Homecoming - Christie Golden [44]
“Us? You’re a human, Mr. Baines, unless I’m greatly mistaken.”
“You know what I mean!” snapped Baines. “Look, will you help us or not?”
“I don’t know what exactly it is that you want to achieve, Mr. Baines. You speak eloquently of freedom and equality, but I’ve heard nothing in anything you’ve said that is even a kissing cousin to a plan of action. And what I did hear, I didn’t want to. I’ll have no part of anything that spills blood. I took an oath—first, do no harm. Here’s what I will do for you and your friends. I’ll give you some hard-earned advice.”
His mind went back to his time with Iden, the appealing hologram who envisioned a planet where photonic beings would be safe. It was a glorious ideal, until Iden began to murder organic beings in order to “liberate” his fellow “children of light.” Iden had been insane, in the end—a megalomaniac craving worship—but his sickness was not enough to exonerate him from what he had done. His dream was a worthy one, just as Baines’s was. How one went about achieving that dream, however, was what really mattered.
“Forget this nonsense about a revolution. Violence will solve nothing. I know,” he said, and he knew he looked haunted as he spoke. He felt haunted, felt the [130] ghosts of those amiable, murdered Nuu’bari miners hovering about him, pleading with him not to make the same mistake, commit the same crime.
Baines stared at him with a combination of disbelief, shock, and anger. The Doctor continued.
“There are legal avenues that can be pursued, peaceful means of bringing this to the attention of the Federation. My novel was just one such example. You can have marches, notify the media, pass out information. You said that there are many who share our concerns. Rally them. Get them to start being vocal about their feelings. In fact, I think you would be better positioned than I to bring this about.”
“How can that be? You’re the very symbol, the embodiment of this crisis!”
“Humans created holographic technology. Humans are going to be the ones legislating holographic rights, not holograms.”
“Photonic beings,” said Baines, somewhat testily.
“See? That’s an excellent example of what I’m talking about,” said the Doctor. “What is the difference between a holographic chair and a holographic person? What differentiates a hologram that happens to look like a sentient being but who is programmed to perform only the most menial of tasks and one like myself, capable of independent thought and growth? What are the terms we should use? Believe me, humans will spend hours debating such things. Let them. Encourage it, in fact.”
“We want action, not ... not semantics!”
“Get people talking about it first,” said the Doctor. “The rest will come. I’m surprised you are so negative [131] about your species, Mr. Baines. I find humans to be more open-minded and kindhearted than you seem to think they are. Of course,” he added with a sigh, “being surrounded by hundreds of EMH Mark Ones like myself might just spoil you for interaction with humans.”
Baines didn’t answer. He paced a little, clenching and unclenching his fists. The Doctor waited patiently. Finally, Baines turned and faced him.
“I don’t want glory,” he said. “I only want justice.”
“I never thought nor said that you were in this for personal gain,” said the Doctor. “Your motivations are obviously pure and noble. I merely wish to ensure that your methods will be as well.”
Baines sighed. “You’ve given me a great deal to think about, Doctor.” He smiled a little, and his face assumed that pleasantly boyish innocence it had had when he first materialized. “And even though you’ve refused to help, I’m still so pleased and honored to have met you.”
“Ah, ah, I didn’t say I wouldn’t help,” said the Doctor, waggling a chastising finger in Baines’s direction. “I said I wouldn’t be your leader and I wouldn’t condone violence. Within those parameters I’d be delighted to lend what aid