Isle of Woman Page 6

  “I want you,” Elasa said.

  “I assure you, the attorney we engage can be trusted to pursue the case effectively. He will not betray your interest. I have a man in mind.”

  “Hire him,” Elasa said. “To serve under your direction.”

  Maxine paused. “This would be like putting a general under the command of a corporal. It's not done.”

  Now Elasa considered. “Bring him here. Let me talk to him.”

  “She's not much subject to mind changes,” Banner said fondly.

  Maxine made just the hint of eyes rolling. “I will do that.”

  Banner knew that she was doing it mainly as a ploy to get Elasa to listen to reason. But Elasa could be machine-like in her dedication to a principle. He stayed out of it.

  Maxine made calls, and in due course Moncho Maverick arrived. He was a handsome middle-aged Hispanic man with a keen eye and a trim black mustache. “I am here with the expectation of taking on the case,” he announced. “But you said there was a caution.” His voice was mellow, with a subtle edge. He did have a bearing like that of a killer whale in a fishpond.

  “I'll be blunt,” Maxine said. “We offer a fee matching your custom, and participation in what may be a groundbreaking case. But my client insists that I be her head lawyer, irregular as that may be.”

  “Acknowledged,” he said smoothly. He looked at Elasa, who was decorously dressed, with her hair loose. She looked back at him. She smiled tremulously. She was just about as lovely and appealing as it was possible for a woman to be. “Agreed,” he said.

  Maxine could not mask her surprise. “No bargaining? You didn't even talk with her.”

  “We talked,” he said. “Just not in words. Your client is persuasive.”

  Banner knew how that was.

  “Do you want to see her demonstration?”

  “Needless. I know her nature.” He crossed the room, took Elasa's hand, and kissed it. She blushed. “I will return after completing personal arrangements for my stay in this vicinity. You may settle terms with my office in the interim. We have a case to build, boss.” He departed.

  “I think he's a lady killer also,” Banner said.

  “He was verifying her semblance of humanity,” Maxine said. “To be sure there is a persuasive case. That's what he meant.”

  “Of course,” Banner agreed, smiling.

  “If it is possible to win this case, he will win it,” Maxine said. “If this were chess, he'd be a grandmaster. I am amazed and flattered to have him representing us. Not everything he does will make sense to us, but our best course is to cooperate completely. I expect to rubber stamp whatever he proposes.” She looked at Elasa. “Agreed?”

  “As long as you trust him,” Elasa said.

  “I trust him to chew up the sharks.” She frowned. “But understand: there are treacherous nuances, and the law is unclear. This case may not be winnable. We shall have to proceed largely on faith.”

  “I just realized,” Banner said. “Maverick wants you to be a buffer between himself and Elasa. So he doesn't have to reason with her. You'll do that for him. He knew the score before he ever got here.”

  “Yes. We have seen him being incidentally sociable. But he is a killer. The opposition lawyers will piss their pants when they learn he's on the case.”

  “I like him,” Elasa said.

  “You'll like him even better when you see him in action. Just be glad he's on our side. Now go home and relax; what will be will be.”

  They went home. “I admit I am relieved,” Banner said. “I knew it would be a big case. Maxine's doing what she has to to give us our best chance.”

  “I believe it,” Elasa said. “Now let's make love.”

  That was of course an invitation he couldn't decline.

  The next day's local newspaper's headline agreed: MONCHO MAVERICK DEFENDS FEMBOT. It went on to describe the manner in which one of the leading lawyers of the age came to town to represent the lady machine. Why? “She asked me,” Maverick was quoted. “How could I turn the lady down?”

  “He refers to you as a lady,” Banner said. “Not as a machine.”

  “He knows what he's doing,” she agreed.

  Within hours the house was mobbed by more reporters. Elasa went out to meet them. “Yes, I asked him,” she said. “Any other details you will have to get from my attorney. Now please ignore me, or I won't be able to do my shopping.”

