Others argued that reifs possessed self-determination and even whilst running fully on the augmentation were AI. For a century the whole argument had been moot, that is, until Garp came on the scene.
Salind had scanned the files at stopovers while en route to Banjer. Garp had been an inspector in the Banjer police force. The last five years of his life had been spent trying to convict a woman by the name of Deleen Soper, who had allegedly made a fortune manufacturing a drug called praist, somewhere on this world. During those five years he had made enough headway to become an annoyance to the Tronad — a criminal organization reputed to be close to seizing power on Banjer and of which Soper was, again allegedly, the head. Several ensuing attempts on his life impelled him to make a will specifying that should he die within a certain period he wanted to be reified, and for this purpose transferred funds to what was left of the Church of Anubis Arisen. Shortly after doing so, he revealed himself to be a praist addict going into terminal psychosis, turned up at the Church’s headquarters, and after presenting the relevant documentation, shot himself through the heart.
‘Hello, I’m Salind. I’m glad you agreed to speak to me.’ Salind held out his hand.
Garp stared at this member for a moment, but made no move to take it. After a clicking gulp deep in his throat he said, ‘I won’t shake your hand. I don’t yet know the strength of the cybermotors in my finger joints, also I shouldn’t think it very pleasant shaking hands with a corpse.’
Salind forced a grin and dropped his arm to his side.
‘Are you recording now?’ Garp asked.
‘I am, and obviously I have a lot of questions to ask you. .’
Garp held up one hideous palm. ‘One moment.’
At his throat he made an adjustment to a recessed control plate. There came a faint hissing sound. When he spoke next his voice was smoother. ‘That’s better. My vocal chords are decaying despite the vascular balm. Airborne bacteria.’
‘An unusual experience, I’d imagine,’ said Salind, feeling foolish.
Garp said nothing for a moment. Salind wondered if he was being given an annoyed look.
Perhaps he was, only Garp’s mummified features revealed nothing.
‘I’m a reif,’ was all he said. And with that he took a handgun from his belt and held it up for Salind to see.
‘Ah.’ Salind held off from putting a call for help through Argus. Banjer being out-Polity for the present, Polity monitors could do nothing, and it would take at least ten minutes for the Tarjen staffers to get to him. Anyway, episodes like this made a story. The weapon — an old station-developed rail-gun — was the sort of thing that carried a twenty-round box and had a range measured in metres rather than kilometres. Salind thought it better suited to a museum.
‘What exactly is that for?’ he asked, keeping his voice level.
‘I’m attached to it. You know that a reif’s only protection under Banjer law is as part of the estate of the deceased? Only property laws apply.’
‘Yes, I knew that. Tell me, why did you choose to be reified?’
‘Because I needed more time than what remained to me to get her.’
‘Ah, I see. You refer to Deleen Soper. Why were you so determined to prosecute her?’
‘Because I was a detective,’ said Garp.
‘I note you use the past tense. You no longer work for the Banjer police?’
‘I do not. I no longer have to get a court order for searches and I no longer have to present cases to a corrupt judiciary. The interesting thing is that I cannot commit a crime either.
You have to be a person to commit a crime.’
Salind watched as Garp hooked the rail-gun back on his utility belt.
‘There’ve been rumours of corruption but none have yet been proven,’ he said. The presence of the gun was making him nervous and undermining his usual smooth technique. Garp pointed towards one of the far entrances of the park and began to stroll in that direction. Salind fell in beside him.
‘Soper has been indicted for drug trafficking four times and for murder three times. Every time the case was brought before the same judge and then thrown out. In any Polity court the evidence would have been sufficient to have her mind-wiped or executed. I checked. She has, to my knowledge, three of the five city judges and most of the Council in her pocket, and that’s only in this city.’
‘Those are serious accusations. What proof do you have?’
‘I had full sensorium recordings of conversations and bribes, documentation, and eighteen witnesses. When I. . died, my files were dumped. Of the witnesses, four went offworld, and seven suffered fatal accidents while I was alive. Two more made official withdrawals of their statements, and the remaining five were hit while I was being reified.’
‘Is Soper implicated in all this?’
Garp looked at Salind. ‘What do you think? There’s no admissible evidence and the judiciary is refusing the investigators permission to investigate.’
‘What then are your intentions?’
Garp remained silent for a moment. He halted at a spill of treels before speaking. ‘I saw the look you gave this gun. It’s not what you think. It’s the only piece of hard evidence I possess.’
He turned and gazed directly at Salind, his eye irrigators hazing the air around his face with spray. ‘You know, they wiped me out. All my files, even my personal files, were dumped from the system. It was an accident they said. I might well have not existed.’ Garp walked on, crunching treels underfoot.
‘This hard evidence …?’ Salind said, moving round the treel spill.
‘Useless now of course. This weapon had her fingerprints and DNA traces on the handle.
It was found by the body of Aaron Dane. She’d blown off both his legs at the knee before beating him to death with the barrel. And so confident was she in her control of the judiciary, and certain police officials, she didn’t bother to get rid of the evidence. I had it all on record. .’
‘Well, it’ll all change with the arrival of Geronamid. Corruption tends to wither under AI governance.’
Garp made a rough hacking sound. It took a moment for Salind to realize it was a laugh.
Garp glanced sidewise at him. ‘I do not possess your faith in AI governance. Either the vote will be fixed to keep us out of the Polity or if we go in Soper will refocus her business interests. She’s wealthy enough now to play the upright citizen.’
‘Wouldn’t you say that what such people do is more about power than wealth?’
As they reached the gateway to the park, Garp did not immediately reply. They walked out onto the pavement alongside a street crammed with hydrocars. The air was humid with their exhausts.
‘Maybe, but Soper is not stupid enough to go up against the Polity. She’ll be a good citizen and her past will be dumped just as absolutely as mine. The amnesty will see to that.
Soper is sitting back in a no-lose position. If the Tronad prevents the Polity takeover they’re okay.
If they don’t, they get amnesty; the slate wiped clean, a new beginning.’