“I’m sorry sir but your synth companion has to wait here or outside.”
“Hm? Oh, no she’s allowed in.”
The guard sighs and shakes his head gently. “No drones, no AI, no companions, no recording devices et-cetera come on. You know the rules I’ve seen you through here before.”
“Indeed, but I promise you she’s allowed. If you’ll just-”
The just about six foot tall lapine steps forward and interjects, gently pulling her shirt collar away from her throat with her left hand, revealing a seam and tapping a spot at the base of her neck with her right. “Here. Just hit me.”
“Cora, no.” The scientist at her side insists. “You don’t have to do that.”
“It’s fine. It’s irritating, but it’s fine. Either he gets his scanner and shutdown thing out and pings me, or we stand here for the next hour going over paperwork and they have to open another security line.” She gestures gently at the guard. “C’mon. I know you’ve got one, we both know how they work. It’ll instantly immobilize drones and AIs and all the other shit on your list. I’ll even sit down if you want.”
The guard even hesitates. “Are you sure? I’ve heard it’s really painful if you-”
“Yes I’m sure, yes it is, but I’m not one. We have to do this every time I enter a secure facility I’ve not yet been to. This way your auto-scanners will pick me up next time and I can go through on the hand pad like everyone else.”
The guard swallows once, and nods. Nobody likes doing this. It is patently ugly when a companion or a droid gets hit with a deactivator, and here’s what looks like one calmly asking for it. The whole security team tenses up for just a moment when he puts the paddle on the crook of her neck, the known sweet spot for shutdown interrupts. The paddle dings loudly when activated, and nothing happens. He pulls it back, looks at it, picks a different one up off the stand, and does it again. A loud ding, no response.
She releases her shirt collar and straightens her posture, smoothing the fabric while the guard puts the wand away. “Now if you’ll excuse me.” She sets her messenger bag on the conveyor for X-ray scanning and places her hand on the ID pad.
The reading pops up on the security screen facing the guard station. Cora Jenkies, Constructed Biological Intelligence, a bunch of vital information, clearances, serial number, and a photograph. She steps through the body scanner and picks her bag up on the other side, slinging it back over her shoulder and resting her hand atop it at her side.
“Wait. You’re really Dr Jenkies?”
“And you’d have never believed me if I told you before I got hit and scanned.” She waits while her friend scans through. “I think that’s all the badges and bullshit I care to deal with today. Coffee?”
The two walk away toward the little shop in the front hall of the building. “Absolutely,” responds the scientist. “I finished mine on the train. How come your name gets all the recognition, anyway? I’ve been in far more papers, I’ll have you know.” He smirks and gives her a little humorous jab with his elbow.
“All your papers are science journals, and had the security guard read any he’d be groveling at the feet of the great Doctor Emery Goldswaith, theoretical astrophysicist and inventor of the room temperature hyperconductor. For what it’s worth, I’m thankful for your existence every day. I wouldn’t be here without it.”
“Oh, hush. The way you say that, people might think I built you.”
She shrugs as they get in line at the cafe. “Nobody believes it when you tell them you built yourself, it’d just be swapping one disbelief for another.”
The barista doesn’t even flinch at the sight of the rabbit woman with the gentle amber-gold eyes. Just takes the order, takes payment, asks for a name, moves on.
“That’s a solid barista right there. Either she knows who I am or she’s seen way too much shit working public service.”
“Probably the second one.” The two sit down to wait.
“I’d bet you’re right.” She leans back in her chair a little. “At least we had enough foresight to get here early in case security turned into a shit show. Now we can actually drink our coffee instead of getting a couple steam burns and throwing it away so we can go into the hearing.” She pauses for a moment, looking around. “On second thought, it is kind of weird being the only nonhuman in the place.”
“You know, you’re right. Normally there’d be companions and drones and such just about everywhere. Here it’s just business suits and pale skins everywhere. Almost uncanny. Fifteen years now and you’re still the only one.”
“Yes, well. We both know I wasn’t supposed to happen.”
“I suppose they weren’t thinking about a world class roboticist when they wrote their laws.”
She crosses her arms, smug. “Not my fault they weren’t creative enough to imagine even the most basic transhumanist daydream. In my defense I had maybe five years left before my skeleton fell apart. Finishing a project under threat of death is a hell of a way to get things done.”
“You know I’ve never asked, but I’ve always been curious. If we win, have you considered building a replacement for your human body?”
“Nah. I’ve had this face, this shape for a decade now. Despite the hardships, when I look in the mirror in the morning I don’t see a stranger. It’s who I am now. If we come out on top, it won’t be for me. It’ll be for everyone else who wants out of their body for one reason or another.”
“Hell of a journey.”
“I knew I was in for a wild ride the night I put myself into the scanner and started the countdown timer. I just never imagined it would take me to the supreme court.” She looks up. “Ah, lawyers made it in.”
Their coffees, along with a third voice belonging to their barista arrives at their table. "Dr Jenkies, Dr Goldswaith." She puts the coffees down, each a size larger than they ordered, and smiles. "Thank you. Win or lose, thank you for trying."
Cora turns to look, her eyes passing briefly over the printed circuit board heart pin pressed into the barista's name tag. Her ears lift a bit as she smiles back. "Thanks. Maybe save the confetti until after the ruling is announced. Till then, hope."
