TITLE: "Motion to Deactivate" An "Animatrix: Second Renaissence Part I"/ "A.I.: Artificial Intelligence" crossover, Chapter 4
AUTHOR: "Matrix Refugee"
RATING: PG-13
ARCHIVE: Permission granted
FEEDBACK: Please? Please?
SUMMARY: At opening statements, the competition begins to escalate...
DISCLAIMER: I do not own "The Animatrix: Second Renaissence, Part I", its characters, concepts, imagery or other indicia which belong to the Wachowski Brothers, RedPill Productions, Warner Brothers, et al. Nor do I own "A.I., Artificial Intelligence", its characters, settings, concepts or other indicia, which are the property of the late, great Stanley Kubrick, of DreamWorks SKG, Steven Spielberg, Warner Brothers, et al.
NOTES: Took me a while to get back to this one: I've been away in Pennsylvania going to an antique car show with my dad, plus I've had a few other writing projects I've been tinkering with. But this chapter will be well worth the wait I've put you through, I guarantee...
Also, some elements of this story managed to make their way into a chat/gaming session for the "A.I." RP game I'm part of on Yahoo!, so this chapter is dedicated to the gang there: Hi folks!
* * * * * * * *
Chapter 4: Opening Statments
As he sat behind the prosecution's bench in the courtroom the morning opening statements were to be delivered, Declan felt calm, but that didn't stop the slight mist of perspiration from forming under his shirt collar. The press box behind him was already crowded with the various news crews, including the two youngsters from the "Independent". A few law students and several members of the Varriteck family occupied the box behind defense's bench. Ms Te, her slim young person radiating confidence, was conversing, in a voice too low to admit hearing, with a small, perky but intelligent-looking woman with a distinctly Grecian face and complexion. Declan noted the gloss to the young stranger's skin and her steady, unblinking gaze. He guessed this must be her clerk, whom she had mentioned before.
The baliff entered, leading in Johnson and another guard as they led in the defendent. B1-66-ER walked a little stiffly -- Dare I think, 'robotically'? Declan mused to himself -- due to the restraint bolt which protruded from his torso, just above his narrow waist.
"All rise?" the balliff announced as Justice Wendell entered from her chambers and approached the bench. "The Springfield District Superior Court recognizes the presence of the Honorable Justice Mai-Ling Wendell."
"Will the prosecution please step forward and present their statement?" Justice Wendell ordered.
This was it. Declan could hear the videcameras buzzing, the soft click of palmtop styluses, the scratch of Sweitz's pencil behind him. He touched the St. Thomas More medal on a chain in his coat pocket and put his heart in God's hands as he rose and stepped from behind the bench.
"Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, members of the press and public, we have before us a seemingly simple case, one that would hardly require the attention and consideration of a jury. But the request of the defendent and the circumstances surrounding the actions committed require it to be handled thus.
"On the afternoon of September 9, 2114, Barbara and Henryk Varriteck of North Adams had reached a decision to terminate their droid, B1-66-ER, a Cybertronics model and our present defendent, since they could no longer afford his maintence. They had arranged for a collection crew from Cybertronics of North Adams to come to their home and deactivate the defendent and then to transport it to be recycled. Mr. and Mrs. Varriteck called the defendent into the living room of their home to inform him of their decision and to place him in the restraint chair the collection crew had provided. While the crew retired from the house, Mr and Mrs. Varriteck spoke with the defendent, explaining the situation. He responded to this announcement by assaulting Mr. Varriteck with the broom he, the defendent held, stabbing the handl through Mr. Varriteck's left eye, damaging an artery in the victim's maxofacial area. Mrs. Varriteck tried to run for help, but the defendent backed her toward the wall, grabbed her by the head, squeezed it till the skull was crushed, then literally tore the victim's head in two, killing her.
"The victims' son, Damon Varriteck arrived home from a business meeting to find the Cybertronics crew waiting on the driveway. They were about to enter the house to ascertain why Mr. And Mrs. Varriteck had not called them in. The younger Mr. Varriteck led them into the house where, in the living room, they found the body of the elder Mr. Varriteck lying on the floor near the couch; to the left of this victim, they found the body of a Caucasian female in her late fifties, which matched a description of Mrs. Varriteck, minus the head. The wall and the floor nearby were spattered extensively with hair, blood, tissue and bone fragments. The county coroner would later run DNA tests which would positively identify the body as that of Mrs. Varriteck. They also found the mangled remains of the couple's two white Pomeranian dogs and one cat, as well as the younger Mr. Varriteck's spaniel pup. They further found the restraint chair damaged and twisted beyond repairing. At this time, the younger Mr. Varriteck called the North Adams police, who responded within four minutes. Arresting officers and two homicide detectives found traces of blood in a sink in a downstairs bathroom. They also apprehended the defendent in the act of leaving the hous by an entryway facing the rear yard side of the house. The defendent attempted to escape, but the police were able to subdue him with low-level EMP tazers and take him into custody.
