machines gradual y began taking over many of the simple factory jobs sims had formerly performed. This transformation also affected humans, of course. But most succeeded in changing with the times, and in finding new positions in emerging high technology industries.
This option was not open to sims.
Even with improved technology, the Sims' justice movement has continual y faced a serious problem: sims, while more than beasts, manifestly are less than men and women. Defining a middle ground, and an appropriate role for Sims in modern society, has never been easy; the movement itself has fragmented several times over attempts to do so.
In recent years, though, the area of research has drawn attention from almost al factions of the sims' justice movement.
Because they are so like people in so many ways, sims have since their discovery been used for experiments where humans could not in good conscience be employed. Sometimes this has resulted in glorious successes: witness the sim Abel, who orbited the earth six months before the first man to do so.
Sometimes, as in the case of certain nineteenth century medical research conducted without benefit of anesthesia, words cannot convey the horror suffered by sims.
And yet, it cannot be denied that much good has accrued to humanity through the testing in sims of new surgical techniques and various methods of immunization. Whether this good outweighs the suffering that sims are intelligent enough to feel but not ful y to understand must, in the end, be decided by each person for him or herself. Society as a whole stil feels that it does; research with sims, under properly controlled conditions, continues. There remains, though, a vocal minority that cannot in its conscience justify, what it perceives as abuse of intel igent creatures From The stories of the Federated Commonweald
PETER HOWARD
stepped to the podium with the strides of a man who did not believe in wasting anytime , ever. Yes, I have something to say, his walk proclaimed, I'l say it and get out and get back to work, and once you've heard it you can do what you like with it.
Televisionvision lights glared overhead; flashbulbs from news or photographers made even the determined Dr. How blink repeatedly. As soon as he reached the rostrum, he turned on the microphone for quiet.
When he did not get it right away, a frown made his long, thin face longer.
He tapped again, louder this time, and said, "I'd like to start with a short statement, if I could. I don't want to spend more time here in Philadelphia than I have to. I want get down to Terminus and back to work."
The reporters gradually quieted. They still were not fast enough to suit Howard, who began when the room in the House of the Popular Assembly was still buzzing with talk. I have some progress to report in our efforts to find a cure required for immune deficiency syndrome, more commonly an as AIDS."
That got him silence, but only a moment's worth. Then buzz became a roar. A whole new fusil ade of flashbulbs went off. Howard held up his hand, as much to protect his eyes as to ask to be al owed to go on.
finally, he could. "I do not yet have a cure," he said.
Setting off hysteria was the last thing he wanted to When reporters who had leaped to their feet sat down. Good, Howard thought: having ridden an emotional roller coaster in two sentences, maybe they would quite down now and listen.
He,said, "As you know, the HIV virus that causes AiDS attacks the body's immune system, specifically the white blood cells cal ed T-lymphocytes.
Without these cells to hit off infection, the body becomes vulnerable to opportunity diseases it would otherwise repel.
Eventually, one of them proves fatal to the patient.
At the Terminus Disease Research Center, we have created a drug we are cal ing an HIV inhibitor, or HIVI for short. In the laboratory, HIVI seems to help prevent the virus from gaining a foothold in the bodys l-cel s, strengthens the effectiveness of the antibodies the immure system produces to fight AIDS. Let me show you what we have achieved."
He gestured in the direction from which he had come, his hands shaping words almost everyone in the chamber fol owed as easily as speech: Out here. Now. A sturdy male sim emerged to join him at the podium.
"This is Matzo Howard said.
More flashbulbs popped. Matt lowered his head so they his heavy brow-ridges protected his eyes from the bursts of intolerable light.
"How do you feel, Matt?" Howard asked He signed the words as he spoke them, to make sure the sim would understand. I Feel good, Matt answered with his hands; like almost al sims, he found sign-talk much easier than true speech. "Matt feels good now," Howard said.
"Sadly, six month ago he was much less well." The doctor waved a hand and lights dimmed; a large screen dropped into place behind him and Matt. Howard waved again. At the far end of thin hal , a slide projector came on. The hall grew truly quiet at last. Into that silenced Howard said, "This was Matt six months ago." The sim on the slide was sadly different from the one who stood before the reporters in the flesh. The Federated Commonwealths, the world, had seen too many cases of AIDS for them to mistake this one. The image of the emaciated sim, his once , thick hair falling out in clumps all over his body, was vivid and a dreadful il ustration of why in Africa AIDS, was simply called "the slims." Howard went on, "Two days after that picture was taken Matt began receiving HIVI. Today, his T-cells are nearly normal, as are his immune responses. He does not know he still has AIDS."
Feel good, Matt signed again. The reporters could not stand it anymore.
"Why isn't it a cure, then?" one of them shouted.
"Because as I was about to say," Howard added pointy
"the AIDS virus is stil in Matt's bloodstream. He can still transmit it to others, other sims in his case, I suppose, in theory to humans as well, through sexual relations. if he stops receiving HIVI injections, the symptoms of course, will return. Now", he emphasized the word, "I will respond to questions." the frantically waving hands reminded him of stormtossed treetops. He chose one at random. "Yes, you in the row, with the blue ruffled tunic." how many sims have died of AIDS in the course of your experiments?" the man asked. Howard pursed his lips. He had expected questions of that sort. With the demonstrators marching outside the of the Popular Assembly, he would have been an idiot. But he had hoped not to have to deal with them so He should have listened to his colleagues down in Terminus, and planted a few people to ask the questions he wanted asked. He had always been headstrong, though. He thought could deal with anything. Now he'd have to. The program, to date, has seen the expiration of twenty sims," he answered steadily. His luck was not all bad. The reporter simply followed asking, "Wouldn't it have been better to use shimpanses than sims in your research?"
her than sims and men, shimpanses are the only resident in which the AIDS virus will grow,"
Howard akknowledged. "But there are several objections to their use in AIDS research. Most obvious, of course, is the fact that most of them must be caught wild in Africa and then shipped to the FCA.
That makes the supply uncertain and wsive, al the more so because of the growing instability in the African states as the AIDS epidemic debilitates in. Sims, being native to America, are easily available.
Were are also other reasons for preferring them to shimpanses.
Biologically, sims are much closer to humans shimpanses are: as we al know, mixed births between sims and humans are perfectly possible."
The reporters muttered in distaste. Everyone knew that but it was something seldom mentioned outside of dirty jokes.
Howard suspected there would be shocked gasps in living rooms al across the Federated Commonwealth talking about sex between people and sims was not standard television fare.