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Not yet, anyway.

As one popular
magazine put it, “even if we could build a robot with
consciousness–which we can’t–there isn’t any
reason we would want to. Everybody wants a robot that can vacuum a
rug and do the dishes; nobody wants a robot that knows it is slaving
away at housework, or worse, complains about it.” One late
night talk show had a popular segment based on the idea which they
called “Simon the Sad Sentience,” featuring a lovable but
depressed robot who would try to kill himself whenever asked to
perform the tasks for which he was designed.

Military leaders
described the Tohono reservation development as a biological research
station, and construction moved forward quickly. The Tohono tribe
leaders accepted the explanation. With over three hundred million
dollars at stake in the investment, nobody asked too many questions
about the details of the research it would be doing.

***

CHAPTER FOUR

Johnner waved an ID
card in front of the door of the abandoned ranch house, and Chal
tried not to laugh at the absurdity of it all. The cabin looked
straight out of
Little Home on the Prairie
, and yet Johnner
was passing his card across the wood like he was swiping it across a
scanner.

“Is there a
secret knock?” she joked, looking back to the military men
standing guard by the van.

“The security
here is airtight,” Johnner said, as a steel post slid up from
the ground in front of them. He entered a passcode and pressed his
thumb to the post. It beeped and the heavy metallic sound of the door
unlocking was so unlike what Chal had expected that her mouth dropped
open.

The wood door swung
open to reveal a metal stairway dimly lit by overhead blue lights and
Chal felt a rush of warm, sterile air blow over her.

“That’s
just the venting system. The building is positively pressurized to
prevent contamination from the outside,” Johnner explained,
waving her in. “After you.”

Feeling like Dante
Alighieri descending into the mouth of Hell, Chal stepped down into
the eerie blue light and out of this world.

The sedative had not
fully worked its way through Chal’s bloodstream and she reeled
with dizziness, but she resisted Johnner’s attempts to steady
her as they made their way down the steps. At the end of the stairway
there was another door, which Johnner opened using a different
passcode. They entered a small metal elevator which only had two
plain metal buttons on the inside panel. Johnner pressed the lower
one and the door sealed shut. The elevator dropped quickly, and Chal
soon had to swallow to pop her ears. They kept dropping.

“How far down
are we going?” Chal said. It seemed impossible that they were
descending so deep.

“It’s
about two hundred feet down. We’re almost there,” Johnner
said, and as if to corroborate his words the elevator slowed and came
to a halt. The door opened in front of them into a room that looked
like a laboratory, all white and steel. A man with a machine gun
scanned Johnner’s ID before they were allowed to enter.

“We’re
going to need to be decontaminated before we can enter the inner
laboratories,” Johnner said. “It’s an involved
process.”

“I’m
pretty involved already,” Chal said. She had resigned herself
to her part in this situation and might as well make the most of it.

A man in a white lab
suit hurried toward them, and smiled perfunctorily at her, holding
out his hand to shake hers. She started at the touch of his cold
hand. His face was pointed, his hair and eyes dark and oily-looking,
and as Chal felt his hand slide out of her palm she resisted an
impulse to wipe her hand on her pants leg.

“Dr. Davidson,
pleased to meet you. I’m Dr. Fielding.” He scratched the
corner of his mouth anxiously. “Let’s get you into the
decontaminant room.”

“Any changes
so far?” Johnner asked the doctor as they walked through the
doorway. Chal watched the doctor carefully.
Dr. Fielding.
It
had been his notes scribbled on her papers. His appearance unnerved
her, though she couldn’t place a finger on exactly why.

“Not yet, it’s
still stable and in suspension. We’re not sure how long it’ll
take before it begins to degenerate. A day, two at most.” The
doctor waited as Johnner slipped off his shoes and jacket, and Chal
followed suit.

When Johnner walked
down the hallway, Chal began to follow him but was stopped by Dr.
Fielding’s hand on her shoulder. She cringed at the touch
involuntarily but forced herself to relax. It must have been the
sedative making her so irritable.

