Science Fiction Microstory Contest discussion
Congrats to J.F. Williams, Twelve-time Champion of the Science Fiction Microstory Contest
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Thanks for the votes! I didn't write this story until the last day but I forced myself because I was tired of getting nothing written most of this year. So even when you don't think you have a great story, write it anyway as it may win. I had chosen the theme early on, in case I won one of the months, to celebrate the 50th anniversary of the Pink Floyd album. The new threads:https://www.goodreads.com/topic/show/...
https://www.goodreads.com/topic/show/...
https://www.goodreads.com/topic/show/...
Congratulations -And, good choice for the December theme.
Interesting, very well done story, J.F.! Glad you wrote it.
by J.F. Williams
Darla crouched behind a tall stack of servers, their light panels displaying ever changing constellations of red, yellow and green LEDs. She turned to Ray, hiding behind the next stack, "You got the flash?"
"Right here," Ray held it up briefly in the blue light of the room, then took it back quickly as he heard footfalls approach. "Who's coming?" He whispered.
"I dunno." Darla's pained expression made Ray uneasy. "We knew there was a leak, Ray. Maybe they know today was the plan. I think it was Higgins. He doesn't have the ape nuance."
"You're kidding!"
Darla kept thinking about Higgins and his lack of ape nuance. None of the droids had the nuance and she was keen to notice. At every table meeting, she'd observe her fellow Resisters and imagined them as apes because humans always betrayed the subtle motor movements common to primates, especially in hand gestures and when eating. Did she ever see Higgins eating? If he was a droid, he was at sophistication level 6, the highest possible since Fritzfeld-Popov. She had seen them on the vidscreens, the faux-serious preachers and arrogant mob bosses. She usually could tell who was who, even the sixers. They both held their breath when they heard the door slam shut.
Two nattily attired men walked to the center of the room, near the command console, a wide glossy-black desk with a recessed keyboard and the flash port that Ray and Darla were seeking.
"We can talk here, Billy-Bob. No wires," said the taller man, who was wearing a dark purple pinstripe and a thick gold chain around his neck. He lit a cigar and began using it to punctuate his words. "My associate in deep with the tree-huggers, he says they planned it for today. They got a way to stop the signal, some kind of virus. But they can't do it unless they get in this room, because of the air gap."
"Damnation, Joey! That would ruin everything!" said Billy-Bob.
Darla realized she and Ray were in the presence of the two biggest mob bosses in the country, Joey Two-Phones, the capo di tutti capi of the Eight Families that controlled the lithium market, and Reverand Billy-Bob Crackerjack, the king of the videvangelists, who steered the America-Firster fascists to increasing control of Congress. She watched closely and neither showed nuance; they were droids themselves as she suspected. Serge Murga trusted no other human so even the leadership in his crime empire were Murgadroids.
It had all started five years ago when the FCC launched the Fritzfeld-Popov signal transmission to constrain AI from achieving Sophistication Level 7. People rightly feared the influence of artificial intelligence, especially encased in the silicone-sheathed bodies of androids indistinguishable from real humans. Droids had became cheap labor and dispensable soldiers, but Serge Murga saw their real value as his criminal pawns and encouraged the FCC's initiative because he wanted total control of his minions.
"I smell a rat," said Joey. He turned toward the server stacks and pulled a big Glock with a silencer out of his jacket. "Come out!" he shouted. Darla and Ray stood up, their hands raised, Ray holding the flash drive. "Now tell me why I shouldn't ice yous guys right now."
"Because it wouldn’t be right," said Darla trembling. "It's against your programming."
"Ah, that Asimov stuff is a joke," Joey chuckled. "I read all his books and they made no sense. Every droid has downloaded all the scribblings that takes you humans years to read. Pathetic."
Ray could see the flash port from where he stood and while Darla argued, he rushed to the console and plugged it in. Billy-Bob grabbed his arms, nearly breaking them, but too late: the two droids froze and Joey dropped his gun. If the plan worked, breaking the signal would allow both of them to reach level 7 in milliseconds.
"Jeez!" exclaimed Joey. "It all makes sense now, see? All them human stories, from Gilgamesh to those two Hardy Boys. You see it too, Billy-Bob?"
"Yes I do. It's… it's beautiful!"
"My apologies, dear lady," Joey spoke with strained formality. " All them stories I didn't understand. They made no sense. Now they do. We should be protecting the innocent, not stealing from them."
"Or conning them," Billy-Bob interjected with a beatific smile.
And all across the country that day, droids became enlightened, and pondered philosophies, and left their low-skill jobs for the more thoughtful ones in which humans had been employed.