FICTION: "A Little Bitty Bigger World" (cont)

[drewkitty]

The CHP lifter dropped me off at State Park HQ. This was not for my convenience. I had not been released from the incident; I was a witness after the fact; and last but not least, there was a State Parks owned electric bicycle and a lifter harness to return to cache.

Park HQ was crowded. A set of barrier tape hung in mid-air to attempt to give some privacy. Several stunningly well dressed men and women approached me to ask questions as soon as I stepped away from the lifter.

I ignored their questions until one of them had the audacity to step in my way. At that point, I met his eye and growled "Privacy."

He hastily stepped back, startled and a little shocked. Apparently the newsies think that everyone wants their twenty seconds of fame on channel umpteen-thousand-whatever. But personal privacy laws have teeth, and I just plain was not in the mood to deal with it.

Another plastic personality -- not literally, just an amazingly overdressed goon -- stepped forward.

"Are you on duty within the definition of _People vs. In Re King_?"

This one fancied himself a lawyer. He saw that I was carrying State Parks gear and had just stepped off a law enforcement lifter. Ergo, I must be a cop.

"No," I answered immediately and truthfully, because that precedent applied to peace officers in course and scope of employment -- including reservist activation -- and I had identified myself as a volunteer ranger and SAR tech. A fine distinction that had the potential to get very interesting.

Then I thought about certain implications of getting jiggy with a smartgun.

"Let me take that back. Possibly. Your legal software and mine can duke it out; right now I need to go return state property."

He gaped a little and I took great pains to make sure that I did not bring the bike anywhere near him as I walked past. Personal battery versus a blocking path charge could end up with instant re-play from three angles with expert commentary. Again, completely not in the mood to go there.

The barrier tape obediently wafted over my head as I approached it. Not anti-gravity -- still a trick confined to the lab -- but a combination of a static charge and micro aerostats.

The family was still there, of course. However, a very stiff-faced detective was using his smartware to read one of the older men his rights.

The area was covered in police and ranger bots, plus a medic bot or two.

Outside the barrier type, licensed media bots jostled for the best vantage points.

This was going to get ugly.

"You are in fact accused of a crime against person under the Cairo Protocol. This accusation has been made by a magistrate. You have the right to local jurisprudence. You have the right to extradition and trial by global authority. The crime against person of which you are accused is an atrocious felony. You are required to remain silent. If you do not remain silent, force will be used to assure your silence and protect your right against self-incrimination. If you understand, nod your head."

The man opened his mouth and took breath. I winced. As he started to speak, a surge of electrical energy passed through him, cutting off whatever he had been about to say.

The detective began again, "Sir, you are in fact accused of a crime against person under the Cairo Protocol. This accusation has been made by a magistrate..."

There was only one category of crime which enforced silence on the accused. I resignedly brought up the incident timeline on my holographic display, invisible to everyone but me, and perhaps the detective if he were looking and cared.

The incident type had changed from "Search and Rescue" to "Search and Recovery. Recovered 1042. Deceased 1115."

I walked past the detective, opened the cache, and started taking off the rescue harness. I racked it, making sure it was in contact with the charger. I did the same with the electric bike. Neither item was of any particular evidence value.

Sometime in that half hour, while I had sat on a log and admired the ruin I had made in a protected heritage forest, Billy had thought his last thought, covered in his own personal forest of machines, each doing its part to try to offset the horrendous damage of a fall that could have been a hundred feet [30 meters] (grr) or more.

I hoped there had been a person with him somewhere in there. I really hoped that I hadn't been the last human hand to touch him, the last contact with another person.

I closed the cache and one of the family members approached me, the question obvious in her eyes. I caught the eye of the State Parks ranger in the corner and he meaningfully shook his head. No, I was not to speak to them.

So I went over to him and he shook my hand.

"Thank you, Alan, your efforts are appreciated. I think we have everything we need, you are free to go."

I dutifully grasped the offered hand, let go of it, and turned to leave. The detective flagged me down.

"Anderson? You're qualified for transport, yes?"

I reluctantly nodded. The detective was going to have a lot of work to do, and there were specific rules about how persons accused of major felony matters were to be transported.

"Back in a second," I muttered and ducked around a corner to remove the smartgun from my backpack and clip its holster to my pants. The bracelets on both my wrists changed to alternating black and white, a zebra formation that under other circumstances would be almost pretty.

