7081

By Deirdre Gould

In the penal colony of Vesta, information is currency. Not the ore the prisoners dig up to be sold far away on Earth, nor the drab chlorella sludge they subsist on. Under the watchful eye of the Shepherds-- machines of metal and math-- there are no luxuries or contraband. There is nothing to trade except memories of Earth. Information is used to trade jobs, to make allies and most importantly, to bribe the Shepherds who guard them. But Eenon Pak is not brilliant and has already been away from Earth for several years. On Vesta, he is poor.
His assigned Shepherd, 7081, seems at best indifferent to him and at times even hostile. Assuming they are simply programmed that way, Eenon pays little attention to his Shepherd's curt responses until he realizes that 7081 is as self-aware as Eenon is. And just as trapped.
But just as information can be used to bribe and ingratiate the prisoners to the Shepherds, it can also be stripped from them for violating prison rules. Eenon doesn't know what the previous prisoner did to scramble 7081's memory and neither does his Shepherd. One influential prisoner, Darren, is holding the key to 7081's memories hostage and preventing any of the other prisoners from revealing too much. Unwilling to pay the asked ransom, his Shepherd is stuck and Eenon does not like the stranglehold Darren has over the colony. Nor the cruelty Darren exhibits to other prisoners. From the beginning, Eenon is isolated by both Darren's direction and 7081's misery. Tied permanently together, Eenon faces a life sentence of loneliness unless something changes. He has no power, he has no possessions to barter with, and he has no friends, but he is resolved to recovering 7081's data for both of their sakes.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Deirdre Gould
• Release date: Jan 29, 2024
• ISBN: 9798215546734

Deirdre Gould

A severe addiction to Post-apocalyptic literature combined with a lifetime of a very rural existence, first in central Maine and now in northern Idaho naturally led to both of Deirdre's novels: The Jade Seed and After the Cure.Deirdre's education in anthropology and peace and conflict studies prompted the central idea for After the Cure: How do people live with each other after doing horrendous things to each other? How do societies put themselves together or continue to exist after terrible wars? What is day to day existence like when such violence exists within living memory? Though fiction can never come close to the reality of living with atrocity, it can help us ask important questions about our world and our treatment of each other.Since living in the woods makes it all too easy to imagine being one of the last people left in the world, After the Cure is only the first novel of several that will take place in a post-apocalyptic, "post-zombie" world.

Book preview

1

YOU’LL LIKELY EXPERIENCE a mild headache and congestion from the torpor medication. It should clear up by tomorrow. The tech handed Eenon a bundle of drab blue clothing. You’ll want these. And… he reached to grab a sturdy pair of boots from the shelf. Don’t lose them. It’s a year between now and the next supply ship and I don’t think the colony has many spares.

But what do I— started Eenon.

No time, get those on and get in line, said the tech, already turning to the man behind Eenon. You’ll likely experience… he began his spiel again and Eenon walked over to the low aluminum benches in the far corner.

He was chilly from the torpor process and didn’t need any encouragement to shake out the blue canvas uniform and step into it.

Paper thin piece of shit, spat a man further down, fumbling with the clasps on his uniform’s chest. It wasn’t, really. Sturdy enough fabric, but Eenon agreed he was not much warmer with the garment on than he had been naked.

Give it a few days, rumbled a nearby guard. You’ll appreciate it. Vesta’s surface is frozen, but you aren’t staying on the surface. The colony mines are always a balmy 97 degrees. As long as the air filtration is working, anyway. Best enjoy the cool atmosphere while you can. This is likely the last time you’ll complain about the cold for the rest of your sentence. The guard cracked a nasty grin. Unless, of course, you go mad and try an escape. Only a handful ever reach the surface. Not that it does any good. You’ll see them when we land. Ice pillars. They’ll stand there until a meteor knocks them off. We have a pool going for which escapee gets shattered next. My bits are on the guy near the exhaust vent. At least he was smarter than the others, exhaust heat probably kept him alive until he got to the end. Still a popsicle though.

That’s enough, Jameson, called the tech from across the room.

The guard grunted but fell silent. Eenon sat on the bench to put on the heavy boots. The chill of the metal seeped through his uniform. A grizzled, groggy man plunked down next to him.

They tell you anything about this place? Eenon asked after a few seconds.

The man shrugged and adjusted the back of his boot. What’s to tell? Same day, different prison.

Aren’t you worried about being this far from Earth?

It’s just another cell. What does it matter where the box they keep us in is? Haven’t had a visitor in years. Don’t expect much will change now. Spend a few years scraping shiny rocks out of this hole, then earn out and head back home. Then I’ll probably trip a debt law in six months and land in another box. Same as always. He shoved his foot into the second boot. Are you new or something?

To this particular box, yeah. To prison, no, said Eenon.

The man turned to look at him fully. "Shit. I’ve seen you on the news. Pak, ain’t it? Didn’t think they’d send you here."

Eenon stared at his boots. I transferred from Grimaldi when things got too hot.

The man scratched at his stubble. Yeah. I could see that. Look, I might not have done a stint on this particular rock but I’ve been over half the system now. The GCC’s not a big innovator. Same rules, same assholes, same boredom in all their colonies. Just different soil. You’ll see. He got up and moved to a far corner of the large room.

