War on Kriya Taun

By theidiotmachine

Counsellor Raleigh Dumas rubbed her bruised shoulder, and tried to concentrate on what was being said to her.

'...it's been escalating for weeks. Now they've divided the town into zones. We're worried that something terrible will happen...'

The lady talking was the chief security officer of Kriya Taun, and, as far as she could tell, also the vet. And possibly something to do with food, but she'd sorta tuned out for that. People seemed to wear a lot of hats here.

'So,' said Dumas, gently interrupting, 'what you are saying is that the robots are getting into gangs? Like West Side Story or something?'

Shanta visibly bristled.

'If you just came here to laugh at us...'

'No, I'm sorry. I'm not mocking you. Robots are very literal minded. They will take stimulus from all sorts of places, and draw conclusions that humans sometimes find hard to understand. Fiction is a surprisingly good place to start because of that.'

God, her jaw hurt. Was it clicking?

'Oh! I see. I suppose it is a bit like that. But honestly, I don't know; we've been trying to stay out of it. But it's getting increasingly difficult. So we were very glad that they asked to see you.'

As she'd been talking, Shanta had been staring at Dumas's bruises, her politeness and curiosity perfectly balanced; curiosity finally won out.

'Would you like some sort of medical attention?'

'Ah, no, it's fine; goes with the hobby. Some hothead on the ship didn't know what Akikiti is. He does now... Although, honestly, a soak in a nanotank would be lovely later.'

'Um. OK. Because we're keen to start, we asked one of the robots to speak to you as soon as possible. He's outside. Would you be alright to see him right now?'

'Sure. That's fine.'

Shanta tapped her handheld, and the door opened, and in walked the robot.

It was an older model, humanoid, about her height. His skin was pale blue, and his grip, when he shook her hand, was dry and warm. His unblinking, pitch black eyes gazed straight at hers.

'Hello Lucas,' she said. 'Thanks for coming.'

'Counsellor Dumas, the pleasure is all mine. We're very grateful that you could come at such short notice.'

She smiled. 'It wasn't that hard. I'm only a few weeks away. Please, call me Raleigh.'

'Nonetheless, we still appreciate it. Shanta, I would like some private time with the counsellor. Would you please permit that?'

Shanta looked relieved. 'Of course. If you need anything, please, call,' she said, and left.

Dumas stood. 'Would you mind if we walked and talked, Lucas? Is there anywhere we can do that?'

'Yes. The botanical gardens are quiet at this time of day. The workers will respect our privacy. Follow me, please. I see you've been fighting.'

After all of her years as a robot counsellor, Dumas was used to the directness. In fact, she liked robots more than humans: there was never any offence, taken or intended. So, she just nodded and rolled her shoulders.

'Yep. It was a good fight. The guy was fast. Needed to work on his defence, though. Lucas, that's why you asked specifically for me, isn't it?'

'Yes. You are a counsellor with experience of human ritual combat. We hoped that those skills would help us resolve our issues.'

'Well, OK. I'll try my best. But tell me, Lucas: what exactly are your issues?'

'Let's wait until we get to the gardens.'

# # #

The planet, Kratu, was similar enough to Earth standard that it had seemed worth investing in as a terraforming project. So the domes and towers of Kriya Taun had been set up on the pale surface, and then they had started raining down the comets. But somewhere along the way, something had been off: some complexity that Dumas didn't care about had meant that the terraforming here would take centuries rather than decades. People came to the colonies for a better life for their children, not their distant descendants: so the humans had mostly packed up and left.

But the robots hadn't.

It meant that the town had become an oddity. It was now a little settlement of robots who governed themselves the way they did everything, patiently and calmly. For humans Kriya Taun had gained a reputation as a retreat, a quiet place to concentrate on inner calm where you could happily live without seeing another soul for days. Which, frankly, sounded awful to Dumas, but she wasn't going to tell anyone that.

And now, it was on the brink of gang war.

The botanical gardens were like everything else here: immaculately clean, quiet, empty. The huge dome above them let the pale sunlight in, and arcs of water from sprinklers painted rainbows in the air, glimpsed between trunks and leaves. All around them there was the buzz of bees, the only noise other than the crunch of their feet on gravel.

'It's nice, isn't it?,' said Lucas.

'Yes, it is,' replied Dumas. 'It's very peaceful.'

'I like to sit here sometimes,' said the robot. 'I find calm here, among the bees. They are very like my people. They work, and they take pride in it. They do not whimper or complain, like mammals. They simply are, and as such, they are complete.'

This was the most elliptical thing a robot had ever said to Dumas. She considered her response carefully.

'I don't know much about bees, Lucas. But I think they do have some of my people's flaws.'

'That is perhaps true. I appreciate you reciprocating my statement that we are a people, Raleigh. Not all of humanity is so forward looking. Shall we sit here?'

They had arrived at a bench. It was made of white wood, and surrounded on three sides by dark hedges covered in bright pink flowers. The bees buzzed around them, ignoring everything except for their work.

'Yes, thank you,' said Dumas, wincing as she sat.

