Walton - Three Laws Lethal

THREE
LAWS
LETHAL

Published 2019 by Pyr

Three Laws Lethal. Copyright 2019 by David Walton. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, digital, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, or conveyed via the Internet or a website without prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

Cover image Lonely/Shutterstock

Cover design by Nicole Sommer-Lecht

Cover design Start Science Fiction

This is a work of fiction. Characters, organizations, products, locales, and events portrayed in this novel either are products of the authors imagination or are used fictitiously. Any similarities to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.

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ISBN: 978-1-63388-560-8 (paperback)

ISBN: 978-1-63388-561-5 (ebook)

Printed in the United States of America

Quotes from The Name of the Wind, 2007 by Patrick Rothfuss, and The Wise Mans Fear, 2011 by Patrick Rothfuss, used by permission of the author. All Rights Reserved.

Quotes from The Girl Who Circumnavigated Fairyland in a Ship of Her Own Making, 2011 by Catherynne Valente, and The Girl Who Fell Beneath Fairyland and Led the Revels There, 2011 by Catherynne Valente, used by permission of the author. All Rights Reserved.

Quotes from Dune, 1965 by Frank Herbert, used by permission of the authors estate. All Rights Reserved.

The Three Laws of Robotics, 1942 by Isaac Asimov,used by permission of the authors estate. All Rights Reserved.

To Caleb
They say engineers love to take things apart
and put them back together again.
Youre halfway there.

That the time will come when the machines will
hold the real supremacy over the world and its inhabitants
is what no person of a truly philosophic mind can
for a moment question.

SAMUEL BUTLER, 1863

PROLOGUE

A nnabelle Brighton checked her phone, trying to ignore the twins, who were bickering over nothing in the back seat as usual. She browsed her social media feeds, taking her eyes from the road despite the tense feeling in her shoulders. It still freaked her out a little not to have her hands on a steering wheel, even though it had been two months since they took the plunge and bought a fully automated Mercedes.

Its safer, Brad had told her. I dont want you trusting your life to your own reflexes.

She could have taken that personally, but she liked the freedom to read while on the road, or catch up on her messages, or watch one of the home remodeling shows she liked. With Hailey and Hannah turning thirteen next month, it seemed she spent half her life in the car these days, ferrying them to violin lessons, soccer games, ballet recitals, swimming meets, and increasingly, to the mall to hang out with their friends. She wondered what they did there, a gaggle of them just standing around or migrating from store to store. She worried about drugs, and boys, and about losing the influence she had on their choices.

Mom, she took my book, Hailey said.

Hannah gasped in pretended indignation. You were done with it!

Its mine. I didnt say you could read it.

Outside, rain pelted the road, turning the other cars into blurry streaks beyond the wet windows. The Mercedes hit a puddle, the rough sound vibrating through the car, but its steering adjusted smoothly, barely slowing down. They flew along the left lane at eighty miles an hour, a legal speed in the specially marked autocar-only lanes. A miserable-looking motorcyclist rode in the next lane over, his shoulders hunched and his leather jacket streaming with water. His gray beard and full sleeve tattoo might have looked impressive in other circumstances, but at the moment, he just looked like a drowned rat. Annabelle smiled. There was always someone having a worse day than you were.

Mom! Haileys voice rose an octave. Annabelle looked back at her, ready to scold her for shrieking, until she saw the terror in her face. Hailey and Hannah both stared, their eyes wide, their hands raised to protect themselves. Annabelle whirled to see a huge tree falling across the road toward them. It struck the asphalt in front of their car, a snarl of wet branches glaring white in the headlights.

She barely had time to think before the car reacted, swerving with precision, independent brakes on each wheel applying just the right pressure to slow the car but avoid skidding in the rain. As Annabelles right foot lunged forward by reflex, the Mercedes danced around the fallen tree as if by magic, changing direction with the suddenness of a bird in flight. She had just enough time to Marvel that they had missed the tree entirely, when the car hit something with a sickening crunch, throwing her forward. She screamed as an airbag exploded into her face and the windshield shattered, raining pebbled glass into the car. They spun, the world whipping around her with the screech of scraping metal, until they finally ground to a halt.

Rain battered Annabelle through the broken windshield. Hailey and Hannah were screaming, but the sound barely penetrated the ringing in her ears. Eventually, the noise in her head subsided. She pawed at the seat belt release and finally found the button. The twins, still panicked, scrambled out of the car, and she followed them. The rain drenched her clothes instantly.

Columns of headlights blinded her. She shielded her eyes and looked at the Mercedes, which, except for the windshield, seemed surprisingly undamaged. Beyond it lay a twisted piece of metal and tires that she only belatedly identified as a motorcycle. Its frame was bent, its front wheel mangled, its headlight smashed. And further back, another shape, also twisted unnaturally. She cried out and ran toward it, but stopped when she saw the blood, the torn neck, the empty helmet lying several yards away.

Dont look, she told her girls, whose eyes had gone wide. She drew them both to her, and for once, they didnt push away. She led them to the side of the road, where they stood in the rain and waited for the emergency vehicles to arrive.

She gave her story to the police in a daze, and barely registered their responses. She couldnt help thinking: the car did this on purpose. It would have known the motorcycle was there. Its sensors would have registered its location, speed, direction. It would have taken into account the barrier to their left, the fallen limb, the time available to brake or steer. In that split second, it had plotted all the possible courses and had chosen the route that would minimize the danger. To them, at least. Not to the motorcyclist.

Had she been behind the wheel, she probably would have plowed into the tree limb, maybe killing all three of them. The Mercedes had the time and skill to plot a different course, and had chosen to sacrifice a mans life to save theirs. She tried to feel sorry about that, but she couldnt. Her daughters were worth more to her than a thousand strangers. All she felt was a profound sense of relief. But by what right had the cars algorithms chosen their lives over his?

When Brad finally came to pick them up, the rain had stopped. He leaped from the car, worried and shaken. Annabelle threw her arms around his neck, reveling in the solidity of him, the familiar reality. Were all right, she said. Were fine.