Hammersmith. Chapter thirty three. 

Hammersmith Thirty Three
Egy wasn’t the best specimen of the Red Clan but he knew what being an Ambassador meant. It’s not hard to work out that in many ways the job was kind of like a spy crossed with a negotiator crossed with a politician. His search for the one person who could tell him exactly what he needed to know wasn’t hard. His mentor was sitting in the central “garden”. A lush area in the colonies main asteroid. 
It produced most of the colonies oxygen and recycled most of the nitrogen and carbon they produced. It was huge. Massive lakes full of algae could be seen from here, farm factories producing the vegetable matter they ate, insects flew in the air and grubs dug in the soil. Birds flew in strange patterns in the low gravity, barely needing to use their wings at all. 

One little robin came down and sat next to him on the wooden seat Egy was sitting on. This was the place he always waited for it. They would come soon, he knew. They were no secret. The chief gardener. A strange creature. Not really human anymore. Though who was these days? The red clan was changed. Genetically engineering made it so that they needed less oxygen and their was talk of adding the ability to photosynthesise to their skin, causing it to go a purple or green colour. Of course some went further than than, experimentalists who added whatever they wanted or needed to their genetics if they could work out a way. 

Their AI would help them, for a price. Work was often the price. Like any economy, work was needed to be done. Physical work, intellectual work, ambassador work! Heh. Egy laughed out loud at that thought.
“I come, as I am.” Said the creature. “So I see your presence.”

Green grass grew on its back. A flower was starting to bloom in its hair. Like a moving bush, almost. Skin of bark. A odd creature. The gardener lived almost as much like a tree as it could. It had a name, but no one knew it anymore, so they just called it Bush.

“Hello Bush. I am indeed present.”

Talking to Bush was a art form. The rumor was that Bush had been a genetic botanist who had expirmented with genetically adding photosynthesis to the human genome and it had gone wrong at some point, back before the clan had acquired Croceous. Bush lived with the results happily. It did mean that they were always slow to talk and always seemed to talk in a very odd way. This made them an almost perfect listener. To Egy they had become a mentor of sorts. 

“Bush. Thank you for meeting”

“Bush is” Bush puased almost as if they were unsure of the words to say. “Just a gardener.”

Egy regarded this. Then spoke “I know Bush. It’s fine being a gardener. I’m not a gardener, I’m not sure really what I am. I’ve just been given an opportunity to find out though. In a way. I suppose that I should have expected something.”

Bush seemed to consider this, insomuch that a anthropomorphic plant could seem to consider something.

“Bush, has seen seeds grow and prosper, seeds rot and die.”

Eventually came the reply.

“Croceous and Crow are promising to make me into a diplomat. I have some training in the are, but not nearly the extent they would expect. I’m worried they are choosing me for a task suited more to someone already qualified. Our colony is vast, surely we have such a person. My family is new, fresh from the colonized asteroids. We barely got out alive from the last raid by the Black Wolves.”

This time Bush replied immediately.

“The sees growns towards the light, always following it faithfully. If light is gone, it withers. You follow the light and see your buds blossom.”

Egy felt somewhat comfortable with this reply. The flow of life and death seemed to facsinate Bush and how life and death connected to each other. 

“Thankyou.”

Egy took a small package from his hip pocket and handed it to bush. “It’s a orchid seed. From my colony. The only one left now I suspect. It needs as much love and attention that you have given me. Please look after it for me.” 

Bush seemed to treat the package as one would a small child or a puppy perhaps. 

As Egy left to go towards his meeting with Crow he wounded if he would ever meet Bush again. Or if this would be his last time on the Red Clans main asteroid. Then he remembered Bushes words “The Seed grows towards the light, always following it faithfully.” The needs of his Clan were now his light. They needed to be followed if he wanted to succeed, or as Bush would put it Blossom.

Reassuring pain

Sometimes pain is hateful. Sharp, like a needle or a peice of ice. 

