Prisons of Ice and Fire

The Hub

Normally on a ship, the worst place to bunk down is below decks, inside.

For The Destiny, however, everything is reversed; during the Hot Phase, atop the deck is unbearably hot and with ice as cargo, obviously, below deck is naturally able to be cooled and is engineered to be so without cargo.

In the Cold Phase, the nearer the heat waste of the engines the better, regardless of cargo.

Naturally, my bunk was in the elements, top and side, so being off-centre it enhances the pitch and roll of the ship, but with the work, sleep comes easy in any conditions.

However, I had had no work, so I was wide awake.

The note had been wrong about one thing; I had not as yet been questioned again by anyone, let alone the Captain. Therefore it was not unexpected when the crew were informed that the ship would be going to the Hub. The Hub is the Stilt City of the ruling Heptet; it is the centre of government and, as such, the best and most developed of them.

I held no illusions as to why we were going there. Of course an 'official' reason was given, but I fully expected to be taken somewhere to be 'debriefed'.

The visit would have to be short though, as we were due back at The City Of The Eye with very little time to spare. I held no opinion one way or the other as to whether the Heptet would risk trying to discover the intentions of the Cult, but I liked to think they would take no risks.

After all, the journey with the crate could have been a hoax: one huge bomb designed to detonate as soon as it was tampered with. It was no secret that The Heptet did not feel threatened by The Cult to such a degree that they would take the risk and, conversely, so little was known about The Cult that nothing was perceived to be beyond them.

With my brain racing, I could not help thinking about the device that the crate contained.

Whatever robot was inside and used to retrieve whatever it was the Cult were after had to be a phenomenal piece of engineering.

Up until the Change, robots had gradually moved more and more towards being human in form and design. It was said that towards the end, it was hard to tell them from us.

The logic was simple: those with the capacity to afford slaves wanted ones that they did not feel threatened by and that could perform tasks in the same way as humans.

The robots were however a compromise.

Building such a robot stretched the technology to the limit: the only design that worked well was so similar to a human that it had human needs. They had to breathe, feed and maintain a temperature.

They were, on the whole, stronger, fitter and harder than humans, but nonetheless, very human.

It was a strange thing; evolution picked the human form and we could not beat it, but, we could make 'perfect humans' in robot form ad nauseum.

Even more strange, as the process was perfected, it became apparent that it was an economic form: cheaper and quicker to build than any tried before. Lastly, and crucially, they were the easiest design to maintain: they 'mended' well.

Naturally, as time passed, the need to build sturdy robots for other tasks and environments became unnecessary: The knowledge was not lost, but the physical ability was.

So then, back to the crate... a robot the size of a human, but, one that could survive being locked in a crate for days on end; one that could survive the heat and dryness of the desert, albeit at night and, most importantly, a robot the size of a human with the mental capacity to perform a massively complicated task.

It was well known that for all their ability to create humanoid robots, creating a robot that would serve unswervingly, yet had enough intelligence to perform tasks that involved making complex choices had eluded the Makers.

A simple Law had been proposed that conjectured that it was impossible and it had become a saying:

"Serve freely only without free will. Serve best with the will to choose to."

In a nutshell, a robot clever enough to perform high-functioning tasks would have to be so intelligent that it would question the rationale behind them: it would be self-aware.

To my knowledge, based on this Law, a real law had eventually been passed: all robot designs would have to be tested and have an IQ of no greater than 70, or two standard deviations from the mean human score of 100. 'Minus 2' or -2SD was their designation, but most robots built were -3SD models, an IQ of 55.

In any event, to the best of my recollection, few had managed to perfect an artificial brain capable of -1SD or higher, and the likelihood of any surviving after so long was slim.

So, how clever would a robot have to be to negotiate the desert and retrieve the item?

That was the question that would keep me awake.

I had never been on the Hub as a ‘guest’ before and it was a real eye-opener.

The mooring was quite extraordinary: any boat afloat could be catered for, including ours.

A huge seawall opened on our approach and we entered and after we had passed, the gates closed. The scene was a transformation: we had moved from the view of a working hulk of a floating city constantly battered by the sea to what I can only describe as a ‘quaint’ harbour, complete with stone-looking cottages and a church. The water was as calm as a millpond.

This harbour was not, of course where we would normally land our cargo or, indeed, from where I barrowed the ice into the Last Park; for some reason someone had a desire to impress, but who and why I had no idea.

I had been asked to change my clothes again and the Bosun and the Captain both escorted me up the steps to the waiting Civil Servant. I was led to a transport pod and whisked with no effort to myself up and to the centre of the Hub: the Great Hall itself.