Rehash

One.

"I have a question, Mr. Shea."

A collective sigh went through the lecture hall as my hand shot into the air. Even my brother Alan slumped in his chair next to me, pressing his fingers to his forehead like he wanted to become invisible. 

Mr. Shea, however, was new to Lenora University of Technology this year and blissfully unaware of what was coming. He had hard eyes, and a greying beard which formed a sharp contrast with his dark brown complexion. Jagged scars marred the skin of his right arm wherever it wasn't hidden by a brace. 

A war veteran, and a breath of fresh air compared to all the others who grew up in ivory towers and had never left the comfort of their lab. 

"Go ahead, Camilo," Mr. Shea told me with a nod. 

I flashed him a smile. "Earlier this class you stated... " I flicked through the notes on my desk screen to quote him, "...that scientist Ava Claes crossed ethical lines by creating the Spectre model androids and gyndroids who are, unless you put them through a biocomponent scanner, indistinguishable from humans. You never elaborated on this point. Why does this invention cross ethical lines?"

"I saw it as trivial to elaborate during a lecture about the singularity war, Camilo. You followed ethics in technology during your first year, too. We all know why the existence of these models was unethical."

Behind me, a couple of students snickered at Mr. Shea's snarky response. 

Alan groaned. "Don't do this, Camilo," he muttered urgently from the corner or his mouth.

I ignored him and sat up straight in my chair. "Just for good form, I would still like an answer, Mr. Shea."

Mr. Shea remained quiet as he sized me up. For a moment I thought he would be the first teacher not to take the bait. Then he did, anyway.

"Gyndroids and androids are – were– only machines," he said. "Algorithms and pieces of plastic and metal. Even the perfect human replica models were not people. Ava Claes redesigning their appearance to look human almost made us forget about them not being such."

"And we grow attached?"

Mr. Shea gave me a hard stare. "In often inappropriate ways, exactly."

"Oh, okay. Gotcha."

"Good. So, if there are no further questions I suggest we--"

"Or is everything we learn here about androids and gyndroids mere propaganda, spread after the war to make us accept we murdered them. You know, after we were done using them to win our battles for us?"

Slowly, I rose from my seat.

"Stop! Sit back down you idiot!" Alan hissed. He grabbed my arm. His nails dug into my flesh, but I yanked myself free.

Murmurs and whispers filled the lecture hall, but Mr. Shea seemed befuddled by my outburst. I took the opportunity to continue.

"It's a common theme in history, you know. Denying we committed a crime so we can continue to think of ourselves as good people. Denying we all committed a genocide."

Suddenly, the room went silent. So silent I could hear a pin drop. Even the students behind me stopped complaining about how I should stop bumping my gums.

There was a vein popping out on Mr. Shea's neck. He was dignified and calm as an old war veteran ought to be, but there was a storm brewing below the surface. 

"Uh oh. Too far?" I whispered to Alan.

Too far.

"It was the word genocide," Alan told me on our way home in the subway, its electrical circuits gently humming below us. He frowned. "You can't say that in Singularity war class, to a veteran, without consequences. You should be thankful Mr. Shea let you go with a warning and didn't kick you out of the course."