Ramez Naam - Apex

“Finally,” he said. His voice croaked.

“…You’ll introduce a…” he had to swallow again, “… a similar anti-discrimination motion to the United Nations General Assembly, acknowledging that the enhanced and augmented have the same rights as any normal human.”

Aggarwal shook his head in disdain. “In direct contravention of Copenhagen. It will never pass. The Americans or Chinese would veto it anyway.”

Aggarwal’s contempt was like a splash of cold water. It brought Kade back to the present.

He raised his head, looked the man in the eye. What did it take to get through, here?

“It doesn’t have to pass,” he said. “But I’m asking India to introduce it and bring it to a vote. If you want me to help you uplift millions of Indian children, I need you to commit to treating them like human beings. That’s what all of my conditions come down to.”

Kade spread his arms wide, near-crippled right hand and still functional left, a gesture of openness. “Show me that you’re going to treat those uplifted children well, and I’m with you. But if you’re not committed to treating people like people…” He brought his arms back together in front of him on the table. “Then fuck off .”

Kade saw Lakshmi Dabir shake her head at that, a frown on her face. He’d crossed a line. Well, so be it. This was serious. Deadly serious.

Aggarwal sneered at Kade. “You’re in no position to make any of these demands. My government simply will not agree to them.”

Kade laughed bitterly then. The room was probably threaded through with stress monitors – lasers taking his pulse and cameras measuring his skin temperature and perspiration level and pupillary dilation and the rate and depth of his respiration. He didn’t care. He forced himself to speak, to mean it.

Whoever cares less in a negotiation has the upper hand , Sam had said. Show confidence. Convince them they want what you have more than you want anything of theirs.

“Listen to me, Mr Aggarwal,” Kade said. “This is my life’s work. And I’ve done enough. A million people have Nexus in their minds, and more every day . I’ve succeeded .” He clenched his still-functional left hand into a raised fist of triumph. “You can kill me. You can sell me to the ERD. I’ll die happy. If you want me to work with you? I’ll be even happier. But you have to demonstrate your principles.”

And you’re going to help me stop this war, Kade thought, his chest pounding again. You’re going to help me show the world that humans and posthumans can be good to one another.

Damn it, you are.

Aggarwal just turned and walked away. As he pulled open the door, Kade spoke to the Special Secretary’s back.

“Give her my conditions exactly , Mr Aggarwal. And my reasons. Don’t edit them.”

“Her?” Aggarwal said, his back still to Kade, the door open to the ante-room with the guards.

“The Prime Minister,” Kade said. “We both know she’s the one who’s going to make this decision.”

Lakshmi Dabir waited in the room after Rakesh Aggarwal stormed out.

She didn’t look happy.

“Why the last condition, really? The UN motion is doomed to fail. You hinge your freedom, your life, on something that will go nowhere?”

Kade closed his eyes, exhaled through his nose.

He was so tired. So very damn tired.

“Do you know game theory, Ms Dabir? Prisoner’s Dilemma and games like that?”

“It’s Dr Dabir,” she replied. “And yes, of course.”

Kade opened his eyes. “Sorry.”

She held his gaze. “Continue.”

“Posthumans are coming,” he said. “Copenhagen hasn’t stopped the research, it’s just hidden it. Too many people want the benefits – armies, governments, individuals, sick people. What you’re doing here with Nexus is part of that. It’s just a matter of time until posthumans are among us, if they’re not already. You agree?”

She looked into his eyes, impassive. “Let’s say I do.”

Kade nodded. “Back to game theory. In ordinary Prisoner’s Dilemma, if the other player trusts you, and you betray them – you defect – you can win big. The best strategy for a single round of Prisoner’s Dilemma is to defect.”

“A fact real-world police have taken advantage of with real-world prisoners for some time,” Dabir commented.

Kade swallowed. That cut a bit too close to home. He pushed on. “In Iterated Prisoner’s Dilemma, it’s different.”

Dabir raised an eyebrow. “Iterated Prisoner’s Dilemma,” she mused. “Multiple rounds. More than two players.”

Kade nodded. “Potentially thousands of players. Or millions. Players who can meet each other again and again. And who can remember how the other player has behaved before.”

“Like real life,” Dabir said.

Kade nodded. “And in Iterated Prisoner’s Dilemma, the winning strategy is to cooperate with strangers. But if you meet someone who’s betrayed you in the past, who’s defected against you, you betray them.”

“Tit for tat,” Dabir said.

“Generous tit for tat,” Kade said. “Start off cooperating. Betray those who betrayed you before. But forgive those who’ve betrayed you in the past, if they make amends by cooperating again. Of all deterministic strategies, that performs best.”

“And you think that’s the situation we’re in now,” Dabir said. “That we’re in this game with future posthumans, and that if we defect – if we treat them poorly – they’ll treat us poorly down the road.”

“Dr Dabir,” Kade said. “How would you feel about growing up in a society that granted you full rights and protections, celebrated you even, versus one that oppressed you, or maybe even tried to kill you?” He paused, looking at her. “What would you do, growing up that way, if you ever gained the upper hand?”

“A beta blocker,” Sam repeated. She was calm. She had to be calm. Remain calm.

“Beta,” she enunciated.

Fucking.

“Blocker,” she went on.

The doctor stared blankly at her.

Sam glared at him in frustration. “It’s standard protocol after a mission with casualties. Reduce adrenaline overload. Prevent post-traumatic stress. I know you have similar protocols here.” She stopped herself before she started ranting.

I am the Sam who’s calm, she told herself. I am the motherfucking Sam who’s calm.

“I’m only authorized to treat wounds and pain,” the doctor said. The armed and armored guards behind him glowered at her.

Calm, she told herself again, calm. Vipassana. I’ll fucking meditate.

“I want to see the children,” she said again.

The doctor gestured to the guards. “You’ll have to ask these gentleman,” he said.

“Not yet,” one of the guards said. “You stay here.”

“When?” Sam demanded.

“When we tell you ,” the guard growled.

And then they escorted the doctor out.

Her fists clenched.

Damn it all to hell.

“So I tell him,” Feng went on. “It’s just a butter knife.”

The guards in the room laughed as the orderly placed the bowl of curry in front of Feng.

He grinned up at them, one arm hanging uselessly in the sling, his eyes taking in the patterns of their movements, the structure of their armor, the position of their weapons. His mind superimposed phantom echoes of the future movements they could make atop them all, turning them into multi-limbed Indian gods, all punches and blocks and evasions and drawn guns.

Too many of them. Too many with their armor and their guns and him with only one hand.

“I’ll be back for the bowl in an hour,” the orderly said.