The hearing chamber was incongruity itself. The walls were depression inducing grey brushed concrete. Old, like 1970s government-cheerful. But then there was the committee box. It floated above the floor of the house. Floated in quite the literal sense. Wasn't suspended, just floated. Rows of seating radiated outward from the well of the chamber. Today, those rows were almost entirely unoccupied. Larkin was pushed gently/firmly into the witness box. A voice sounded in his head "if it makes you comfortable, you may disrobe". Fuck. His throat went dry. "Do not worry, you will be safe". He looked down at the enviro-readout. 295K/70%N2/28%O2/1.8%CO2/0.2%trace/backgroundradiation-below det-lim.He held his breath and cracked the seal on the helmet bubble. With not much more than sheer willpower, he breathed in normally. And was fine. "Yes, you are safe here". That voice again. How? It is one thing to snatch a frequency out of the ether. Quite another to crack a somewhat hard-encryption (many, many digit primes - we are talking). Finally, it was quite insane that the decrypted signal would be read back by his suit AI as perfectly idiomatic English. That was what screwed him over entirely. The thin thread tying him to sanity, what kept him from turning into a gibbering fool was his pride. He was, after all, the scientific commander of the ISS2. He had already crammed a whole lifetime of research into his 40 years.
Larkin looked up. Steadied himself. "Who are you? Where am I?" he asked. He hoped his voice did not quaver. It did. The ... entity seated in the middle of the committee box (why did he think of it as that?) looked straight at him. That voice spoke "You are an envoy; plenipotentiary of your people. You will provide witness." Someone, or something, had suborned the suit AI completely. Normally, the suit spoke constantly to Larkin - now it was completely silent, except when relaying the messages from... those things.
His mind was dithering. He forced himself to look at the committee box. The speaker was humanoid, with a liberal definition. "Witness for what?" he asked. "Your planet is scheduled for demolition. A new hyperspace conduit is being built. Eminent domain and so on". Larkin gasped. "What? Why?.." The entity raised a limb. "It is necessary. Development. Bring growth to your sector. Jobs, even." "But.." Larkin moaned. "But demolition necessary. However, we are not thoughtless. Even if you have not developed space travel, you may testify. At this hearing, you may tell us, and the press - why your planet may be relocated and not destroyed. Relocation is very expensive. So you must justify.". Larkin's head spun. He turned to the "press box". Which was now occupied by a quartet of overgrown geckos. At least, they looked like geckos, although they were all smoking furiously.
He took a deep breath. Then another ten of the same. He started speaking. Larkin had never thought of himself as an orator. But here and now, he was Wordsworth wrapped in Churchill with the humility of Gandhi. He spoke of all that was beautiful on Earth, of how humanity had barely begun to take on the role of a benevolent steward of the planet, of how we were healing ecosystems, and just starting to explore Sol system. He spoke for what seemed like hours. When his throat parched up, he sipped water from the suit straw. Until finally, he was done. Haggard, he looked up at the bench. The thing, those things... were .. smiling? He whispered heartfelt prayer of thanks.
Then, suddenly, one of the (commissioners?) at the end of the bench spoke up. "And what of this?" He held out something. Larkin strained to see what it was. One of the journo-geckos stepped forward and screwed a monocle into his eye and peered closely at the device. The wall behind him suddenly turned into a giant screen. Larkin looked up. The device was clearly a late model iPheun. It was running some sort of a game-app. The app was a Kardashian simulator-game. Be a celeb in the tiny pixelated pretend-world. Run around "shopping" in V-space. Larkin felt his legs turn into jelly. The committee looked at him. There were no smiles now. The AI spoke - "Earth demolition to proceed forthwith. Relocation request denied."
Larkin looked up. Steadied himself. "Who are you? Where am I?" he asked. He hoped his voice did not quaver. It did. The ... entity seated in the middle of the committee box (why did he think of it as that?) looked straight at him. That voice spoke "You are an envoy; plenipotentiary of your people. You will provide witness." Someone, or something, had suborned the suit AI completely. Normally, the suit spoke constantly to Larkin - now it was completely silent, except when relaying the messages from... those things.
His mind was dithering. He forced himself to look at the committee box. The speaker was humanoid, with a liberal definition. "Witness for what?" he asked. "Your planet is scheduled for demolition. A new hyperspace conduit is being built. Eminent domain and so on". Larkin gasped. "What? Why?.." The entity raised a limb. "It is necessary. Development. Bring growth to your sector. Jobs, even." "But.." Larkin moaned. "But demolition necessary. However, we are not thoughtless. Even if you have not developed space travel, you may testify. At this hearing, you may tell us, and the press - why your planet may be relocated and not destroyed. Relocation is very expensive. So you must justify.". Larkin's head spun. He turned to the "press box". Which was now occupied by a quartet of overgrown geckos. At least, they looked like geckos, although they were all smoking furiously.
He took a deep breath. Then another ten of the same. He started speaking. Larkin had never thought of himself as an orator. But here and now, he was Wordsworth wrapped in Churchill with the humility of Gandhi. He spoke of all that was beautiful on Earth, of how humanity had barely begun to take on the role of a benevolent steward of the planet, of how we were healing ecosystems, and just starting to explore Sol system. He spoke for what seemed like hours. When his throat parched up, he sipped water from the suit straw. Until finally, he was done. Haggard, he looked up at the bench. The thing, those things... were .. smiling? He whispered heartfelt prayer of thanks.
Then, suddenly, one of the (commissioners?) at the end of the bench spoke up. "And what of this?" He held out something. Larkin strained to see what it was. One of the journo-geckos stepped forward and screwed a monocle into his eye and peered closely at the device. The wall behind him suddenly turned into a giant screen. Larkin looked up. The device was clearly a late model iPheun. It was running some sort of a game-app. The app was a Kardashian simulator-game. Be a celeb in the tiny pixelated pretend-world. Run around "shopping" in V-space. Larkin felt his legs turn into jelly. The committee looked at him. There were no smiles now. The AI spoke - "Earth demolition to proceed forthwith. Relocation request denied."
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