Chapter 6: CJ
Pure panic fills CJ's mind as they hurriedly rip open the processor core, find the backup battery supply within, and pry it out.
A tiny LED power light within the core - easy to miss amongst the complex optoelectronics - dims.
They wipe an upper hand across their suited brow in an exaggerated gesture of relief. Unable to do anything about the chill sweat beading their forehead inside the suit's helmet.
CJ finally tunes back in to what Tern, their sometimes research partner and sometimes bed partner, is saying over the suit's comm link - "... CJ... CJ... come on, CJ, be okay! Come on! Tell me what's going on!" they hear.
CJ composes herself for a second, then says, "Thank fuck, think I got it offline again. What the fuck was that??" they exclaim.
Tern swears for a full thirty seconds, out of a mix of relief and barely-abated terror, composes themselves, and replies over the open line. "I think you're right, I think it's a person. It was trying to bargain with us."
CJ stares thoughtfully at the wreck. She feels a wave of guilt and shame come over her as she realises she's broken one of the major rules of her community, no, her civilisation: don't do anything to someone's body or mind without their consent. "Fuck. I think we need to bounce this up to the community consensus. I can't make a call like this solo" she says.
"Yeah, fair." Tern drawls. "The little shithead nuked us, that's going to be one hell of a restorative justice challenge" they conclude.
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One emergency session later, and amongst furious debate, a consensus is reached.
If the drone is a person, community ethics dictate doing the collective best to restore their bodily autonomy and heal them. Even offer them a place in the community, if they so want it.
For if a stranger had appeared injured on their shores - as many in the community have, after long journeys fleeing oppression - they would have hastened to heal said stranger, welcomed them, and given them a home. As the humane, just, *right* thing to do. Not harm them further.
Yet, said stranger did great harm in getting there. A great many personal dwellings on the surface have been destroyed. The access to the surface destroyed and unrecoverable for the foreseeable. The surface itself radioactive likely beyond the ability of even radiation-hardened 'bots to clean up for the next few weeks, maybe months.
The only saving grace is that the oft-practiced evacuation drills worked, and everyone whose homes were above ground had made their way to safety before the drone even got close. Being displaced from their now-destroyed homes is intensely unpleasant for many former surface dwellers. But there's nothing to be done for now, and plenty of room underground in an arcology designed to be expanded underground to take whomever needs shelter.
They can rebuild. The design patterns of their dwellings and possessions known. Being built from shared community designs, ready to restore whenever the surface is safe for dwelling on again.
Anger is slowly put aside, as they've all signed on to the same ethics. Made the same commitments. The harms they've experienced can be repaired easily in time. The harm done to the drone needs to be made right, as it's as much a victim of circumstance as they are, if black box entries recovered by CJ are to be believed.
What to do beyond that is still something to debate. But that more considered decision can come with time. CJ - as the person who best knows the drone's body from unintentionally harming them - is asked to do the work of figuring out how to safely revive the drone. To give them the maximum autonomy that can be given to them without permitting them to do harm again. And, if possible, make them the same offer they'd all received.
Safe harbour for the different. Those who the outside society reject. Those who the outside society mark as other, mark as queer.
CJ readily agrees, knowing they have a duty to make this right. They get to work.