“This way
please, Dr. Davidson. The decontamination rooms are private.”

She saw why as soon
as she entered the room and read the first instructions which were
printed across the giant touchscreen wall. A voice spoke the
instructions aloud as she crossed over the threshold. It was male,
and unsettlingly cheerful.

“Thank you for
entering Decontamination Level 1. Step One. Please remove all
articles of clothing and place them in the storage container.”

The door shut
automatically behind her, startling her with a hiss. She was alone
with the screen and the voice, which now sounded impatient, repeating
the instructions.

“Step One.
Please remove all articles of clothing and place them in the storage
container.”

Chal sighed. She
pulled off her clothes and tossed them in the bin. It slid into the
wall and slid back out, empty. She crossed her arms over her breasts,
feeling strangely vulnerable. They had taken all of her clothes. The
instructions on the screen dissolved away and were replaced by new
instructions.

“Thank you.
Step Two. Please remove any articles of jewelry, including hairpins
and other metal objects, and place them in the disposal container.
Metal objects are not permitted to go through the decontamination
process.”

“Will I get
them back?” Chal immediately felt ridiculous for asking: the
voice was automated.

“Step Two.
Please remove–“

She pulled off her
earrings and threw them into the bin. They had been a present from
her mother, handworked steel from a local artisan neighbor. Chal had
never been sentimental about things like jewelry but she hoped that
these were not lost for good.

“Step Three.
Removal of contaminants and gaseous immersion. Please stand in the
center of the room with your arms raised above your head.” Chal
did as the voice told her, feeling irritated by how encouraging it
sounded. A perky male receptionist, she decided. If it had been up to
her, she would have fired him and replaced him with a monotonous
robot.

A rush of air
streamed up at her from vents under the mesh floor, blowing her hair
up. She shivered at the cold of it. Then the air was replaced with a
white gas which billowed in, turning the entire room white and
opaque. It was as though she was standing in a cold sauna, unable to
see a foot in front of her. She felt slightly claustrophobic, and the
voice speaking loudly in the small room only made her more so.

“Please take
several deep breaths.” Maybe it was the fact that she hadn’t
slept; maybe it was the tranquilizer still making her dizzy. Whatever
it was, she wished the voice would stop saying “please”
and just tell her what to do. It was getting on her nerves. The cloud
of gas smelled sweet, and she wondered idly if it had antibiotic
properties.

As quickly as it had
come, the gas thinned out and she was able to see again. In front of
her the old instructions dissolved and the new ones appeared.

“Step Four.
Irradiation. Please put on the shielding glasses.”

Chal found the
glasses on the table next to her. They must have been placed there
while the gas was obscuring her vision. She put them on and faced
forward again. Her arms were beginning to be sore, and she wondered
if she still had to hold them up. When she lowered them, though, the
voice spoke up quickly.

“Please raise
your arms above your head–”

“Okay, okay,”
Chal muttered, following the order.

“Thank you.”

Chal wondered if she
was imagining the note of annoyance in the automated voice. She felt
like kicking the wall with the embedded screen, and immediately
chastised herself for being silly.

“While
irradiation is occurring, we will conduct a brief medical history.
Please keep the glasses on until a chime has sounded to signal that
the irradiation has concluded.”

Before Chal could
prepare herself for the irradiation, a purple light flashed brightly
on all sides of her, illuminating the room in a harsh glare. She
blinked behind the glasses, temporarily blinded. The room hummed with
a high buzzing sound.

After ten seconds
passed, the chime sounded.

“You may lower
your arms. Please keep the glasses on.” Chal shook her arms
out; they were half numb from being raised for so long. The purple
light continued shining on all sides, and she looked down at her
naked body. It seemed alien and pale to her in the glare, her veins
standing out and bluish under the irradiation. Her nipples were hard
from the cold and the areola gleamed a dark purple against her skin,
which was almost white.