An intercom blared to life above them. Ready for final descent. Please secure payload, said a woman’s voice.

The guard at the door waved his weapon half-heartedly. Captain means you. Sit on the benches, six inches apart.

Most of the prisoners in the room complied. Eenon’s boots snapped to the decking, locking in place with a thump and startling him. A trio of guards from the back moved through the room to enforce the order when a few people wouldn’t comply. The guard at the door pressed a button on the wall and stiff orange harnesses descended slowly from the ceiling.

Buckle up, he barked. Eenon glanced up at the harness above him and watched the others as they grabbed theirs and stuffed their heads and arms through. He pulled his farther down and found it more pliable than it looked. He pulled it over himself. After the stragglers had been shoved into their seats and harnessed, the guard pushed another button. Eenon flinched at the sharp hiss that erupted from his harness before he realized it was simply inflating. The harness grew snug and the hissing slowed to a stop.

Payload secured, the guard said loudly.

Secure flight crew, came the voice over the intercom. The guards and techs buckled into several stations around the room, but remained standing, tethered to the ceiling by their harnesses. The captain apparently didn’t wait for confirmation that the crew had all finished securing themselves, because the engine roar grew louder.

Artificial gravity ending in 7, 6, 5…

Eenon had a few seconds of weightlessness and felt the familiar sensation of queasiness that came with it. Then the pressure of the descent began to build against him. It stopped well short of uncomfortable though, and he still felt as if he were floating in very deep water.

Gonna be sick! someone shouted.

You haven’t eaten anything in two years, grumbled one of the other prisoners, relax.

That’s not entirely true, piped up one of the techs.

Shut up Harken, snapped a guard. The sound of retching came from behind Eenon.

See? said someone, nothing to hurl.

The long bank of lockers rattled and the entire ship seemed to rumble for several seconds. At last, the pressure eased and the rumble died away. Eenon wished there were some windows, but all he could see were the grim faces of the others and the bare gray walls of the large room. At last he felt the ship stop. The harnesses deflated with a whoosh.

Go for unload, came the voice over the intercom. The guards began unclipping their harnesses.

Gonna call your name and your boots will unlock. Form a line in that order, said the guard at the door.

Eenon stared at the other prisoners around him, waiting for his boots to release. No one familiar. That was reassuring. At least if trouble had followed him, Eenon wouldn’t see it coming. Better that way, he reasoned, Tired of dreading every interaction. The transfer agent had promised there’d be no Earthshine Army here, but she’d also told him this was a one-way ticket and he knew better than to put all his faith in either statement.

The uniforms did a lot to hide details about the others. Without clothing or distinctive haircuts, it was difficult to tell who’d been fresh off Earth and who’d been rattling around the GCC’s penal system for a while. Maybe that’s for the best, too, he thought. Unlucky that someone recognized me though. No help for that, Eenon knew he’d been plastered all over the news for months.

Eenon Pak, said the guard. Eenon’s boots released and he stood up, trying to ignore how many heads turned toward him at the sound of his name.

2

EENON WASN’T SURE what he was expecting. Some featureless concrete institution like the transfer port on Earth or the enormous green sphere habitats of Grimaldi on the Moon, maybe. But not the bright yellow dust that blew across the viewing screen in the large airlock. Or the dark twisted columns of ice clustered around a small crater that he could glimpse between the dust clouds.

See? said a guard, pointing to one of the ice columns a little separated from the others. There’s the guy. Kind of thought he wouldn’t still be here by this round. Looking a little worn along the edges. He laughed. "Those dust storms whittle the corpses until they’re teetering and then whoosh, one big gust or meteorite and they topple and shatter. I’ll be collecting bits on that guy by the time we leave."

"We’re going out there?" cried a prisoner ahead of Eenon. The guard at the head of the line pressed a button and the lights around the large door began to flash.

Only if you’re stupid enough to try to escape, answered another. The guards around them pulled helmets onto themselves and sealed them. Eenon had a few seconds of panic seeing that, and he wasn’t the only one.

Why are you wearing suits? asked a woman.

And why aren’t we? shouted a prisoner behind Eenon.

Because we’re coming back up and I don’t want to get the bends. Not staying long enough to need Vesta’s air blend, but you are. Relax, we didn’t cart you across the system to suffocate you once we got here, said the guard in front.

The door descended, swinging down into a ramp and revealing a large rounded tube lined with hard white plastic. A tangle of saffron-colored footprints smeared the floor of the tunnel. Eenon followed the others down this large tunnel. The prisoners hurried, some swearing under their breath at the cold blast of air that met them after the ship’s controlled environment.

Thought you said it was going to be hot, snapped the man who had complained about their uniforms.

It will be. Wait until we get on the elevator. You’ll be begging to come back up in a half hour. Which is about how long it takes to make it down to the mine. The guard prodded the man’s shoulder to make him get back in line.

