Page 2 of Ezra
I swallow a sudden burst of butterflies in my stomach. I could say no, but a part of me wants to make him proud. NormallyI’d want more warning before having something like this sprung on me, but that preparation was always mixed with dread. I’ve spoken in front of crowds before. Maybe diving right in will be better.
“I’m not sure what to say.”
“Just say what feels right,” Dad replies, resting his hand on my shoulder. “I’ll introduce you. Get them warmed up.”
He leaves Mom and me together. She takes my hand and gives it an anxious squeeze. She’s never been one for crowds, but she’s pushing through it. “No pressure.” She smiles softly at me. “Right?”
“Right,” I agree sarcastically, rubbing my arm as I watch Dad’s supporters mic him up in preparation for the beginning of our rally. I give up trying to count how many people are gathered here.
Thousands. Maybe ten thousand.
So many faces. So many people. I wonder how many of them have lost their jobs because of these giant corporations laying off their human workforce to replace them with robotic employees. Workers who never complain, never tire, never unionize. A small twinge of pride moves through me, knowing this has been months in the making. People didn’t just show up. They traveled. Many came from out of town, from all over the nation to show their support.
“There’ll be counter-protestors waiting for us at the end of our march,” my mother murmurs. “Mostly students from the local universities gathering at Carnegie State.”
Her worry is palpable. “It’ll be all right,” I tell her, hugging her shoulders. “Dad won’t let things get out of control. Not while he’s in attendance. He wasn’t at those other protests to try to cool things down.”
“I know,” Mom whispers. “Still.”
Still. I know what she means beneath her quiet demeanor, the way she holds her head high, watchful, pensive. Wondering which of those people gathered here are raring for a fight. Things could go bad.
I fervently hope they don’t.
My father ascends the steps of the historical New Carnegie Library to get the best view of the people gathered here. We move through the crowd to be nearer to him. From here, we can see the glistening white pinnacle of City Hall, where the mayor is likely hiding in her office.
She won’t see us, but we’ll make sure she hears us.
A few men set up speakers for Dad, which shimmer and glow blue as they turn on. The buzz of the crowd dies down. My father looks at my mother and me and smiles, nodding, before he turns to speak to them all.
“Humanity First exists,” he begins, “because normal, everyday people have been wronged by the greed and corruption of the rich few.”
A murmur of agreement flows in the air over our heads, everyone hanging on to his every word.
“As advocates for the human right to work, these mega-corporations aren’t just affecting people of my generation. They’re affecting the young too, and their chances at providing for the families of the future. I want to introduce you to someone very close to me. She believes in this as strongly as I do. She’s an excellent speaker, and I’m not saying that because she’s my only daughter, though I won’t deny I’m a bit biased.” Dad turns and gestures to me. “Katrina Carson.”
I receive some soft applause, which isn’t very reassuring, but I don’t allow myself to be discouraged. I’ve stayed out of the spotlight while I’ve attended school and haven’t really gone to major rallies like this before. I ascend the steps to stand beside him and take the microphone, draw a steadying breath, and tellmyself the thousands of people here, the cameras, the reporters, aren’t as scary as I think they are.
Here goes.
“You don’t know me, but I’m Katrina Carson,” I begin. “I recently received my masters degree from New Carnegie University. I studied archaeology and paleoanthropology, something I’ve loved since I was young. Well, younger than now.”
I receive a few appreciative chuckles.
“And today, more than ever, I think it’s important that students attending high school and college recognize the danger our futures are currently in. As a part of my graduate program, I studied ancient humans. The ones we came from.” I let the words flow through me, taking a life of their own. “I’ll never forget learning about how ancient humans became the most formidable hunters on the planet. We drove other human ancestors to extinction. And none of us are sorry for that, right?”
I can tell I’m losing a lot of them with the history lesson. I should keep it simple rather than get into my field. I clear my throat and try to gather my thoughts. My last comment did garner some laughter when I smile and shift my stance, trying to appear at ease when I’m most definitely not. At least, not right now.
“We know it as survival of the fittest. But here, today, we see history repeating itself. Except this isn’t just another evolutionary step in the long course of human history. It’s us, inventing our own road to potential extinction.”
Everyone is listening to me now, the crowd hushed.
“To everyone who might be listening at home, I want to make it plain that I don’t believe androids are inherently evil.” I wave a hand. “That’s not who I am. I’m a person just trying to live my life, same as all of you. But I have a reason to be concerned with the direction this city is going. I have a right to be worried whenthere are warning signs telling me that someday, I might become obsolete. Robots are being used by billion-dollar corporations to line pockets, to rob us of our ability to provide for our families, our self-sufficiency, our way of life. The difference between us and our prehistoric ancestors is we have a chance to change what’s coming.”
Someone calls, “That’s right!” There are a few whistles in support from down the street.
“I won’t stand up here and tell you androids are horrible, awful things that need to be destroyed,” I continue, even though scattered throughout the crowd, I hear some jeers of disagreement. “Because they’re not. Androids began as a good thing, a way to serve families and create time where there was none. It wasn’t until later when the game changed, and the motives of all major players were revealed, and androids became the catalyst to the problems we face today.”
I scan faces, trying to read the people listening intently to me. Some are obviously quite angry; others smile and nod at me while they hold up their holo-signs. That gives me a little more confidence. I hope I’m getting this right. I want them to know I sympathize. I support them. I acknowledge their struggles. I want to validate their experiences.