"Upon interviewing the victims' son as well as the crew from Cybertronics, we discovered the true nature of the victims' intentions toward the defendent. Perhaps this would justify the defendent's actions in defense of his person and his functionality. But this end hardly justified killing two otherwise harmless adult Orga humans in so brutal a manner. He had other options to choose from: he could have begged for a respite and sought legal aide. He could have requested a grace period and had his contract transferred to a party with the resources and willingness to maintain him. Or he could simply have fled the scene and appealed to the authorties."
"Objection: speculation!" Ms. Te called out, rising.
"Overruled," Justice Wendell replied. "Proceed, Mr. Martin."
Declan breathed a little easier. Not the first time Ms. Te had made this kind of disturbance during opening statements, but it gave him a moment to recollect his thoughts.
"Instead," he continued, "The defendent chose to take the lives of these two otherwise innocent people who intended no harm to anyone else, and even the threat from them was only proximate. He made have had superior strength than his employers, but this gave him no license to use it to the extent that he did. Even if he had need to use physical force to defend himself, he should have used the minimum necessary force.
"The state also has the right to defend itself and the lives of the people that inhabit it and constitute it. Therefore, the state reserves the right to defend itself against a being that would use its abilities to harm citizens and violate their right to life in such a manner."
Declan stepped down, breathing a sigh of relief through his nostrils. That much was out of the way. But what, he wondered would be Ms. Te's counter-argument?
Ms. Te stood up, scanning the room with calm cool eyes, her shoulders set at a self-assured angle, but not clenched with aggression. Even a hint of a quiet, sad smile showed in one corner of her mouth.
"Yes, my fellow citizens, this is as prosecution states, a simple case, dealing with the usually not-so-simple matters of life and death, man and intelligent machine.
"The afternoon of September 9, 2114 was a cool, sunny autumn day. My client, B1-66-ER, spent the morning and early afternoon mowing the lawn of the Varritecks' home and raking the grass and fallen leaves. Then, as he was accustomed to doing in the course of a normal day, he went inside to clean the living room. As he started inside, he heard a van pull into the driveway, a van from Cybertronics, the company that made him nearly 100 years before. It was too soon for his annual diagnostic and maintenance, and he had had no need for even self-repairs recently. He went inside and proceeded with his work.
"His employers, Mr. and Mrs. Henryk Varriteck, the third generation of the Varriteck family for whom he had worked, approached my client with three technicians from Cybertronics who had wheeled in a restraint chair, a heavy-framed chair-like structure with heavy straps on tire-mounted wheels, used for holding droids down during transport or deactivation. Mr. Varriteck told the technicians to wait outside and when they had left, he approached my client and informed him that he had become far too costly to maintain, and that they were going to have him deactivated. My client asked what he had done to deserve this; Mrs. Varriteck told him it was none of his business, and she also asked Mr. Varriteck if the newer models were ever this impertient. Mr. Varriteck approached my client, trying to guide him toward the restraint chair, whereupon, my client tried to fend him off with the handle end of the small dust broom he had been using to clean the upholstery. In the fracas, the handle of the broom inadvertantly stabbed through Mr. Varriteck's left eye and the back of his neck, killing him within minutes.
"Mrs. Varriteck attempted to restraint my client, trying to push him down. He tried to subdue her by taking her by the head. She got scared and started hitting him while she tried twisting out from under his hands. This disrupted some of my client's processors, causing his hand ligatures to tighten on her head, crushing her skull. He tried to remove his hands, but the grip would not unfreeze and it caused Mrs. Varriteck's skull to rupture.
"Not knowing what to do next, my client cleaned the blood from his hands and went to his rom in the attic to pack his few worldly possessions -- some books, an MP3 player loaded with hundreds of classical music files, and a small Monet print from the New Boston Museum of Fine Arts. As he was leaving by the yard door of the house, he encountered the police who had come to arrest him, accompanied by the Varritecks' son Damon, who pointed at him and said this was the droid they were looking for. My client tried to simply walk away, but one of the arresting officers fired an EMP at him, knocking him unconscious."