“Please use
the touch screen to indicate your answers or speak them aloud.”
Chal looked back up, black spots swimming in front of her eyes. “We
will begin with basic history. Please note if any of the following
need correction.”

A list of medical
facts popped up on the screen. Sex: female; height: 170cm, weight:
57kg, blood pressure: 124/70, normal... Most of the facts she was
able to confirm immediately, although she was uncertain how the
program had already gained so much information. Sensors in the floor,
perhaps, and in the walls. It wasn’t as though she knew her own
blood pressure, so she simply assumed they had gotten it right.

“Thank you.
Have you contracted any viral or bacterial infections within the last
three weeks?”

Chal pressed the box
on the screen that said “no.” She wasn’t going to
talk to this program aloud. It was entirely too annoying. The buzzing
stopped, and the light began to shine more dimly.

“Thank you.
Please indicate if you have ever contracted any of the following
illnesses.” The list that came up on the screen was long, and
some of the diseases were strange to Chal. Dengue fever? There hadn’t
been a case of that in decades, she thought. Dutifully she pressed
“no” on all of the boxes, and the screen dissolved into
new questions.

“Thank you.
Please indicate if you have ever been diagnosed with any of the
following conditions.” The list here was predictable: heart
problems, cancer, epilepsy. Chal hesitated when she came to the line
marked “mental illness/depression,” her hand hovering
above both boxes. Finally she pressed “no.”

“Thank you.
Please wait until irradiation has finished.” A minute passed
before another chime sounded, and the purple light faded completely.
“You may remove the glasses.” Chal did so, and a drawer
slid out from the wall. In it were clothes, a white technician’s
suit. She pulled on the underwear, which were tight and slightly
chafing, and finished dressing as quickly as she could.

The exit door slid
open when she approached it, and she met back up with Lieutenant
Johnner and Dr. Fielding in a different hallway. They looked like
triplets in their white lab suits, and Chal noticed Dr. Fielding
checking out her body under the outfit. Typical. She crossed her arms
in front of her chest.

“Why is
everything underground?” she asked, as they walked through the
hall. “Is it to hide it from outside detection?” With
everything built so deep into the earth, the structural costs must
have been enormous.

“In part,”
Johnner said, “though satellite espionage would be able to
track us simply by the heat signatures. We put out a lot of exhaust.
It’s a safe bet that most of the big powers already know where
we are here, even if they’re not exactly sure what it is we
do.” They crossed under an arch manned by two military men,
where Johnner showed his ID for the third time. There were more steps
leading down. The second circle of hell, Chal thought.

“Really,
though, it’s for security’s sake. This laboratory was
constructed to be able to withstand the consequences of nuclear war.”
Dr. Fielding said nothing, but Chal noticed that he looked anxious as
they began to descend the staircase.

“Nuclear war?
Why is that?”

“This facility
is the third most important military structure in the United States
today, right after the Pentagon and the nuclear navy base in San
Diego. If there is war, we need to be prepared to be targeted.”

“You said that
nobody knew what happens here.”

“They don’t.
It’s not an issue and there is no real threat of a nuclear
strike. Just a safety precaution.”

“A safety
precaution.”

“That’s
right,” Lieutenant Johnner said, opening the door for her and
Dr. Fielding with his ID card. “Just in case.”

***

The holding room
they were in had only a couple of metal benches, chairs, and a
medical cabinet. On the far wall the first frame of the video was
paused. Dr. Fielding handed them both pills and bottles of water.

“Is everything
set up?” Johnner asked, tossing his pill back and swallowing it
without need of water.

“It’s
all ready to go once she’s briefed,” Dr. Fielding said,
scratching his lip again in what Chal realized must be a tic
.
He
wouldn’t stop touching his face, and it was beginning to
irritate her.

“What is
this?” Chal asked, looking at the large blue pill. She did not
trust Dr. Fielding, didn’t trust anyone anymore in this sterile
place. It had only been a few hours since they arrived, and already
she felt ill at the thought of staying underground for any longer, no
matter how intense her curiosity about the experiment.