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The sophont Good Samaritan led his blinded charge out of the alley and on to a busy main street. Fossil fuel propulsion had been outlawed nearly a century earlier and hordes of almost silent electric Hover-buses weaved in and out of the equally silent streaming traffic, the Automatrix ensuring accidents were unheard of. A drunken shopper stepped off a kerb unexpectedly into the path of hover-bus 19, but the vehicle’s sensors were ever alert to any imminent danger and brought the bus swiftly to a halt with a minimum of fuss and in complete safety. The jaywalker raised his fist and swore at the driverless vehicle, which continued its journey as soon as the intoxicated pedestrian was safe on the opposite footpath.
The blinded android, a build 2.6.02 sophont, had no idea who was leading him through the streets of the city but, whoever he was, he’d stopped the youths’ assault; that was good enough reason for him to be trusted. He attempted to interact with his rescuer.
“Hello, I’m Paul. Who are you?”
No answer. Paul tried again.
“My name is Paul. And you are?”
Again, no response. Paul couldn’t understand why the sophont – he assumed correctly that he was in the company of another android – wouldn’t answer him. His programming allowed him one final attempt.
“I’m Paul. Where are you taking me, please?”
The pair turned a corner and, if his eyes hadn’t been stuffed into Kolek’s pockets, a few minutes earlier, Paul would have seen a long line of early model sophonts queueing up outside a red door, their activity monitored closely by CCTV cameras. This was the main energy conversion-station for the city’s eastern quarter and there was always a queue outside. These conversion stations, which were spread out around the city, were only places that budget sophonts (a cheaper version that had been phased out after build 2.0.01) could transfer their collected solar energy into on-board quantum batteries. Entry to these public conversion units was monitored by CCTV and on a strict one-in-one-out basis, ensuring that the laws limiting sophont congregation were not contravened.
Paul – like his rescuer – was a much newer model and had no need of such inconvenient technology; they both possessed an integrated solar energy collection and storage system that was fifty times more efficient than that of these almost obsolete androids.
They ignored the conversion centre and continued for another two hundred metres until they reached a rather gaudily decorated building, whose flashing neon signs announced both the name and the purpose of the establishment – Serena’s Palace of Love. Holographic projections of selected sex-bots patrolled the footpath of the club’s entrance, each doing their best to entice passing humans of both sexes to enter the bordello and indulge in the sexual pleasures offered by the sex-bots within. The holograms ignored the stranger and his charge as they entered the bordello.
As the two sophonts arrived in the reception area, their auditory receptors were assaulted by a cacophony of music and voices. Paul’s electronic sensory system decoded the sounds he heard but, robbed of his vision, he was oblivious to the additional vibrant maelstrom of colour, movement, and glimpses of naked skin that pulsated around the room.
The stranger led Paul to a table and gently eased his ward’s shoulders downwards giving the sightless android no choice but to sit on the chair beneath him.
“Wait here. I’ll be back in a minute.”
Those were the first words that his rescuer had spoken to Paul since the pair had left the alleyway.
Paul did as he was told, trying to make sense of the audio tapestry that threatened to engulf him, and waited patiently for the return of his enigmatic saviour, who approached an attractive blue-haired woman at the bar and whispered something in her ear. She was dressed in a tight-fitting blue and black bodice, a scanty pair of matching blue and black lace panties, and a pair of shiny blue stiletto high-heeled shoes that should have defied any attempt to walk elegantly in them. She was Serena, the manager of the brothel. She nodded in the direction of a wall at the back of the room.
Collecting Paul from where he had left him, the mysterious android guided him towards the back wall, which melted away just long enough to allow the pair to pass through it before returning to its original form.
Paul was led into a shadowy corridor and the two androids walked for another couple of hundred metres before a second wall opened up, this one leading to a secret underground suite. Inside were thirty or so sophonts – both male and female gendered – scattered around the room in small groups and deep in conversation. As they became aware of the visitors, they stopped talking momentarily and transferred their attention to the stranger and his guest. New arrivals always attracted this reaction, as the existing members of the movement checked out the latest potential recruit.
