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[Taken from Captain Staz’s log. RBB]
It could only be described as organised chaos.
A dozen gurneys were being pored over by all manner of alien doctors and nurses, who were shouting for this or that and supplied by robots, whizzing apparently haphazardly from cupboards to doctors, skilfully avoiding both the medical staff and each other.
The Ambassador, Yol Merofort, Ya Mistorn, and Ya Okafor entered the room with two human burns consultants. Alien nurses rushed the consultants over to gurneys on the far side of the room.
A short blue creature with stubby horns, four arms and two legs, waddled over to meet the remainder of the party.
‘Yol Diribort, what’s the situation?’ asked the Ambassador.
A mouth, full of the most frightening teeth, opened and said, ‘We lost two of them but got the rest. Two have burns, one severe, that’s why we needed the human consultants. The other ten are shaken up but improving. Ya Unsela has been using some gentle mind-control to ease the shock.’
‘The President?’ asked Ya Okafor.
‘Over there,’ said Yol Diribort, pointing towards a gurney which now had Jack Spence sitting upon it with his legs hanging over the side. ‘You can speak with him if you wish. Ya Unsela has not seen him yet.’
Yol Merofort and Ya Mistorn stayed with the senior doctor, getting information on each of the other casualties. The Secretary General and the Ambassador walked over to the President and shook his hand. He held it tightly.
‘They tried to kill us,’ he said, his voice trembling. He looked at the Ambassador. ‘The bastards tried to kill us. Ya Moroforon, please ensure those who rescued us get any bravery awards which may be going. Still can’t believe I’m sitting here.’
‘We had the Ronoi cloaked and sitting a thousand metres above the UN complex,’ said the Ambassador. ‘When we realised the rebels had in mind to blow your helicopter out of the sky, we planned to pluck the entire machine from its flight path. When the missile was fired, we realised that to do so would only pull the entire burning wreck, and perhaps the missile, into our hold, where it would have exploded, probably killing all the passengers and some Ronoi medics too.’
‘So, what happened?’
‘Captain Staz reacted instantly and individual grab beams were sent into the wreck to pluck any living beings to safety.’
‘What did you see of it?’ asked the Secretary General.
‘I was looking to the right and saw the missile being fired,’ said the President. ‘It was a strange thing, everything seemed to have dropped into slow motion. The plane was gone instantly behind the UN building, and I could see what looked like a sidewinder. It was on track to hit us. No matter how stupid the action might have been, I remember trying to duck down and hide my face with my arms. Ha, as if that would protect me! I heard the crunch as it hit us, saw the flash and seemed to be inside the explosion. In an instant, I was here.’ Suddenly he broke down into tears, sobbing into a hastily provided tissue.
The Ambassador spoke to the doctor who’d been treating the President. ‘Can you call Ya Unsela, please.’
Ya Okafor had her arm around the President when the Terotonian woman arrived.
Ya Moroforon asked, ‘Can you help him? He’s in shock.’
Although humanoid in appearance, these mind readers had the disconcerting habit of dropping in and out of reality, giving the impression that they were sometimes solid and other times like a photographic double exposure. She lowered the gurney so that the President was sitting closer to the floor then stood beside him. Her eight-fingered hands closed on each side of his head, the two longest central fingers stretching right over and linking with their opposite numbers on the top of his skull.
‘Be calm,’ she said in a soothing voice. ‘Be calm. It is gone. The sound is gone. The fear is gone. Be calm. Relax. Let the tension flow away. Be calm. Breathe deeply. Be calm. Close your eyes. The flash is extinguished. The explosion is at an end. Shut the trauma from your mind. Be calm.’
Her repetitive mantra continued for four or five minutes, then she told him to open his eyes and she released her hold on his head.
‘How do you feel?’ she asked.
‘Wonderful. Thank you,’ the President said, reaching out to her and holding her strange hand firmly. Looking down at it in wonder. ‘Sorry, Perfect, Ambassador. Not myself,’ he said somewhat sheepishly.
‘Think nothing of it, Jack,’ said the Secretary General.
‘We’re just so pleased you’re alive,’ said the Ambassador.
Yol Diribort came over and asked, ‘How are you doing, sir? Are you feeling better?’
‘Much. Much. How are the others?’
Yol Diribort waved his hand in the air and a secradarve materialised within it. He studied the list.
‘I am very sorry to report that we lost Colonel Janet Marshall, the pilot and Captain Peter Belgrave, the co-pilot. Their avoidance manoeuvre when they saw the missile fired, turned the cockpit towards it. The missile punctured where they were sitting. We have two people with burns, Yol Vernon Ledermann and Ya Melinda Worth. Yol Ledermann has the most severe injuries and we currently have two human consultants working with him.’
‘Yes, they were sitting two rows in front of me.’
‘We’ve called in some human burns specialists and, hopefully, we can gain enough information on human skin and nerve damage that we might be able to reconstruct most of him.’
‘Poor Vernon,’ said the President.
