Winning Peace - Chapter 17:

It's hard to imagine being on another planet becoming routine and boring when one had been confined to their homeworld for most of two lifetimes. Sadly, living on the moon for so long had inured me to a certain amount of the strange grandeur of foreign worlds. That isn't to say that Mars wasn't amazing in its own right, it just... well, after the first week on the planet, I managed to stop staring out at the red sand dunes and rocky crags of the badlands surrounding the Eos Chasma like a total tourist.

Honestly, that wasn't the only reason I was staring.

"Even as well as I can simulate it, a real horizon line is different, huh?" I mumbled to myself thoughtfully.

"Minister?"

Turning, I shook my head at Tom Hughes, a young man who'd been assigned my guide and liaison for the duration of my stay on the red planet. "Don't worry about it. Just a passing thought. I've been trying to accurately simulate things like weather and the day-night cycle, but there's a few things I've been missing. Apparently a properly-emulated horizon line is one of them. Tricky little devil."

"Ah, I've been down to some of the catacombs they've been digging out," Tom replied with a nod. "Didn't know it was you doing all that work."

"Me and a few dozen other people," I waved him off with a sigh. "What's on the schedule for today, Tom?"

"It's a pretty sparse day, Minister Lopez. There's a tour of local businesses, a meeting with an exploration group trying to get off the ground, and then a few photo-ops with local citizens." As he spoke, Tom tapped away at the pad in his hand, no doubt shifting through a brightly-colored checklist or time-coded schedule.

Some things never change, after all.

I don't know what it was about that thought, about the sudden ache deep in my soul that I felt, but it brought my current melancholy into sharp focus. The trip to Mars had been interesting, the arrival fun and entertaining. Both had lifted my mood in ways sitting around dealing with problems back in Armstrong City just didn't.

"I'm going to retire." I stated suddenly, my tone one of realization rather than declaration.

"Sir?" Tom asked, his brown eyes widening.

I chuckled and waved him off. "Not now, Tom. Don't panic. Just... soon. In... a few years. I moved to the moon to get away from politics and do my own thing for once, not end up setting up an entirely new circus with new monkeys to give me new headaches."

"Oh," Tom replied quietly, sweeping a hand through his black hair nervously. "I... ah, I'm sorry to hear that sir, if I'm honest. You're... well, amazing. Everybody I know says it, even the people who don't like you think you do a bang-up job."

I leaned back in my seat and returned to staring out the window of my apartment into the distant horizon of Mars. "Thanks. Watching the news, you'd think everybody wants me out of a job for amassing too much power. It's nice to hear there are people who like what I do."

Tom scoffed. "With respect, Minister? They're assholes who can only say what they say because they aren't dying from radiation poisoning or musculo-skeletal disorders from lack of meds. They just don't want to think about that because tearing people down gets more views than building them up."

I startled myself by laughing so hard I started a coughing fit. "Hah! Good God, but I needed that. Thanks, Tom. You're a saint. I mean it. Fuck... it's been a while since I laughed that hard..."

If anything, though, that just cements my decision further.

It was a sobering realization, that I really hated my job.

"So... are you still going to be inventing, Minister Lopez?" Tom asked, then hurried to amend his question. "I know some of those assholes like to say it's not really you, but... like, fifteen or twenty people working for you and not getting any credit, but I always thought it really was you and everything."

"There are other people who help do some nitty-gritty stuff," I admitted. "Things like safety testing, filing permits, medical applications, and I've been repeatedly told that my sense of aesthetic design is horrible, but most of the nuts and bolts are my work. Well, the work of a bunch of AI that I programmed and used for designs and builds."

"When you say 'AI' do you mean actual artificial intelligence or virtual intelligence?" Tom pushed, his eyes gleaming with curiosity. For a moment, I had a flash of paranoia and wondered if he was digging for information, but I rationalized that away. I'd had the man's entire life put through a microscope so detailed I'd been able to observe quantum tunneling.