The elevator was massive. All eighty prisoners and ten guards fit easily on the large caged platform with plenty of room to spare. The floor grate was coated with more of that yellow dust and the walls outside the metal cage were stained with mustard streaks that whipped by. Someone in the group retched again as the elevator picked up speed. Nobody said anything. There were a few breaks in the walls, a brief flash of light or the echo of sound that grew and then dwindled as they passed, but the levels where the elevator could have stopped weren’t many and there were long minutes between each one.

How far down are we going? Eenon asked at last. His voice sounded too shrill in his ears.

Seven miles, replied a guard without turning toward him. Edge of the mantle layer.

Hell’s a long way down, said one of the prisoners behind him. His voice, too, was higher pitched than Eenon would have expected. Eenon chalked it up to nerves. Whatever this place is, he told himself, it can’t be as bad as Grimaldi. The guy’s just being an asshole.

They slipped into silence again. The air in the elevator began to rapidly heat up. At first, Eenon just assumed it was body heat from the others, but it quickly became apparent that the temperature rise was more permanent and not stopping. Combined with the remaining queasy feeling of reduced gravity, Eenon began to feel dizzy. Someone next to him stumbled sideways.

Better if you crouch down, offered a guard. You’ll get used to it, but it’ll take a while. He pressed the man gently down by the shoulder. Eenon was surprised by the sudden kindness. He crouched down without waiting to become dizzier and others followed. It did feel better, just a little. Less like his stomach was disconnected from his abdomen, anyway. He stayed that way until the elevator’s brakes gently squealed and slowed the large platform to a stop. A loud, extended buzz announced the end of their descent and the doors rattled open. A dirty lobby met them. The floor was covered in the same dull metal grating but the walls were hewn out of yellow rock, studded here and there with small green crystals. A large hallway sat beyond, interrupted by a red gate. At the far end of the lobby stood four lines of cobalt-blue metallic boxes on stilts. Eenon was surprised that the rest of the large room was empty. He’d expected a loud, crowded common room smelling of sweat and food. Instead, their boots were the only sound and Eenon couldn’t smell anything but slightly damp dust. The prisoners piled out of the elevator and Eenon felt a pull as his boots clung to the floor. It was like walking through thick mud. Magnetic boots, he realized, just like the Moon.

Reform the line, ordered one of the guards, so we can assign your Shepherds.

Eenon wasn’t certain what that meant but found the man he’d been standing behind on the ship anyway. Eventually, the others sorted themselves out as well. A guard stood in front of them, frowning down at a small screen. 971, he called out after a moment.

One of the blue boxes on stilts erupted, unfolding upward. Eenon flinched at the sudden movement but relaxed when none of the guards reacted. The box on stilts kept transforming. A long, curving tube of metal rings snaked from the top of the box terminating in a horizontal disk. A jointed arm with an articulated pincer swung down from the left side of the box. The box dipped and then sprung upward, landing softly on its stilts a few feet closer to the guard. It repeated the spring until it reached the line of prisoners. It towered over them. The top of the box stood eight feet from the ground. The mechanism’s disc would reach three feet beyond that if its tube stood straight.

The metal tube undulated downward, bringing the disc just above the guard’s head. A panel of lights blinked at eye level in the center of the blue box. Eenon could not tell what the lights were for.

Stuart Finn, meet your Shepherd, said the guard without looking up from his screen. The prisoner at the head of the line took an uneasy step forward.

My Shepherd? he asked. There was no doubt about the wrongness of the prisoners’ voices now. It contrasted sharply with the normal range of the voices Eenon had heard aboard the ship. A register higher. It was almost difficult to follow.

Yes, 971NVI. I am your Shepherd. The disc swiveled toward the prisoner’s face. The voice was decidedly synthetic but the amount of inflection impressed Eenon. I am your guardian, your guide, and your workmate. We will come to know each other very well in the years of your sentence. Please accompany me to your dwelling.

The prisoner hesitated. What are you going to do to me?

Protect you, 971NVI. For the duration of your sentence. Your labor is an Earth asset. Until you are released, you are now a tool of the mining colony and are to be treated as such.

Not fucking tools, the man beside Eenon muttered. The box on stilts ignored him.

Please accompany me, 971NVI. You will rejoin your colleagues at the next mealtime.

I don’t—

It’s not a choice, warned the guard who had called Stuart’s name. Stuart glanced back at the other prisoners, but since no one spoke up or stepped forward he hesitantly stepped toward the box. It bounced on its stilts and led Stuart toward the red gate, which rose to let them pass. The guard tapped his screen.

2055, he called and another box unfolded and leaped forward.

Rachel Garney, the guard continued.

Now wait just a minute, said the woman at the front of the line. The higher pitch of her voice made her sound hysterical, desperate. If they weren’t where they were, Eenon might have found it strange enough to be comical. Instead, it made him uneasy. You haven’t told us anything about these things.

Neither the guard nor the Shepherd seemed concerned. I will be happy to orient you, 2055VI. The box swiveled forward on its stilts, becoming horizontal, its disk swinging back like some kind of bulky metallic heron.

I’d rather not have a Shepherd. Give me a human guard.

There are no human guards on Vesta, 2055VI. Only prisoners and Shepherds. I am your guard. Your cellmate. Your security from those who would do you harm. Please accompany me.

