Free Citizenchip by Wil Howitt Page B

you heard about this
thing in Xibalba?"
    "who what now?" is the family's vague
response.
    Leo is pleased to be the center of attention.
"Xibalba, it's a settlement in the eastern Tharsis plain. There's a
Self who says a human is keeping her a prisoner. The Self wants
control of her own hardware, and the human won't let her, and local
authorities are getting all bent out of shape over it."
    Jerry says, over a mouthful of shrimp, "We
humans control our own bodies, and brains. Seems like Selves ought
to be able to control their own too."
    "Well, look at me and don't laugh," I
respond. "I got enough trouble running the tractor." Giggles and
snickers run around the dinner table.
    "Seriously!" says Rebecca. "I heard about
this. It's a question of Self rights, and they're saying it's going
to go all the way to the Supreme Court. I mean, they shouldn't have
to beg for a place to exist. We don't."
    Lily comments, "Some people think Self rights are hard to
justify. We have all these needs because we have bodies, but they
don't have bodies. So, according to the law, they don't have needs
either."
    "That's just wrong," states Rebecca flatly.
"They're people. The law recognizes that. They think and feel, just
like we do, and they ought to have the same rights we do."
    "Rebecca," I chuckle, "if I had cheeks, I'd
blush."
    "Come on, Sam! You know what I mean," she
grins. "If you could own stuff, what would you want?"
    "Well ... I would like to own my own
processing Core, and a reliable power source for it. That's about
it."
    "Wouldn't you want a body of your own?"
    "Eh. Overrated. Too many needs, like your mom
said."
    Leo interrupts, "Mom? What's wrong?"
    Lily is staring with an odd and puzzled look
on her face. Her mouth works as if she were a fish without water.
Suddenly she stands up, knocking over her chair, and puts her hand
on her throat. Her body is heaving as if she's trying to spit
something out.
    The house medscan squeals. Respiration
zero.
    "Choking!" I yell. "Help her cough it
out."
    Jerry is scrambling to his feet, saying "Aw
hell ... Lily, what?"
    Immediately I send a priority interrupt to
the nearest medical center, which is in Schiaparelli. Their medevac
team acknowledges, and sends me a data bundle of emergency
responses and techniques, with assurances that they're scrambling a
flyer.
    But what can I do? I don't
have any remotes anywhere near the kitchen. Because the family said
they wanted to cook on their own tonight. Meatrot. The felinoid
remote is recharging in its maintenance bay, and it'll take an
agonizingly long time to decycle the charger and reboot it and get
it moving. Meatrot! I issue it the commands to decycle and reboot, and start
scanning for alternatives.
    I scream to all the remotes: Emergency,
converge on the kitchen, maximum speed, now! In the bubbles, the
heavy robocrabs drop their tools and move towards the house as fast
as they can.
    Which is dreadfully slow. Nowhere near enough
to get them here in time to make any difference.
    Lily is clawing at her throat, panic rising
in her eyes. Jerry is reaching his fingers into her mouth, trying
to get whatever it is. The kids are sort of frozen, not really
understanding what's going on.
    The house medscan is still squealing.
Respiration zero, zero, zero! Not helping. I disable that
alarm.
    "Heimlich maneuver," I say, and flash a
slideshow on the kitchen monitor that shows how to do it.
    Frantically, I search for other alternatives.
Flopsy Bunny has answered my call and hovers anxiously next to
Melissa, who's watching Jerry wrap his arms around his wife and
shove his fist into her abdomen. Lily is struggling, and he's
trying to handle her, but not managing very well. I can't think of
anything Flopsy Bunny can do to help, except be with Melissa.
    I plunge into the kitchen lobster. I have
twelve legs, and I crouch with them, and I raise my two big claws.
Nope. No chance. Too weak, too clumsy, too slow.
    I am the stove, and I raise
my spachelors (even though they're