Fractions_ The First Half of the Fall Revolution - Ken MacLeod [283]
He paused and turned around to face Reid. Reid’s response was a tremor of the eyelids, and a shake of the head.
‘You don’t deny it?’ Talgarth said.
Reid stood up. ‘No.’
Wilde shot Reid a look of triumph and hatred, then composed his face to swing a calm smile past the cameras as he turned again to Talgarth.
‘In that case,’ Wilde said slowly and distinctly, ‘I claim that Dee Model’s body belongs to the legitimate heir of my wife!’ He smiled at Talgarth. ‘Whether that heir is myself or Jay-Dub I leave to the court to determine.’
Reid rose at once and bowed politely, though whether to Wilde or Talgarth wasn’t obvious.
‘I am happy to concede the ownership of the genotype,’ he said. ‘And to come to an amicable or, failing that, arbitrated arrangement about its use, or compensation for its use and any distress inadvertently caused. My major concern is the recovery of the gynoid’s software and non-biological hardware, which are incontestably my property.’
Wilde looked over to Tamara, who shrugged and raised her eyebrows as if to say, ‘What’s his game?’ The MacKenzie remote was saying substantially the same thing. It had expected a bigger fight, since the ownership of genotypes was a hotly contested issue. Its only suggestion was that any concession made here would avoid establishing a precedent that other courts might recognise.
‘Very well,’ said Wilde. He adjusted the microphone, his hand shaking slightly. ‘The only compensation I wish is that David Reid resurrect my wife’s mind as well as her body – something which is evidently possible, as the robot Jay-Dub has demonstrated by resurrecting me.’
Reid was on his feet at once. Wilde had to step back quickly as Reid strode up and caught the microphone from his hand.
‘The court has not accepted that Jay-Dub resurrected this man!’
Talgarth flicked ash from his sleeve. ‘Ah, but you have,’ he said mildly.
Reid sat down again. The woman beside him whispered in his ear, her face stiff with annoyance. The news remotes buzzed, and people in the crowd were checking out the running commentaries, on hand-held screens or on their contacts.
‘Order!’ Talgarth banged his gavel, carefully steadying his drink first. ‘David Reid may answer your request in his own time.’
‘I’ll answer now,’ said Reid. Wilde stepped back from the microphone, and returned to his seat.
‘You’ve stirred things up a bit,’ Tamara observed.
Wilde winked, confusing the remote adviser for a moment, and settled back to listen to Reid.
‘Wilde’s request is reasonable,’ Reid was saying. ‘The question of resurrecting the dead has for long been on the minds of us all. But, however much we may wish to do it, we are prevented by force majeure. Most of the personalities of the dead, including that of Reid’s wife Annette, are held in smart-matter storage which remains inaccessible without the co-operation of posthuman entities whose capacities and motives are unknown, but who – as experience has shown – are a risk to us all. I am responsible for keeping the codes that could be used to re-start them, and I can assure this court that until someone demonstrates a way to do this safely, these codes remain in my possession, and the dead…sleep.’ He glanced at Wilde. ‘There are some matters best left undisturbed,’ he told him.
‘He’s telling you not to push it,’ Tamara muttered.
Wilde grinned at her and went forward again as Reid took his seat. The tension in the crowd had diminished. Even Talgarth’s impassive face betrayed relief.
‘The robot Jay-Dub resurrected me without disaster,’ he said. ‘But there is more to the matter than this.’
Reid leaned back in his seat, hands behind his head, and watched Wilde with half-lidded eyes.
‘The court has given its view on one of Reid’s charges,’ Wilde said, ‘and left the other in abeyance until the other Jonathan Wilde, aka Jay-Dub, can be…prevailed upon to answer it. I now wish to press my counter-charge, the outcome of which may