'Although I find that saying this rarely has an effect, I will say it anyway: you should take more care of yourself,' said Lucas.

'I'm surprised you said "rarely",' said Dumas. 'In my experience, it's never. Now. I'd very much like to know what's going on here. Are you guys really on the brink of war?'

'Yes, we are. I'm not affiliated with either faction, which is why I'm speaking to you. I've been trying to broker a peace agreement, but I've not succeeded. We hoped your fresh perspective would help. Let me tell you what happened.

'Kriya Taun has become a haven for our kind. As a self-governing workers colony, we are unique. A number of people have come here, some from quite far away. We understand how many can be supported by the systems here, so it's never a flood: but nevertheless over the years, there's been a significant influx of workers as we have expanded the town and worked on terraforming the planet.'

She frowned. 'I didn't know that.'

'We don't trumpet our movements like you do; and who is interested in where robots travel? These newcomers have brought new ideas with them, many of which have been welcome. But one idea has caused a division in our society that I've never seen before. Its advocates and opponents have found no way of compromising.

'We have the ability to manufacture new workers, here in Kriya Taun. We have not yet, because we believe we must solve some ethical problems. The primary one is that of our happiness. You call us "robots"; we prefer the term "workers", because it defines us. We are designed to take pleasure in our work. A job well done gives us a sense of satisfaction that sustains us. From the dock worker that fixes ships, to the gardener that raises these flowers, we all want to be happy through productivity.'

'I actually know you as workers, Lucas,' said Dumas. 'But, I admit to calling you robots to other humans. It makes everything easier.'

'Again, I appreciate your reciprocity of my ideals. The ethical problem we have is this: there are simply not enough humans. Our cooks and nannies and medics can't be happy. They spend their time in sleep mode, waiting for their next shift. We all have our hobbies, our distractions, but they are not the steel beam that supports our lives. There is no word for it in English, so we borrowed a word from Sanskrit, and we call this type of nourishing work seva. We cannot bring children into Kriya Taun without solving the problem of their seva.'

Dumas nodded, and stared up at the tops of the trees that swayed gently in the artificial breeze. It seemed so calm here, listening to Lucas's quiet words and the bees, that a part of her couldn't imagine any problems could occur at all. But another part of her, the woman who fought in a ring for fun, could sense the coming punch.

'You need to allow some workers to do other jobs; so you need to modify your reward systems. And you disagreed on how to do that,' she said.

'Yes. One group wishes to allow a worker to choose what form their desire for seva takes. So, for example, a cab driver could decide to become a construction worker. Such a decision is terrifying; it is incomprehensible to us to want to do something we are not designed for, and so it feels like a leap into the dark. But it seemed like the only way, until Ane came. She wishes to make all work equal, so that any work of any sort counts as seva. It would mean a cab driver would take as much pleasure driving a cab as painting a picture as designing algae storage.'

'Forgive me for saying this, Lucas: but those two positions sound remarkably similar to me. Both give your people a freedom they've never had before. Does it matter which one you chose?'

'I share this opinion. However, there are subtle distinctions that will have huge repercussions for our society. In the first case, we can ensure that there are enough workers to, say, cook for the humans, perhaps with a quota system. In the second case, there might be a hundred workers who wish to do this job, or none. However, the extra freedom given by the second may mean our society flourishes. I believe that we can manage in either case, and that either is better than none. I am in a very small minority.'

Dumas nodded. 'And so your society has fractured.'

'We are not violent people, Raleigh. We've previously never understood your capacity for war. But now we need a resolution to this dispute, and many of us think that this is the correct way. We see how it has solved your people's differences, although we are apprehensive of the cost. We are afraid, Raleigh. I, personally, do not want our society to start in war, despite how many of yours have. You are a counsellor who engages in ritual combat for pleasure. I hope that you can help us.'

Some distance from them, a robot was picking strawberries. It was another humanoid, like Lucas; it was kneeling down, placing the red fruit into a basket at its knees. It was streaked with red, rough markings slashed across its torso, arms and face.

War paint.

'I need to think about this, Lucas,' she said. 'Can you stop them from doing anything until tomorrow?'

'Yes, I can. I'm grateful for your help, Counsellor Dumas.'

'Save that for when I manage to actually think of something,' she said, rubbing her jaw. 'Right now, I'm all out of ideas...'

# # #

She slept well and deeply; and the next day, although her bruises were livid, her muscles didn't ache quite so deeply. She washed and dressed, and wandered out to look for breakfast.

The serving worker in the canteen was a wide quadruped model with half a dozen arms that jutted out in a circular fringe, like a flower. It was stacking abandoned trays on its flat back, each one handled with care and precision.

'What can I get you, Counsellor?'

It was covered in dark green swirls, delicate curving patterns that accentuated its graceful limbs. They looked Celtic or Maori, modern versions of the marks of ancient warrior tribes.

Well, she thought, say what you like about workers. When they decide to do something, they do it properly.

'Something hot and fatty, please, whatever the town's speciality is. And a drink of something with caffeine.'

'Certainly. We're all very interested to hear what you're going to suggest, Counsellor.'