  They got the message, and spread it. Thereafter Banner and Elasa were able to make routine excursions to town without getting mobbed. The local citizens liked having their town on the map for such a major case. They liked seeing how human Elasa looked. In fact they liked Elasa, whom many had seen around town. It was as if one of them had suddenly become famous.

  There was a series of preliminary formalities leading to the trial. Maxine and Moncho spent seemingly endless time negotiating with the Femdroid lawyers on obscure matters like venue and framework, and finally hashed out a compromise: it would be phrased like a jury trial, with a judge, a jury, and direct confrontation by the opposing sides. It would be fully public, like a championship bowl game, so that the whole world could appreciate the nuances. They expected the world to be interested. There would be phenomenal publicity, whatever the decision. Both sides wanted that publicity, for their differing reasons. The feminists had taken Elasa to their heart as the ultimate symbol of their cause, and Femdroid would sell many units.

  Privately, Moncho brought his daughter Mona to meet Elasa. She was a black-haired beauty with a sharp glance like that of her father and a statuesque figure. “I want you two to get to know each other,” he told them.

  “There is a reason?” Banner asked. “I mean, this relates to the trial?”

  “Yes.” He said no more.

  “Trust him,” Maxine said. “I have no idea what he's up to, but it's bound to be devastatingly relevant.”

  Mona turned out to be easy to know and to like. She had a mind like a steel trap, indeed was taking law courses so she could follow in the footsteps of her father, but was at the same time very warm spirited. She kissed Elasa when they met, and said freely that she hoped Elasa won the case, and that she, Mona, was here to help her accomplish that. But, like her father, she would not say more. Banner was impressed; if a woman like Mona had gone after him, before he got together with Elasa, she could readily have taken him. But how could she help Elasa win? It was a mystery.

  “Trust Moncho,” Maxine repeated. “He thinks outside the box.”

  Mona became a virtual member of the family, talking with Banner and Elasa, playing games with them, making herself useful around the house. This bothered Banner increasingly. It was not the lack of privacy; Mona was careful give the two of them necessary space. But he found himself trying to avoid her.

  Elasa noticed. “Why?”

  He had to tell her. “She's too attractive, physically and mentally. I'm getting drawn to her, and that's no good. I don't want my love for you impinged.”

  She gazed at him, considering. “She has not flirted with you.”

  “She has not,” he agreed. “She has behaved perfectly. It's all me, and I feel guilty, but it's like a gravitational pull. I need to get away from her.”

  “I will talk with her.”

  She did. “She likes you too,” she reported. “She wishes she had met you in some other context.”

  “I'm a nobody!”

  “A nobody with courage and conviction. She relates to that.”

  “So she had better move out.”

  “No. Not yet.”

  “But--”

  “There's a reason,” she said, and kissed him. Evidently she knew something. He had to be satisfied with that.

  Then, seemingly suddenly, they were there. There was a judge behind his high desk. There was a twelve person jury in the jury box. Banner, Maxine, Moncho, and several other lawyers had a table in the court room across from the table for Femdroid, Inc. Video cameras were everywhere; this session was being
broadcast for global consumption. This was theoretically a formal hearing, but it came across much like a trial for murder, as intended. Which, in a sense, it was, because if they lost, Elasa would perish.

  Moncho led off the presentation. “We want the jury to know exactly what is at stake here,” he said with a deceptively winning smile. “My client, Elasa, is suing for personhood, that is, legal recognition that she is a person. If she loses, she will be turned over to the opposition, who will effectively demolish her. That light of consciousness and feeling that animates her will be extinguished. More bluntly, she will die.” He paused. “You may feel that a machine can't die. Technically that may be correct. But in the real sense, it is not; she possesses that same flicker of awareness that we all do, and she feels the same feelings. Yet she is adept; it's nearly impossible to know whether she is or is not a living woman; in every way that counts, she seems alive. First we want to impress upon you just how real she seems. For this purpose we have arranged a small demonstration. Are you familiar with the so-called Turing Test?”

