A Fire in Their Eyes #159

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"That was before." Crow said. "I got a call from one of the few people on the technologist side of things who will talk to me anymore, a guy over in Washington, and he told me things were looking really bad at the closed hearings."

 

"The senate hearing on Green Eyes?"

 

"Yeah." Crow said. "Word is the naturalist hard liners have three-fourths of the votes, and most of the rest don't care one way or the other. Nobody likes a machine getting uppity."

 

"How long?" Rebecca asked quietly. "How long before they do something?"

 

"Couple days." Crow said. "It's going to be a media circus one way or the other. This isn't the sort of thing they'll sweep under the rug. They'll go all out and wipe him right there inside the courthouse. That is, if they just wipe him. They might scrap heap him after all the trouble."

 

"That's bullshit!" Rebecca said. "They said they'd wipe him at least, put him back where he was before. I mean, if he's just a machine like they say, then punishing him like a criminal is against everything they're saying." She was starting to cry. "Can't they even follow their own fucking principles?"

 

Crow set an uncomfortable hand on her shoulder, hesitated, and then drew her close in a hug he hoped helped a little. "He's a symbol now. Symbols get held up or burned down, they don't get the straight and narrow treatment."

 

Rebecca sobbed and collapsed onto Crow, who grunted in surprise and pulled away at first and the tucked her close. He made inarticulate noises intended to comfort and a darkness blurred his eyes as he recalled that the last time he had done such a thing was over a scraped knee of Alexander a month ago. After a few moments she pulled away and rubbed hard at her eyes, apparently trying to will away the residue of the outburst.

 

"But the bright side is that he might be willing to run now." Crow suggested gently. "If staying doesn't accomplish the effect, there's no reason not to run is there?"

 

Rebecca snorted and seemed to consider crying again before venting the excess emotion into anger instead. "Bastard wants to be a martyr. He'll probably give them tips on how to hang the rope to look better for the cameras when the lynching comes. 'Sometimes it takes a great injustice to mobilize the righteous.' That's the type of crap he spouts at me whenever we get talking about it. He's too dense to get that dead is dead, whether it's just or not."

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A place for the assorted ramblings and fiction of Steven Lloyd Wilson, but to be more specific:
  • Burning Violin: A weekly column, posted every Friday.
  • Singed Couplets: Shorter and more informal pieces put up semi-irregularly with highly unpredicatable frequency.
  • A Fire in Their Eyes: A science fiction novel about the rise of artificial intelligence in the near future. The rough equivalent of 2 print pages is published Mon, Tue, Wed, Thu each week.
  • Katorga: A science fiction novel crossing Heinlein with Solzhenitsyn. Available for purchase in either trade paperback or for the Kindle. If you buy it, I get to eat this week.

About this Entry

This page contains a single entry by Steven Lloyd Wilson published on January 11, 2010 6:00 AM.

A Fire in Their Eyes #158 was the previous entry in this blog.

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