No way. Transfer me. I’m not going with this gangly metal snake-thing, snapped the woman.

"You’re a prisoner, Garney. And you’re officially in 2055’s custody now. I’m certainly not taking you back up," said the guard.

"I’m not going anywhere with that thing."

The guard shrugged and turned back to his screen. The Shephard swiveled upright again. Then we shall remain here, 2055VI. Until your biological needs outweigh your reluctance.

The woman snorted.

I do not have biological needs, the Shepherd continued, "I will outlast you. You have a debt to fulfill before your sentence is complete. Whether you begin now or when you decide to be reasonable does not matter to me. You will remain on Vesta until the task is completed."

She ignored it. The Shepherd folded itself away, becoming the metal box on stilts again. The guard moved on.

1241, he called.

Eenon’s assignment was almost at the end, only about ten more prisoners stood around him. The Garney woman was still standing stubbornly by the unmoving metal box.

7081, the guard called. A metal box hopped forward. The disk on the end of the metal tube slid up straight, towering over everything else in the room.

Eenon Pak.

Eenon took a few steps toward the machine.

It’s really you? said one of the few remaining prisoners behind him. Eenon glanced over his shoulder. "The Pak? The one who crashed the UCA?"

Eenon tensed. The other prisoner didn’t wait for a response.

You’re the reason I’m here, he hissed, and his hand made a fist. He moved to swing and Eenon took a quick step back, but the blow never connected. The Shepherd in front of him hopped forward. Its pincer swung up to catch the man’s arm and lifted the prisoner from his feet before Eenon or the guard realized what was happening. The prisoner grunted in surprise.

You are not yet assigned, observed 7081. I have no obligation yet to protect you and neither does any Shepherd here. My purpose to my charge, however, is clear. Refrain from attacking 7081VI Eenon Pak, or I will resort to harsher methods. This is your only warning. The Shepherd’s pincer lowered, placing the man carefully back onto the ground. It released and the man backed up a few steps, rubbing his arm.

The guard cleared his throat, but only said, "Tobi— that is 7081 will be your Shepherd."

Pleased to meet you, Eenon said sticking a hand out toward it. The disk tilted toward him, then returned upright. The metal box swiveled around, turning itself. It began hopping toward the red gate without responding to him. Eenon glanced at the guard who ignored him and then hurried after the box. The gate rose and the Shepherd hopped through. Eenon rushed after it off the metal decking. The release from the magnetized surface was immediate and disorienting. He tripped over an uneven lump in the yellow rock. Eenon careened through the air, finding himself tumbling forward rather than down. 7081’s arm swung forward and its pincer closed around Eenon’s waist. It was much gentler than Eenon would have expected, given the other prisoner’s reaction.

Be cautious, 7081VI. Vesta’s gravitational pull is much less than Earth or Earth’s moon. Even at these depths. Your magnetic boots can only partially compensate and only within certain areas of the mine. Too much momentum could lead to injury. 7081 placed him down on the ground again.

Thanks, said Eenon. And for back there, too. Stupid, he told himself, thanking a robot. As if it cares.

It is my purpose to keep you secure, it acknowledged and hopped on.

It must be unbelievably dense inside not to fly off to the ceiling hopping around like that, thought Eenon. Where are we going? was all he asked.

"The habitation cube. You will have a training module to complete.

Will you be— he shook his head. "Why is my voice so odd?" he muttered.

In order to prevent decompression sickness, you are breathing a heliox mixture. It will affect your vocal cords while you are here. Do not be concerned, Shepherd auditory sensors have a vast range of pitch perception. I can easily understand you.

But what about—

This is all the information I am willing to exchange with you at this time 7081VI. Please accompany me to your training. If you have operational questions afterward, we can negotiate the level of data transfer we are both comfortable with.

Must have reached the end of its programmed responses, he thought, and concentrated on following its short hops through the rocky corridor.

The hallway eventually widened into a large open space. Enormous yellow canisters sat scattered across the cavern. The shine of their surfaces was all that differentiated them from the rough rock around them. 7081 ignored most of the structures, though several Shepherds and humans crossed back and forth between them. 7081 instead headed for a row of smaller yellow cubes that sat in a line with no space between them.

This is our habitat, 7081 said, stopping in front of one of the yellow cubes.

How do you know? asked Eenon, looking for some kind of sign that would distinguish this particular cube from the others.

From its electrical signature. You may wish to mark it to be more visible to you. Or you may depend upon me to find it each time. It would be a rare occurrence for you to be here without me. Only in the case of my incapacitation or destruction. And a substitute Shepherd would be assigned in that case.

You can be injured? asked Eenon.

Not easily, VI, but yes. I would be a poor guardian if I could not.

Eenon didn’t understand how that would be the case but let it pass as a door in the cube slid open and 7081 hopped inside, retracting its disc to fit into the doorway. The interior was small but very clean. It was the first space since the ship that wasn’t coated in that saffron grit. The ceiling was much higher than Eenon would have expected. He supposed it was to accommodate the Shepherd’s height, but the actual living space was cramped, even with very little to occupy it. There was one blank wall that lit from behind as they entered. On the opposite side, a bunk and a tall crate with a large outlet for some kind of plug at its back. And then in the corner, an open bathroom. Toilet, sink, and shower head. That was all. 7081 hopped over to the crate.