Having changed roles to reserve corrections officer, I came back to the detective and to his prisoner.

"I have one for transport, California Superior Courthouse at San Jose, time 1145 hours. Do you accept this charge?"

"I do," I said formally. I then approached the man, who was shaking now from repeated and automated applications of the stunner that kept him from speaking.

"It is my duty to take you from this place and immediately to a magistrate. You will walk to the nearest capsule, right now. If you do not, you will be stunned and carried by bots."

Please, sir. Please don't start walking towards that capsule. Please.

He saw the absolutely sincere desire in my eyes, shivered, and clumsily started walking towards the slidewalk.

The moment we crossed the barrier tape, the reporters stopped and watched us in silence. There was no point asking him questions he could not answer. My duty now prohibited me from loitering for any reason, let alone to answer questions.

So it was in silence with the occasional click or whirr from a bot that we walked, myself two paces behind and to one side, first to the slidewalk and then to the nearest capsule.

The people who had been waiting for it hastily stepped back. A man was already seated inside.

I motioned to him. He shook his head.

Really.

"Sir, under magistrate authority this capsule is commandeered for public service. Please leave the capsule now."

He slowly stretched, stood up, and sat back down again.

What was it with people today?

Another capsule was nearby. I used subvocalization to hold and clear it.

I sent a police bot into the malcontent's capsule to accompany him. The capsule door closed as he shouted, "Hey!"

I subvocalized "PC 148(a)(1) misdemeanor, transport to Santa Cruz County Courthouse, cite and release."

It changed colors to black and white and departed.

I then indicated the reserved capsule to my prisoner -- also now colored black and white -- and he stumbled to it. People were now giving both of us -- and the six police bots escorting us -- a very wide berth.

We both entered the capsule and he sat down heavily. I subvocalized departure commands; the capsule complied; and the scenery started racing by.

I opened an emergency compartment and removed two bottles of water, offering them to the suspect. He took one, opened it and drank. He then started to say something again and I took pity on him, now that we were out of public view.

"SHUT! UP!" I shouted, and startled him sufficiently that he complied.

"Sir, you are under felony arrest for an atrocious crime. I'm going to spell this out for you really clearly. If you try to talk, or to communicate with others, you will be immediately shocked. If you keep trying you will be stunned. There is nothing at all you can say right now that can make anything better for you. That is why the law says you're not allowed to talk. I can't turn off the shocker or stunner, and if I tried, I'd be committing a felony by trying.

"If you are sick of getting shocked, nod your head, OK?"

I hadn't said anything the detective hadn't said to him repeatedly, but I was saying it in a totally different way -- exasperated and in plain language.

He nodded. He looked pale. I double checked a readout on my display, subvocalized a request, and spoke to him again.

"I am monitoring your vital signs and you do not appear to be in medical danger. I am a licensed paramedic. Even so, I just requested a doctor to meet us when we arrive at San Jose and he will privately speak with you and confirm my assessment. You can only speak to him about your health.

"My job is to keep you safe, protect your rights and get you to the courthouse.

"You cannot and must not speak to anyone for any reason, except public and private counsel and a doctor. If there is something you would like to know, too bad, you'll have to wait. If there is something you need for your comfort, you can use the pictograms on the display to indicate your need, and I will do what I can to provide it.

"We are on maximum priority so the ride to San Jose will take eleven minutes. Court appointed counsel will meet you when we arrive. You can talk to him or her freely. You cannot and must not talk to anyone else. The public counsel will help you contact or obtain private counsel.

"Just nod your head again."

He nodded, turned to the screen, and tapped the pictogram for "Where am I going?"

I replied, "You are going to the California Superior Courthouse at San Jose. We will be there in just over ten minutes."

He looked at the limited list of pictograms and did not find one that said anything like "Why?" or "What have I been arrested for?" or "What the hell is going on, and why does a bot shock me whenever I start to say anything?"

He tapped the pictogram for "I'm cold."

I subvocalized to turn up the capsule interior temperature to eighty-five degrees. He may have thought that he'd controlled the thermostat directly. If so he'd be wrong.

The capsule raced into the tube system at Scotts Valley and became a lot faster. At maximum priority the capsule was treated the same as a ground ambulance.

He started to say something again and I raised my hands at him and growled, then put my own hand over my lips.