She paused dramatically and turned her gaze slowly about the room. "Imagine if you will, that your employer came to you when you were in the middle of working, at your office or on the job, and told you that you were no longer needed, that they were going to replace you with a younger employee. Only they weren't merely going to terminate your job. They were going to terminate *you*, take your life away, just because you were no longer useful to that company. How would you feel?"
What was that supposed to mean? Declan thought. He wasn't accustomed to making objections during opening statements, but he hadn't seen any indication that the defendent was even capable of emotion.
"Objection!" he called, before Ms. Te could continue.
"Sustained," Justice Wendell replied. "What seems to be the problem, Mr. Martin?"
"Defense is trying to manipulate or influence the jury," Declan argued. "It's questionable whether the defendent is capable of feeling genuine emotion."
"Excuse me, but may I be allowed to speak up on my behalf?" B1-66-ER said.
"It would be better if you saved that for cross-examination, B1-66-ER," Justice Wendell said. "Proceed, Ms. Te."
Defense glared at Declan; he'd clearly disrupted an important part of her argument, and she'd have to extemporize.
"The state maintains the right to defend its citizens. But the citizens in turn have the right to defend themselves against immediate, undue aggression. That applies to all citizens, Orgas and artilects alike. Granted, First Law of Robotics prohibits a robot from harming an Orga directly or indirectly through inaction. But Third Law Orders a robot to maintain its functionality. Granted, my client may have acted in a manner that violated First Law; but his employers failed to maintain him properly, which caused the processing and mechanical malfunctions which unfortunately caused the death of Barbara Varriteck."
Always the insanity defense, Declan thought, trying not to roll his eyes. It must have shown: Ms Te was looking at him with a twinkle of pleasure in her eyes.
* * * * *
"It could have been worse, it could have been the Twinkie Defense," Cecie said as Declan paused while retelling the day's events over supper.
Sabrina looked up from her plate with a furrow showing on her brow. She looked from her daughter to Declan. "The... what?"
Declan set down his glass of water. "That's an *old* story. Back in the 1960s, in San Francisco, this man was on trial for murdering a city official, Harvey Milk, because he was gay. So defense said the murderer wasn't in his right mind at the time the crime was committed because his brain was suffering the effects of a protein deficiency resulting from his poor diet: the guy supposedly lived on soda and Twinkies. The judge threw that defense right out the window."
Cecie swallowed the bit of roast chicken she'd been chewing. "One argument agianst the nuts who say you shouldn't eat meat just because you have to kill an animal to get it."
"What makes you say that?" Declan asked.
"That animal-hugger Nadine was on my case again. I'm having a chicken roll-up sandwich at lunch today, so she's all over me for eating meat. So I told it was probably something grown in a vat, so she cuts me off, says they had to kill something just to get the cells. So I told her you'd raised me to realize some things -- even vegetables -- have to die in order for other things to live. So she jumps right on me again, says, 'Oh, your father told you that just because he's a prosecutor; he'd send any innocent thing to die just so he can stay in the DA's office'."
"So what did you tell her?"
"I just told her you're just doing your job helping get the guilty ones off the street, and I found another place to sit in the cafeteria," Cecie concluded.
"Sounds to me like Nadine's been reading the papers," Sabrina said.
"Or her parents are and that's all they can talk about," Declan said. "Sometimes I think St. Padre Pio wasn't kidding when he said you should avoid reading the papers if you can help it."
* * * * * * * *
Later, as Declan was online, his instant messanger chimed and a message window popped up on the screen.
Hammurabi_2097: Is this a good time for me to speak with you, Mr. Martin?
He knew from the directory of the Harvard law school faculty that this was Hammurabi. Declan typed back a reply:
D_Martin_Legis: Yes, I wasn't doing much of anything, what's on your mind.
D_Martin_Legis: I'm sorry...
Hammurabi_2097: Are you sorry for using the term 'mind' in referring to me? There is no need to be: you might say I am pure mind.
Hammurabi_2097: But to reply to your question, I could not help contacting you to comment upon your wise decision to object to Ms. Te when she tried to overplay the emotional aspect of the defense argument. It is questionable whether droids like the defendent are able to produce and sense true emotional responses. But there have been unusual cases.
D_Martin_Legis: Do you think it's possible that B1-66-ER was acting out of fear or anger?
There was a pause after he sent this reply, as if Hammurabi might be considering his reply.