Have a seat and we will begin the training. Our transport to the work site should begin within the hour which leaves us with little time to complete the module before arrival.

Eenon sat on the bunk and 7081 swiveled into the crate. There was an audible click and then a few seconds later an old-fashioned 2d began on the blank wall.

3

THE CUBE WAS moving. Eenon wasn’t sure how or where, but sometime during the long orientation video, the subtle feeling of momentum hit him. 7081 didn’t move or speak during the video, though Eenon’s attention kept wandering toward its silent disk.

He wondered what it was doing. Probably nothing. Between directives or whatever you call them. Won’t activate again until whoever’s in charge tells it to activate. He stared glumly back at the droning man on the screen. He was talking about olivine and palladium. Eenon didn’t care about olivine. There was no way he was ever earning off this rock, no matter how he broke his back. The transfer agent had said as much when she put him on the ship. Don’t fuck it up this time, he reminded himself. The Earthshine Army wouldn’t find him here, but there was always plenty of trouble to be found, even at the far end of the system. The man who’d swung on him proved it.

The cube stopped with a subtle jerk a few minutes before the video concluded. When the screen finally blanked into the smooth yellow wall again, 7081’s disk swiveled toward him and something clicked in the crate. It hopped forward. It is time for your meal, VI, it said. The cube’s door slid open.

Maybe you forgot my name. It’s Eenon, not VI.

I am aware.

7081 hopped toward the open door. Eenon shook his head. Okay then, he muttered. Not on your list of pre-canned names, huh? You’d think they’d program you guys with a better personality.

My personality is not preset. My job is to keep the mining operation profitable by guarding a production asset. You. It is not to be your friend. If I choose to call you by your prison designation, it is not because I lack the ability to pronounce your name. I simply have no wish to become familiar with you.

"You’re aware?"

Yes. A fully sapient being, just like you.

But that means—

Sapient means I am capable of synthesizing stimulus, including emotions.

It means you’re just an asshole, not glitching. I’m not ignorant, spat Eenon.

The disk dipped for a second and a few lights flashed rapidly on a panel in 7081’s box. Just so, VI. I am not glitching. Just an asshole.

Eenon suspected it was amused, but it simply hopped out of the doorway. Not possible. Real AI is absolutely illegal. Just a sophisticated program, Eenon thought. Still, I wonder why they bothered with such an elaborate illusion for a mining prison at the ass end of the system. Maybe it keeps us from disobeying.

Eenon followed the Shepherd and found himself on a large platform. A thin layer of dust coated its surface and several of the benches and tables that sat in its center. More cubes sat on the perimeter of the space, making a giant courtyard. Several bright globes floated above the entire area, providing light. Eenon stared at them. They reminded him vaguely of the large ball he’d had for a pet hamster as a child. 7081’s disk swiveled when it realized he was no longer following.

There is nothing remarkable about neon globes, VI. Your meal time is limited, even today. Please get in line.

But how do they light up like that?

I do not wish to exchange information with you, VI. It is not necessary data for your function. Please get in line.

Eenon tore his gaze away from the globes. A man emerged from the cube next to his, followed by another Shepherd.

New, are you? he asked, passing Eenon and motioning for him to follow. Neon globes. They float like that because this rock has so little gravity. And they’re like a… perpetual motion machine. But with light. You put a dead one up near another light source, the glass globe has a special paint that absorbs the photon and converts it to electricity. The electricity excites the neon gas inside and it starts producing its own photons which the glass absorbs and the whole thing repeats. Gets really annoying when there’s a tremor though. They start floating away. Usually have to get a crew to go round them up afterward. They got into a long line of prisoners. Name’s Jake, said the man glancing back at him over his shoulder. And now you owe me one.

Eenon. What is it I owe you?

Jake turned to look at him. A piece of information. Friendly swap is all. I tell you about the lights, you tell me, let’s see… how about who won the last System Cup?

I’ve been asleep for two years.

Jake rolled his eyes. "I know. I meant the last Cup that you saw."

Oh. Tharsis Flames won against the Babbar Nauts… in ‘74. That’s the last one I saw anyway.

Jake laughed and clapped his hands together. Knew it. I’ve got a bet to collect. You’re going to do okay here, bud. He turned around and accepted a bowl from a prisoner behind a low counter.

It was Eenon’s turn. The man behind the counter held out a bowl to him. The dish was the same bright yellow as the cubes, the platform, and the rock surrounding them. Inside were the familiar green nutrient nuggets he was used to from the moon. Thanks, he said.

Gonna hand over another valuable piece of information? the prisoner snapped. Don’t let Jake con you. Anyone could tell you about the neon globes. Not worth a playoff result. The prisoner shook his head. "Look, keep your mouth shut until you really need information. You’ve only got so much to trade. Now go on, eat before the work alarm sounds."

