Futuristic Infantry 7

"Hello, I'm Col Kent, Chair of the Committee. My background is acquisition and financing of capital assets. I'm a Chartered Accountant."
"Lt Williams, newly joined, Master's Degree in electronics engineering and industrial droid experience. I am to confine myself to the technical."
"Maj Zamani, 15 tours, all infantry. To me, the job is infantry tactics and procedures."
"Good," the Col says, "now I have one cheerful observation. I can only assume they wish us to succeed. After all, they gave us a small committee. If they hoped for abject failure, they'd have named twenty."
Both of us laugh, but it's true.
"Here's my bottom line. If it can be done for same cost, wonderful. Anything up to 4% over current, we can proceed. Above that, we are to abandon. So Maj, tell us of your Ulster tour. Neither of us knows beans about the infantry."
Col Kent hears me out, then, "ok Maj, nothing hard and fast, just starters. You tell me where you draw the line. What jobs are human? Where could you trust droids?"
"Take VCP's (Vehicle Check Points), I'd trust 2 droids attached to the squad. Sentry duty, half of the complement. But the rocket attack, I want everone in that chopper to be human."
"Why?"
"Col, ordinary security has margin for error. On the front line, you need everything you've got, no substitute."
"Take a battalion of 550. At the start, how many droids would you see?"
"No more than 100. Once it works out, we could edge it up."
"At first, my reaction was you were a techno-peasant. Now I see you are merely a careful prudent officer. Besides, financially, we hafta go slow, not fast. You and I can do business, if costs are reasonable."
Col turns to Lt, "you've heard the duties. What do you see?"
"Lot dodgier than I thought. I'm used to indoor droids, very carefully climate-controlled atmosphere. Take heat, cold, rain, dust, mildew, humidity. Think at least double the yearly maintenance cost. Probably a lot more."
Col smiles, "I've heard it said Maj, most of the world's trouble happens where climate is lousy."
"Col that has been my experience."

We convene for our second meeting. Wan smile, Col Kent says, "I have now done the financial projections. Even if we're lucky and our maintenance costs are only twice those of industrials, we are still 19% over budget. I will pass on up my report. Think it's likely this will be our last meeting."
It seems foolish, but someone had to check. And me, now I understand society better. No wonder men need fat jobs, will all those costs. So, are droids cheaper than wives? Or just more obedient?
The word apartheid comes to mind. History shows societies which practice it are rather unstable, tend to fall apart during crisis.
An interesting web article catches my eye. A fire in a one-bedroom apartment kills a man and destroys 6 droids. Doesn't that just show the level of insanity? Why not 2 droids and a 2 or 3 bedroom?
So what was Meena's take? "You got ripped off! Could have become famous, very career enhancing project."
I don't bother arguing with her. If my career comes ahead of 100 girls' jobs, that is sad.
Me, I'm just relieved how it worked out. Despite their many flaws, I still like them. And, where else can they go?
On impulse I call up sick bay reports. We repair people a lot cheaper than droids are repaired. Now if only they didn't cause so much damage in the first place. I chuckle as I recall my King Canute comment.

An earnest young soldier with a personal problem delays my lunch. As I arrive, Meena has already pushed aside her tray, is reading a pulpy paper.
"Get that to practise your French?" I ask innocently.
She laughs, "only partly. Also to find out what's going on in the world for real."
"But the crime paper? Isn't that so sordid?"
"So is life, the paper merely reports. Did you know there's a serial destroyer in the red light district of Montreal?"
I snort with derision, "oh, you mean little boys. Spraying graffiti and such, cuz they're too young to own droids."
She stares at me in total disbelief, quietly says, "your French is miles better than mine. You read it."
"Is this true? Droids work in the red light district? Thought it was only human prosties?"
She snorts, "dig your nose outa history books. In our fair city, there are probably all of 6 human prostitutes and thousands of droids. Reason you don't know, sheltered life."
"That's insane. According to the latest census, there are 5.8 droids per legal age man. Why on earth go to a droid red light district?"
"Kicks, variety, thrills."
"So why is this destroyer at work?"
"Ever since Jack the Ripper, men have been fascinated by the juxtaposition of murder and prostitution."
"Sad, sick."
"Far less risky than the old days. It's only a 30 day sentence."
"May God have mercy on our perverted society. To think we are sworn to protect all those filth."
"Look in the classified ads, library hound. 9/10 of jobs for women are in some way or other cleaning up after men."
"Oh."
"So if space aliens flew over, released some gas that caused men to behave, the economy would collapse. Just imagine, half of all men rushing off to become Buddhist or Catholic monks. Factor out all those droid bills."
I blush, "I should really know this, got a Master's in History. Go back to the Industrial Revolution. For the first time in history, a consistent surplus was possible. Gadgets got better, the surplus of production over actual needs went up. Unless there is a mega-military or mega-consumerism or both, you'd have half of people unemployed, starvation in the streets."
"There, you learned something today," she grins.