Judys face remained expressionless, her arms folded, hands tucked in the sleeves of her kimono. She withdrew one hand, brought her right forefinger to her mouth. A tiny spot of blue showed on her tongue as she licked the little MTPH pill from her finger. A little tick was pulsing just below Peters eye. Judy watched it for a moment and then she asked her question.
What did the ship do?
The ship? said Peter, looking at Judys hands as she returned them to the sleeves of her kimono. We dealt in luxury goods: mainly permitted drugs, coffee, tea, whisky. A little refined heroin. We took them out from Earth to the space-based communities.
What about the Moon? Mars?
Peter shook his head. We didnt like to get too deep into gravity wells. Too much time spent in traveling.
And restricted access points, too. Is that right, Peter?
Peter shook his head, the tick pulsing away. He was looking flushed. He shrugged his way out of the floating gown. It hung in the air and-after a moments pause, and to Helens delight-it drifted slowly back towards the bedroom, maintaining its shape and form. Then Helen felt the wave of nauseating-panic that rolled out from him.
We werent smuggling, he was saying, waving his hands. Everything on board the ship was strictly legal. He nodded his head in affirmation, his stomach wobbling slightly. Come on. They constantly measure the mass of every ship traveling through the Inner System and compare it with the registered manifest. Theres no way to fool the EA.
Precisely. Judy gazed at him. At 04.10.33 GMT, on the fourteenth of September 2226, the mass of your ship decreased by just under twelve kilograms.
Peter blinked rapidly. We were testing the reaction engines. They burn a lot of chemical fuel. I imagine we could easily have burned twelve kilograms worth.
You seem to have a very good memory. Im sure I couldnt remember what I was doing on the fourteenth of September, fourteen years ago. What was your job on the ship?
Systems, Peter said, rubbing at the tick below his eye. The ships Turing machine was old. The self-diagnostics werent all they should have been: they needed some backup.
A systems man, eh? Then youd know what a type two VNM was.
Yes He was slowly collapsing as Judy gazed at him, Helen noted with contempt. He looked as if he was about to break down now and confess everything. This was the sort of man who had kept her imprisoned? He was pathetic.
Now Judy half closed her eyes. So, given access to suitable raw materials and the library code, youd be able to construct a type two VNM?
Yes Peter sat down, folding himself into a chair. He was mentally preparing to run up a white flag. Helen could see it.
Thats what you did, wasnt it? Formed a processing space out of a type two VNM and then released it into space.
How many personality constructs were there aboard?
Peter slumped forward, his head in his hands. Helen could almost see his thoughts. He had been found out, so now he was going to bargain.
Look, it wasnt me. Im a PC myself. I was only created twelve years ago. You need to go and see the atomic Peter Onethirteen.
Judys voice was matter-of-fact. Oh someone will, Peter, but thats not the point. Your personality construct is based on a personality that has operated beyond the acceptable parameters laid down by the EA after the Transition of 2171. The behavior patterns of the atomic Peter will be the same as yours. You need correction just as much as he does.
Peter looked up at this, his eyes darting around the apartment, looking at the door, at Helen. Judy shifted just a little, drawing his attention back to herself. Back to her white skin, her black kimono. Back to the collar falling away from her neck, exposing the long white curve leading up from her smooth back to be lost beneath the elaborate black design of her hair. When she knew she had his full attention, Judy lowered her voice a little more.
Now, Peter Onethirteen. Do you understand that you are about to begin corrective therapy as part of the Social Care contract?
He crossed his arms and gazed at the floor, looking like a petulant child.
There are three copies of me. Will they all be punished?
Slowly Judy knelt down before him. Her black hair, so smooth and shiny, banded in shades of violet under the light like a blackbirds wing. She reached out and took both of his hands in hers.
This is not punishment, Peter, she crooned. That will be decided upon later by the EA. Im neither qualified nor interested in deciding punishment. My talent lies in healing, and we begin the first step of that process today.
Peter snatched his hands away. Why should I be punished? I thought that this was supposed to be an enlightened society.
Helen was incensed. How dare this fat, pathetic little man expect the understanding of an enlightened society when it was he who had imprisoned her in that processing space? The words that leapt to her lips were stilled as she realized that Judy had turned to stare at her. She knew that Helen was about to lose her temper. She held Helens gaze, calming her. When Helen regained control of herself, Judy turned back to face Peter.