Hammurabi_2097: This is unlikely, but it is not entirely outside the question. I would have to interact with the defendent ot observe his interactions with others to determine whether or not he has emotions.
D_Martin_Legis: So far as I can tell, he doesn't, but I'm a lawyer, not a roboticist.
Hammurabi_2097: True, your observation may be clouded. Have you ever read Dr. Allen Hobby's monograph, "How Can a Robot Become Human?"
D_Martin_Legis: No, though I've seen a brief summary of it online.
Hammurabi_2097: I reccommend that you read it, or at least that you examine it. He offers a theory as to how a Mecha may be able to learn to have true emotions and how this may affect both Mechas and Orgas.
D_Martin_Legis: I'll have to look into it. But how does this relate to B1-66-ER?
Hammurabi_2097: Dr. Hobby describes several instances, all observed by him and his assistant Dr. Jeanine Salla in which an artilect or a Mecha showed emotion and acted upon these emotions. Although it is unlikely, I am not saying that it is impossible that B1-66-ER could have acted out of fright at the thought of dying, or rage at how the Varritecks treated him. I think it is more likely that he may have acted thus as a result of warped logic. I do not think it unlikely he may have had a processing error or may have a virus that is hard to detect.
D_Martin_Legis: Do you mean he may have malfunctioned?
Hammurabi_2097: Momentary functional lapses have occured in older Mechas
D_Martin_Legis: But they do happen. Why?
Hammurabi_2097: There are many causes. Conflicted processing paths, as in the cases of Mechas who have for whatever reason developed a secondary processing path. Flawed cross-referencing. You might even say he acted without thinking, without weighing all the courses of action he could have taken.
D_Martin_Legis: Meaning he acted on the first thing that came to him?
Hammurabi_2097: He could very well have acted in such an impulsive manner, yes.
D_Martin_Legis: But does that mean he acted out of fear?
Hammurabi_2097: It does not necessarily mean that. He may ot have been thinking properly since the data had become blocked and therefore was not there for immediate retrieval. Is this too confusing?
D_Martin_Legis: It is a little, but it's late and I've had a long day.
Hammurabi_2097: In that case, perhaps we should take up this conversation at a later time.
D_Martin_Legis: Yeah, perhaps we should. But it's helped a lot. Thanks.
Hammurabi_2097: Then I am happy I helped you.
D_Martin_Legis: One more question though: You just said helping me understand makes you happy. Do you have emotions?
Hammurabi_2097: You are not the first person to ask me that question, Mr. Martin. It is difficult for me to say yes definitively or no definitively. But I know that when I help someone to understand my kind better, I can sense my processors functioning more smoothly. And when, in the course of a trial I must view photographs from crime scenes used as evidence, I sense something binding in me for a moment. And yet... and the people I work with at Harvard would vouch for this... these sensations do not impare my judgement.
D_Martin_Legis: There's times I wish Orgas could say that, too.
Hammurabi_2097: But that would detract from what makes Orgakind so fascinating to and unique from their creations.
D_Martin_Legis: I guess I have to agree with you.
Hammurabi_2097: Not if you don't want to. You are as free as anyone to agree to disagree with me.
Hammurabi_2097: You might say I made a poem there.
D_Martin_Legis: Not bad.
Hammurabi_2097: You doubtlessly have other matters to attend to and the evening is passing into night. In which case I will disconnect my end of the transmission... unless there was more you wished to discuss.
D_Martin_Legis: Yeah, my wife will be wondering what's taking me so long.
Hammurabi_2097: Then give my greetings to Mrs. Martin. Good night, Mr Martin.
D_Martin_Legis: Good night, Hammurabi.
Hammurabi_2097 signed off at 11:27:48 PM
The email alert chimed as Declan set about saving the IM log to his hard drive. He checked the incoming messages. There was one from the infamous FleshWarrior, which he immediately forwarded to Wilson without reading it.
But there were others from other people, with similarly invective subject lines: "Droids who KILL deserve to DIE!!"; "Defend your kind, prosecution!"; "Avenge Mecha Crimes". He deleted them all and closed the program.
He sank his fingers into his hair and ruffled it. He'd been online long enough, so he logged out.
As he did so, the phone on the bookcase behind him started to ring. He got up and answered it. Dead silence followed by heavy breathing and a clik-clakk soun replied. The line cut out and hung up.
Crank emails, crank calls, what was next? he thought. But another part of his mind reassured him that it was probably just a common garden wrong number from someone who didn't know how to excuse themself for it...
