Page 90 of Atticus
SCANDALIZED BIONIC ASSISTANT TURNED SUPERHERO: WHY ANDROIDS ARE BETTER THAN US
“Have you ever heard the saying, if it walks like a duck, quacks like a duck, and swims like a duck, it’s probably a duck?” says Trey Washington, school resource officer at Vautrin Middle School in St. Morgan, Illinois. “Atticus isn’t a duck. He’s an android, but the point still stands—he’s just as human as any of us. In fact, he’s probably better.”
Cornelius Bryant, a teacher, witnessed the fire that engulfed a St. Morgan, Illinois middle school last week. “He ran right inside, didn’t give a second thought to his own safety or what might happen to him. He did what the firefighters couldn’t even do. I’ll never forget that for as long as I live.”
Another teacher, Heather Binkley, applauds Atticus’s efforts. “Maybe Humanity First is right and we should be threatened by these machines, but not for the reasons you think. We should feel threatened because they’re outdoing us in the humanity department.”
Earlier this month,New Carnegie Metropolitan Entertainment News, a notoriously invasive big-city tabloid, released photos of Vautrin Upper Middle School teacher Lucy Warren in the privacy of her own home taken without her knowledge or consent. A private investigator, allegedly hired by someone on the school staff, took advantage of her open drapes and took the photographs to not only embarrass a hard-working, compassionate, and well-loved teacher, but also to completely devastate and ruin her ability to have any kind of career anywhere. Vautrin promptly fired her.
On the same day the scandal broke, the middle school, already in a state of disrepair due to lack of school funding, caught fire and burned down. Although originally believed to be an electrical shortage, authorities are taking a closer look when it was confirmed the fire started near Warren’s classroom, something many say is too close to be a coincidence, though the investigation is ongoing.
The fire nearly took the life of ninth grader Jack Gunther, 14.
“I was in the bathroom when the fire started,” says Jack in a virtual interview, sitting beside his mother. “When I smelled the smoke and the alarms went off, I left the bathroom but got lost because I couldn’t see anything.”
Jack passed out, but Atticus, the android embroiled in the scandal with Warren, charged into the building and rescued the boy.
“If I’d had to wait for the firefighters, I’d totally be dead,” Jack says. “The fire department was great, but Atticus didn’t wait. He just rushed in.”
Jack’s mother, Gloria Gunther, also spoke withNew Carnegie Times.“That tabloid slandered her, cost her job,” says Mrs. Gunther. “Embarrassed her in front of the whole town and on a national website. They’re not even from around here. But how can we judge? I’d have done the same thing she did with Atticus.” She laughs. “I mean, he’s a hero. How much more human can you get?”
The school district is already rolling out an all-virtual learning plan for the remainder of the school year. The school will have to be fully rebuilt, which won’t be completed until 2069.
“Small towns can be warm, but they can also be unforgiving. This entire ordeal made it easy for me to hand in my notice,” says Denise Cartwright, former school nurse at Vautrin. “I hope Ms. Warren suesNew Carnegie Dailyand Vautrin for all they’re worth. She was treated horribly by the principal and the school staff. That’s not the kind of message we want to send to kids.”
The students at Vautrin have already begun circulating a petition they intend to send to the school board, demanding the decision to terminate Lucy Warren be reversed, making her their World History teacher once again. Many of their parents are signing too.
“Between her and Atticus, they got Jack excited about something,” says Mrs. Gunther. “I kept catching him nose-deep in a book instead of playing video games. That never happens. And he’s talking about going to college for the first time. I’m really proud of him.”
St. Morgan school district representatives were not available for comment.
10
Lucy
My apartment has become my sanctuary and workplace this past week, and until all this buzz dies down, I have no plans on venturing outside.
Once again, I’m right back where I started when I came here, searching for silver linings. It could be worse. I could be alone, eating an entire army’s worth of pizza, chocolate, and chips and trying to drown my embarrassment with wine. But honestly? I’m not embarrassed anymore. I’m pissed off, and I have every right to be. I came out of that job with my head held high, and I intend to keep it that way.
I’ve already found a lawyer who leaped at the chance to represent me for my defamation case. By all accounts, she’s a barracuda in the courtroom. It’ll be a long process, but by the time it’s over, I’ll be well compensated for the humiliation, the trespassing, and the breach of my privacy. Between that, my unemployment, and the unprecedented amount of job offers funneling into my email from schools all over the country, I might just make it without having to move back under my parents’ roof.
I was never expecting this much outrage on my behalf. Sure, there are those who say I’m disgusting or deviant somehow. But an anonymous supporter made a funding page to support me, which went from $25 to $25,000 in a matter of hours. Last Atticus checked, it’s nearing almost $100,000 with over 23,750 donations. It’s only been two days.
Our story is resonating with people,
Atticus is right here with me too. His damaged synthetics haven’t been repaired yet, but I don’t care. It’s kind of like living with a sexy alien, the way his black steel glows, showing off his circuitry. I’ve got an appointment with Tin Man’s Heart in New Carnegie next week to get him all fixed up. This time, we’re forgoing the airplane. We’ll pile in the car and sail back to my home city on the interstate.
I’ve gotten a new phone with a new number, which is all synced up to Atticus. I still don’t know where the old one went. Probably dead in a snowbank somewhere. It’s for the best, though. It wouldn’t surprise me if my old phone number got leaked, so something brand new that no one can find makes more sense, anyway.
Even after sharing my new number with the necessary people, I’ve had hundreds emails and texts—from Amber, from theNew Carnegie Times, from my parents and my brother. At first, they were all worried for me and my state of mind. Reporters have been harassing my parents, but they’ve gotten the police involved and placed a sign on the door forbidding anyone from speaking with them. It’s upsetting that my family has to take the brunt of some of this because media as a whole doesn’t care about people’s feelings, only what they can sensationalize.
They can all kiss my ass, though. The only person who’s going to be getting any major scoop from me is Amber. With her, I’m reassured I’ll be in a controlled environment. She won’t press me for any information that may hinder my case if I talk about it. But I’m not ready for that kind of exposure yet, and I’m grateful she’s more than happy to wait.
Who knows. Maybe by the time I’m ready to talk on a public platform, this will all be yesterday’s news. Nobody will care anymore, and it won’t be necessary to explain myself to anyone.
That thought alone sparks something in me. I’ve been lounging on the couch, enjoying my true crime, draped across Atticus’s lap. “What if we didn’t teach?”
My question is so random that he peers down owlishly at me, puzzled. “What do you mean?”
