aside.
‘Oh well, so you’re programmed to load up information. So what? You’re still empty. It’s not even as if Lucy is the only person you can pretend to be is it?’
‘Do you want me to play another role? The menu is there beside you.’
I picked it up.
‘ Jolene ’ I read, ‘ A real hard bitch from New York City… Rigmor: The Swedish Doctor who likes to be in charge… La Contessa… ’
I shrugged.
‘Okay then, let’s see you do La Contessa .’
The transformation was instant and total: body language, facial expression, everything became languorous, sensual, aristocratic…
And when La Contessa spoke it wasn’t just the accent that was different, but the voice itself, deep and husky, completely unlike Lucy in every way…
‘I am so ashamed, but I need sex now. Do you understand me? I need eet very badly. My husban’, thee count, he ees a good man, but he ees – ‘ow can I say? – too good…’
‘Alright then, be Rigmor .’
Again, instant transformation: Rigmor was stern and stiff and harsh.
‘Please to remove your clothing, and I will begin the examination…’
‘Oh for god’s sake, forget it. Just be yourself…’
Be herself? Herself?
The face of the syntec suddenly became slack and empty. Its limbs froze. Its mouth hung slightly open. It was like my vision of the syntecs in the lounge after the customers had all gone home.
‘I mean be Lucy !’ I cried out in horror.
Lucy smiled. She tossed back her hair. She asked me what I’d like to do now?
16
Ruth was off in SenSpace. Well, if she expected me to get her out of there, she could think again. She could decide for herself whether she wanted pressure sores.
Charlie came humming out of the kitchen. He couldn’t speak any more, so he just hovered near me waiting for instructions. I ordered a drink.
The TV was still switched on. The President of Illyria was on the screen: stern President Ullman, emerging from the Executive Council Building flanked by Goliath security robots.
‘Our state is a refuge for Reason,’ he announced, in a hoarse, slightly shaky voice, ‘a place where Reason can shelter until the rest of the world recovers its senses. In the old world, Reason was humble: it took its place beside archaic and irrational beliefs and trusted to the human race to be able to see the difference. Then the Reaction came and we were asked to renounce Reason on pain of torture and death. Never again will we be humble, never again will we leave Reason undefended, never until we have rooted out from the world, once and for all, the causes of irrationality.’
He hesitated here. He was an old man. He fumbled with his notes.
‘Illyria is the most powerful state on Earth, not because of its size or population but because of Reason. Religion and irrationality can only raise frightened rabbles. The power of Reason created the jet engine, the atomic weapon, the energy source of cold fusion, the speed of Discontinuous Motion, the formidable systems of cybernetics.
‘And we will use our power. We will not tolerate the destructive power of irrationality and superstition in our midst. We will never again be fooled by talk of tolerance, or seduced by the idea that irrationality and superstition are decorative and harmless.’
And again he hesitated here, not through confusion or tiredness, I now realized, but through an effort to contain his immense rage.
‘I make the following decrees with immediate effect,’ he went on:
‘One. 4,000 known or suspected troublemakers in the guest-worker community will be expelled tonight to their countries of origin.
‘Two. No assembly of more than three guestworkers to take place in any public place, on pain of deportation or imprisonment.
‘Three. Possession of religious emblems to be punishable by immediate deportation.
‘Four. There will be a total ban on the publication or distribution of documents and electronic materials promoting irrational and superstitious ideas, or
‘Oh well, so you’re programmed to load up information. So what? You’re still empty. It’s not even as if Lucy is the only person you can pretend to be is it?’
‘Do you want me to play another role? The menu is there beside you.’
I picked it up.
‘ Jolene ’ I read, ‘ A real hard bitch from New York City… Rigmor: The Swedish Doctor who likes to be in charge… La Contessa… ’
I shrugged.
‘Okay then, let’s see you do La Contessa .’
The transformation was instant and total: body language, facial expression, everything became languorous, sensual, aristocratic…
And when La Contessa spoke it wasn’t just the accent that was different, but the voice itself, deep and husky, completely unlike Lucy in every way…
‘I am so ashamed, but I need sex now. Do you understand me? I need eet very badly. My husban’, thee count, he ees a good man, but he ees – ‘ow can I say? – too good…’
‘Alright then, be Rigmor .’
Again, instant transformation: Rigmor was stern and stiff and harsh.
‘Please to remove your clothing, and I will begin the examination…’
‘Oh for god’s sake, forget it. Just be yourself…’
Be herself? Herself?
The face of the syntec suddenly became slack and empty. Its limbs froze. Its mouth hung slightly open. It was like my vision of the syntecs in the lounge after the customers had all gone home.
‘I mean be Lucy !’ I cried out in horror.
Lucy smiled. She tossed back her hair. She asked me what I’d like to do now?
16
Ruth was off in SenSpace. Well, if she expected me to get her out of there, she could think again. She could decide for herself whether she wanted pressure sores.
Charlie came humming out of the kitchen. He couldn’t speak any more, so he just hovered near me waiting for instructions. I ordered a drink.
The TV was still switched on. The President of Illyria was on the screen: stern President Ullman, emerging from the Executive Council Building flanked by Goliath security robots.
‘Our state is a refuge for Reason,’ he announced, in a hoarse, slightly shaky voice, ‘a place where Reason can shelter until the rest of the world recovers its senses. In the old world, Reason was humble: it took its place beside archaic and irrational beliefs and trusted to the human race to be able to see the difference. Then the Reaction came and we were asked to renounce Reason on pain of torture and death. Never again will we be humble, never again will we leave Reason undefended, never until we have rooted out from the world, once and for all, the causes of irrationality.’
He hesitated here. He was an old man. He fumbled with his notes.
‘Illyria is the most powerful state on Earth, not because of its size or population but because of Reason. Religion and irrationality can only raise frightened rabbles. The power of Reason created the jet engine, the atomic weapon, the energy source of cold fusion, the speed of Discontinuous Motion, the formidable systems of cybernetics.
‘And we will use our power. We will not tolerate the destructive power of irrationality and superstition in our midst. We will never again be fooled by talk of tolerance, or seduced by the idea that irrationality and superstition are decorative and harmless.’
And again he hesitated here, not through confusion or tiredness, I now realized, but through an effort to contain his immense rage.
‘I make the following decrees with immediate effect,’ he went on:
‘One. 4,000 known or suspected troublemakers in the guest-worker community will be expelled tonight to their countries of origin.
‘Two. No assembly of more than three guestworkers to take place in any public place, on pain of deportation or imprisonment.
‘Three. Possession of religious emblems to be punishable by immediate deportation.
‘Four. There will be a total ban on the publication or distribution of documents and electronic materials promoting irrational and superstitious ideas, or
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