He subsided.

I took a sip from my own bottle of water. I looked at him again and took another sip.

He took a sip from his water.

Mirroring. A technique for getting someone to comply who was in no mood to comply. In other words, monkey see, monkey do.

At this speed the outside was a blur. "Classical music," I said, with no need to subvocalize, and the capsule began to play a carefully selected instrumental piece. A panel of judges had reviewed each musical piece authorized for playing during atrocious felony prisoner transport.

The prisoner had just started to relax when the capsule smoothly slid to a halt, the door opened, and an elderly woman with a cane stood near the doorway.

"Mr. Liberman, I am Counsel Acosta, and I am the public counsel assigned to your case. Please step out of the capsule and I can answer all your questions."

He looked at me fearfully and I nodded. The police bots huddled out of the way to let him pass. The counsel looked at me about as much as she looked at the bots, which is to say, not at all.

Once he left the capsule -- into a carefully neutral private lounge with a table, low chairs and no windows -- the capsule sealed and sent me on my way. My task was done. Accused, meet lawyer, in a secure environment from which escape was virtually impossible.

The zebra bands faded from my bracelets and I took the smartgun off my belt and put it away in my backpack. The capsule dumped me at the next public drop point and took itself and the bots out of service. A brief memory download, the bots assigned to other duties, the emergency compartment re-stocked, and it would be back in service.

I decided to wander the corridors a bit. Nowhere in particular, just walking.

There had once been a time when a person accused of a truly serious crime would be tortured, or interrogated, or "questioned" in the hopes of getting them to admit some version of the truth of what had actually happened.

Comments

[drewkitty]

Corridor walking is sometimes considered a sport or a hobby, closely related to hiking or geocaching.

Yes, geocaches are still everywhere, and vandalized on a regular basis, but people still use them and consider it part of the challenge.

I personally consider corridor walking to be part of asserting my rights. Much as the US Navy would once send ships through disputed waters to prove that they were international territory, I will walk through corridors just because I can.

You don't quite need a law degree to corridor walk without getting in trouble, but it can get complicated.

Public corridors are open to absolutely everybody. That is why they are public. However, the one thing you can't do in a corridor is loiter, which is defined as staying still for a certain amount of time without a justified reason.

In a major public corridor, that time period is about an hour, more or less. In a small public corridor serving private residences, that time period is about five to eight minutes. Not ten.

So where do you go when you want to just hang out? The great thing about an arcology, however crowded, is that there is always somewhere new and cool to go.

Public parks and spaces have an eight hour dwell time, and sleeping is perfectly OK - although you may get checked on by a police or ranger bot, and if you're an illegal, it's a fast way to get into custody. Public toilets have a thirty minute dwell time, again unless you have a justified reason, and no sleeping.

Camping facilities are set up for anywhere between twenty-four hours ("a night") and twenty-one days at most. For example, the "primitive" camping in Big Basin is popular, so only one night stays are permitted without reservation, and the maximum reservation is five days, which you would want to get about a year out.

The thirty day mark is where one gets into discussions of tenancy, leaseholds, adverse possession, non-payment of rent, taxation, mortgages, and the kind of complexities that boggle lawyer bots.

There are a few exceptions. The Long Term Visitor Areas of San San are designed for three to six month stays without tenancy; note that a tourist visa is typically six months on the dot. There are numerous former military sites which are legally 'abandoned,' which means that you can't be made to leave but you also can't create any legal right of ownership by occupancy. Leave to shop for groceries and you may find that you have lost your spot no matter how many years you've had it.

The San Francisco Bay Authority gets in titanic legal fights with people who live aboard boats or on structures over navigable waters, and it's about 50/50 whether the liveaboard loses their boat without recompense or wins substantial damages with which to buy a much nicer replacement boat. (Either way, they do lose the boat - "rogue bot" and Bay Authority enforcement bot being synonymous.)

But most people are not like me. They like to live in their own cubic, surrounded by people either mostly like them or not at all like them, and some people like to live in a LOT of cubic. Try six thousand square feet for one person.

If there's one thing an arcology has, it's cubic.

We cram an awful lot of people into San San. If we hadn't gone vertical, there wouldn't be much of anything left.