  Some jury members nodded. Other looked blank.

  “Originally it was this,” Moncho said. “Two normal people were put into touch with two others, one a living person, the other a computer program. They did not see each other, but communicated only through a typing terminal. They had five minutes to determine which was which. If the computer program could fool the others into thinking it was the living person, it passed the test. They could not just blindly declare it to be the program, because they knew the other was a normal person. If they concluded the living person was the machine, that was a win for the program.”

  He smiled. “It took a number of years for any program to pass that test. There are human nuances that can be difficult to fake. But machine animation has progressed considerably in the interim, and today any femdroid can pass it, even without a time limit. As you will soon see.”

  He made a signal. Two lovely young women came from the audience to sit in two chairs in the center stage. Moncho gallantly held the chair for each, and each nodded appreciatively to him. Banner recognized them despite their modified appearances: they were Elasa and Mona. Now maybe he would learn how Mona related to the case.

  “Who are you, if I may ask?” Moncho said.

  “I am Elasa Femdroid,” Mona said.

  “I am Elasa Femdroid,” Elasa said. They had been carefully coached for this. It was a kind of game, and Elasa did not have to confine herself to the truth for it. Indeed, her appearance was a lie: she was now a flaming redhead with hair to her waist, much like Mona with her black hair, and makeup that subtly changed her appearance.

  “One of these women is the femdroid,” Moncho told the jury. “One is alive. This is a Turing Test, wherein you will question the subjects for an hour and come to a consensus which is which. That should not be difficult, should it? For the purpose of this interview, you may refer to them as Black and Red. Proceed.”

  And Banner understood why Mona had stayed with them during the interim. She had been studying Elasa so as to be able to emulate her. She needed to fathom the little personal details that only a close friend would know.

  The jury was interested. They consulted briefly with each other, then one man spoke. “Black, how about a date?”

  Mona eyed him speculatively. “Are you married?”

  “Damn!” he said, and the others laughed.

  “But the answer is no, to any of you,” Mona continued. “I am in love with my fiancee, Banner Thompkins, and want nothing to do with any other man. But I do appreciate your interest.”

  And she had studied Banner too, so as to be able to carry this off. He had mistaken her interest and been drawn to her. He was privately embarrassed.

  The man looked at Elasa. “You, Red?”

  “Echo,” Elasa said.

  They laughed again. The ice had been broken, and both subjects and jury had been rapidly humanized.

  A woman addressed Elasa. “Red, did you dye your hair?”

  “Yes,” Elasa said. “Ordinarily I am brown haired with gray eyes, matching my fiance. But too many local people know me, so I changed it for this interview.” This was the exact truth.

  “You, Black?” the woman asked Mona.

  “Echo,” Mona said, laughing. “How else could I fool you into thinking I'm alive?” It certainly looked as if she was fooling most of them that way.

  A man addressed Elasa. “Contumely abstract promotional anomaly squared?”

  Elasa looked blank. “Maybe a circuit is shorting out,” she said. “I don't understand you at all.” Which was the correct answer. The man had tried to bollix a machine with nonsense, knowing that a living person would never let it pass, while a program might revert to a programmed answer like “That is one way of looking at it,” which would be a dead giveaway. Then she added: “But I have to say, definitely not on a first date.”

  Several jury members laughed. Elasa was really sharp.

  “Maybe I can answer that,” Mona said. “Foreclosure icecream orgasm garbage cubed.”

  “That was on the tip of my tongue,” Elasa said.

  Now everyone laughed, including the judge and the opposing team. The other side wanted Elasa to be effective, regardless of the outcome of the case. She was a phenomenal ad for their product.

  The questions continued, but it was plain the jury members had no idea which woman was which. Banner was coming to appreciate the genius of Moncho's approach; the man really did know how to do it. Bringing in Mona like this was brilliant; she was perfect for the game.

  It didn't take an hour. In twenty minutes the members of the jury admitted bafflement. “They're both good,” the foreman said.

