Human Sister

androids. In participating in these games, I’ve tried to demonstrate how a human force far from home, gripped by fear, handicapped by multiple comparative frailties, and paralyzed by comparatively slow response times would meet fearless opponents with far swifter intelligences—opponents who are safe and functional in nearly all environments, and so on, and so forth.
    “Whenever the android team wins, I’m asked for solutions. I tell the generals I don’t have any solutions for them, except to abandon this dangerous nonsense. But they employ a swarm of highly intelligent people who are soon able to simulate victory. I’ve worn myself out many times trying to explain my reasons for believing that the androids mean us no harm. I’ve explained that we are frail biologic creatures and that something as drastic as a second attack may alter the intentional structures of some of the androids, may induce them to hate us. I have long felt that it may take some traumatic event to raise First Brother, for example, to a higher level of emotional consciousness. But war is not the trauma and a desire for revenge is not the emotion I was seeking. If the androids come to feel hate without feeling love, they truly will be creatures to be feared.”
    The letter from First Brother already seemed full of hate, I thought.
    “If I understand correctly,” I said, “your efforts to convince the generals that it’s unwise to attack the androids have so far failed, but your efforts to demonstrate our military’s weaknesses have resulted in modifications to their plans that increase the likelihood of success for the plans.”
    “Sara’s right,” Michael said. “They listen to you only so they can figure out how to overcome the difficulties you present. And the better and more sophisticated they perceive their plans to be, the more likely they’ll be to proceed with the attack.”
    Mom was right, I thought. Knowledge isn’t power; it’s the fuel of power.
    Grandpa’s face flushed. “You are quick to assume the only goal worth pursuing is that of preventing the attack. But suppose for a moment that despite my best efforts, the attack proceeds. After the rockets blast off with their arsenals of destruction, what should our goals be then?”
    Michael shrugged.
    “We don’t know,” I answered.
    “I don’t know, either. But I fear that if the androids are attacked again, they might attempt to retaliate. With biological weapons. Unfortunately, in a self-congratulatory display of our grand moral intelligence, we have prohibited the development of such weapons. As a consequence, we have failed to acquire in-depth knowledge of such weapons and are virtually defenseless against any the androids might have developed. And that is what I want you to help me with. Sara, you’ve had more intimate interactions with First Brother than I have. Michael, you are capable of thinking like First Brother and the other Sentirens. What kinds of things might they come up with? What might they do?”
    Michael again merely shrugged.
    “Give us half an hour to think about it,” I said.
    When Grandpa returned, I told him we hadn’t yet thought of anything helpful. As for me, though I might have had more intimate interactions with First Brother than Grandpa had, that wasn’t saying much. I truly didn’t have any idea what made him or my other brothers tick. As for Michael, though he may possess the potential to think like First Brother, he obviously did not think like First Brother. He had never thought of harming any human in any way. In fact, merely finding my memory of Second Brother’s breaking my finger had sent him into hiding. His mind seemed to rebel against even considering the hypothesis that androids would use biological weapons against humans. During the past half-hour, he had cried and had nearly slipped into hiding again when I’d asked him to try to consider such a thing. Sobbing, he’d said he loves us; loves the touch, the warmth of our skin, our laughter; loves the human genius for having invented so many wonderful things, for having created him.
    Michael and I did, however, have some questions.
    “What strikes us as peculiar,” I said, “is that you are not an expert on rockets or bombs or military strategies, yet you apparently have been spending a great amount of time working at Lawrence Livermore on the launching of another military expedition to Mars. We find it hard to believe that merely playing war games would