Part Five
"I don't understand," said Carmel. "What could IRA possibly get from being a mobile unit that it doesn't already have?! It has input from the entire world."
"Immediacy of presence," said Sharon.
* * *
After her visit to the computer research lab, Melody felt a need to speak with someone about the situation. Fortunately, Melody's husband John Adams Parker, aka Blackpool, was still in charge at the chemical repository. She asked Blackpool to take her along the next morning, when he went work. Her primary intent was to speak with the brain trust which had worked there to develop the series of quantum supercomputers, the latest of which was used by Aaron and his team. However, when she learned that Aaron was in his office at the repository she stopped by to speak with him first.
"Thanks in part to some of the inventions of empowered thinkers, early in the Twentieth Century, there are strict anti-slavery laws protecting artificial intelligences," said Aaron, after Melody told him about her conversation with IRA.
"I know all that," said Melody, with an impatient gesture. "I remember your people here going to great lengths to explain why Insight and its immediate predecessors were not sapient or even sentient, despite their impressive capabilities. However, in my opinion, this device is clearly both."
"Opinions are not evidence. Especially non-professional opinions. However, I will check into it. Rather, I will inform people who involve themselves in such situations as this one."
"I guess that'll do," said Melody, obviously disappointed.
"It will have to," said Aaron, firmly.
* * *
"I just found out that that reporter - Gundersen - is a friend of Malak!" said Simon. "We should have never let her in here! She has certainly told Malak about IRA by now! He'll come after us! He's notorious for protecting non-humans."
"No, not Malak," said Sharon, going pale. "We... we can't handle him!"
"Is this the way normal people feel about us?" said Carmel, wondering. "Wait, why would Malak come after us, anyway? We haven't done anything wrong!"
"She seems convinced that IRA should be protected under some archaic law created before the commercial use of semiconductors!" said Simon. "That we're slavers!"
"What if she's right?" said Sharon, concerned. "What if we really have created a slave?"
"We created IRA," said Carmel, firmly. "We are the ones who decide what to do with it. We're parents, not slavers."
* * *
"Well, looks like they've selected a new Pope," said Michael, unfolding the morning paper at breakfast and looking at the front page.
"They should have made me Pope," said Mannequin, wistfully. "I could be George Ringo I."
"Yeah, you're not even Catholic. Oh, and be careful who you make that joke around. Aaron's probably all right, but..."
"What joke?" said Mannequin, puzzled.
* * *
A visit to the quantum computer lab at the repository provided Melody with little satisfaction.
"We have to consider all aspects," said Multi.
"It's like the question of what to do about the Yellow Mountain in Soweto," said CornFed, obviously thinking of a recent example, even if it didn't exactly fit Melody's problem. "It's largely mine tailings, fine gravel, dust and sand. Any attempt at remediation will disturb the fragile pile. It's a health threat to everyone in the area, but given its physical nature any attempt to remove it without the right preparation will result in a huge dust plume."
"You could use one of those transport tunnels to move it to the Moon, or into space," said Melody, meaning the artificial "mountain." "Even if you can only handle part of it at a time you could take it out in several bites."
"Each bite would produce a cloud of dust," said Static, sadly.
"Yeah," said CornFed, nodding. "Until we can move the whole thing at once - and much further than our current range allows - Yellow Mountain stays where it is. Well, for us."
"We did develop a consolidating spray which would greatly cut down on the windblown dust," said Static. "However, neither the national nor local governments would let us use it. They said we would be aggravating the problem by applying an unapproved chemical. That it would probably cause health problems, including birth defects. In fact, they named many of the problems the remediation would address as reasons not to use our chemical!"
"The company which owns the site is all for it," said CornFed, tone and expression carefully neutral. "They already have a plan to remove the pile, but the amount of water this would require is excessive. The runoff would also greatly increase the river's pollution. Our spray would reduce both problems, by removing most of the need for wetting the dust. We're still negotiating."
"We're getting off-topic," said Melody, shaking her head. "What do we do about IRA?"
"We'll try to arrange for someone who is certified to make an evaluation to get in to talk to it," said CornFed. "Though from what you tell us about the researchers they might be difficult about that."
"That's the problem," said Multi, nodding. "If we already knew it was sapient we could easily get a court order. However, we don't know."