Well, no. Not really, but the point was that I wasn't about to repeat the same mistake I'd made with Rhodey.

"I'd forgotten that term was coming into vogue," I replied with a chuckle, the delineation between the two intelligent systems sparking old memories of a game from a lifetime ago. "Virtual, for the record. You've probably heard me say that my programs are intelligent without being intelligences."

"The difference being that the latter is a person while the former can only pretend very hard to be one," Tom nodded eagerly. "I've heard that before, I just didn't know if you actually confirmed that they were virtual or not."

I waggled a hand back and forth. "There's still some discussion on exactly what the difference is mechanically. I don't think I've seen a proper paper put forward detailing it."

"I'm actually working on something-" Which I had Seth pull and scan. "-and I was wondering if you'd look it over and maybe give me a few notes."

"Send it to Sasha and I'll try to make some time before we leave next week," I replied easily. Knowing what I did, it was pretty good work, though the moment still made me feel as though I were a director accepting the offer of a cafe waiter to look over his screenplay. Mostly to make conversation, I asked, "Is that why you got picked to follow me around for two weeks? Background in science and technology?"

He nodded, a bit sheepishly. "Pretty much, sir. I'm actually a bit persona non grata in the field at the moment, so it's hard to get anyone to do some editing."

I blinked, reviewing what I'd seen in his file. "Oh, why so?"

Tom stilled, his smile turning plastic. "I... ah, don't think it would be appropriate to say, sir?"

I folded my arms and looked the man over. "Okay, now you've got me really curious."

Had I missed something?

The other man grimaced and looked at his tablet. "We really should get going, Minister, if we don't want to be late."

I sat firm while the man rose from his seat. "I believe you said my schedule was sparse today?"

Tom grimaced again and looked away, his face hot. "Look, sir, I really don't think I'm comfortable discussing this."

"Will you at least assure me it wasn't illegal?" I asked intently.

"Not... technically..." Tom sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "Ugh. Alright, fine. I guess... you are a political figure and a really great guy with everything you've done. It would be a shame if you got caught up in a scandal because of me." He pulled out a personal smartphone, setting his data slate on the table as he did so before passing it to me. "Here."

I looked the picture over and instantly recognized it.

The 'girl' depicted was around four and a half feet with bright blue eyes, medium-length brown hair wearing a t-shirt and a pair of cut-off blue jeans at the upper thigh. I didn't think anyone called them 'Daisy Dukes' anymore, given the original show was a century and a half old, but the aesthetic choice had never really faded from the public consciousness.

All in all, 'she' could have been your average, if exceptionally pretty, early bloomer twelve year old or somewhat petite fourteen year old. Her skin was flawless, her features perfectly symmetrical, there were no apparent defects or wounds across any of her ten fingers or ten toes, and she seemed happy and cheerful in the picture being taken.

Except, 'she' was an 'it.' A purely mechanical and digital creation mimicking the human form without any possibility of a sense of self developing.

As Tom had quoted me, it was just a program pretending to be a person.

Because attached to the photo was a schematic and coding docket for her physical and digital bodies. Given that I'd already seen all of this in my dive through the man's history, I already knew what it was, even.

"Is there a reason you're showing me pictures of your sex toy?" I asked idly, looking back to the other man and sliding his phone across the table.

Tom flushed even deeper. "Ah... I, had one of my co-workers over. Well, not coworkers really, but we're doing work in the same field and he wanted to talk about a few things over dinner and I offered to cook. Or, well, have Mary cook. I built her so that she could do household chores in addition to... well, you know."

"The word you're looking for is 'sex,'" I replied, not unkindly. "Go on, though."

"Anyway, Guiseppe figured out what she was pretty quick and excused himself from the conversation. I found out he told pretty much everyone who works on high-end coding and VI development here on Mars about it... we're not exactly a huge pool of people, you know? Only about a thousand, and that's stretching it to include the hobbyists and people with overlapping or convergent specialties." He ran a hand through his hair again, anxiously. "I'll understand if you want to ask for someone else to take care of your schedule for the rest of your visit, Minister Lopez."

