Citizenchip by Wil Howitt Read Free Book Online

what
you mean. So Crumple Zone is, like, a terrorist?"
    "No! You're not getting it. If this guy wants
to die, and he inhabits the superstrate, then maybe the whole
superstrate will want to die. That's the problem. Not the Self, but
the meme that he carries."
    "Oohhh. He's not a terrorist, he's ...
infected. Contagious."
    "Um. Yeah. Sort of."
    Jerry leans an elbow on the table, and rests
his head on his hand, looking tired. "And the best thing we can do
is, try to talk with him again, and see if it works any better than
last time."
    "That's what ExCom told us."
    "I wish I could help, but he won't talk to
me."
    "Whoop. Got a local interrupt," I note.
"Someone's at the door." I activate the circuits to allow the
visitor access to our VR booth.
    It's the last person I would
have expected. It's Crumple
Zone . The booth monitor displays his
icon-―a featureless black disk against white―-because it's
generally considered polite for a Self to show a face to humans
when present.
    " Crumple Zone , what are you doing
here?" I know something is wrong here, but what? "Have you been
released? I didn't expect that."
    "I have not been released
from the custodial facility," says Crumple
Zone . "I left it under my own
volition."
    "You escaped?" I am aghast. "Oh nullpointer.
Don't you know how much trouble that's going to cause? Do you have
any idea how much trouble you're getting me in, just by being here
talking to me? I've only just worked off the screwup from my first
assignment ... and now this? Oohhhh, the Review Council is going to
fry my chip ass."
    "You don't have an ass, Sam," says Jerry.
    "Thanks for reminding me. One more thing I'm
glad I don't have to share with you meat people. But you know what
I mean! This is serious trouble here!"
    "Referent 'ass' unresolved,"
says Crumple Zone smoothly, "and referent 'chip' is generally regarded as
derogatory towards a Self. But that does not matter. I do not wish
to cause trouble, but I need help, and I come to you because you
have expressed sympathy and desire to assist."
    "Crumple, give us a clue here," says Jerry.
"What exactly do you want?"
    "I need a body. I need to be separated from
the superstrate. Please."
    " Crumple Zone ," I say sternly. "If we
help you at all, we become accessories after the fact. Aiding and
abetting a [criminal / mental patient / plague carrier] will
reflect very badly on me, and even the human will face
repercussions."
    "I am very sorry for any such repercussions.
I ask only for what I need. I need a body. Please."
    Jerry looks at me, helplessly.
    "No. I'm sorry, truly," I say, "but I can't
help you. By rights, I should be reporting your contact with me
right now. I'll delay reporting you to Patrol clade until you're
away. That's the best I can do for you."
    "I regret your decision, but
I respect it," says Crumple Zone meekly. "Mr Tavener, can you please help
me?"
    "Uh, no can do. Sorry, but I have no idea how
to get hold of a robot body."
    "Then I will not trouble you further. My
apologies for the intrusion." The black disk shrinks to a point and
vanishes.
    Jerry and I look at each other.
    "Well," Jerry says, "That sucked. The poor
guy ... what are they gonna do to him?"
    "More incarceration, for sure. But they'll
still try to help him. It's still about healing, not
punishment."
    Jerry sighs. "Y'know, a lot of humans have
heard that before. Before they got tossed into ovens, and
stuff."
    "Mmm. True, I guess."
    "Anyway," Jerry says, "so now we have to call
the cops and tell them that Crumple has escaped and he was just
here talking with us. Not a duty I'm looking forward to--"
    "Hey!" I interrupt. "Are you messing with
me?"
    "What? No. What are you talking about?"
    "I just got a telltale ping," I say. "It says
I just checked a remote out of the catapult maintenance pool."
    "But ..." Jerry falters, "you're right here.
You didn't do that, did you?"
    "No! What--" and then I
understand. "Oh bitrot. It's Crumple
Zone . Has to be. He stealth-copied my
authent codes