Poached Treasure

“Tell me about the locket,” Inquisitor 0x1F, asked the kennel mistress for the third time in its polite, monotonous voice. It initiated a cleaning routine where small vents around its waist blew the blood and fur off the non-hydrophobic portions of its arms and hands. Inquisitors had been made in the image of their creators, with a human-like torso, two arm-shaped and two leg-shaped appendages, and a head-shaped appendage that had a vaguely humanoid shape and a glossy trapezoidal in the place of facial features. The remainder of its body was covered in matte, dark-gray carbon-fiber plates, except for a white circle with a red cross painted on the upper left portion of its chest plate.

Across the room from it, huddled defensively against the wall in a fraying linen shirt and ragged denim pants, a woman peered up cautiously and seemingly uncomprehendingly at it. “What? Locket?” The smell of blood and fecal matter overcame her, and she began to retch.

0x1F pulled a sterilized woven gauze towel out of the first aid compartment in its left thigh. It slowly and carefully approached the woman, taking care not to step into the blood pooling on the ground from the two dead mastiffs on the floor. The woman, still catching her breath from vomiting, flinched as she first noticed its hand near her, but calmed as she recognized the gesture and accepted the towel.

Sympathetic approaches statistically provided a very limited degree of success with human subjects in basic subsistence communities, but the Protocol dictated that it must attempt them before resorting to more aggressive approaches. The woman watched as it stepped back, carefully righted what was left of her display table near where she huddled, and set the sturdiest chair left in the room near her. It then navigated its tall frame over to the opposite side of the table where its lower appendages seemed to divide, and it settled into an odd squatting configuration that gave it an almost human profile, from the waist up at least… so long as she did not look at its face.

0x1F assessed her: late 60s, Caucasian, average height, stout, hands that had seen the hard labor of working a farm and breeding and training large dogs, dyed blonde hair that indicated she still held some vanity. Cross-referencing with the local demographics, it estimated that she viewed herself as a self-made woman, proud of the life that she had built through her own effort, proud of the fact that she did not rely upon subsistence assistance, and suspicious of all things technological and Corporate. “I understand that this is a difficult day for you, but will you join me, please?” 0x1F communicated, sitting patiently at the table. She vomited again, wiped herself off with the towel and stared briefly at the crimson and sable stain that spread over the gauze, before struggling to her feat.

Outside the yapping of puppies grew increasingly stressed, as a rumbling growl suddenly turned into a yelp of pain. The woman flinched, and tears filled her eyes as the yapping gradually subsided to silence. Her eyes hardened with defiance. Stumbling to a seat in front of it, she stared at her own reflection in its face plate and repeated with more conviction, “What locket?” She spat on the table for emphasis, her bloody phlegm marring its cracked, white surface.

“My condolences,” it began. “You may not believe me, but this really will go easier if you cooperate. Please tell me about the locket you purchased from Scavenger No. EA48C3, known to you as Erick Nathan.”

“I really don’t know what you are talking about, who is Erick Nathan?” She could almost hear an artificial sigh in the pause that followed. Then sensing movement her eyes flicked to the entrance.

At the door to the pet store, Inquisitor 0xBC33C4 appeared and silently reported: outside secured; threats neutralized; elders and children had fled; younger adults gathering; likelihood of insurrection 0.5%.

A small tube projected out of 0x1F’s face plate at what would have been eye level for it, and bent to project an video onto the table complete with amplified sound. She recognized Rowdy Rick’s hard breathing and hairy hands in the image pulling a clump of mud off of a corpse in a ruined wheeled vehicle of a type she hadn’t seen since her childhood. One of his hands left the view screen and water poured over the mud leaving a dull, heart shaped object. A long whistle followed, and then a short cheer. The video then appeared to quickly glanced around to see if others had noticed his discovery. Then, the hairy hands carefully wrapped the locket in a grubby cloth and tucked them into Rowdy Rick’s pants. The video ended.

It said nothing, so she said nothing, fixing him with a blank stare and a slight shrug.

A new video began, a cloth back held in hairy hands. One retrieved a now-polished golden, heart-shaped locket showing an upside-down engraving on the front in an archaic script, “To My Dearest Love,” as if Rowdy Rick were showing it to someone. He then gently flipped it, to show the engraving on the back, “May Our Fates Be Forever Entwined.” Engraved vines, flowers, and leaves surrounded the words.