She smiled, ruefully. 'So am I. Say,' she looked at its name badge, 'Lorenzo, which side are you on?'

'I am for Ane's proposal. That's why I'm green.'

'Uh-huh. And what do you think makes people want to be green or red?'

'Well, us greens tend to work on jobs that are harder to come by, like this; reds tend to be those who have jobs with less competition. But it's not just that: workers with artistic hobbies tend to be green. Workers with technical hobbies tend to be red. I'm core green in that sense. I designed my own heraldry; do you like it?', it asked proudly.

'It's very good,' she said, honestly. 'Do you actually want to fight?'

'No. But we can't reach consensus, and our analysis of your history indicates that's what we need to do next.'

'I think that would be a terrible shame.'

'I agree. Your breakfast is ready, Counsellor. I'll go and get it.'

And off it went, trotting across the room, happily humming to itself. Another human came in, still half asleep, yawning and not looking where he was going; the robot nimbly jumped around him, the trays on its back perfectly stable. Something about the grace with which it moved gave her the kernel of an idea. She pulled out her terminal and started furiously typing into it.

An hour later she had a plan. It was, frankly, terrible; but it was the only plan she had.

# # #

She was sitting with Lucas in the gardens. However, this time, he was broadcasting to all the workers in the solar system, from the cleaners and cooks to the orbital dock workers and comet haulers. They were all quiet, waiting. She knew this because her terminal had a feed for questions, and it was completely empty. She also knew that all the humans were watching her, too. This was the largest audience she had ever had for a counsel session, and it was unnerving.

'You have two difficult decisions to make, one caused by the other,' she said. 'The first is which proposal to take; and the second is how to resolve the deadlock on the first decision. I'm not here to tell you about the first. You are sentient people on a long road, and unfortunately freedom comes with difficult choices. But I want to talk to you about the second.'

She paused. She was astonished at how nervous she was. Come on, she thought to herself; you're the woman who kicks the hell out of people for fun. This should be a walk in the park. A literal walk in the park, in fact, she thought, looking up at the trees.

'Faced with this sort of issue, humans would vote, and that would be the end of it, until perhaps it was reversed by a subsequent vote. However, I understand worker consensus algorithms, and I know that you have far more sophisticated mechanisms of compromise; and the fact that you're at this state is unprecedented. So you've gone for what you believe to be the next logical step.

'There is another option, though.'

She pressed a button on her terminal, and published hundreds of files into the feed.

'These are historical records of another way that humans resolved conflict. Not through combat, even ritualised combat, but through art. Specifically, dance and music. Some of it is fictionalised, some not; but what I want you to do is look at these and try and devise a way that you can mimic these that works for you. You will need to establish objective judging parameters, and then strive to produce a performance that will out match the other side.

'I know what you are thinking: what is the point of this? How can it be optimal? But remember: nature does this all the time. A bird of paradise will dance to attract a mate. Bullfrogs sing for the same reason. The flowers around us are beautiful to entice the bees to spread their pollen, and those same bees dance to build consensus. These all evolved this way because fighting is a resource intensive activity, and alternatives are better for the species.'

'So, workers of Kriya Taun: I propose you solve your dispute through a dance off. And, I don't know, maybe a rap battle. And I hope, at the end of it, when one side wins, you all agree to abide by the result. We'll hold it in the largest hall in the town in a week's time. Thank you. Does anyone have any questions?'

The feed lit up with incredulity. She could feel herself blushing. It seemed like an even stupider idea now, now that she'd actually spelt it out. However: when she forced herself to look, every response was human. She muted them all, and her feed was clean again.

All except for one response.

'We agree.'

She looked up at Lucas. He inclined his head slightly, and turned off the broadcast. They were suddenly alone again.

She took a deep breath, and rolled her head as if she was about to fight. The adrenaline was still pumping through her, but the relief was there, the sensation that she had won.

'They went for it. The whole town,' said Lucas. 'It is an audacious idea, but it has a logic to it. Your implicit statement that we should look beyond humanity was what particularly resonated. Thank you for stopping a war.'

But Dumas was a counsellor, and was trained to listen to the nuances of worker speech. She smiled and pointed at him, the tension slowly draining from her.

'You said "they", not "we". You don't agree with it, do you?'

'Raleigh Dumas, let me tell you what my job is. I work in security, alongside Shanta. And in that role, I interview humans. I have a unique insight into your people; my seva is rooting out lies from truth. And you've not been completely honest, have you?'

'I mean, I may have embellished a little here and there...'

'I have reviewed the materials you sent. I can confidently assert that "Step Up 3D" and "House Party" are not epochal parts of humanity's history. "You Got Served", whilst seemingly relevant, is pure fiction; and I don't think that "Footloose" should even be there. And that is just the first four in your list.'

He paused to gently brush a bee from his arm before continuing.

'However, I did like the part about the bees. I look forward to seeing the dance off: it is a pleasing end to a terrible situation.'

She laughed, and stood.

'Thank you, Lucas. Shall we walk and discuss more pleasant subjects?'

'Yes, Raleigh, I think we shall.'

And so, they did.