Spaceport West (3 page)

ANDROID RIGHTS

Since the introduction of intelligent, articulate and fully functioning humanoid robots, the issue of android rights has never been far from the surface.

The UK Government’s position is that androids should be used in any situation where the use of a human would be too hazardous, inefficient, or very, very tedious. It has thus far failed to reach a consensus on whether or not to recognise that androids have any rights whatsoever.

Some have asserted that, as with other previously unprotected minorities, future generations will judge us on how we treat those who are oppressed, face prejudice, or who are otherwise too weak to stand up for themselves. Others have pointed out that the term minority should obviously only apply to other human beings, preferably ones with very similar lifestyles, hairstyles and bank balances to themselves.

Still others have noted that if future generations are so concerned about us doing the right thing, they are more than welcome to travel back in time and swap places with us, as that would probably make everyone a lot happier.

UK Guide to Space, 2025 Edition

After lunch, Captain Watkins and the Minister for Space returned to the conference room and were joined by the rest of the spaceport command and control committee.

“I would like to conclude this section of the presentation, Minister, with a simple 3D graphic showing how resources are being allocated between the various departments.”

“Er, one question, lance-corporal, what have hedgehogs and voles got to do with the efficient operation of a modern space facility?”

“Ah, yes. So I’ve used the pedagogical device of woodland creatures to clearly demonstrate the differing quantities in question. So. First we have the Badger. Chunky fellow - very well built. He represents staffing costs. Moving along, we find Mr Fox. Cunning animals, foxes…”

Captain Watkins interrupted this unusual display of professional bravura by gesturing to the pair of androids standing guard either side of the conference room doors. They leant close to him and he whispered something to them at which point they looked at each other, gave a menacing metallic grin and a gravelly chuckle. They each then took one arm of the hapless lance-corporal and dragged him backwards out of the room. Even out in the corridor, he could still be heard pronouncing the relative merits of stoats and weasels.

Captain Watkins impressively continued as if this sort of thing was perfectly normal. “Which I believe brings us, rather neatly as it happens, to the question of the Mars Colony, and in particular the vetting of candidates.”

Susan McKenzie, Minister for Space, was still staring at the translucent conference room doors. Scuff marks from the lance-corporals dress boots were clearly visible.

“Minister?”

Susan closed her mouth and looked at the Captain. She then opened it again. “Quite, quite, yes jolly good. So, vetting, what’s the proposal?”

“Simple really, I propose that all civilian volunteers are to be scrutinised by properly trained military space officers.”

“Good, I think that makes sense. What’s the, er, you know, quality of the candidates so far.”

“Ah.”

“Yes?”

“One might hope for more.”

“More candidates, Captain?”

“More quality, Minister. Plenty of candidates, as it turns out. Mars being a rather popular destination amongst certain sections of society. Distinct lack of quality though.”

“Right. Going to be a problem?”

“It all depends on how you see this whole
Mars Colony
thing panning out. You know, in terms of civil disobedience, productivity. Life expectancy. That sort of thing.”

“I’m not sure I follow you Captain. What exactly is the problem with the quality of the volunteers so far?”

“The problem? What is the problem with the volunteers, Minister? The problem is they are lunatics! Yes, certifiable!”

“I’m sure it can’t be as bad as all that? Can it?”

“If I might make a suggestion?”

“Carry on, lieutenant,” said the Captain.

“Perhaps if we make a start with the vetting process, we will get a clearer idea of whether or not we are getting the right sort of personnel?”

“Good idea. Any objections Captain?”

“No, Minister.”

“Jolly good. I shall leave it in your hands to organise the necessary military staff, and we can give it a go.”

“Ma’am.”

EXO-COLONISATION

For many years, following the successful mission by the United States of America to send astronauts to the Moon in the latter half of the 20th Century, the United Kingdom has felt, well, narked off.

To alleviate this feeling of inadequacy, His Majesty’s Government has made it official policy to pursue an aggressive programme of
exo-colonisation
, that is, the colonisation of other planets, starting with Mars.