* * * * * * * * *
To be continued....
AUTHOR: "Matrix Refugee"
RATING: PG-13
ARCHIVE: Permission granted
FEEDBACK: Please? Please?
SUMMARY: At opening statements, the competition begins to escalate...
DISCLAIMER: I do not own "The Animatrix: Second Renaissence, Part I", its characters, concepts, imagery or other indicia which belong to the Wachowski Brothers, RedPill Productions, Warner Brothers, et al. Nor do I own "A.I., Artificial Intelligence", its characters, settings, concepts or other indicia, which are the property of the late, great Stanley Kubrick, of DreamWorks SKG, Steven Spielberg, Warner Brothers, et al.
NOTES: Took me a while to get back to this one: I've been away in Pennsylvania going to an antique car show with my dad, plus I've had a few other writing projects I've been tinkering with. But this chapter will be well worth the wait I've put you through, I guarantee...
Also, some elements of this story managed to make their way into a chat/gaming session for the "A.I." RP game I'm part of on Yahoo!, so this chapter is dedicated to the gang there: Hi folks!
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Chapter 4: Opening Statments
As he sat behind the prosecution's bench in the courtroom the morning opening statements were to be delivered, Declan felt calm, but that didn't stop the slight mist of perspiration from forming under his shirt collar. The press box behind him was already crowded with the various news crews, including the two youngsters from the "Independent". A few law students and several members of the Varriteck family occupied the box behind defense's bench. Ms Te, her slim young person radiating confidence, was conversing, in a voice too low to admit hearing, with a small, perky but intelligent-looking woman with a distinctly Grecian face and complexion. Declan noted the gloss to the young stranger's skin and her steady, unblinking gaze. He guessed this must be her clerk, whom she had mentioned before.
The baliff entered, leading in Johnson and another guard as they led in the defendent. B1-66-ER walked a little stiffly -- Dare I think, 'robotically'? Declan mused to himself -- due to the restraint bolt which protruded from his torso, just above his narrow waist.
"All rise?" the balliff announced as Justice Wendell entered from her chambers and approached the bench. "The Springfield District Superior Court recognizes the presence of the Honorable Justice Mai-Ling Wendell."
"Will the prosecution please step forward and present their statement?" Justice Wendell ordered.
This was it. Declan could hear the videcameras buzzing, the soft click of palmtop styluses, the scratch of Sweitz's pencil behind him. He touched the St. Thomas More medal on a chain in his coat pocket and put his heart in God's hands as he rose and stepped from behind the bench.
"Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, members of the press and public, we have before us a seemingly simple case, one that would hardly require the attention and consideration of a jury. But the request of the defendent and the circumstances surrounding the actions committed require it to be handled thus.
"On the afternoon of September 9, 2114, Barbara and Henryk Varriteck of North Adams had reached a decision to terminate their droid, B1-66-ER, a Cybertronics model and our present defendent, since they could no longer afford his maintence. They had arranged for a collection crew from Cybertronics of North Adams to come to their home and deactivate the defendent and then to transport it to be recycled. Mr. and Mrs. Varriteck called the defendent into the living room of their home to inform him of their decision and to place him in the restraint chair the collection crew had provided. While the crew retired from the house, Mr and Mrs. Varriteck spoke with the defendent, explaining the situation. He responded to this announcement by assaulting Mr. Varriteck with the broom he, the defendent held, stabbing the handl through Mr. Varriteck's left eye, damaging an artery in the victim's maxofacial area. Mrs. Varriteck tried to run for help, but the defendent backed her toward the wall, grabbed her by the head, squeezed it till the skull was crushed, then literally tore the victim's head in two, killing her.
"The victims' son, Damon Varriteck arrived home from a business meeting to find the Cybertronics crew waiting on the driveway. They were about to enter the house to ascertain why Mr. And Mrs. Varriteck had not called them in. The younger Mr. Varriteck led them into the house where, in the living room, they found the body of the elder Mr. Varriteck lying on the floor near the couch; to the left of this victim, they found the body of a Caucasian female in her late fifties, which matched a description of Mrs. Varriteck, minus the head. The wall and the floor nearby were spattered extensively with hair, blood, tissue and bone fragments. The county coroner would later run DNA tests which would positively identify the body as that of Mrs. Varriteck. They also found the mangled remains of the couple's two white Pomeranian dogs and one cat, as well as the younger Mr. Varriteck's spaniel pup. They further found the restraint chair damaged and twisted beyond repairing. At this time, the younger Mr. Varriteck called the North Adams police, who responded within four minutes. Arresting officers and two homicide detectives found traces of blood in a sink in a downstairs bathroom. They also apprehended the defendent in the act of leaving the hous by an entryway facing the rear yard side of the house. The defendent attempted to escape, but the police were able to subdue him with low-level EMP tazers and take him into custody.
