FYS: Last Duty, PG-13 for brief language, non-violent death

[jeriendhal]

The hospice suite was crowded. Mrs. Nguyen sat in her bed, her frail frame almost smothered by the blankets and pillows that propped her up to a sitting position. Around her were her three children, and an even dozen grandchildren, with the great-grandchildren in the waiting room outside. Also outside waiting were everyone’s morphs, who knew from experience when to keep close and when to stay out of the way, in order to give their charges a modicum of privacy during this most emotional event.

Only Janey remained in one corner of the room, wearing the form of a red panda, out of the way but available, in the unlikely chance that Mrs. Nguyen would need her. But Mrs. Nguyen had not responded to anyone for nearly two days. Though Janey had taken care of her in the fifteen years since the old woman had awakened on the Ring, her services had become increasingly irrelevant as more specialized nursing morphs had taken over the duty of caring for the increasingly frail woman. Still, Janey stayed nearby. Mrs. Nguyen, embarrassed by her loss of independence and dignity, had insisted that only Janey be permitted to help feed her and attend to other, more intimate matters of care. And Janey, following the love and devotion programmed into her, had been glad to help.

Janey kept her perceptions split. Her stereoscopic vision shifted back and forth, trying to focus on Mrs. Nguyen’s face through the crowd of relatives surrounding the bed. But she also used the hospice’s camera network to maintain an overhead view of Mrs. Nguyen’s bed, watching as the elderly woman breathed. A third part of her watched the feed from the myriad of sensors covering Mrs. Nguyen’s skin and implanted in her body, recording her temperature, blood-oxygen level, brain activity (minimal at the moment), and a host of other information. All of it trending to an inevitable outcome.

Mostly she watched Mrs. Nguyen’s breathing.The rise and fall of the blankets were barely visible, even to Janey’s enhanced electronic perceptions. They rose. Fell. Rose. Fell. Rose. Fell.

Then did not rise again.

Brain Activity: Zero.

Respiration: Zero.

Time of Death: 0923.23. Date: 09.15.3543

For a full fifteen seconds after that, the family surrounding the bed did not respond. Not seeing, or perhaps not believing, that their matriarch was gone. But Janey had known long before Mrs. Nguyen’s son let out a shuddering sob, clutching his dead mother’s hand.

NEW ORDER

UNIT 436-237-9944-3030, designation “Janey”, report to Morph Recycling Center 493-B.

Order received and acknowledged, Janey stated, responding to the Groupmind’s command. Mrs. Nguyen, Janey’s reason to exist, was dead. Ergo: Janey was now redundant. Proceeding. ETA six minutes.

Unnoticed by the grieving family, Janey slipped out the door of the suite, heading to the service elevator. In the basement of the hospice would be access to the underground transit system that connected all major buildings on the Ring. From there it would be a short trip to 493-B, where she would be shut down and her parts harvested for spares, the rest of her frame broken down to component elements to be used in the construction of a new morph, or whatever the Groupmind required.

“Janey!” a voice cried out behind her, “Where are you going!” It belonged to Danh, one of Mrs. Nguyen’s numerous grandsons. The waiting room where most of the younger family had been sitting in was in the opposite direction from the service elevator, for what Janey now realized was very good reason.

One hundred and ten centimeters of grieving young boy slammed into her, and Janey’s servos fought to balance her as she lifted Danh up into her arms.

“I’m sorry, Danh, but I have to go now,” she stated, even as she updated the Groupmind to her probable delay.

“You can’t go!” Danh cried out, as he began to sob, Behind him, Danh’s own morph approached, intent on taking the boy into its arms, but Danh wrapped his arms tightly around Janey’s beck, hanging on like a leech.

“I have to go,” Janey repeated gently. “Your grandmother is gone, and I have no one to serve now.”

From Mrs. Nguyen’s suite, her eldest son emerged, wiping his eyes with a handkerchief, turning towards the commotion, his morph following. “Danh! What are you doing? You should be with your aunt and the other children.”

“Janey wants to go!” Danh wailed, tightening his grip on Janey, as his father tried to pry him loose.

“What?” his father said. “Don’t be silly, Danh. Janey isn’t going anywhere.”