“Didn’t I tell ya?” said a male voice. Rick’s voice.

“It’s perfect,” said a female voice. Her voice.

Then before she could deny anything, the video panned up to show her hands reaching for the locket and her smiling face coming closer and closer. The video stopped as Rick’s eyes closed, her own closed eyes inches away from his. She could still remember the kiss that had followed. It had been a rare moment of conspiratorial joy. She hadn’t seen him since that day.

She fought back tears, “Where is he?”

“Mr. Nathan has been processed. You have my condolences.” It replied, monotonously.

Her body trembled, and she could feel the pulse in her ears. “You blaspheme the symbol you carry on your chest, she spat at it!”

It cocked its head in a near-human gesture, but said nothing.

“I remember the Before Times,” she yelled at it. “That was a symbol of hope and relief. The people who carried it went to disasters and helped people. Now you use it to destroy an old woman’s livelihood! To murder a man for giving his family a gift! To kill for the crime of wanting to give your loved ones something unique, something they can cherish!”

“The law on this is clear” the Inquisitor across from her said. “All metal relics of the Before Times must be disclosed and submitted for inspection. They may not be distributed until they are deemed safe, and they are to be distributed in accordance with the Rules of Equity, at an auction with a portion of the proceeds going to the Scavenger who finds a safe relic. Mr. Nathan violated those laws, as did you in keeping the locket.”

“Rules of Equity?” she asked, incredulous. “The Rules of Corporate greed and nepotism you mean!” It goes to the highest bidder you say, you steal it from us and give it to your faithful city-born slaves. You know well we do not deal in sufficient money matters to purchase such items. And you cheat the scavengers most of the time! Declaring their findings unsafe and giving them a few extra rations as some purported reward! How dare you speak to me of…” the rest of her rant was cut off by bout of coughing that left her shaking and spitting blood again.

0x1F handed her another gauze towel. “You knew the law, the risk, and the penalty, and nonetheless you chose to break it. Tell me where to find the locket and perhaps we can save the recipient from sharing your fate.”

“Never,” she spat, “I’ll never tell you, and you’ll never find him!”

0x1f stayed with her for three more hours, but she never relented. Even the administration of chemicals that dulled her senses and clouded her judgment did not defeat her sheer will power to withhold the information they sought. Afterwards, in accordance with the Sanitation Procedures, it burned the kennel, pet store, and all the bodies that lay within.

It further provided an edited copy of her confession to the town representatives in accordance with the Protocol, showing her guilt and documenting evidence that punishment had been meted out in accordance with the Law.

“Never” turned out to be three weeks. A drone spotted a dead horse in an open field covered in carrion birds. At a near-by ranch they found the body of an adolescent girl next to four covered and one open grave. Five rickety crosses lay on the ground nearby, but the youth had not had the energy to drive them into the ground.

The girl was approximately 15, and likely the kennel mistress’ granddaughter. Dried blood was caked on her face and hands were covered in ruptured blisters. Her shirt was stained with vomit and the knees of her pants were bloodied and torn. A shovel with a bloody haft lay nearby. Gently, 0x1f pried open her hands, removing the locket clutched within. Detailed portraits of the girl on one side, and presumably of her parents on the other had been secured within the locket. Whoever the artist had been could have developed into a master, it estimated, given the right environment and education. Such waste. It gently removed the portraits and placed them in the girl’s hands.

It reviewed the Sanitation Procedures, and finding nothing that precluded her apparent wishes, it gently buried her in the open grave and proceeded to cover it with the adjacent mound of dirt. Once the crosses were positioned above each grave, it authorized the construction crew to pour a larger mound of concrete two meters thick over them.

The locket with the prophetic engraving, 0x1F placed in a lead box within a lead-reinforced storage compartment beneath the symbol on his torso. It coordinated search and destruction of affected fauna in the region and submitted a final report to Corporate -- a tragedy of ignorance and stubbornness that was enabled by a society that prioritized personal “freedom” over the greater good of its populace. The education was freely available, of course, but these humans and their guardians had chosen to remain ignorant.

It never considered revising its approach to its investigation. The statistics were clear –it was more effective to protect these humans from these occurrences by convincing them they would be punished harshly for breaking the Law than it was to educate them about the risks of their found treasures. Research established that the latter approach would be believed an excuse by Corporate to cheat them of their treasures.