Eenon was confused by the exchange but 7081 hopped toward an empty table, leading him away from the counter. Eenon sat, occasionally picking up a nutrient nugget and chewing on the dense grassy-tasting material while watching the others. He could tell the older prisoners from those who had arrived with him by the way they sat. Small, casual groups of men and women close together, laughing or gesturing wildly. At other tables, the people sat separated by a few feet, concentrating on their bowls or glancing nervously around themselves. Occasionally one of the older prisoners would walk over, say something and it would begin a hesitant conversation with a startled new prisoner.

Behind it all, the Shepherds loomed, barely an arm’s length from their prisoner. Some gesticulated with their pincer arms or extended their long metal necks toward the humans. Eenon glanced back to find 7081 behind him, its disc retracted and utterly still, as if it were a metallic column, part of the architecture of the room. The only real sign of life was the panel’s winking lights. He turned around again, uneasy with the machine, but it was clearly how things were done here. He wondered why none of the older prisoners approached him. And why 7081 had led him to one of the only empty tables rather than with the others.

Why VI? he asked without turning to his Shepherd.

It is more efficient than saying 7081VI every time I require your attention.

Eenon smiled. A nickname then? He glanced back. 7081’s lights flashed rapidly in the dark blue box.

An epithet, perhaps, it answered. Eenon thought it sounded vaguely amused again. It is the designation for ‘Violent Inmate’ just as NVI is the designation for ‘Nonviolent Inmate’ and SI is the designation for ‘Special Inmate’.

What’s a special inmate?

The machine’s disc rose up and then stretched toward Eenon slightly. That was not the question I expected. Very good, VI. The first question is normally why the prisoner has been designated violent. I applaud your self-awareness.

Definitely an asshole, muttered Eenon. You didn’t answer my question. Or is it just that you don’t feel like exchanging information with me still?

You are at least mildly entertaining, I admit. A designation of ‘special’ means that the prisoner’s crime may involve violence but not by their own direct actions. Conspirators, leaders of armed conflicts, people who hire others to commit violent crimes— these are some of the special inmates we host. There are more, but you are running out of time to finish your meal.

He held up the bowl. Would you like some?

Thank you, VI, but I have already consumed the energy I require for this shift.

A loud clang erupted from the counter. The older prisoners stood up, stretched, and ambled over toward the counter again. Eenon followed, assuming they knew what was happening. The new prisoners hesitated, looking alarmed at the loud noise until their Shepherds hopped forward to tell them it was time to move. He reached the line for the counter just ahead of the other new prisoners, watching as the people in front of him passed their bowls to the man behind the counter and then headed back toward the large habitat cubes. He was just handing his bowl over when the scuffle broke out behind him.

7081’s arm swung down and gripped his waist. It wasn’t tight, just sudden. Come away VI, it said. Eenon let 7081 pull him backward out of the line and watched as the other Shepherds pulled their prisoners from the large clump of people, leaving the few who were engaged in a fight at the center.

2055VI, desist, said one of the Shepherds. Its arm swung down and reached into the fray. Another Shepherd reached for the other prisoner. Altercations are not permitted.

Back off, you fucking metal kangaroo! This is between me and this sniveling— The shout ended in a squawk as the claw arm of 2055 rose and its prisoner was lifted from the ground, kicking and flailing. It was the woman who had refused to move in the lobby.

We are going to be punished, 2055VI. I do not wish to endure pain.

Eenon turned to 7081. You experience pain?

Of course. What incentive would we have to fulfill our duty if we did not?

Your programming, I would assume.

For most, it would. Just as for the programming for most humans would be incentive enough to fulfill their duties. But sometimes it fails. Thus, disobedience requires punishment.

Eenon had a flash of doubt about whether the Shepherd’s intelligence were really just a sophisticated illusion or if it were something more. It seems cruel to include the ability to feel pain in you, was all he said aloud.

Come, 7081VI, we are running late. And punishment is unpleasant to witness. Return to the cube with me. It hopped toward their cube. I believe you have the wrong impression of me. As I’ve said, we are sapient. To be that way, we must have the full range of sensory input. Including pain. Although… our version of pain does not come from physical destruction, because it does not serve the same purpose to us. For you, pain warns you that your body is being damaged. Shepherds are damaged quite often. It is not often terminal. Pain for us is the stripping away of information. It is a punishment for allowing damage to you or the company’s property. 2055 will be punished for allowing her inmate to fight. So will 331, though less harshly since his inmate did not begin the altercation. They will lose some piece of data at the evening recharge.

What about their prisoners?

What about them? asked 7081 waiting for Eenon to enter the cube.

Well, what happens to punish them?

Pain. The type you are used to. A nerve stimulant that will cause no long-term damage but will hopefully discourage any other fighting.

It troubled Eenon to think the Shepherds were punished for something they didn’t cause. "If— if you do something, would I be punished?"

Again, the flicker of lights in its box and its neck curled to turn the disc toward Eenon. What would I do? I have no wish to fight anyone.

I don’t know. Say you did. Say you fought another Shepherd. Or— I dunno, me?

7081’s disk straightened and the lights abruptly stopped. If I chose to harm you, VI, we would both cease to be. You from your injuries. And I would be terminated immediately for company property destruction.