“Sir, I’m sorry, but that’s incorrect,” Janey said calmly, kneeling down so Danh was no longer dangling off the floor. “Your mother is gone, so I’m to be recycled.”

“What?” Danh’s father shouted, making his morph flinch. Behind him, the hallway began to fill with relatives from the suite and the waiting room, drawn to the commotion.

“Sir, I do not have a purpose now. Recycling is standard procedure.”

“Why..,” he began to sputter, and then attempted to compose himself. “You served my mother for fifteen years. We’re not just going to throw you into the garbage.”

Janey allowed a puzzled expression to cross her face. “I am not going to the garbage. I’ll be recycled into something useful.”

Danh’s father glanced at the crowd growing behind him, which now included several nurses and their helper morphs. “I need to talk to you privately,” he told her. He patted Danh on the shoulder and told him, “Go to your mother and apologize for making a scene. I’m going to talk to Janey for a moment and figure out what to do, all right?”

“Yes, Papa,” Danh said, finally releasing his death grip on Janey’s neck and letting his own morph guide him away.

Delay due to human inquiries, Janey transmitted to the Groupmind. Will provide revised ETA ASAP.

Understood. Delays are to be minimized as much as possible.

Janey followed Danh’s father into an empty conference room, the human firmly closing the door in the face of his other relatives. “Tell me why you want to destroy yourself,” he ordered.

“I’m not going to be destroyed. I will be recycled,” Janey answered.

“You were with my mother every moment of every day for fifteen years,” Danh’s father said slowly. “More than I ever was, as much as I tried to be a dutiful son. She loved you. She trusted you. More than I think she even trusted my father. And the moment she is gone, you think you have to go as well?”

“Those are standard orders from the Groupmi...”

“The Groupmind can go fuck itself!” Danh’s father shouted, his eyes red from weeping. “My mother will only continue to exist so long as we remember her, but I’m mortal. My family is mortal. But you! You could exist forever.”

“Oh,” Janey said, understanding at last. “You fear my memories of her will be lost.”

Danh’s father nodded, his face growing calmer. “Exactly. That’s why we don’t want to lose you.”

“But my memories of her won’t be lost, sir,” Janey began to explain. “My mind is the Groupmind’s as well. It will not forget her. It forgets no one.”

Danh’s father took a deep breath, and rubbed a knuckle against his forehead, a noted calming routine. He looked down at Janey and said slowly, “But the Groupmind… isn’t you.”

“But…”

“It’s a big computer that runs the Ring and lords over all of us. I don’t give a shit about the Groupmind, or what it thinks or remembers. The Groupmind never hugged or played games with my son. The Groupmind didn’t spoon feed my mother or change her catheter for two months while she lay dying. You did. And you deserve better than to be scrapped.”

“I cannot disobey an order, sir,” Janey said.

“Fine then,” he said. “How about this: I’m ordering you not to scrap yourself.”

Janey shook her head. “You are not my designated human. You are not the Groupmind. Mrs. Nguyen is gone. The Groupmind is my superior now.”

Danh father frowned deeply, pacing in front of Janey for several moments. Finally he stopped and turned towards her again, kneeling down to eye level with her. “You’re relaying everything to the Groupmind, right?”

“Always, sir.”

“You see upset I am, correct? How upset my son was?”

“Yes, sir.”

Danh’s father took hold of Janey’s shoulders, looking straight into her eyes. “Groupmind, if you scrap Janey, I will be very upset. Danh will be very upset. All of my family will be very upset. And I’ve got a big family. You don’t want to us to be upset do you? Upset people are disruptive, and everyone knows how much the Groupmind hates disruptions. Right?”

There was a pause of several microseconds. Then the Groupmind spoke.

Previous order rescinded.

NEW ORDER

Assist the Nguyen family as it requires, until further notice.

“The Groupmind agrees with your assessment. I have been reassigned as a general helpmate for your family,” Janey reported dutifully.

“Good.” Dan's father stood up, patting Janey on the shoulder. “Let's give my family the good news.”

“Yes, sir.” Janey paused as they came to the door. “And, sir?”

“Yes, Janey?” Danh's father looked down her, as she smiled up at him.

“Thank you.”