  “Then let's up the ante,” Moncho said. “Girls, kindly disrobe, so they can see your bolts and seams.”

  The two women stood and removed their outer clothing, standing in bras and panties. Both turned in place, showing off their bodies in the way Banner remembered so well. Both looked lusciously alive.

  “Still uncertain?” Moncho asked after a moment. “Then come and feel them. Groping is permitted, for this occasion. How else can you tell the difference between living and fake flesh?”

  Surprised, the jury members came forward and groped, at first tentatively by the women, then thoroughly. The girls stood with arms raised, offering no objection or resistance. The men followed suit, some looking guilty as they squeezed breasts and buttocks. But as Moncho had said, how else could they tell? This further explained Moncho's use of his daughter here: how could he have asked any other person to do this? She was one nervy woman, regardless. Until someone tickled Elasa, and she squealed. She remained in tickle mode, ever since she had invoked that circuit for Banner.

  But even with this hands-on examination, the jury members were unable to form any firm conclusion. “Time for the vote,” Moncho said briskly as the jury members returned to their seats. “This is informal. Show of hands: how many think Black is the robot?”

  One man and two women lifted their hands, uncertainly.

  “How many think Red is the robot?”

  One man and one woman signaled.

  “How many are hopelessly confused?”

  A woman raised her hand.

  “That leaves six unaccounted for,” Moncho said. “What, then is your opinion?”

  The foreman was one of the six. He spoke. “We suspect that this is a test of our objectivity. Both are human.”

  Moncho smiled. “Then I suppose I had better demonstrate my case.” He turned to the two women. “Ladies, will the real femdroid please reveal herself.”

  Mona dropped her bra and put her hands to her breasts, drawing them outward. They stretched a little, but did not give way. “I guess it isn't me,” she said as if disappointed.

  Elasa did the same. Her breasts swung outward as the panel doors opened, showing the battery pack cavity behind. “Then it must be me.”

  The members of the jury stared, not from any lasciviousness, but in amazeme
nt. Elasa had completely fooled most of them, and the two who had selected her had plainly been guessing.

  Elasa closed her cavity. Then she removed her red wig and let her natural hair emerge. Now she looked like herself. She smiled at the jury. Several of them smiled back.

  “Now you know what it means to pass the Turing Test,” Moncho said as the girls dressed and went to their table. “These machines are very realistic. And, to answer your likely questions, yes they can shop for groceries, watch children, and perform sexually without betraying their nature. Femdroid Inc. has any number of similar machines that can do these things.” He winked. “I understand that the only thing that gives them away in bed is that they are better than real women care to be. You will never see a man complain that his fembot ever left him unsatisfied. They can all pass the Turing Test, though generally they don't eat and eliminate.”

  He paused meaningfully. “What, then, is the difference between my client Elasa and those other femdroids? I will tell you: it is that she is conscious. That makes her infinitely more valuable to the company than the others, because she can survey the available options in any given situation and select the best one. That saves an enormous amount of programming for every possible alternative. It would take an encyclopedia to list every theoretical response to even an ordinary question, and that would burden and drastically slow the machine. But with conscious choice, the most effective one can be crafted ad-hoc.”

  He took a breath. “For example, when you asked Black for a date, she gave the likely programmed answer, emulating a femdroid. An ordinary femdroid would then either have restated it, or said something like ‘I agree.’ But Red was not limited in that manner. She chose to be original, saying ‘echo.’” He glanced at the opposition table. “Would one of your other machines have done that?”

  The answer was prompt. “No.” Then “Not yet.”

  “You can program anything,” Moncho agreed. “As you originally programmed my client. She had an excellent basis, and could readily deceive the average person. But when she became aware, her capacity multiplied. That is why you want her back: so you can make thousands more just like her. And we don't begrudge you that. We would gladly share the key to consciousness, if it could be done without killing my client. But that's the rub: you will need to take her apart, literally, and that will not only destroy her, but also the secret you desire to fathom. No one will profit, and you will be guilty of murder.”