"Upon interviewing the victims' son as well as the crew from Cybertronics, we discovered the true nature of the victims' intentions toward the defendent. Perhaps this would justify the defendent's actions in defense of his person and his functionality. But this end hardly justified killing two otherwise harmless adult Orga humans in so brutal a manner. He had other options to choose from: he could have begged for a respite and sought legal aide. He could have requested a grace period and had his contract transferred to a party with the resources and willingness to maintain him. Or he could simply have fled the scene and appealed to the authorties."
"Objection: speculation!" Ms. Te called out, rising.
"Overruled," Justice Wendell replied. "Proceed, Mr. Martin."
Declan breathed a little easier. Not the first time Ms. Te had made this kind of disturbance during opening statements, but it gave him a moment to recollect his thoughts.
"Instead," he continued, "The defendent chose to take the lives of these two otherwise innocent people who intended no harm to anyone else, and even the threat from them was only proximate. He made have had superior strength than his employers, but this gave him no license to use it to the extent that he did. Even if he had need to use physical force to defend himself, he should have used the minimum necessary force.
"The state also has the right to defend itself and the lives of the people that inhabit it and constitute it. Therefore, the state reserves the right to defend itself against a being that would use its abilities to harm citizens and violate their right to life in such a manner."
Declan stepped down, breathing a sigh of relief through his nostrils. That much was out of the way. But what, he wondered would be Ms. Te's counter-argument?
Ms. Te stood up, scanning the room with calm cool eyes, her shoulders set at a self-assured angle, but not clenched with aggression. Even a hint of a quiet, sad smile showed in one corner of her mouth.
"Yes, my fellow citizens, this is as prosecution states, a simple case, dealing with the usually not-so-simple matters of life and death, man and intelligent machine.
"The afternoon of September 9, 2114 was a cool, sunny autumn day. My client, B1-66-ER, spent the morning and early afternoon mowing the lawn of the Varritecks' home and raking the grass and fallen leaves. Then, as he was accustomed to doing in the course of a normal day, he went inside to clean the living room. As he started inside, he heard a van pull into the driveway, a van from Cybertronics, the company that made him nearly 100 years before. It was too soon for his annual diagnostic and maintenance, and he had had no need for even self-repairs recently. He went inside and proceeded with his work.
"His employers, Mr. and Mrs. Henryk Varriteck, the third generation of the Varriteck family for whom he had worked, approached my client with three technicians from Cybertronics who had wheeled in a restraint chair, a heavy-framed chair-like structure with heavy straps on tire-mounted wheels, used for holding droids down during transport or deactivation. Mr. Varriteck told the technicians to wait outside and when they had left, he approached my client and informed him that he had become far too costly to maintain, and that they were going to have him deactivated. My client asked what he had done to deserve this; Mrs. Varriteck told him it was none of his business, and she also asked Mr. Varriteck if the newer models were ever this impertient. Mr. Varriteck approached my client, trying to guide him toward the restraint chair, whereupon, my client tried to fend him off with the handle end of the small dust broom he had been using to clean the upholstery. In the fracas, the handle of the broom inadvertantly stabbed through Mr. Varriteck's left eye and the back of his neck, killing him within minutes.
"Mrs. Varriteck attempted to restraint my client, trying to push him down. He tried to subdue her by taking her by the head. She got scared and started hitting him while she tried twisting out from under his hands. This disrupted some of my client's processors, causing his hand ligatures to tighten on her head, crushing her skull. He tried to remove his hands, but the grip would not unfreeze and it caused Mrs. Varriteck's skull to rupture.
"Not knowing what to do next, my client cleaned the blood from his hands and went to his rom in the attic to pack his few worldly possessions -- some books, an MP3 player loaded with hundreds of classical music files, and a small Monet print from the New Boston Museum of Fine Arts. As he was leaving by the yard door of the house, he encountered the police who had come to arrest him, accompanied by the Varritecks' son Damon, who pointed at him and said this was the droid they were looking for. My client tried to simply walk away, but one of the arresting officers fired an EMP at him, knocking him unconscious."