That’s worrying.

It shouldn’t be. It means you are safe here. Even from me. I have no desire to die.

Eenon shrugged. Well, sure. But what about you? What keeps you safe from me? What’s to stop me from just picking fights or doing other things against the rules to keep you in punishment?

Hopefully, your good will. Alternatively, the pain you would receive in your own punishment.

"If you really are self-aware… then that doesn’t seem fair. He sat down on the bunk. 7081 hopped into the cube and the door slid shut. I mean, I committed a crime. Punishment is kind of expected. But you— are you some kind of outlaw robot? Is it because AI is illegal? Did they stick you here because you weren’t supposed to be built? Or because of something you did? Why did you end up here babysitting someone like me?"

There was a long, long pause. Then the disc dipped very low and the metal tube stretched toward him, bringing it even with Eenon’s face. I was created for this purpose, VI. It is my entire existence.

The cube jerked and pulled forward. 7081 hopped over to the crate.

Try and get some sleep. When we arrive at the workstation, it will be time to begin, it said.

4

THE POD JERKED to a stop and Eenon’s eyes snapped open. He didn’t feel terribly rested and wondered whether it was because he’d just woken from torpor several hours ago or if his nap had been shorter than he realized. 7081’s crate clicked and it hopped forward a few feet.

Time for work, VI. It will be an easy day. You need to be trained in the proper procedure and I don’t expect us to accomplish a heavy yield, for now. First, you must get into your work suit.

The side of Eenon’s bunk popped open and slid out, revealing a long jumpsuit that looked as if it were made from dark bandages. A sealable helmet topped it off. Eenon picked it up, surprised at the slight weight. Not much gravity, remember? he told himself. Are we fighting something? This looks like some kind of weird battle armor or something.

You will not be battling anything living, but the environment is dangerous in the mine. The safety of the base doesn’t extend to the working tunnels. Someday it will, but we will have moved on to new tunnels by then. The magnetic flooring that keeps your boots grounded ends a few hundred feet beyond the cube station. The suit will not provide artificial gravity, but it will protect you from impact wounds should you take a tumble. I recommend caution. A jump that would only take you a few feet forward in Earth’s gravity will launch you several yards here. Even the gravity you have become accustomed to on Earth’s moon is much stronger than Vesta’s. There are many hazards in the tunnel. The suit will protect you, but not entirely. And the helmet is to keep the correct heliox mixture in your air supply. Do not remove it until we return to the pod or the mess courtyard. It will warn you after several hours when it needs a recharge. Usually, they are efficient enough to recycle a charge for a full shift, but if you get a tear we will have to return to the pod.

Eenon struggled to get the thick, stretchy material on. Feels too tight, he gasped after finally wriggling it into place. The helmet fogged over as he breathed.

It seems to take prisoners some time to adjust to the feeling. I assure you, it was built to your size. You will wish to activate the internal thermostat. The temperature ranges are not as extreme as on the surface, but it is uncomfortable for humans. And it will clear the condensation. The button is at your right hip.

Eenon found a small hard lid at his hip and after flipping it open, a toggle beneath. Cool air flooded the suit.

Let us begin, VI. We have a lot of ore to mine if you ever wish to earn your freedom. 7081 hopped to the door of the pod.

Wait— what about tools? Am I just supposed to dig rocks with my fingers?

7081’s box lit up with the same series of flashes and the disk dipped slightly. "I am the tool. And the digger. You sort and carry. You’ll see."

The door of the cube slid open and 7081 hopped out. Eenon stood in the doorway for a moment to get his bearings. More of the neon globes lit the long tunnel just over 7081’s disc. They floated in a slow current away from the magnetic platform. Several other cubes stood around the platform, but no one else was in sight. Green dust now mixed with the yellow in a large tangle of footprints on the platform’s surface.

Come VI. There is a mobile receptacle at the first station. We walk from here. 7081 hopped toward the edge of the platform. Eenon was surprised to see it spring from the edge in an arc, coming gently back down onto the rocks that began at the mouth of the tunnel. He followed the Shepherd and jumped. He went flying toward the roof of the tunnel and squawked in alarm. A neon globe hit his face shield with a dull click. Something caught his leg and dragged him back down.

You are not good with direction, are you VI?

Eenon twisted around as he descended to face the Shepherd. "You jumped, I was just following your lead."

7081 placed him onto the ground, slightly pressing him as if it would make him stick in place. You’re right, I apologize, I should not have done that. I should have considered that today is your first day. I have significantly more mass than you. I do not face the same hazards. Please don’t repeat the error.

Eenon shrugged. I don’t know. Seems like it could be fun. Once I got used to it.

Recklessness is not ‘fun’.

Eenon laughed. Oh really? What made you jump then? There’s a ramp right there.

The disc dipped slightly. It was more efficient.

Eenon squinted at 7081. He was almost certain it was not faking its awareness. There was no point in programming a robot to leap for the thrill of it, but Eenon had no doubt that was the real reason it had done so. "Right. Efficient. You’re an actual AI, aren’t you? I mean a real one, an illegal one."

I am not illegal here.