The Mars Colony will serve to project UK power beyond the realms of terrestrial constraints (and some might say beyond the constraints of logic, reason and good manners).

Phase One consists of establishing basic infrastructure, laying the groundwork for a self-sufficient community based around the growing of traditional British vegetables, and performing basic scientific research that will prove once and for all that the UK is at the forefront of all that is peaceful, sustainable and blatantly expansionist.

UK Guide to Space, 2025 Edition

The next day, Science Officer Tiggy Beauchamp received formal notification of her next posting. Excitedly, she opened a vis screen call to Dyson.

“I’m going to the Moon, Commander!”

“That’s great news Tiggy,” came the slightly muffled response as Dyson finished his gluten-free bagel. “When do you leave?”

“One month. I’m to make myself useful around the spaceport until then.”

“Excellent. Well, unless you have any other ideas, may I suggest you give me a hand with my exciting new assignment?”

“Which is?”

“I’ve got to interview the Mars Colony volunteers. Looks like there’s about a thousand applicants for each seat on the transport. Should be fun. No really.”

“Okay, I’m in. When do we start?”

“Oh I don’t know - want to saunter over to the recruitment block in about 5 minutes?”

“I’ll be there!”

Five minutes later

“So this pile are the ones we’ve already decided
definitely
to reject.” Commander Hunter placed his hand on a teetering pile of application forms about a foot tall.

“And these ones?”

“These ones we’ve not made our mind up yet.” The second pile was scanty to say the least. “We’re probably going to have to interview all of them in person. That’s where you come in, Science Officer.”

“Okay. How do you want to do this? Half each or were you planning to do it together?”

“Let’s take half each, get it over and done with, hmm?”

🚀

“You do realise this is a one-way mission? Once you have committed to the colony, there is very little chance of ever returning to Earth.”

Tiggy glanced up from the application form she was holding. Printed in the top left hand corner was a photo of the applicant in front of her, wearing exactly the same outfit as she wore now - a stripy pink revealing top, skin tight jeans and sparkly high heel shoes. In the photo she was doing a V sign.

“Oh, ya, I know that. That’s part of the appeal, right?”

“And you’re okay with that - never seeing your family again? Most people would see that as a deal breaker.”

“Like, have you met my family? That’s why I want to go!”

Tiggy placed a discrete cross on the form. Over in the next interview room, Dyson wasn’t having much more success.

“So, Mr… @spaceboy, is that correct?”

“Yes sir, that’s my name, sick init?”

“You changed your legal name to have the ‘at’ symbol at the start?”

"Absolutely sir!” his face suddenly fell. “Do you think that was a stupid thing to do?”

“Well, who am I to judge…” said Dyson, rubbing his eyes in despair.

“I just think your feed is your life, man!”

“Okay I follow you.”

“You do? Man that’s brilliant!”

Three hours later

“Ms Madly, please tell me a little about yourself,” began Science Officer Beauchamp, glancing at the clock hopefully.

“Right, well after I left high school I was rather hoping to study astrophysics and music therapy at uni, but my grades weren’t quite up to it.”

“And since then you’ve been working at,” Tiggy referred to her notes “the
Little Blighters Music Studio for the Criminally Fidgety
is that correct?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Please, call me Tiggy. And what makes you think you and Mars would make a good fit, as it were?”

“Well, I’ve always wanted to be on telly!”

Tiggy rubbed her eyes and looked at the clock again, which surprisingly hadn’t changed much in the last 30 seconds. Aster Madly could tell she was losing the argument and changed gear.

“But it’s more than that. Mars is such a great opportunity for the human race to start again, isn’t it?”

“Go on.” Tiggy sat up and tried to concentrate.

“Well, our planet used to have such potential, but we’ve kind of spoilt it haven’t we? It’d be so good to have another chance. I think.”

“Good attitude Aster. I think you’ll be hearing from us soon!”

Tiggy and Aster shook hands and the latter left, beaming.

Next door, Dyson had just started speaking with Freddie Clayton.

“What skills would you be bringing to Mars, Mr Clayton?”

“I-I’m quite up to date with my computer skills, sir.”

“For example…?”