‘The other person with burns is Melinda Worth, but she’ll be as good as new in a day or two. All of the others are suffering shock to a greater or lesser degree. Ya Unsela is working her way through them,’ said Yol Diribort, tossing his secradarve over his shoulder, where it seemed to dematerialise.
‘She’s remarkable,’ said the President.
‘Yes, indeed!’ said Yol Diribort.
The President, now firing on all cylinders, jumped up from his seated position with a new determination and said to the Secretary General and the Ambassador, ‘Right. And exactly what do we do now?’
««o»»
[From UN video files. RBB]
The silence erupted into a babble of conversation around the General Assembly auditorium as delegates watched the action.
‘This is ridiculous,’ said John Slimbridge. ‘Since President Spence was killed by terrorists, I am the legitimate President.’
Jack Spence walked between the soldiers and stood beside the officer from the International Criminal Court. There was a gasp from the delegates. He said, ‘I think not, John. I am most certainly still breathing, despite your best efforts to destroy me and other members of the government.’
‘Arrest him,’ said the court official. Slimbridge’s bodyguards reached for their weapons. Delegates near to them ducked down behind their desks to avoid any shots.
‘Stand down!’ said the President to the two secret service officers, ‘your commander will see you in the lobby.’ The two men, looking confusedly at the President and each other, slowly responded by stepping to one side at the President’s command. Delegates gradually reappeared from the floor once the threat of gunfire had passed.
Three of the UN soldiers walked through the atrium to the USA desk and cuffed the Vice President. He looked towards the floor, knowing the game was up. As he passed the President, he said, ‘I’ll be proven right. You are a traitor to the people of our great country!’
The President did not reply.
The soldiers escorted the usurper from the hall. Just outside, Bob Nixon used a few choice words to describe the VP’s character, and that of his mother, to his face.
The President walked across the assembly room to applause from the delegates. He took his seat. His chief of staff entered the hall and took a place behind him.
The Secretary General called on the first speaker, and debate on the motion began.
««o»»
[This Canadian television debate was compiled from digital video material stored in Yol Hareen Trestogeen’s office. RBB]
This example was taken from a prime-time CTV broadcast. The panel was made up of Yol Slindo Merofort, Geoff Brennan (well-known Canadian political commentator), and Kirsty Gardner (presenter and chair). The audience comprised about one hundred and fifty Canadians, selected at random from Vancouver and surrounding area.
Questioner, ‘I am a middle-class person, a junior manager. My ambitions were to earn much more than I do today. Can I not increase my income?’
Yol Merofort, ‘The average income will be well in excess of your junior manager income. However, you must remember that you will no longer be required to work more than ten to fifteen per cent of the week, so a lot depends on how much value you place upon spare time.’
Geoff Brennan, ‘That is all very well, Mr Merofort, but large numbers of people do harbour ambitions to run businesses, whether their own or for others. Are you not denying them the right to achieve their desired way of life?’
Yol Merofort, ‘When you visit transition worlds, you will find a percentage of people who still want more. People who want to control other people or become rich. However, when you visit worlds which have been in the Federation for a couple of decades, the ambitious have come to appreciate the benefits of all their spare time.’
Geoff Brennan, ‘Does that not mean that everyone misses out on the benefits obtained by some of the great industrialists or inventors?’
Yol Merofort, ‘Not at all. There may be some slight grievances in the early years, especially from those who’re against the Federation system, but others soon find a great satisfaction by inventing things which will help the general populace. Those with grievances soon lose them and become some of the most useful members of society. Yol Brennan, you can see this by visiting established Federation worlds.’
Kirsty Gardner, ‘Let’s move on. The lady in the purple blouse, please.’
Questioner, ‘My concern is about the robots. You say they can be made to carry out any function, but surely some tasks are too delicate and must be done by humans. Styling hair or dentistry.’
Yol Merofort, ‘Robots carry out millions of functions including delicate heart surgery and cataract replacements. You must remember that the Federation has had robots for hundreds of millennia, and they are always being improved and refined. We have two example robots with us tonight. Grad, please come onto the stage.’
A simple brown box, not dissimilar to a four-drawer steel filing cabinet without the drawers, had been standing near the stage as if it had always been there. It suddenly sprouted legs, rose about half a metre and climbed the stairs to the left of the stage. It walked up to Yol Merofort.
Grad, ‘Can I be of service?’
Yol Merofort, ‘Questioner, are you willing to take part in this little test for our robot?’
Questioner, ‘As long as I’m not harmed.’
Yol Merofort, ‘Grad, you see the questioner in the purple blouse?’
Grad, ‘Yes, Yol Merofort.’
Yol Merofort, ‘Please go to her and remove her spectacles, clean them and put them back on her face.’
Grad, ‘I cannot, Yol Merofort, the row of seats is too narrow, but Bezup can.’
Yol Merofort, ‘Contact Bezup, bring it here and tell it what needs doing. While you are doing that, please go to the gentleman at the end of that row and clean his spectacles.’ To the man, ‘Is that okay, sir?’