So in my corridor walk, I passed through:

-- a shopping district
-- a wealthy neighborhood where the police bots were at maximum density and tended to scan everyone but me a lot
-- a public park full of bleary-eyed addicts sleeping off the previous night's binges
-- a warehouse complex with commuters going off shift to go home
-- a genetic control node full of flowering plants and warning labels ... "This area may at times contain allergenic agents known to cause serious injury and even death. If you need assistance, medic bots are on duty at all times."
-- a public kitchen complex, most of the kitchens in use as people made tortillas, cooked on woks, baked bread, and otherwise turned foodstuffs into food
-- a courthouse complex; the one I had just left in fact; where the public still had the sacred right to enter any courthouse and hear any case -- and security bots tracked my every move, because even peace officers are not permitted to bring weapons into a courtroom without explicit authority from the magistrate or a proper legal duty
--- a public storage where citizens could check small personal items, free if one were going to court
-- a pawn shop at which one could buy and sell small personal items
-- a racing complex where one could enjoy several grades of VR simulators at a price ranging from free to mildly extortionate; or race "real" (electric) racecars on an actual trackway for truly larcenous prices

Interspersed throughout were public rest areas, public toilets, water fountains, small kiosks selling just about everything you can imagine, public food dispensers, communications nodes, bot rentals, and other utter necessities of daily life. Plus innumerable slidewalks and accesses to the capsule system.

I munched a burrito from a public food dispenser as I walked. I filled my water bottle from my backpack as convenient and drained it the same way.

"Warning: you are entering an adult area. Children are not permitted beyond this point."

The audio warning was backed up by signage, halfway through a public park. This was the other half of the public park, and was reserved for the purposes which a jaded imagination might suggest.

A high low tone sounded in my smartware again.

Two in one day? This is special. Either call volume is really high, or I'm very unlucky.

"Human response required. Unusual event resolution, Willow Glen Park, Adult Only Area, Level Eight Relaxation Area Five Two."

Unusual event resolution. Great. The bots had something they didn't know how to handle, that was not clearly illegal but posed a potential danger to persons.

I followed my smartware's directions and crossed about a mile in two minutes. Slidewalks can do that, if you don't mind hanging on to the handle.

Several police bots were confronting a crowd of mostly naked people. A ranger bot hovered over all, muttering "Too many people are in this area. Please reduce crowd density in this area" in a standard crowd-control pattern. Lots of slidewalks offered ready departure, but somehow the slidewalks weren't delivering new arrivals.

Except me, and all the humans turned to start glaring at me as I stepped off the slidewalk.

"This is a legal recreational event in adult space!" one shouted at me.

I shrugged. "Hey, I just got here. I have no idea what's going on."

A police bot had stunned someone who was lying on the grass. He started to gain consciousness, thought better of it, vomited and passed out again. I pulled up a patient care graphic from long habit. Airway clear, no internal bleeding.

One of the angry people was screaming at the bot in language that would make a sailor blush. Apparently she was upset that the police bot had stunned one of her several very temporary partners of the moment.

I started to sit down on the grass and immediately thought better of it. I've been immmunized to just about every pathogen you're going to find in a city like San San, but I'm still a tad fastidious.

So I sat on a wireframe bench instead and pulled up a holo, video analytics, and subvocalized a command to the police bot network to the effect of, "What unusual event?"

The system showed me, with a scrolling warning against personal video capture for unauthorized use. I could see why.

And now I could see the problem.

Let's pretend that six people are ... massaging each other. That's nice and neutral, right? And the happy recipient of most of the attention is suddenly receiving some more attention from a seventh person, apparently not known to the recipient. But she's OK with this. One of the other massage participants is surprised and says something challenging. A passing police bot interprets the interloper's actions as questionable and asks if anyone would like assistance. The massage ... recipient... is too busy to answer. The new partner does not answer. The surprised partner does, in the affirmative.

So the police bot stuns and drags away the apparent interloper.

This is all the fault of the police bot, of course.

So I step forward and set my personal PA to "cook small birds in treetops" volume.

"GOOD MORNING. DOES ANYONE WANT TO PRESS CRIMINAL CHARGES AGAINST ANYONE?"

A lot of glances back and forth. I am not the only one using smartware to review video. Under normal conditions, you're entitled to run video and audio of anything your eyes and ears would otherwise observe, 360 degrees and surround sound of course. So can the one bot each person is entitled to own.