“Well, I know quantum cortex programming for androids, transporter nav systems, life support development…”

“Good. Much experience with humans?”

“H-how do you mean, sir?”

“Well, say for example I locked you in a small metal container with twelve complete strangers for several months, with a limited supply of food and drink. How well do you think you’d cope?”

“Is that very likely, sir?”

“It is if you’re a successful candidate Mr Clayton. Those are the exact conditions you’d be facing on the transporter to Mars.”

“Wouldn’t we be in frigosleep?”

“I see you’ve done your homework. Yes, you would, but not the whole time. Please can you answer the question.”

“I-I don’t know, to be honest. I guess it would be nice to make some new friends…” Freddie trailed off and hung his head.

“Cheer up Freddie! You do realise you’re the best candidate I’ve seen all day? I think there’s a good chance you’ll be chosen. We’ll be in touch.”

Looking genuinely surprised and delighted, Freddie shook Dyson’s hand and left, floating. Not literally. Once outside the room, he looked around furtively, then tapped his watch which quietly beeped in response.

“Katy, I think I’m in. I think I’m going to Mars!”

“That’s wonderful news Freddie. But don’t count those chickens.”

🚀

“Minister? Captain Watkins here. You said you wanted to meet some of the candidates we’ve shortlisted?”

“Yes I did Captain, whenever is convenient.”

“Well, we’re actually standing outside your office now, except, no-one seems to be letting us in.”

“Ah. Apologies Captain, Toby has just popped out to buy me a coffee. Now, let’s see if I can find which button to press… nope, obviously not
that
one!”

“It should be the small green one marked ‘Disengage Ingress Aperture Linkage
’
.”

“Ah yes there we go. Couldn’t it just say ‘Open Door’?”

“Good idea Minister, don’t know why nobody thought of that.”

A moment later Captain Watkins entered Susan’s office, accompanied by two of the candidates.

“Hello! Who have we got here?” began Susan amiably.

Watkins nodded at the recruits to indicate they should introduce themselves.

“I’m Aster Madly, Minister. An honour to meet you.”

“Lovely, lovely, and who’s this?”

“I-I’m Freddie Clayton, Minister.”

“Wonderful, take a seat won’t you? I just wanted to have a brief chat, nothing too scary I assure you!”

“Shall I leave you to it Minister?” asked Captain Watkins.

“Absolutely, thank you Jonathan, I’ll take it from here. Now then, Aster, I had a look at your résumé…” The Minister was shuffling some papers on her desk.

“Oh dear, I’m afraid I put that together in a bit of a hurry.”

“Nonsense, my dear, it was quite impressive actually. Honestly, when you’ve worked in the public sector as long as I have, your expectations tend to get somewhat… tempered, shall we say?”

“Oh right, okay then!” Aster wasn’t sure how else to respond.

“And as for yours Freddie, you clearly have some excellent technical qualifications.”

“Th-thank you Minister,” said Freddie, shyly.

Susan put the papers down and walked around the desk, perching on the corner in a manner clearly designed to put her visitors at ease.

“Now then, let me have a proper look at you both.” She stared closely at each recruit in turn.

“Er, what are you looking for?” asked Aster, slightly weirded out.

“Don’t know really! They say the eyes are the window to the soul, do you believe that?”

“I would p-personally take issue with the concept of a soul, Minister.”

“Ooo! Would you Freddie, and why’s that, hmm?”

“Oh, I’m not sure. Perhaps because no-one has been able to clearly define what it means.”

“Good answer!”

“How would you define ‘soul’, Minister?” asked Aster.

“Me? Not a clue! But, by looking at
your
eyes I can certainly tell you’re both in tip top health, which is a good start.”

“Why did you want to see us Minister, i-if you don’t mind me asking?”

“Of course not dear boy! Truth be told, I’ve heard all sorts of stories about this Mars recruitment process. I just wanted to check for myself that we’re not enlisting complete idiots.”

“And…?” prompted Aster.

“Well you two clearly aren’t
complete
idiots!”

“That’s a great weight off my mind,” replied Aster with a grin.