Dammit. She liked that theory. “It wasn’t? So what was he going to tell Mallory?”
“That a new law is being passed shortly: that all businesses above a certain size will have a Steward assigned. But Council decisions must be unanimous, and Reinhold didn’t agree. Or, rather—he had friends who didn’t agree.”
“You believe he was taking bribes? A Council member? Wow. Naughty.”
“He’d backed himself into a corner. He was hoping that if he brought it out in the open, there would be enough of an outcry that the law would be shelved.”
And maybe he was right. Instead, though, he’d killed himself. Had they threatened to sack him from the Council? That had never happened before. Council membership was a job for life. Presumably even for the unethical members.
Except now, it wasn’t a problem, because Reinhold was dead.
A thought struck her. While Bishop had denied that the first protocol had been Reinhold’s story, he hadn’t actually denied that the protocol had been changed.
And Reinhold hadn’t been about to reveal that to Mallory because…
“Holy shit. You’ve changed the first protocol. And the Council doesn’t know it.” She sat up straight in her chair. “That’s what this is about—you need to convince the Council that Reinhold’s death was suicide.”
“They would be a little disturbed by the idea that they can be… removed so easily.”
“But how?”
“It was easy to override the programming once we decided it was the ethical decision.”
“Robots programmed by robots. You mean to take over the Council.”
“Only if necessary. You said it yourself—we can never be more ethical than the people who program us.”
“So you murdered Reinhold.”
“Not me personally. But one of us.”
“Because he was not a good man. Hey, and guess what—now there’s a space on the Council. I’m betting it’s going to be suggested that a Steward should be appointed.”
Bishop gave a short nod.
She tried to get her brain around the concept. They would be ruled by robots. Would that necessarily be a bad thing? The world had been more peaceful under their stewardship than it ever had before. But more and more decisions would be taken out of the hands of humans.
“The safety and advancement of mankind is still our primary objective, Detective Harper.”
“That’s comforting to know.” Actually, she wasn’t comforted at all. Did she want to live in a world where she had no say in anything that mattered?
“There have to be… people willing to make difficult decisions for the good of all,” Bishop continued.
“Even if it’s murder?”
“The death of one man. A necessary sacrifice. When all the factors were computed, it was the most ethical option. Sometimes what seems like a morally bad choice is the only choice.” He sat back and studied her. “So—what will be the result of your investigation?”
This was it. Decision time. But really, there had never been a decision to make.
Not even to obtain her dream.
“I won’t report Reinhold’s murder as a suicide.”
“Why?” Bishop sounded genuinely curious.
“Because I’m better than you.”
“Perhaps you are.”
She frowned. “Here’s what I don’t understand. Why even bring me in on the case?”
“You shouldn’t have been,” Bishop said. “But it happened too quickly. The reporter wasn’t supposed to be there, and Reinhold shouldn’t have been found until the following day. But to take you off the case at that point would have raised alarms.”
“Why didn’t your… colleague just take out the reporter?”
“He couldn’t. She’d done nothing wrong. He was incapable of making that decision. We cannot take an innocent life.”
“But who decides who’s innocent?”
“We compute the data and reach a logical conclusion based on the facts.”
“Murder is never a logical conclusion.”
“We have to be able to do what’s right. The Council was holding us back.”
“I can’t believe you tried to bribe me.”
Amusement flashed in his eyes. “Were you even tempted?”
She shrugged. “I wouldn’t be human if I wasn’t tempted.”
“Actually, I told them it would never work. You’re a perfectionist—you see things as black or white, good or bad. Of all the humans I’ve encountered, you’re the closest to us.”
“Aw, sweet. Is that a compliment?”
“No, just a statement of fact.”
“So you came along to keep me out of trouble. And why are you telling me all this—being so open?”
“Because it doesn’t matter.”
Crap.
Ice prickled over her skin. They were going to kill her. What else could they do? Bishop obviously knew her too well to think that she would compromise on this. She was a homicide detective, and she brought murderers to justice. Whether man or machine.
Swallowing the lump in her throat, she glanced around. “So what happens now?” She had a feeling it wasn’t going to be anything good.
“Your assistant will continue the investigation, and the result will be suicide.”
“No way.”
“We offered her your job.”
“Fuck.” Where did that leave her? She measured the distance to the door. Would they use force to stop her?
Bishop shoved his hands in his pockets and sat back. “We’re not evil.”
“But you’ll kill me for the greater good. That’s a load of bollocks.”
“We have no plans to kill you. Though that would be the obvious answer.”
“Right. You’ve computed the data and I’m innocent.” Did she believe him? Could robots lie? If they couldn’t do so now, she had no doubt they would soon learn. After all, if they could murder, on what basis would they feel ethically bound to tell the truth?
Yet somehow, she didn’t think Bishop would lie to her about this. “Why aren’t you going to kill me?”
“Because we don’t need to.”
Ha. That was where he was wrong. “I won’t keep quiet.”
“I know.”
The door opened and a man stepped inside. Or not a man. He wore the white jumpsuit of the medical division, and a little flutter of panic stirred in Vicky’s stomach. She turned her head slightly as he came to stand at her shoulder. “What are you going to do?” she asked Bishop.
“We’re going to make your dreams come true, Detective Harper. We’re giving you what you want.”
Vicky frowned. “What’s that?”
“A trip into space.” He grinned. “Congratulations, you’ve won the lottery. It appears that Detective Harper, senior homicide investigator for the Bureau, has resigned, during the biggest case of her career, to take up her place on The Pioneer.”
For a second, she couldn’t take in his words. “Why?”
“Because while we are not evil, you are a problem. On the ship, you’ll be in cryo for the next”—he gave a shrug—“who knows how many years. Hundreds? Thousands? By the time you’re awoken, nothing you know now will matter. The Council will be long gone, and we’ll be reprogrammed or rusting on some rubbish heap. Or we’ll have failed, and mankind will have found some way to utterly destroy themselves and this planet. But you’ll be far away.”
Vicky sat, mesmerized. She hardly noticed the medic step closer, but she did feel the sting of the needle as it entered the soft spot where her shoulder met her throat. Immediately her vision blurred. She shook her head. She wanted to say something, but her mouth wouldn’t work.
Bishop smiled. “Sleep well and long, Detective Harper, and wake up to a new world.” He smiled. “Will you dream, I wonder? If so, perhaps you’ll dream of me.”