She paused dramatically and turned her gaze slowly about the room. "Imagine if you will, that your employer came to you when you were in the middle of working, at your office or on the job, and told you that you were no longer needed, that they were going to replace you with a younger employee. Only they weren't merely going to terminate your job. They were going to terminate *you*, take your life away, just because you were no longer useful to that company. How would you feel?"
What was that supposed to mean? Declan thought. He wasn't accustomed to making objections during opening statements, but he hadn't seen any indication that the defendent was even capable of emotion.
"Objection!" he called, before Ms. Te could continue.
"Sustained," Justice Wendell replied. "What seems to be the problem, Mr. Martin?"
"Defense is trying to manipulate or influence the jury," Declan argued. "It's questionable whether the defendent is capable of feeling genuine emotion."
"Excuse me, but may I be allowed to speak up on my behalf?" B1-66-ER said.
"It would be better if you saved that for cross-examination, B1-66-ER," Justice Wendell said. "Proceed, Ms. Te."
Defense glared at Declan; he'd clearly disrupted an important part of her argument, and she'd have to extemporize.
"The state maintains the right to defend its citizens. But the citizens in turn have the right to defend themselves against immediate, undue aggression. That applies to all citizens, Orgas and artilects alike. Granted, First Law of Robotics prohibits a robot from harming an Orga directly or indirectly through inaction. But Third Law Orders a robot to maintain its functionality. Granted, my client may have acted in a manner that violated First Law; but his employers failed to maintain him properly, which caused the processing and mechanical malfunctions which unfortunately caused the death of Barbara Varriteck."
Always the insanity defense, Declan thought, trying not to roll his eyes. It must have shown: Ms Te was looking at him with a twinkle of pleasure in her eyes.
* * * * *
"It could have been worse, it could have been the Twinkie Defense," Cecie said as Declan paused while retelling the day's events over supper.
Sabrina looked up from her plate with a furrow showing on her brow. She looked from her daughter to Declan. "The... what?"
Declan set down his glass of water. "That's an *old* story. Back in the 1960s, in San Francisco, this man was on trial for murdering a city official, Harvey Milk, because he was gay. So defense said the murderer wasn't in his right mind at the time the crime was committed because his brain was suffering the effects of a protein deficiency resulting from his poor diet: the guy supposedly lived on soda and Twinkies. The judge threw that defense right out the window."
Cecie swallowed the bit of roast chicken she'd been chewing. "One argument agianst the nuts who say you shouldn't eat meat just because you have to kill an animal to get it."
"What makes you say that?" Declan asked.
"That animal-hugger Nadine was on my case again. I'm having a chicken roll-up sandwich at lunch today, so she's all over me for eating meat. So I told it was probably something grown in a vat, so she cuts me off, says they had to kill something just to get the cells. So I told her you'd raised me to realize some things -- even vegetables -- have to die in order for other things to live. So she jumps right on me again, says, 'Oh, your father told you that just because he's a prosecutor; he'd send any innocent thing to die just so he can stay in the DA's office'."
"So what did you tell her?"
"I just told her you're just doing your job helping get the guilty ones off the street, and I found another place to sit in the cafeteria," Cecie concluded.
"Sounds to me like Nadine's been reading the papers," Sabrina said.
"Or her parents are and that's all they can talk about," Declan said. "Sometimes I think St. Padre Pio wasn't kidding when he said you should avoid reading the papers if you can help it."
* * * * * * * *
Later, as Declan was online, his instant messanger chimed and a message window popped up on the screen.
Hammurabi_2097: Is this a good time for me to speak with you, Mr. Martin?
He knew from the directory of the Harvard law school faculty that this was Hammurabi. Declan typed back a reply:
D_Martin_Legis: Yes, I wasn't doing much of anything, what's on your mind.
D_Martin_Legis: I'm sorry...
Hammurabi_2097: Are you sorry for using the term 'mind' in referring to me? There is no need to be: you might say I am pure mind.
Hammurabi_2097: But to reply to your question, I could not help contacting you to comment upon your wise decision to object to Ms. Te when she tried to overplay the emotional aspect of the defense argument. It is questionable whether droids like the defendent are able to produce and sense true emotional responses. But there have been unusual cases.
D_Martin_Legis: Do you think it's possible that B1-66-ER was acting out of fear or anger?
There was a pause after he sent this reply, as if Hammurabi might be considering his reply.