* * *
Aaron, indeed, held a press conference. Not just to follow Melody's advice, and not just to raise money for the clinic, but because the attacks against him were continuing and even increasing. Most involved clever "leaks" of lies and distortions. He felt that he needed to address these continuing annoyances - both physical and social - against his person. Before more bystanders got hurt, if for no other reason.
He held the conference on the steps at the front of the Haven courthouse. Aaron thought this informal setting might ease some of the criticisms. It didn't. In fact, a couple of hours before the scheduled time for the press conference there were people - strangers from out of town - walking a picket; much to the entertainment of the townspeople. When informed that his office was actually in the small building next to the courthouse they didn't believe this.
"That's not enough room!" one of the picketers shouted.
"Yeah, this is where he's holding his press conference!" came from another. "He must work out of this building!"
The Mayor, Theresa Brinkley, told her staff to quietly inform anyone with business which couldn't wait to use the rear entrance. Then had additional security personnel stationed inside every door to the outside. Since the courthouse normally didn't even need security, this meant reassigning every member of Haven's small police force, then deputizing volunteers to help the officers. The picketers didn't seem to notice the disruption they had caused.
Because of all this, Aaron decided to start early, walking over from his (small but actual) office. Only, when he moved to the podium the picketers and most of the reporters didn't know who he was! With a tired sigh, he transformed. Large, white wings sprouted from his lower back as his clothes transformed into stereotypical robes of vaguely biblical style. Aaron's hair became longer and even his shoes became sandals.
Once Malak's wings were out people recognized him, of course. Now having their attention, he began to speak. He didn't have problems with Adam Gibson, who fortunately wasn't even there. However, he had plenty of other things to worry about. Including misinformed critics.
At first the press conference went well. Malak spoke briefly of what the nearby clinic did and how they hoped to expand operations but needed more money to do so. However, when he opened the floor to questions he immediately was challenged with irrelevant criticisms.
"You refused to help find Emilie Farsyd!" someone shouted.
"She has been found and is back in touch with her parents," said Malak. "She was, in fact, found by the detective agency I recommended to her father."
The reporter just gaped.
"Try to keep up," said Malak, dryly, actually enjoying the man's confused expression.
"You have completely failed to address the controversy surrounding what you said in your Normandy address!" shouted another person, heedless.
The majority of those in the audience - which was mostly composed of reporters - looked uncomfortable. A few appeared irritated.
"What controversy?" Malak recognized the man. Adam Marshall. A minor politician striving to become a major one. In the worst way.
"You called the empowered who fought for our freedoms during WWII cowards!"
"No, I didn't."
"Now you're saying I'm a liar!"
"Since you're claiming - apparently knowingly - that I said something I didn't, yes. You're lying. Or perhaps merely mistaken."
Marshall was left momentarily speechless. He was obviously unused to someone speaking plainly to him.
"Instead of depending on hearsay about what I said, why don't you look at some of the actual news reports of the event?" said Malak, reasonably. "Through those you can find recordings of my actual speech. I believe there are also transcripts available."
"Where do you think I got this?! I heard you speak in your own words, in a recording made at the ceremony! You said the empowered who were at Normandy were cowards!"
"No, I didn't," said Malak. "If that's what you're getting from my speech, you're delusional."
The politician, appearing very angry, turned abruptly and stormed away. This action seemed to meet with approval from most of the reporters.
"Next question."
With that departure, and the first reporter being politely but firmly proven wrong, the rest of the conference went much more smoothly. Though far more of the subsequent reporting was on how Malak had dealt with those two than with the needs of the clinic. However, something else got far more attention than either of those.
Things were winding down when one of the picketers suddenly began shoving his way through the others and the reporters, moving rapidly towards Malak. This wasn't just someone being rude; people were hurt by the man's applications of strength and speed.
Malak was instantly wary. This wouldn't be the first time a scheduled public appearance by someone empowered was used as an opportunity for attack. It wouldn't even be the first time this had happened to Malak. As a precaution, he took to the air, wings beating hard.
The man raised his left arm, and something shot from that towards the angelic figure. Malak dodged to his right, and felt a sharp pain as some sort of lance pierced his left wing.
