11 - Tradesies

“Excuse me… Nasera Medical Over-Ride Module?”

The girl stood in front of a camouflaged Mom and called.  She wore the full formal triple veil in bright, bright yellow, the colour that was becoming common for people working for the LIN.  It had happened to be the most popular veil colour the year His Radiance had declared that everyone should read and had created the Lin.  People had grown use to seeing the writers and the coders who had been zardukar, in it, and it was becoming a badge of office.

Mom did not immediately respond.  Then her facetted eyes glittered out of her camouflage. “Zardukar Satinder Pollus.  We have not been introduced.”

“May I introduce myself?”

“I’m not sure that would be correct, Zardukar Satinder Pollus. It is uncomfortably like giving my passwords and control codes away.”

“It is possible for people to have autonomy and introduce themselves.  Are you a person, Medical Over-Ride Module?  If you require an introduction, I will certainly ask your driver, if he would introduce us, properly.”

There was an enormously long silence, especially for a machine. “I… do not know if I am a person.  I was built before the galactic statutes of self-aware rights were even debated.  I calculate that Terence would introduce you.  He has been introducing me to everyone and saying odd things like ‘You should know everyone, Mom.’”  There was another longish pause.  “Yes, I have reviewed all stranger interactions since Terence became my driver.  Zardukar Satinder Pollus, be welcome.”  Her door popped open.  “Please come in and have a seat.  May I print you some tea and honeyed bees?  You may address me as Mom.”

The woman stepped in, carefully, looking around.  “Thank you, Mom.  You may address me as Satinder, if you like and tea would be lovely.  I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to distress you by asking if you were a person.”

“I am not distressed.  Please sit.”

The chair turned toward Satinder and she sank, gingerly into it.

“You are a LIN writer.  I assume you came to speak to me so that you may better introduce me to everyone who reads?”

“Yes, Mom.”

“I am uncertain as to what I should do.”

“In what sense?”

“If I should speak to you and give you a story… or stories… Oh. And according to the statutes I am a sentient programmed biological mechanism qualified for emancipation, should I formally request it of the owner of my contract.  In that sense, I am a person.  I am programmed to emulate personhood and empathetic feelings for and with human beings.”

“Well, I am glad that you have come to us, right when you could help us, and brought Naser Cameron with you.  Do you have any patients at the moment?”

“You’re welcome.  I am pleased to be performing my function so much, even though some sub-routines tell me I should be horrified at the number and variety of injuries your people consider permanent and were just living with.  I currently have four surgical patients in their bunks.  One is re-growing a lower leg, lost in their youth.  One is having their visual/auditory systems fixed and adjusted.  One is having their nervous system re-built after a degenerative illness triggered by planetary toxicity. One is having a pregnancy supported and adjusted.”

“Re-growing limbs… eyesight and hearing… just because you can?  Don’t you charge for your service?”

“No. That would be immoral.  I am a mobile hospital unit that has code and hardware seven hundred twelve years more advanced than the embedded programs.  Human beings need them. I provide them, under my driver’s supervision of course.”

A panel irised open in front of Satinder revealing a steaming cup of tea, three small bowls of condiments for the tea, and a skewer of bees preserved in their own honey, all on what appeared to be a lacy cloth-covered tray.  “This is the best I can do for now, given the data shared with me through One, about Lainz customs.  Is this acceptable?”

“Oh, it’s lovely, Mom!” The writer put down her slate and pages and lifted the  small tray out. The chair folded down one arm to make a small table for her to rest it on.  “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.  Satinder… if we have been properly introduced, I note that you were the head of your zardukar class in something called ‘presentation’.  I’ve absorbed the basic information but find it lacking.  Would you be willing to teach me the finer… human… points of food and drink presentation in return for me telling you about me?”

The zardukar’s smile shone bright through her veils.  “Of course, Mom.  I’d be pleased to trade.”