Judge Dredd: Year Three by Michael Carroll Matthew Smith & Laurel Sills

Author:Michael Carroll, Matthew Smith & Laurel Sills [Michael Carroll, Matthew Smith & Sills, Laurel]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Science Fiction
Publisher: Abaddon
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER FOUR

“THE CAUSE?” GOODMAN looked incredulous.

“That’s what the droid said.”

“The machine was insane, Dredd. It was operating way beyond its programming. I think you’re giving too much credence to one rogue mek’s delusions.”

“Normally, I’d agree, sir. But a tek-team has trawled through its memory and logic systems. It believed what it told me—that it was charging for its unregistered medical procedures and surgery in order to fund what it understood to be robots’ rights.”

The Chief Judge sighed and shook his head, pacing the length of his desk and back, hands clasped behind him, his slightly portly frame outlined by the early-morning sun streaming in through the office’s window. Beyond him, beyond the Grand Hall itself, the city lay spread, vast and intricate, teeming with life. Dredd had rarely seen his superior seated, and any encounters with the man were marked by his restless energy. He preferred to think on the move; much like the metropolis he governed, he never stopped. It probably went some way to account for how attuned he was to its ebb and flow, how he could read the feelings of its people, anticipating trouble. He lived and breathed MC-1, and as such was surprisingly popular with the citizens; they felt that they could trust him, that he was on their side. It was a reputation he made no effort to dispel even as he eroded civil liberties on the side—the benevolent Clarence Goodman was a canny politician and one of Justice Department’s wiliest senior officers.

“Just because the machine believed it doesn’t mean there’s anything to it,” he said. “Like I say, the thing had lost all touch with reality. It was probably under the impression it was treating its patients in a state-of-the-art med facility rather than a hollow crawlspace in a derelict Bowlarama.”

“I get the feeling it was more self-aware than perhaps we would like to admit,” Dredd replied. “The robots in the Projects look out for one another—I saw evidence of that. The med-droid was being shielded by one of its own, so it knew it was doing important work that had to be protected. They wanted that income resource for a specific reason.”

Goodman ceased his pacing and regarded the younger man. “What do they think they’re going to do with it? Buy representation? Use it as capital for a mayoral campaign? They’re robots—they have no rights, and everybody recognises that.”

“That’s most likely their chief bone of contention.”

“Don’t tell me you sympathise with them.”

“Of course not. But we have to recognise their aims, and if the meks are consolidating, it’ll be because they want equal status.”

“Preposterous. I’m no more likely to grant rights to a gruddamn garbage grinder than I am to some… some mutant degenerate that’s blown in on a rad-storm. It’s a machine, built to serve a purpose, nothing more.”

“The consequences of A.I., sir. The smarter we make them, the more they’ll think for themselves.”

“There are limitations in place—the Trachtenberg Act, for one. And we can just as easily pull the plug.” Goodman turned to gaze out at the panorama before him.

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