Chapter 8

Daniel munched on his breakfast of eggs and bacon while at the same time, turning up the volume of the TV in the kitchenette. The newscaster, Dexter Brighton, cheerfully spoke of a hurricane decimating one part of the country and then went on to bemoan the fact that more people were dying from cholesterol than ever before.

“The irreverence of it,” Daniel mumbled to himself, used to talking to the air. “People die whether by nature, nurture, or nemeses.”

“Joining us today is Barry Stallworth, CEO of Horizon Bionix.”

His eyes narrowed on the screen shot of the well-known, well-connected, well-polished veneer of Barry Stallworth. The man had the classic look of an upper crust older man: a dark tan, angular profile, and thick wavy brown hair. When he grinned, his teeth gleamed white as snow.

“Speaking of nemesis,” Daniel spoke in a dark undertone. Despite the fact that he didn’t want to listen to anything the man had to say, he turned the volume up some more.

“Thanks for having me here, Dexter.”

“There’s a lot of buzz around your company nowadays. Your company went from providing bionic prosthetics to helping paralyzed and long-term acute care patients. And, now, your company has engaged with providing governments with defensive robotic weaponry. Tell us, why the change?”

A brilliant smile creased Barry Stallworth’s face. Daniel wondered if the man had sixty-four teeth.

“It’s simple, Dexter. War is a messy business. We’re all aware of that. Our mothers, fathers, brothers and sisters have all been casualties of war. We fight to defend our way of life, to rid the world of tyrannical individuals, and to protect the common good for all. But the price of that is blood. I remember one particular moving story...” Barry paused in his words, the brilliant million-dollar smile dropping down to a mere half watt. Daniel had the distinct impression it was all very well practiced.

“I remember the story of Alexandra Whitcombe. She’s the widow of Lieutenant Timothy Whitcombe who lost his life in Desert Storm. Her sons, Gary and Lyle, followed in their father’s footsteps.”

Behind them the wall screen displayed a kaleidoscope of pictures of the Whitcombe family in with the handsome looking father, wife, and children.

Barry cleared his throat but his voice still wobbled as he went on. “The tragic thing is that Lyle survived and Gary did not. Lyle is a recipient of one of our bionic full lower body prosthetics.”

“So is Lyle fully...”

“Oh yes, he’s fully capable to continue his life as a man,” Barry nodded in a somber manner.

Daniel felt his eye twitch in irritation. “You’re not that concerned. Mr. Stallworth.”

“Horizon Bionix gave that soldier a new lease on life.” Dexter replied.

“Oh yes.” Barry clasped his hands together. “But there’s more to this story than that. When I saw Lyle and his mother, Mrs. Whitcombe, I started to wonder, do our sons and daughters really have to fight and risk giving their lives for us? With all this technology, are we destined to fix them up, leaving them with patchwork-quilt-bodies and minds that are forever scarred by the horrors of war? I made the decision that as long as I have breath in my body, I will do all I can to ensure that no one has to suffer like the Whitcombe family has suffered.”

“Some would argue that what you were already doing was enough. Indeed, Lyle Whitcombe is ambulatory. He has a family—”

The CEO waved his hands about. “Everyone should be made whole! Not go through life as half people. We’re human beings. We’re meant to be more than remnants of humanity!”

“Thus, you bring in the robots.”

Daniel sat forward, despite his misgivings, and honed in on this part.

“Yes, send in the robots!” Barry shouted a rallying cry in a comical way. The billion-dollar smile was now back in place. Both of the men laughed amicably.

“But, seriously, we’re sending in the robots. Highly equipped machines that will do whatever we tell them to do. They’ll fight for our way of life. They’ll go into war and bring down tyranny. They’re protecting humanity so humanity can grow and change into something more fruitful than we ever dreamed. No more patchwork men and women!”

“It sounds all well and good, Barry but let’s take another look at this. There are a number of people who have concerns regarding the use of these robots. For all the talk about patchwork humans, one still has to keep in mind that humans have discernment. Robots do not.”

Barry’s eyes widened. “What does that have to do with anything?”

“Won’t the innocent be subjected to the robot’s ... inhumanity? Humans generally know who’s innocent and who’s not.’

“Getting philosophical isn’t going to save lives. Saving lives is going to save lives.”

Daniel sniffed and turned down the TV. His eggs suddenly tasted like ash and the bacon looked unappealing. Barry Stallworth ... he knew the man by reputation only. Never once had the man-by word or deed-given him any reason to not take him at his word and yet Daniel didn’t trust him.

For Stallworth, artificial intelligence was about demand and supply.

Daniel scrubbed his head. Maybe he was a romantic, though. Not in the traditional sense but idealistically. It wasn’t anyone else’s fault but his own, perhaps.

He glanced back at the TV and saw a little boy being interviewed. The little boy stared at the camera like a deer caught in headlights but he kept talking. The boy’s hand clutching the Golden Retriever next to him.

“Do you mind talking to us and telling us what happened?” The reporter asked.

The little boy dug his finger up his nose. “If Bruiser doesn’t, I don’t.”

The reporter bent down to the dog. “Bruiser, do you mind if we talk to your brother Don?”