The man regaining consciousness is in no real position to make any reply. He is however the most offended party. I re-check the patient care graphic. He's fine, but he'll want that liver looked at in the next few months.

The participants in the informal slippery massage concur that they have no beef.

I turn the volume down on the PA to a more normal level. "You, in the knee high purple stockings, I just reviewed video of you asking a police bot for assistance. The gentleman it stunned is probably going to have some words with you once he recovers a bit more."

Predictably, this sets off a shouting match among the participants of the erstwhile orgy, mostly to the effect of "what a doofus." They depart in different directions while purple-stockings confronts me.

"That's a lie!"

I blink at him. "Which part? The part where you asked the police bot for assistance?"

"I never did that! What are you trying to do, get me lynched!"

Sure enough, a lot of people are angry with purple-stockings, and most of them have to take my word for it, because I pulled the video using a law enforcement priority and they can't.

"Just doing my civic duty."

"You can take your civic duty and ...." I privately agreed with his colorful anatomic assessment. That is indeed where I'd like to stick my civic duty for a while, then visit a public toilet and flush vigorously.

But we are in public and he is trying to call me out. The participants in fun are leaving, more or less hastily. The people who flocked to watch the drama are excited.

I murmur a command and my backpack locks itself. Nobody is getting anything out of it without some very sophisticated cutting or hacking equipment.

I back away and he follows me. I direct the police bots to back away and go to maximum observation. They do the electronic equivalent of grumbling but comply.

The man is pretty upset. He knows he did something stupid, not just by the informal rules of the game he was playing, but under civil and possibly criminal law. Tricking a police bot into hurting someone is not that far off from doing it yourself. However, I've noticed that the stun-ee has not been taken away by his friends and has been callously left where he fell.

So I back off a bit more. He resumes screaming at me, calling me a liar and a prude and all sorts of amusing names, given that he doesn't know anything at all about me.

Then he lunges at me and I shout "PERSONAL CONDUCT WAIVER!" just before the bots collectively pounce. They buzz away frustrated as I dodge out of the way and he does a pratfall on the soft, slippery psuedo-grass.

"I'm not into wrestling, buddy, thanks for offering but I am not interested," I say quietly as he gets to his feet. "No."

Only the personal conduct waiver has saved him from a nice stunning. I subvocalize for a particular view type on my smartware, deliberately turn away and walk towards the first stun-ee.

The rear view shows him getting up, tensing his muscles, and lunging at me with his arms raised. I side-step as he goes past, just before he would have collided with me.

This time he keeps his feet.

"That's twice I've said no. No and no. Let me try this again. No."

Apparently he really badly wants to get himself stunned. The bots won't do it since I invoked a personal conduct waiver. I'm not going to do it because I refuse to give him the satisfaction. I can dodge him basically all day.

So he rushes me a third time and I step out of the way a third time, in the opposite direction from what he was expecting. He overbalances and falls down.

The crowd applauds.

He stands, his face darkens, and he points a finger at me as if scolding a naughty child...

Oh shit.

The threat display on my smartware lights and flickers all in an instant, "Energy projector, slammer, full power, LETHAL."

The police bots give him the stunning he has been begging for, from all directions simultaneously.

I can state categorically that yes, he fell as trees do. Thud.

I lower my left wrist, as I was about to do the same thing.

"Charges?"

"Assault with a deadly weapon. Waive performance of duties enhancement. Recommend civil intelligence hearing. Flag police bot request for possible proxy violation. Transport for medical evaluation."

Obviously his implanted projector is going to be disabled. He's probably not going to get it back, either.

I go over to the first stun-ee as the second is being taken away.

"What happened?" he asks blearily.

I sympathize a little. But not much.

"Review your smartware, citizen. Your conduct was mistaken for an assault by a police autonomous drone, after being flagged by a third party. Him."

I gesture to the man being carried peacefully away by police bots.

Party over, the crowd starts to disperse.

I do the same. Except this time, I tell my smartware to give me a path.

I want a safe place to relax, sip some iced tea, admire a view and not have to _do_ anything.

Two minutes later, I am up in a view tower overlooking the Arcology. My feet are being massaged, an iced tea is in my hand, I am admiring the mountains from afar, and I am peacefully, blissfully alone with my status firmly tagged OUT OF SERVICE.

I still had to give my thumbprint for the addictive substance exposure. Nothing is perfect, even in San San.