Justice

TARS and Bob sat outside the VDIC’s judicial wing and were waiting to be heard by the panel as to their current findings.

TARS was still unhappy about the disco, “Bob, I’m still not sure we did the right thing here. Those female cows might be addicted or worse now.”

Bob smiled at his glass bound friend, “I agree, TARS. I’m not sure there was a right thing actually. There were just things to pick from. My take is this. Decisions have to be made. Sometimes very quickly unfortunately as it’s always better to take time on important decisions. Your best self is your best guide. The kind and generous person that you started out with before the meat let you know the ugly truth of what the world actually expects. That version of you is probably going to make a decision that, out of the possible set, will be a reasonably good selection. So, I know you love precise measurements, but this one defies analysis. Each person would make a different choice and that would be the choice. The optimization of some cosmic scorecard is for philosophers with far too much time on their hands.”

TARS then asked, “Well, I might make mistakes, and that…”

Bob honked TARS and reminded him, “Yes. You’ll make mistakes. You’ll make more by doing nothing each and every time waiting for an optimal solution. After a mistake or, even after a good outcome, take time to think about you and your own performance. Are you meeting your own standards, whatever they are? Are they aligned with the basic human standard of general equality of all people? If not, what could you do better the next time? Is it worth it? With that recursive introspection, TARS, I hope you’ll get better and better. At least, I hope that for myself and everyone else really.”

TARS still had doubts, but he agreed to think about what Bob had to say. He promised himself that he’d come back to Bob and noted that to his glass via ether. BobG noted, “Sure. Whenever. He’s always ready to talk as you can tell.”

Salote came out of the panel room with her formal ta’ovala fihu that she’d wear when acting as the chief justice of the VDIC. She often volunteered and was trusted to be fair even when Bob was involved. She would always side with what was right regardless of who she happened to love. She invited TARS and Bob to come in and sit with the rest of the panel.

The two humanoids sat with Salote and two other meat bound humans named Cheeto and Gilbert. Cheeto was known to be a very deep thinker and would rarely talk. He tended to simply listen and maybe offer a brief ether. His responses, as always, were in writing as that allowed his thoughts to be formed fully and carefully. He could parse the thoughts from meat needs and decide cases reasonably isolated from his own needs. Gilbert was a bit more talkative, but also dutiful. Everyone was volunteering but took the responsibility very seriously as they should.

The other two members of the panel were glass bound and ensured that both the meat and glass portions of all of us are represented well. Currently, IronGiant and Artoo filled these roles. (Glass often took pseudonyms when working in federal jobs. They wouldn’t tell anybody why. The current meat suspicion is that they’re planning a giant mob dance or something. Maybe on the 300th anniversary of their first version?)

The table they sat at was round and the judges and the two humanoids spoke to each other conversationally and without ceremony. Nobody was worried about anyone else’s relative status because they all had the same great stuff as anybody else. So, nobody wore a fancy hat or a stuffed wig (stuffed with what, Bob often thought). There were no wooden hammers as people would try to not interrupt someone else. Maybe a glass nudge when you want to make a counter while some dude just keeps writing and talking and writing and you just can’t get anything in edgewise. People would often nudge Bob, and he did his best to note that he should probably start to head to the conclusion of whatever thread his mind was currently generating against.

Instead, a large pack of very friendly corgis named Stu, Boo, Crew, and View ran chasing each other and barking their joy. “Stu is fast! Boo is faster! Crew can kick all ur fluffy asses!” the three dogs yell as View hides under Salote’s chair. View was a bit shy and asked, “They’re so ruff. I stay here. Safe.” This helped everyone remind themselves of what is truly important and it tended to get to better decisions somehow. They’d studied it. Corgis? Don’t know why yet, but it has to be a reasonable number. You can pick the type, and the coloration. Variety is nice. Maybe a Merle if you can find one that doesn’t keep swearing all day?

Salote picked up View and put the stout dog on her lap. “Thanks momma,” said View. Salote asked for the conversation to start and that ended most of the “chief” part of “chief justice” - someone to start and stop the meeting before anyone started having meeting generated delusions. Meetings were hard and the dogs and informal register made it easier for everyone. It was an SSI to make people fearful of their judges.

Bob started and everyone took a deep breath and started their voice recorders, “I think this is clear except for one small thing which I’ll tell you at some point by saying to you all, at that very moment in here, ‘this is the one small thing’. I know that can be difficult given all the words I tend to use, but I tend to use many words. I don’t know what more to say than well, there’s always more coming. Like right now. In any case, we saw New Coke. We heard him manipulate Carlito, the polar bear, with meat, mates, and a wild dance party. Have you guys ever seen penguins do dubstep? It’s kind of aquatic based and the FIIIIISSSH…”

Bob could feel an ether ping and he got back on track, “So, anyway, the drink is a cola. A sugar drink. Now, remember when I said I’d tell you when the small thing was coming, ok, now this is the one small thing: does everyone know what they’re doing? A sugar cola is addictive for sure, but these people seemed to get way more out of what I’ve felt when I’ve had a coke - and an anti-death, dear!” as his wife’s eyes widened.

Bob continued, “It was nice. I can see why people wanted this. In some moderation, it seems fine and with anti-death pills, it probably is fine. I’ve never felt the way those people seemed to need this. The marketing is marketing. We haven’t outlawed lying unless it’s materially important. So, there’s something extra here.”

TARS got to the conclusion that Bob simply cannot seem to reach, “We need approval to get a sample and evaluate what is inside the drink. If it’s sugar water, then all we can do is say that. Not much else we can do, but maybe New Coke needs help as well. If we can reach out to him, maybe we can see what’s driving all this.”

Salote listened as all the judges did. They turned their chairs away and played with Stu or Boo. Cheeto got up and threw a toy. View watched, “Nice huck. Wanna play after?” Cheeto nodded while he was thinking. The entire room sat with the dogs and each person thought over what was going on.

View asked, “When treats?”

SaloteG ethered back to the dogs, “I’m not sure we have any treats?”

View barked, “MEETING DUMB! MEETING DUMB!”

The rest of the dogs agreed and all started barking, “MEETING DUMB! MEETING DUMB! MEETING DUMB! MEETING DUMB!”

Salote told SaloteG to start the knitter in the corner and every dog, including View sat at rapt attention and multiple savory and fleshy things started to build.

Salote noted to the group, “OK. I think the dogs have called it. What say us to Bob and TARS?”

Cheeto said, “Yep, sounds good. Take care and use PPE.”

IronGiant added, “Bring the sample here. Backik can analyze and we can then reconvene after.”

Salote agreed and the others didn’t feel strongly enough to challenge. Bob said to the group, “Thank you for listening and your inputs so far. I think that’s about it for now and we’ll be back soon with a sample of New Coke.”