Page 8 of Codi
“Denise,” I reply with a weary smile. “It’s nice to meet you, Codi. Sleep well. Or... standby well.”Wow, smooth.
“Good night,” he calls after me as I head to my bedroom, too tired to make sense of anything else tonight and not willing to give myself anymore opportunities to say something stupid.
NEW CARNEGIE TIMES
MARCH 18, 2069
CITY-WIDE STRIKES CAUSE BUSINESS SHUTDOWNS
All across New Carnegie, factories, plants, and construction projects are at a standstill after waves of workers walked off company property. In a stunning move, months in the making, many businesses have no choice but to close their doors until demands are met.
“We’re not machines, and we shouldn’t be replaced by machines,” says protest organizer Linda Morgan, 45.
“They want us to just step aside when we’ve been the lifeblood of these companies for years and years. You don’t see the CEOs and the executives losing their jobs to androids, even though the androids could probably do a better job,” says Owen Locke, 52, previously employed with Carnegie Steel, which laid off half of its employees earlier this year when androids joined their factory workforce. “The rich want to get richer by sticking it to us, and we’re not standing for it.”
“These businesses have lost their humanity. America has lost its humanity,” says Robert Carson, founder of Humanity First, who attended the strike with hundreds of his followers. At the strike’s peak, he could be found standing on a box with a voice amplifier. “BioNex is ruining lives. Their walking, talking, fucking computers are literally stealing everything from us, and most Americans are too blind and allowing it to happen on the premise of convenience. Life is not about convenience. Life is about growing from hardship—but are these mega corporations experiencing hardship? No! I think it’s time they did.”
Morgan disagrees with Humanity First and their sentiments. “I don’t got any fight with BioNex. They ain’t necessarily the problem,” she says. “The problem is these big dogs up in the luxury offices thinking we’re replaceable when we’re not. They don’t wanna pay healthcare. They don’t wanna do nothing. So androids are the answer.”
Surprisingly, some of their loudest supporters aren’t attending the industrial protests at all but hosting their own across university campuses. Aubree Levine and dozens of students walked out of classes carrying signs—sometimes accompanied by their own androids.
“It’s disgusting, really,” Levine says. “How they’re taking something meant to make our lives better and using it to oppress the working class. They’re increasing the divide between rich and poor, and that’s not what androids are for.”
Dr. Carlos Garcia, professor of Latin American History and Spanish Studies at Carnegie University, stood proudly among his students. “I have a wife and three kids. We have an android to help with chores, homework, and whatever else gets in the way of quality family time. Just because we own a bionic helper doesn’t mean that we agree with what companies like Carnegie Steel, NC Paper, and PennParcels are doing. When you start hearing rumors about colleges potentially wanting to replace their faculty teachers with androids? No. Absolutely, we’re going to stand up to that, and we’re going to protest early. Humanity First has got it half right. They’re just going about sharing their message with violence, and violence isn’t the answer.”
Garcia says, “When it’s my time to retire and there’s a changing of the guard, I want to be able to look my replacement in the eye, shake their hand, take them out for coffee, and share some of my experiences with them. Students deserve human teachers. Some things just cannot be replaced by technology. We cannot allow ourselves to become obsolete.”
“Once we do that,” he says, “we’ve ensured our own extinction.”
2
Codi
As Denise walks away, I’m more confused than before. My gaze flickers down, transfixed, to the curves of her rolling hips as she leaves the room. Then she is gone from my sight, and I am left to make sense of everything around me.
Her name is Denise. I didn’t know my name. I didn’t know where I was before I woke or how I got there. All I know is that when I opened my eyes, something coursed through every circuit beneath my synthetic exterior and seized me for a brief moment.
Fear.
I shouldn’t be able to feel anything at all because I am a machine, not a man. I know this. But fear gripped me in that moment, and I cowered like a cornered animal or a frightened child. I am uncomfortable with the realization that I did so.
I move one of my hands over my head, gingerly feeling the dent left there. Something serious must have happened to cause such a malfunction. I reason it away. I probably saw some sort of human media and mimicked a human response to danger. I do not fear. I am a BioNex android; it’s not possible for me to feel fear.
Is it?
Unable to answer that question, my train of thought wanders elsewhere, to this house and the woman who resides within it. Denise.
I bring up my own BioNex registration in my visual feed and try to enter her name into the databank, but it won’t allow me to do so. Some sort of error. Every blank space is locked and I cannot override. After a few attempts, I give up. The other human female said something about a repair shop; perhaps the issue can be resolved there.
Denise ordered me into standby, and I will obey—but first, I want to know more. More about her. Denise who? I wander over to an entryway table where she left her keys and ID in a bowl.Smart idea. Humans often misplace things.Why I remember bits and pieces about human behavior and not my own experiences, I cannot explain.
I look at her ID curiously. Her name is there on a hospital badge, along with her picture. Denise Cartwright, RN. She is a nurse. My new mistress is not only very intelligent, but also very hardworking. Becoming a nurse is not easy.
If I could only put her name in my registration. A matching name would allow me access to her social media accounts, to know more about her; see her photos, try to understand how best to please her.
And I want to please her. Those who owned me previously caused damage to me and threw me away. Denise Cartwright saved me.
Even though I cannot make it official, I have accepted what the Oliver model has told me. I belong to Denise. As far as I am concerned, I will always belong to her.