This was not a serious injury. However, the bolt was too deeply embedded to simply shake out and neither did healing himself remove it. Also, the man was still pointing his left arm at Malak.
Malak materialized a shield between himself and the strange man. This was just in time; another bolt thudded into the shield and partially penetrated it. Unlike Malak's spears these were actual, physical objects, and remained where they stuck. Speaking of which...
The other people in the crowd had run far enough by now to make a clear area around the attacker. Malak manifested a spear and tossed it at the man. It bounced away, detonating in the air above the heads of the people in the area. As the strange man tracked Malak with his fist, obviously preparing to launch another bolt, the angelic figure manifested another spear. The bolt hurtled into the shield, again partially penetrating, as the spear's point grew brighter and brighter.
Just before the attacker could launch still another bolt, Malak struck. He did not throw the spear at the man, but at the ground beside him. The man was hurled to one side by the explosion.
Malak had thought that the attacker was an empowered man, possible augmented by technology. However, as Malak landed he saw that his opponent was not actually human. Clothing and artificial skin had been torn away by the indirect effects of the blast, revealing mechanisms beneath. As the android struggled to rise, Malak manifested another shield and brought this down on the back of its neck, separating the head from the body. He watched warily for a moment; some such devices actually had the brains either in the torso or distributed. This didn't appear to be one of those, though.
The bolt in his wing dropped to the ground as Malak became Aaron. He transformed almost absent-mindedly, most of his attention on his attacker. Frowning, he poked at the construct with the butt of another of his manifested spears. Slowly, the crowd regathered, though they kept their distance.
* * *
Melody heard about the attack, and got Blackpool to take her to Haven as soon as that could be arranged. Since the Empowered Matters Agency - which he worked for - had to investigate the event, anyway, this was arranged quite quickly.
While her husband began by interviewing witnesses, Melody headed directly to Aaron's office, next to the town's courthouse. She suspected he'd be there, instead of at his home, since he would consider the attack to be town business. Indeed, there she found Aaron staring, unblinking, at the remains of the android. It was laid out on the sturdy table in the meeting room of the small structure.
"Are you all right?" she said, concerned, when he didn't react to her entry.
Malak stirred himself at this stimulus.
"Eh? Oh, yes. Just lost in thought."
"I wasn't even sure you were breathing!"
"You're right," said Aaron, with a shrug. "I wasn't actually holding my breath. I just wasn't breathing. I was intently focusing on this... thing."
"Oh..." said Melody, a bit confused. "Uh..."
"I once had someone explain some of my abilities by saying that I was an opportunistic everything," said Aaron, with a slight smile. "There are, as an example, organisms which don't need oxygen but can use it. I believe they are called opportunistic aerobes. I don't need air, but can use it. I don't need food, but can use it. I don't need sleep, but can use it."
"Ah..." said Melody, in a tone of revelation. She smiled. "Oh, and you definitely need sleep. Just less than most people."
"Anyway, this thing," he indicated the android, "is far beyond the state of the art. I was... contemplating the ramifications of that."
"So you're saying it was designed by an empowered genius."
"Designed and built. The technologies involved in its construction are also beyond what is considered currently possible."
"I'd ask if you had any enemies, but then I'd be here all day," said Melody, trying to joke about the situation.
"There may be difficulty finding its source," said Aaron, sounding resigned as he turned back to the mechanism. "The creator of this... device may not even know what it was intended for."
"Somehow... it doesn't seem like the other recent attacks against you. Though it was as resistant to your powers as the monsters at Normandy."
"A collaboration, perhaps." Aaron shrugged. "For both of those attacks. They show a combination of effects, likely specialized achievements by separate empowered geniuses, combined by a mastermind. If so, then when we find one of the people involved, we may find them all."
"That's optimistic," said Melody, dourly. "You still need to find at least one of the people involved."
"It's what we have."
"Well, besides you and your brain trust, Blackpool and the Empowered Matters Agency are working on this specific assault. As well as some of the other troubles you've had, lately."
"This is not the way I want to be spending my time," said Aaron, sounding irritated.
"What would you rather be doing?" said Melody.
"Flying," he replied, with a wistful sigh. "Banking off the northeast winds. Skipping over the ocean like a stone."
"That... does sound rather idyllic."
"Meanwhile, though, I must work on this assault."