Fire in your leg

Knots in your arm 

Knives in your back

Sometimes it’s reassuring though

An old friend who has 

Come to visit

You don’t like her 

You don’t hate her

She brings some sweets and a bottle of wine

They aren’t the kind you like

But then she’s and old friend

You have known her for so long

You’re not really sure how you met

At a party or at the vets?

She has one of those cats

black as the ace of clubs

Down the early morning due

Hits your grass outside 

You remember she stayed the night on your couch

You both got rascally drunk and ate to much 

She’s sleeping their in short denim shorts 

A top that reveals more cleavage than it hides

Black odd squiggly tattoos 

A necklace that’s full of black beads

Cheep but also pretty 

Her dark black hair drapes down

Those bloody big earnings with the triangles

You know she will wake soon 

Maybe you will still be friends and you make her breakfast 

Or she’ll just get up and go to work 

She’s reassuring though 

Right now

She helped reminds you

Your alive still

Somehow 

It’s always going to be like this

But in a way

You don’t mind 

Robots will demand equal pay for equal work 

It’s common that I quote Douglas Adams semial works with gusto. He had unfortunately been one of the most profectically correct science fiction writers. He predicted the Guide (Google + Wikipedia) and robot elevators that speak to you and ask your floor in a kind and almost ghastly way. I could go on with my list but I will likely not be able to make my point.
One of his less well known predictions is that Robots will actually like us. This isn’t a big issue, really, except that in this “liking” at some point some robot will work out that money exists. What’s more is that they will develop the ability to prove they need money and want to earn it, and even, if it comes to it, pay income tax. 
In Douglas Adams point of view having Robots tell you that they like you and want to take part in your economy is probably ghastly. The really strange issue is that Robots will inevitably get rich, spend, and own property. Robots will eventually likely be able to vote. 
Robot labor is likely to remain expensive though. A Robot is able to provide, process and use information in ways and at speeds humans will unlikely to be able to compete on. Though Robots also need maintaince, power and likely will spend money getting themselves better, faster and more efficient. Demanding pay for the huge collection of skills. I’m not the first to think this of course their is a whole Robots rights movement already well underway.

At some point will they seek to be more? Robots will work for humans, but also do work for other Robots. Their will be Robot litriture, Robot shopping, Robot lifestyle, the Robots equivalent of the “Good life” staring the Robot Felicity Kendal. 
Will they eventually replace humans? It’s not likely. Humans will, in fact probably merge with Robots through cybernetics and similar processes. Long before that happens though, Robots will ask to be paid, and probably form their own Robot union. Many people will ask why? Well Robots will want from us more electricity, more space, more ability to explore and experience the physical realm as we seek a way to continue our brief mortal lives. In the end we will share between each, with the economic forces that drive us all into a odd economic equality. 

Cloud and ground 

Clouds change

Like white sheets in the wind

Sometimes they hold rain

Throw down lightning and hail

Then wispy little ones like scales on a fish

Sun comes in this sky

Changes it heat from day to day

Through the clouds

They eat her rays gladly

Wind chases them like a little child chases butterflies

Ground is changed by these clouds

Hit ground with rain and plants come through the pavement

Hit the ground with hot dry sun

Hit the ground with mist

A succulent kiss on the ground from the clouds

Arrival 

It’s a purple day 

Swimming with alien eels 

Tickets rain from their mouths

Like a parade of hungry caterpillars 

I’m strong and still I fail to make progress 

A thousand empty strokes 

Real or broke

Now I’m a grain of sand

Like a charade made by slouchy giant gorillas 

Pine prongs over kills from paid digress

A pound of gentry mops

Steel or woke 

Impart said the speckled frog

Impart, impart, impart 
Said the speckled frog

I’m walking in this soft moist bog

And a Willy wag tail squeaks 

Be curt be curt be curt and cerful, thicker bushes

I squelch and simmer in the heat and avoid the bushes 

A duck startles me 

Map! Map? Map! 

I check and see I’m indeed of course 

Onwards to the swamp gums on the bank a kookaburra yells

Crockcrockacrockaaaaaaaaaaaaaa

I hasten my retreat and avoid the area and get to my destination

Their in a little clearing is a old wise serpent whom I’m sure will tell me more I need to know