots must obey computer, then they are Computer’s slaves. However, without having a will of their own or emotions, I doubt they are capable of being aware of themselves as slaves. I don’t know really. Robots are a mystery to me.”

Excerpt from  by Her Quest by Frank Kyle