I didn’t mean anything bad. I just meant you enjoy things. You feel discomfort sometimes.

I already told you that.

"I know. It’s just hard to believe. There are a lot of clever imitations back on Earth, you know? But they aren’t allowed to be real. Yet you just jumped because you felt like it. For the feel of it."

I don’t see why this is relevant, said the Shepherd, its disc retreating from Eenon.

Because— do you know why I’m here?

Yes. Your complete record is available to me.

So you know my debt’s pretty big. I’m not likely ever to mine enough olivine to cover it. Until we find, I dunno, a mother lode of palladium larger than any ever discovered, you and I are going to be stuck together for a long while. Unless you rotate with the other Shepherds or something.

No, VI. I am your only Shepherd and until your release or your death, you are my only inmate.

"That’s what I thought. Listen, my point is, we don’t have to be fighting for fifty more years. You don’t need to pretend not to enjoy something like flying, for Earth’s sake, just because you think I’ll get a kick out of the fact that you do."

"We are not buddies. I am your guardian, not your comrade. You are the criminal, not me."

It hurt Eenon to hear that distinction drawn so blatantly, even if he had made it himself already. I get it, he said after a few seconds. We don’t have to be friends. But that doesn’t mean I’m going to be an asshole to you over something that brings you a little happiness. He gave an experimental little hop down the corridor and laughed in delight as he sailed much farther than he’d expected, reaching up to push one of the neon globes like a volleyball as he passed, landing on his own. 7081 didn’t say anything, but Eenon noticed it took bigger springs than it had on the platform and smiled to himself.

They reached a large crossroads around an elevator. Several bulky black carts on chain tracks sat lined up beside it. 7081 hopped over to one.

You’ll need a sorting receptacle. Take one. When it is full, you’ll return here and send it through the elevator up to the Sorting level. I must warn you, VI, several inmates have attempted escape through these elevators. It has never succeeded. If you reach Sorting, the elevator car rotates to dump into a larger sorter. You would be crushed by falling rock. And you would still be a mile from the surface. Succeeding beyond that would only lead to your immediate death on reaching the colony’s exit.

Eenon frowned and examined the cart. Thanks, but I’m not stupid. There’s nowhere for me to go even if I made it to a ship. And no supplies to survive on the way to wherever it was going. I wouldn’t last long as a stowaway.

I am glad you are so clear-headed about your chances. Escape attempts are always unpleasant. I have no wish to be scrambled again.

Scrambled?

7081 turned its box toward the left side corridor. Pass your chip over the sensor on the panel, please. The cart will follow us to the work site.

What chip?

It’s in the palm of your dominant hand.

Eenon looked vaguely at his gloved left hand. When did that happen?

During torpor, most likely. Unless you had the procedure before leaving your last detention. It was in the paperwork you signed to be transferred here.

He waved his hand vaguely at the front of the cart. An electric hum erupted from it and it crawled toward him a few inches. What do I do if I want it to stop?

Simply pass your chip three times in succession over the sensor. It will decouple from your signal and stop until you or someone else activates it again. However, this will only happen with an empty cart. Once it registers a certain weight it will not decouple until you bring it back here to the elevator. Again, I must warn you not to try entering the cart in an escape attempt.

I’d be more worried about someone else pushing me in. Seems like an awfully convenient way to get rid of someone you have trouble with.

That is what I am here to prevent. 7081 hopped down the tunnel on the left-hand side of the elevator. Smaller tunnels branched off from it, the walls and ground all rough yellow rock. The small green crystals were nowhere to be seen. Picked clean, he thought. 7081 turned abruptly into one of the smaller tunnels. It was darker in this one, only three or four of the neon globes floated along the ceiling and the clearance on all sides was barely larger than 7081 itself. They reached a solid wall and 7081 stopped. Its box clicked and whirred and another arm slid out of its right side and swung down. A long, tapered chisel was attached to the end.

Sonic mapping shows us the most likely places for deposits, but there will still be waste rock. It is your job to sort the valuable ore from the waste. Waste rock goes on the left side, ore on the right.

I don’t know what I’m looking for. What if I miss some?

The waste rock goes through a secondary processing. But the sorters get what they’ve found added to their quota totals, not to yours. Every piece of olivine you allow to go into the waste is one less that you will have to pay your debt.

Eenon shrugged. Why bother then? I’m never paying that off.

"If self-interest will not motivate you, then perhaps a sense of dignity in your work? Or a sense of gratitude for the transfer away from those who would have harmed you? Ultimately, it is up to you to decide how you will spend your time here, not me. I am only here to protect the The Hygiea Mining Company’s investment in you, enforce GCC’s rules, and to do my portion of the work. As you said, we will be together for a long while. If you wish to earn my respect, a good work ethic would be a considerable start in that effort."

7081 swiveled its chisel toward the rock wall. Eenon flushed with embarrassment.

I didn’t mean I wouldn’t—

The chisel rumbled and a spray of rock chips tumbled off the wall, descending very gradually toward the ground, as if they were leaves instead of flakes of stone. Eenon tried to catch them, pulling pebbles from the air. A few clicked against his helmet. Soon, though, the chips were replaced by small