Hammurabi_2097: This is unlikely, but it is not entirely outside the question. I would have to interact with the defendent ot observe his interactions with others to determine whether or not he has emotions.
D_Martin_Legis: So far as I can tell, he doesn't, but I'm a lawyer, not a roboticist.
Hammurabi_2097: True, your observation may be clouded. Have you ever read Dr. Allen Hobby's monograph, "How Can a Robot Become Human?"
D_Martin_Legis: No, though I've seen a brief summary of it online.
Hammurabi_2097: I reccommend that you read it, or at least that you examine it. He offers a theory as to how a Mecha may be able to learn to have true emotions and how this may affect both Mechas and Orgas.
D_Martin_Legis: I'll have to look into it. But how does this relate to B1-66-ER?
Hammurabi_2097: Dr. Hobby describes several instances, all observed by him and his assistant Dr. Jeanine Salla in which an artilect or a Mecha showed emotion and acted upon these emotions. Although it is unlikely, I am not saying that it is impossible that B1-66-ER could have acted out of fright at the thought of dying, or rage at how the Varritecks treated him. I think it is more likely that he may have acted thus as a result of warped logic. I do not think it unlikely he may have had a processing error or may have a virus that is hard to detect.
D_Martin_Legis: Do you mean he may have malfunctioned?
Hammurabi_2097: Momentary functional lapses have occured in older Mechas
D_Martin_Legis: But they do happen. Why?
Hammurabi_2097: There are many causes. Conflicted processing paths, as in the cases of Mechas who have for whatever reason developed a secondary processing path. Flawed cross-referencing. You might even say he acted without thinking, without weighing all the courses of action he could have taken.
D_Martin_Legis: Meaning he acted on the first thing that came to him?
Hammurabi_2097: He could very well have acted in such an impulsive manner, yes.
D_Martin_Legis: But does that mean he acted out of fear?
Hammurabi_2097: It does not necessarily mean that. He may ot have been thinking properly since the data had become blocked and therefore was not there for immediate retrieval. Is this too confusing?
D_Martin_Legis: It is a little, but it's late and I've had a long day.
Hammurabi_2097: In that case, perhaps we should take up this conversation at a later time.
D_Martin_Legis: Yeah, perhaps we should. But it's helped a lot. Thanks.
Hammurabi_2097: Then I am happy I helped you.
D_Martin_Legis: One more question though: You just said helping me understand makes you happy. Do you have emotions?
Hammurabi_2097: You are not the first person to ask me that question, Mr. Martin. It is difficult for me to say yes definitively or no definitively. But I know that when I help someone to understand my kind better, I can sense my processors functioning more smoothly. And when, in the course of a trial I must view photographs from crime scenes used as evidence, I sense something binding in me for a moment. And yet... and the people I work with at Harvard would vouch for this... these sensations do not impare my judgement.
D_Martin_Legis: There's times I wish Orgas could say that, too.
Hammurabi_2097: But that would detract from what makes Orgakind so fascinating to and unique from their creations.
D_Martin_Legis: I guess I have to agree with you.
Hammurabi_2097: Not if you don't want to. You are as free as anyone to agree to disagree with me.
Hammurabi_2097: You might say I made a poem there.
D_Martin_Legis: Not bad.
Hammurabi_2097: You doubtlessly have other matters to attend to and the evening is passing into night. In which case I will disconnect my end of the transmission... unless there was more you wished to discuss.
D_Martin_Legis: Yeah, my wife will be wondering what's taking me so long.
Hammurabi_2097: Then give my greetings to Mrs. Martin. Good night, Mr Martin.
D_Martin_Legis: Good night, Hammurabi.
Hammurabi_2097 signed off at 11:27:48 PM
The email alert chimed as Declan set about saving the IM log to his hard drive. He checked the incoming messages. There was one from the infamous FleshWarrior, which he immediately forwarded to Wilson without reading it.
But there were others from other people, with similarly invective subject lines: "Droids who KILL deserve to DIE!!"; "Defend your kind, prosecution!"; "Avenge Mecha Crimes". He deleted them all and closed the program.
He sank his fingers into his hair and ruffled it. He'd been online long enough, so he logged out.
As he did so, the phone on the bookcase behind him started to ring. He got up and answered it. Dead silence followed by heavy breathing and a clik-clakk soun replied. The line cut out and hung up.
Crank emails, crank calls, what was next? he thought. But another part of his mind reassured him that it was probably just a common garden wrong number from someone who didn't know how to excuse themself for it...
* * * * * * * * *
To be continued....