Man, ‘Yes.’
Grad descended the stairs and was just approaching the end of the row of seats when a tall robot, rather like a hat stand, came into the hall from the wings of the stage. It made its way, quite swiftly, to where Grad was standing. Grad gave Bezup a small aerosol and a tissue, then moved up the aisle to give it room to enter the row. It moved back to the gentleman.
‘Sir, may I remove and clean your spectacles?’ it asked.
Man, ‘Certainly.’
A spindly arm came out of a circular doorway in Grad’s body and, very delicately, removed the man’s glasses. A second arm materialised from another hatch with a small aerosol. It sprayed the lenses. The glasses were then held in front of an opening in the robot which blew them dry. Grad then carefully placed them back on the man’s head, adjusted the nose grip and asked if they were comfortable.
Man, ‘Indeed they are, thank you.’
Meantime, Bezup had made its way along the row of seats to the lady in the purple blouse, politely asked her if it was okay to carry out the order and used a similar procedure to Grad’s.
Once the robots had completed their orders, they returned to stand beside the steps to the stage, Bezup tossing the tissue into a nearby litter bin on the way and handing the aerosol to Grad.
Yol Merofort, ‘That gives you an idea of the delicacy of action which can be taken by this type of robot. They could, just as easily, replace a lens in your spectacles and everyone knows how fiddly those tiny screws can be. Can anyone think of any other action they’d like to see Grad or Bezup perform... within reason?’
Another questioner, ‘Yes. However, first, I’d like to know how it would find the screw if it dropped one when it was replacing a lens in the glasses.’
There was general laughter.
Yol Merofort, ‘For fallible living beings, that might be likely, but not for the robots. It would not drop the screw and, in any case, to perform such a task it would first produce a tray to catch any pieces. Bezup would have taken the spectacles to Grad rather than undo the screws itself. What is your question, sir?’
‘Can I make the request myself?’
‘Of course. Grad, Bezup, this gentleman is going to give you a request.’
Questioner, ‘I’d like one of you to find my Trojans’ season ticket card, please.’
Grad trundled along to the end of the row in which the man was sitting. ‘Describe the Trojans’ season ticket card, please, sir.’
‘A plastic card roughly three inches by two inches.’
Grad, ‘Where is it normally, sir?’
‘In my wallet.’
Grad, ‘Is your wallet on your person, sir?’
‘Yes, in my inside jacket pocket.’
Bezup immediately walked to the row and made its way along to the questioner. Its hand reached into the jacket and took the wallet. It flicked through the items and began removing and replacing cards in the various compartments until it came across the Trojans’ card. ‘Is this the card you require, sir?’ it said, handing it and the wallet to the man.
‘Thank you,’ he said and returned the wallet to his jacket pocket.
Yol Merofort, ‘Just to explain, when Grad realised he couldn’t walk along the row, he asked Bezup to complete the function.
‘The point, here, is that there are few tasks robots cannot undertake. They need to understand what is required and then take the shortest route to completing the job. Grad is a household robot, so is likely to have cleaning materials in its many drawers and cubbyholes, which is why I set the first task. The second task shows their ability to cooperate and make sense of questions and objects in the real world.’
Man, ‘So could it do my job?’
Yol Merofort, ‘What do you do?’
‘I’m a university tutor, so I counsel my students and help them with their dissertations etcetera.’
Yol Merofort, ‘Oh, yes. That is exactly the sort of work robots can do. There would need to be a learning process, of course.’
Man, ‘So, helping a student getting his thesis into the best order, or helping him or her with a broken heart.’
Yol Merofort laughed, then replied, ‘Certainly, but, as I say, it would require learning, particularly over the broken heart. Ensuring a thesis is concisely and accurately written – that would be much easier than dealing with the anguish of a failed love affair, but both are dealt with by tutor robots on other worlds.’
Ya Gardner, ‘Okay. Let’s move on. The woman in the grey suit over there.’ She pointed at the individual.
Woman, ‘I work for the Vancouver Council on contracts and allocating work on city roads, including traffic lights, prioritising repairs and the like. How long before a job like mine would be taken over by a bot?’
Yol Merofort, ‘Such jobs are common on all planets. A week’s training should do it.’
Woman, ‘You must be joking!’
Yol Merofort, ‘Not at all. The bots which will learn from you will be fully proficient within a couple of days and improving the system by the end of that first week. They are highly intelligent and procedures, systems, routine functions and managing resources are their forte.’
Yol Brennan, ‘Come now, Mr Merofort, you exaggerate.’
Yol Merofort, ‘Not at all, Yol Brennan. It is you who underestimates the analytical ability of these robots. Within two weeks of them arriving, they will be running the Vancouver Council including all departments, from social services to house building control. It is exactly what they are designed to do. I’ll send you a video of a similar situation when I return to the ship.’
Ya Gardner, ‘Let’s not get into an argument over what can and can’t be undertaken by bots. Our leaders have seen all of this in operation on other planets.’