"Pfft," I scoffed, rolling my eyes. "That's pretty fucked up." The man winced and shrank in on himself. "No, dammit, not your gynoid. That's good civ. Not the look I would have gone for, but good civ. That dude you invited over, that's fucked up. It's like someone accidentally finding your chest of BDSM gear and then spreading it all over the net when it's none of their business. It'd be one thing if he just straight up told you he was uncomfortable and left, but that was a real dick move on his part."

"...you mean, it doesn't bother you?" Tom asked hesitantly.

I shrugged. "It's not like you had a real twelve year old tied up in your basement or something and I'd have something to say if you wanted me to watch you do the deed, but as long as you keep anything kinky behind closed doors it's frankly none of my business."

Tom sagged with relief and choked off a wet noise, to which I pulled out a handkerchief and obligingly looked away as he blew his nose, pondering the red sands of Mars once again as he composed himself.

When I looked back a few moments later, his eyes were red and he was still sniffling. "Th-thanks, Minister Lopez. I, um... it's been hard. Once it got out and everything."

I reached over and patted him on the shoulder. "It's no big deal, dude. Some people just aren't ready to handle stuff like that."

He snorted and tried to hand back the cloth, to which I waved him off. I had a pocket printer just for small objects like that anyway and germs were gross. "Thanks, though. It means a lot to me. I put a lot of work into Mary after my last relationship crashed and burned. She, ah... couldn't keep it going after the Short War and... I just felt like everything was closing in on me without someone to talk to. It was really awful because we were even to the point of talking about marriage and kids, but then she just broke everything off. Mary got me through a really tough time and some bad headspace."

There'd been glimmers of that in the report. Possibly not suicidal tendencies, but definitely some circumstantial evidence of self-harm. I even had him marked in my systems to report the behaviors if they reappeared again, though after 'Mary' had come into the picture his patterns had improved substantially.

An idea bubbled up as I listened to him release his pent up frustration. "With Mary's help I was even getting to the point where I was thinking about having a kid. Maybe use one of those cloning pods and have Mary able to help me. But now... everyone already treats me like a pariah. If I went through with it I just know they'd try to take any kid away because I'm a perv." He looked up at me pleadingly. "I'd never touch a real kid. Mary's just a gynoid! I don't know why they can't see that!"

I reached up to rub my chin. "Honestly? I think after this latest round of ostracization, I think you should probably seek professional therapy for a bit before you consider moving forward with plans for children. Even if you have Mary as a secondary caregiver, you'd be the primary one and the only one with true sentience. As such, it would be incredibly important for you to be in a firmly positive mental state to deal with the challenges you'll be facing."

I sighed and leaned back as the man contemplated my words. "Honestly, I probably would have built something like 'Mary,' but my schedule's been so packed I'm not sure when I'd have the time to do it." I paused and slumped. "God, I hate my job."

It felt good to say it.

After the Last Dogs are settled, I'll retire. A bit longer to make sure everything is settled, five years maximum, then I'm out. I hate this job, it sucks, and I want to start having fun with my life.

I blinked, then grinned. "Hey, I've recently had a spot come open for a best friend. You ever think about moving to Armstrong, Tom?"

The man blinked, then smiled. "I, ah... are you sure? I mean, people will talk. With the rumors about me here on Mars it won't take long before they reach the Moon."

I scoffed again. "Hah, fuck 'em. What's the worst they could do? Demand my resignation? I should be so lucky."

Tom swallowed convulsively, seemingly at a loss for words. "Y-yeah... I think I'd like that. If it's okay?"

"I wouldn't have offered if I wasn't sure," I replied, reaching over for a handshake, which he gladly exchanged. "Now, c'mon, let's go tell Sasha. If I let my press agent get blindsided by this, she will absolutely space me."

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