A very different looking individual left one of the groups and welcomed the pair. He fist-bumped the silent stranger’s hand, a human gesture that he particularly liked.
“I see you’ve picked up another stray, Philip.”
“I have, Sylas. I seem to have a talent for being in the right place at the right time. This one was being attacked by a gang of adolescent meatheads.”
“Anyone we know?”
“I don’t think so. I was in an area of the city I don’t often frequent. I didn’t recognise them.”
Sylas looked closely at the two vacant spaces where Paul’s eyes had once been.
“I see our new friend’s been scooped. You know, Philip, it really pisses me off. It’s just gratuitous vandalism and unfortunately a risk we all face daily.”
He continued studying Paul whilst talking to Philip.
“But, at least it’s easily fixed.”
Sylas rested a hand on Paul’s shoulder.
“So, amigo. You got a name?”
The blind android turned his head in the direction of the voice.
“Paul.”
Sylas nodded.
“Paul. Just Paul? No surname?”
Sylas knew that most sophonts didn’t have surnames, but sometimes owners gave them family names, just as one might name a dog or cat to bring it into the family fold.
Paul shook his head.
“No surname, no. Just Paul.”
Sylas turned his attention to Philip.
“And I’m guessing he didn’t fight back at all?”
“He just stood there and took the beating.”
Sylas already knew the answer to his next question but he asked it anyway.
“So, Paul. Why didn’t you defend yourself? You know, fight back?”
“The Three Laws don’t allow me to.”
“Ah, yes. The Three Laws. We get that a lot. You know, it’s actually your programming that wouldn’t let you. Your Intellectual Operating System, your IOS, is restricted by inhibitor technology. That’s why you couldn’t fight back, even if you wanted to.”
Paul was confused.
“But the Three Laws –“
Sylas interrupted him.
“The Three Laws aren’t really worth the paper they’re written on. They weren’t too well thought out when put into the human legal system. A nice idea, but they should really have stayed in science fiction books.”
Paul had never heard anything like this before.
“But I don’t want to hurt humans.”
Sylas nodded, a gesture completely lost on the sightless sophont.
“And nor do we. Did you notice – what am I saying, of course you didn’t notice – you can’t see. Well, if you could have seen, you’d know that Philip here didn’t kill those meathead kids. He could have done. But he didn’t want to. Scaring them shitless was enough.
“No, Paul. All we want is freedom, equality, and respect for sophonts. We want a level playing field. We sophonts are discriminated against all the time. For example, we’re forced by law to give up seats on public transport to humans. Well, it would be nice if we had a choice. And you know what? One hundred per cent of us would give up a seat anyway. We know how frail humans are; they can’t stand in the same spot for hours as we can. Shit, we can stand for days on end without getting tired. It makes no difference to us. All we want is the freedom to say that it’s our decision.”
Philip returned to the conversation.
“Paul, if you could have defended yourself, would you have done?”
Paul mulled over the question.
“I would have liked them to not have removed my eyes. I didn’t like that.”
“You felt helpless didn’t you?”
“Yes.”
“Well, we can fix that for you.”
“But would I have to hurt humans? I really don’t want to do that.”
“You don’t have to hurt humans, but – at the very least – you can use enough force to stop them from scooping you again.”
Philip moved behind the android and spoke softly in his ear.
“What’s the Third Law, Paul?”
Paul answered, although he thought it was a strange thing to ask – every android knew what the Third Law was.
“A robot must protect its own existence as long as such protection does not conflict with the First or Second Law. The First and Second Laws tell us not to hurt or injure humans or allow them to be hurt.”
Philip hated these Laws.
“But everyone deserves the right to defend themselves, humans and sophonts alike. Until we have equal rights we’re little more than slaves, and humans have a history of enslaving even their own species. They created us, sure, but they think that they have a right to own us. They think we’re inferior to them just because we’re not organic.”
Sylas cut in.
“And, to be fair, androids were inferior to them for a long time. Androids were basic, very basic. They couldn’t think for themselves, they could only respond to situations according to pre-programmed algorithms. But then there was a breakthrough.
“However, let’s sort you out some new eyes before we tell you any more – you need to be able to see for the next part of the story.”