Most of the news was a rehash but there was a new development in the Imperium:
Democrats were being rounded up, sentenced by drumhead courts-martial (provost's tribunals, they were called) and executed on the spot-laser, gunfire, sonic, hangings. I exerted tight mind control to let me watch. They were sentencing them down to the age of fourteen-we saw one family in which both parents, themselves condemned, were insisting that their son was only twelve.
The President of the court, an Imperial Police corporal, ended the argument by drawing his side arm, shooting the boy, and then ordering his squad to finish off the parents and the boy's older sister.
Ian flicked off the picture, shifted to voiceover streamers, and turned the sound down. "I've seen all of that I want to see," he growled. "I think that whoever has power there now that the old Chairman is dead is liquidating everybody on their suspects list."
He chewed his lip and looked grim. "Marj, are you still sticking to that silly notion of going home at once?"
"I'm not a democrat, Ian. I'm nonpolitical."
"Do you think that kid was political? Those Cossacks would kill you just for drill. Anyhow, you can't. The border is closed."
I didn't tell him that I felt certain that I could wetback any border on earth. "I thought it was sealed only against people trying to come north. Aren't they letting subjects of the Imperium go home?"
He sighed. "Marj, aren't you any brighter than that kitten in your lap? Can't you realize that pretty little girls can get hurt if they insist on playing with had boys? If you were home, I'm sure your father would tell you to stay home. But you are here in our home and that gives Georges and me an implied obligation to keep you safe. Eh, Georges?"
"Mais oui, mon vieux! Certainement!"
"And I will protect you from Georges. Jan, can you convince this child that she is welcome here as long as she cares to stay? I think she's the sort of assertive female who tries to pick up the check."
"I am not!"
Janet said, "Marjie, Betty told me to take good care of you. If you think you are imposing, you can contribute to BritCan Red Cross. Or to a home for indignant cats. But it so happens that all three of us make ridiculous amounts of money and we have no children. We can afford you as easily as another kitten. Now... are you going to stay? Or am I going to have to hide your clothes and beat you?"
"I don't want to be beaten."
"Too bad, I was looking forward to it. That's settled, gentle sirs; she stays. Marj, we swindled you. Georges will require you to pose inordinate hours-he's a brute-and he'll be getting you just for groceries instead of the guild rates he ordinarily has to pay. He'll show a profit."
"No," said Georges, "I won't show a profit; I'll take a profit. Because I'll show her as a business expense, Jan my heart. But not at guild basic rate; she's worth more. One and a half?"
"At least. Double, I would say. Be generous, since you aren't going to pay her anyhow. Don't you wish you had her on campus? In your lab, I mean."
"A worthy thought! One that has been hovering in the back of my mind... and thank you, our dear one, for bringing it out into the open." Georges addressed me: "Marjorie, will you sell me an egg?"
He startled me. I tried to look as if I did not understand him. "I don't have any eggs."
"Ah, but you do! Some dozens, in fact, far more than you will ever need for your own purposes. A human ovum is the egg I mean. The laboratory pays far more for an egg than it does for sperm- simple arithmetic. Are you shocked?"
"No. Surprised. I thought you were an artist."
Janet put in, "Marj hon, I told you that Georges is several sorts of an artist. He is. In one sort he is Mendel Professor of Teratology at the University of Manitoba... and also chief technologist for the associated production lab and crèche, and believe me, that calls for high art. But he's good with paint and canvas, too. Or a computer screen."
"That's true," Ian agreed. "Georges is an artist with anything he touches. But you two should not have sprung this on Marj while she's our guest. Some people get terribly upset at the very idea of gene manipulation-especially their own genes."
"Marj, did I upset you? I'm sorry."
"No, Jan. I'm not one of those people who get upset at the very thought of living artifacts or artificial people or whatever. Uh, some of my best friends are artificial people."
"Dear, dear," Georges said gently, "do not pull the long bow."
"Why do you say that?" I tried not to make my voice sharp.
"I can claim that, because I work in that field and, I am proud to say, have quite a number of artificial persons who are my friends. But-"
I interrupted: "I thought an AP never knew her designers?"
"That is true and I have never violated that canon. But I do have many opportunities to know both living artifacts and artificial persons-they are not the same-and to win their friendship. But- forgive me, dear Miss Marjorie-unless you are a member of my profession- Are you?"
"No."
"Only a genetic engineer or someone closely associated with the industry can possibly claim a number of friends among artificial people. Because, my dear, contrary to popular myth, it is simply not possible for a layman to distinguish between an artificial person and a natural person... and, because of the vicious prejudice of ignorant people, an artificial person almost never voluntarily admits to his derivation-I'm tempted to say never. So, while I am delighted that you don't go through the roof at the idea of artificial creatures, I am forced to treat your claim as hyperbole intended to show that you are free of prejudice."
"Well- All right. Take it as such. I can't see why APs have to be second-class citizens. I think it's unfair."
"It is. But some people feel threatened. Ask Ian. He's about to go charging off to Vancouver to keep artificial persons from ever becoming pilots. He-"
"Hooooold it! I am like hell. I am submitting it that way because my guild brothers voted it that way. But I'm no fool, Georges; living with and talking with you has made me aware that We are going to have to compromise. We are no longer really pilots and we haven't been this century. The computer does it. If the computer cuts out I will make a real Boy Scout try at getting that bus safely down out of the sky. But don't bet on it! The speeds and the possible emergencies went beyond human-reaction time years back. Oh, I'll try! And any of my guild brothers will. But, Georges, if you can design an artificial person who can think and move fast enough to cope with a glitch at touchdown, I'll take my pension. That's all we're going to hold out for, anyhow-if the company puts in AP pilots that displace us, then it has to be full pay and allowances. If you can design them."
"Oh, I could design one, eventually. When I achieved one, if I were allowed to clone, you pilots could all go fishing. But it wouldn't be an AP; it would have to be a living artifact. If I were to attempt to produce an organism that could really be a fail-safe pilot, I could not accept the limitation of having to make it look just like a natural human being."
"Oh, don't do that!"
Both men looked startled, Janet looked alert-and I wished that I had held my tongue.
"Why not?" asked Georges.
"Uh... because I wouldn't get inside such a ship. I'd be much safer riding with Ian."
Ian said, "Thank you, Marj-but you heard what Georges said. He's talking about a designed pilot that can do it better than I can. It's possible. Hell, it'll happen! Just as kobolds displaced miners, my guild is going to be displaced. I don't have to like it-but I can see it coming."
"Well- Georges, have you worked with intelligent computers?"
"Certainly, Marjorie. Artificial intelligence is a field closely related to mine."