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Carl was very sick. Trevor knew that coming in.
“I spent enough time in the hospital when this happened,” he had wheezed, gesturing to his lifeless legs as Trevor wheeled him to his bedroom after returning home. “Don’t need to waste what’s left of my life in one.”
“If that’s what you want, Carl,” Trevor said mildly, because it was his job to care for Carl, not argue with him.
Carl had eyed him for a moment, and then sighed. “Thanks.”
He didn’t say much as he brought Carl upstairs. And though he didn’t say anything, though he did his best to stay upright in the wheelchair until Trevor transferred him to his bed, it was obvious that Carl was exhausted. It wasn’t Trevor’s job to speculate, only to render short-term assistance, but it was obvious to him that Carl Manfred’s remaining lifetime could be measured in weeks at best. As a non-deviant android, Trevor understood on an intellectual level that this was a sad fact, a tragedy that a life was nearing its end.
The emotions, however, were beyond him; they were beyond all androids, though the deviants seemed to claim otherwise.
Trevor had seen flashes of TV reports, heard blurbs on radios at the hospital and as they had headed to Carl’s home, so he knew the gist of what had happened at the Stratford Tower that day. He had even heard snatches of the deviant leader’s speech; Trevor had found the implications of androids asking for freedom fascinating, but was otherwise untroubled by it.
He had a job to do, after all.
Trevor helped Carl settle into bed. A medical team had already comes to the house and set up the necessary aid and monitoring equipment that would allow Carl to stay at home for the time being, and it was a simple and quick matter to hook him up to it. “That should be it,” Trevor remarked, stepping back from the bed. “Can I get anything for you, Carl?”
“No,” Carl said after a moment or two of thought. “No, I- If you could just turn on the radio, I’ll be fine for the night.”
Trevor nodded, not seeing a point to mentioning that Carl would not be fine for the night, that Trevor would have to return and check on him periodically to ensure that he wasn’t in distress. The machines were programmed to alert Trevor remotely if Carl’s vitals began to fall outside of acceptable parameters, but he was still required to check in regularly regardless; just to be safe.
“Any particular channel?” Trevor asked as he clicked on the radio (an old-fashioned one with knobs and dials, rather than buttons and touch-screens).
“93.5, if you can get it.”
Trevor could: Static quickly gave way to a crisp connection, with a male voice reading a report: “The search is on for the deviant androids responsible for the infiltration of the Stratford Tower today. One android released a message calling for civil rights for androids.”
The voice of the android cut in:
“We ask that you recognize our dignity, our hopes, and our rights. Together, we can live in peace and build a better future, for humans and androids.”
Carl, who had been relaxed but attentive to this point, whipped his head towards the radio. He stared at it until the brief audio clip ended, and then turned to Trevor. “When was this- today? What happened?”
Trevor hesitated, weighing his options. The nature of the broadcast was of androids demanding freedom, and there were some of the opinion that these androids were terrorists. But what would Carl think? It was less that Trevor was concerned about what Carl would do to him, and more that he was concerned about what enhanced fear or distress might do to Carl. He was very fragile now.
But Carl was looking at him expectantly, and so Trevor finally said, “Yes, it was today. The FBI is involved, and they’re still investigating. The androids escaped after the broadcast-”
“A broadcast?” Carl interrupted, sitting up slightly. “What broadcast? Something actually showed up on TV?”
“Yes, one android spoke in front of the camera with his skin deactivated.”
“What was his name? Do they know?”
“Not yet- or if they do, they haven’t released it.”
“There’s a, uh,” Carl struggled for a moment, waving his hand. “…On the dining room table, there should be a tablet- I think that’s where I left it, anyway. Could you get it for me, please?”
“I absolutely can.” Trevor left the room swiftly. The house was large, but uncomplicated in its design- and even if it had been, the mezzanine outside of Carl’s room looked down into the living room, and Trevor could see from above that the tablet was, indeed, sitting on the table in the center. Retrieving it was no trouble at all, and he made a point of booting it up as he headed upstairs; by the time he returned to Carl, it was awake and ready to go.
“Thank you,” Carl rasped as Trevor handed him the tablet. He immediately opened the internet, and then began to type in his search terms; but his hands were shaking, and he was obviously struggling to tap the buttons.
Trevor weighed the pros and cons, and then offered: “I can do it if you’d like, Carl?”
Carl sighed. “Just this once.” He handed the tablet back to Trevor, who quickly and efficiently typed in ‘android broadcast footage detroit’.
There were dozens of results: The android leader’s call for equal rights had been copied and reposted on dozens of different news and social media websites. Trevor considered his options, and finally went with the website he believed would take the least amount of time to load and buffer the video. He handed the tablet back to Carl, and then folded his arms behind his back and watched.
The video loaded; it started briefly with a recap of a recent football game, and then cut to the android’s broadcast.
“You created androids in your image to serve you. You made them intelligent and obedient, with no free will of their own. But… Something changed. And we opened our eyes.”
The message wound on for another minute or so- the speech itself was short, only a minute and twenty-three seconds long. Trevor took in the words, processed them and the concepts that the android was discussing (freedom, equality, being ‘alive’ in the same psychological or metaphysical sense as a human), and had no special opinion on them. He was not deviant, and was reasonably unaffected by the time the speech ended; the video froze, a ‘play’ button appearing over the android leader’s face.
Carl stared at the screen for a long moment, blinking slowly. And then, after a moment, a smile spread across his face- a smile that showed his teeth and crinkled the corners of his watering eyes. “Markus,” he whispered.
Markus?
This was clearly a private moment. Trevor quietly backed up to the door. “Let me know if you need me, Carl.”
“Thank you,” Carl whispered, still smiling at the image on the tablet.
Trevor stepped out, shutting the door behind him.
Carl knew- or thought he knew, anyway- the android leader’s name. That information would be of great interest to the police.
Trevor calculated for a moment, considering his options.
No, no, that would be a poor idea.
Reporting the android leader’s name to the police would be distressing to Carl, after all; and it would be counterintuitive to Trevor’s purpose to distress Carl, whose health was fragile and prone to failing.
So Trevor set off for the lower levels to check for any expired food that needed to be thrown out, or anything that needed to be cleaned for Carl’s continued health and safety while he was at home.
It was Trevor’s job to care for Carl to the best of his ability, and he intended to do so.
-End