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In reality, Jay-Dub is nested in a cavity near the front of the vehicle, and has been since they arrived. The truck is perfectly capable of driving itself. Dee has a shrewd suspicion that the necessity of controlling its progress is in part purely psychological, at a more superficial level than that of the embedded consistency-rules. She lets the explanation pass.

‘Where are we going?’ she asks.

‘We have to go back to Ship City,’ the man tells her.

‘Problem at the trial?’ Dee guesses. She’s not paying the conversation her full attention; she’s exploring her mind, checking off her selves like they’re strayed children coming home, and finds to her relief that they’re all there. Secrets is smaller, Stores is far bigger than when she downloaded them to Jay-Dub – but that’s all right, she has room in her head to spare.

‘Oh no,’ Wilde shouts back, his eyes flicking from the mirror to the desert. Dee can see the vehicle is moving at almost its top speed. ‘We have to pick up some poison, and then…’

His voice trails off, whether because of the outcrop they’re about to (she grabs the edge of the bed-bench) go over – or because he doesn’t know what to say.

‘Then what?’

Wilde’s eyes, crinkling into a smile, look back at her again.

‘We’re going to hack the gates of hell.’

She doesn’t even bother to ask for a further explanation. It is obvious that none will be forthcoming, and she has to assume there’s some good reason why not. Wilde gives her an encouraging nod, and then turns his attention to the flat desert and to Meg. Ax has braced himself on an old foil blanket, next to an aerial feed, and is having visions by television.

Dee sets Scientist to work, and enters Sys. Minutes pass. Then, as from a great, cold height, a mountain higher than any on Earth or either Mars, in a raw virtual vacuum that makes her head feel as though it’s about to bloodily explode, Dee sees exactly what Wilde’s cryptic statement means.

‘You first,’ Tamara said. The others dispersed to their seats and Wilde stepped forward to the microphone. Talgarth stubbed out the cigarette he’d spent the seven minutes smoking, and nodded.

Wilde went through the same courtesies as Reid had used and said:

‘Esteemed Senior, I am more than willing to answer for my actions, and for those undertaken on my behalf. I am not willing to answer for the actions of the robot Jay-Dub, or to accept the allegation that it is my property. My present physical existence began last Fi’day, around noon, when I was resurrected. The robot Jay-Dub claimed to have accomplished this, by means which I make no pretence to understand –’

Reid sprang to his feet.

‘Objection!’ he said. ‘Irrelevant.’

‘Sustained,’ said Talgarth.

Wilde swallowed. ‘Very well, Esteemed Senior. The point can be made independently by appealing to the records of Jay-Dub’s transactions with the Stras Cobol Mutual Bank, which I am happy to make available to the court so far as they are relevant. They establish indeed that the owner of Jay-Dub is one Jonathan Wilde. And they identify who, exactly, that Jonathan Wilde is. The earliest records include transactions with David Reid’s company, Mutual Assured Protection. They explicitly accept the name ‘Jay-Dub’ as a synonym of Jonathan Wilde, and the robot Jay-Dub as equivalent to that person, Wilde. The robot Jay-Dub has been accepted without demur these many years as none other than Jonathan Wilde – Jay-Dub, in short, is Jonathan Wilde! Any records mentioning Wilde as the owner of the robot Jay-Dub, therefore, can only be interpreted as meaning that the person Jonathan Wilde owns Jay-Dub in the same sense that I, Jonathan Wilde, own my body.’ He smiled thinly. ‘Any coincidence of names is regretted.’

Eon Talgarth, sitting on his chair on the dais, shared an eye-level with Wilde, standing. Their eyes locked for a moment.

‘The court will rule on this point,’ Talgarth said. ‘The robot known as Jay-Dub is in a unique position among all the inhabitants of this colony, so far as I know. However, it is a position in which many of the said inhabitants once were, and in which it alone remains. I accept the argument which has just been put, and I rule that any charges against Jonathan Wilde in the capacity of owner of the robot Jay-Dub must be laid against that robot, as a self-owning mechanism.’ He looked around. ‘It is not present in this court and should be notified forthwith. The charge against that Jonathan Wilde remains pending.’

Reid started to his feet with a look of fury, but a woman sitting beside him caught his arm and drew him back. After conferring head-to-head with her, Reid desisted.

‘My ruling carries no precedent relevant to questions of machine personality as such,’ Talgarth went on. ‘The matter of the ownership of Dee Model has still to be considered. Regardless of whether her control-systems were corrupted, and who if anyone is responsible for that, Reid’s claim that he did not abandon her is not contested. Therefore he remains her owner, and those present on the other side of the case are enjoined to co-operate in her apprehension and return.’

Tamara rose, received a flicker of permission to speak, and said, ‘Senior Talgarth, this court has many times ruled that the autonomy of machines may be claimed by the machines themselves. That, and not the issue of abandonment which I freely admit I was wrong about, is the basis on which we wish to assert Dee Model’s self-ownership.’

Talgarth sighed. ‘All such cases,’ he said patiently, ‘relate to unowned sapient machines in the machine domains. The freedom of such automata is also implicitly recognised by other courts. The gynoid under consideration, however, has been constructed by the resources and efforts of David Reid, and remains his property until he decides otherwise.’

Tamara sat down and gave Wilde a grimace of regret or apology. Wilde, however, seemed to gaze right through her. He blinked, smiled at her and stood up. He walked to the microphone and looked over the crowd before turning to the judge.

‘Esteemed Senior, your valued opinion on the matter of Jay-Dub and the matter of Dee Model raises some further points, which I beg the court to consider. First, in the matter of Jonathan Wilde in his embodiment as Jay-Dub. The court has accepted that he and I are separate persons, though – by implication – sharing a common history up to a point which the court has refused to determine –’

‘How?’ Talgarth frowned.

‘When you sustained the objection that the time of my resurrection was irrelevant.’

Talgarth sat back. ‘That’s correct.’

‘As a separate embodiment of Jonathan Wilde, I wish to proceed against David Reid on the charge of having unlawfully killed me, on the basis that any considerations or acknowledgements that may have been made between Reid and Jonathan Wilde aka Jay-Dub have no bearing on me.’

‘I’ll defer consideration on that until the time of your resurrection has been determined satisfactorily,’ said Talgarth. ‘The charge of murder which you brought against Reid remains outstanding until that point has been cleared up, or is not contested. David Reid, what do you say?’

Reid rose, disdaining to step forward. ‘Please the court,’ he said loudly, ‘I am quite willing to accept this person’s claim that he was resurrected by the robot Jay-Dub three days ago. As a matter of natural justice I wish the earliest opportunity to clear myself of the charge of murder, or have it thrown out of court as a waste of the court’s valuable time and a piece of actionably vexatious litigation.’ He glared at Wilde and sat down.

‘Very well,’ said Talgarth. He turned to Wilde. ‘Before we move to considering that charge, do you have anything further to say about points raised by my opinion on the matter of Dee Model?’

‘I do indeed,’ said Wilde. ‘The court mentioned that the gynoid Dee Model had been constructed with the, ah, other party’s resources and efforts. I wish to raise a question about the ownership of those resources themselves. Because Dee Model’s body is a clone of the body of my late wife. This is obvious to me, and I challenge Reid to deny it.’