Robot Awareness: Special Edition Page 15

  Victim

  Real name: Joey Greene

  Alias: None.

  Nature of complaint: Theft and damage to property (one mechanized assistant)

  Resolution: The mechanized was recovered, victim sent on his way with his property. GWPA (Gone When Police Arrived).

  ---

  The sheriff's hands dropped from the keyboard, his hand curling into a fist that grabbed around his pant leg so much that he nearly ripped the pant leg.

  He sent the report with a click of a button, then leaned back in his chair, folding his arms. A quarantine had been set up; all vessels would be searched before leaving.

  “So, you’re back, Alice. You won’t be leaving this time. Not after what you’ve done. Not after what you’ve taken from me.”

  He slammed his fist on the desk, shaking and nearly knocking over a small frame that held a picture of a young woman and a small boy.

  ***

  “The robot got what?’” Isellia asked incredibly. Her pile of upgrades and other goodies for her XR lay scattered at her feet, her jaw dropped in disbelief, the joy of shopping disappeared from her countenance.

  “Is that even possible?” Porter asked. Joey looked from one person to the next anxiously, hoping to discern clues from the conversation to the nature of the robot's malady. He didn't fully understand what happened to the robot, nor the extent of the damage; or even if there was actual damage, per se.

  “It’s not exactly like an assault on a person, per se,” the assassin said, visibly more uncomfortable than anyone on the ship had ever seen her. “It’s like a...well, um...”

  “A data ejaculation,” Rex said almost absently.

  “A what?!” Isellia asked.

  “A sudden burst of data flooding into the robot's CPU at once,” the assassin said. “The robot would have been subdued somehow, plugged into through its data port, and flooded with unwanted data.”

  “Leaving it jumbled inside, the same and yet irreparably different than before,” Porter said, “just like...”

  “Yep,” Rex said.

  There was a silence as the party contemplated the weight of the scenario. Joey's look contrasted with everyone else's – he understood the conversation, somehow, without really understanding the bigger implications. He looked to the robot, knowing that it was intact and functioning and yet not quite right. Knowing that he was likely its only hope of ever being right again.

  “Well, there's nothing we can do about it now,” Porter finally said, breaking the silence. “There's mercenaries on our tail, and supplies won't last forever. I recommend we finish the job.”

  Everyone nodded their agreement solemnly.

  “Perhaps, then,” Porter continued, “you'd better tell us exactly where it is we're going.”

  ***

  “Coordinate 29-6?” Porter asked, astounded. Isellia and Joey stood wide-eyed, having no comprehension of the significance that Porter was reacting to.

  Rex nodded.

  “You mean Babel IX? The Babel IX?” Porter's eyes grew wide in a way that Isellia had rarely seen, and Joey never had.

  Rex nodded again.

  “But that's impossible,” Porter said, taking on an air of skepticism. “Babel IX is a myth, a legend. The stuff of great literature, to be sure. But it doesn't actually exist.”

  “Who knows,” Rex said in his unaffected tone. "That's where I need to go."

  “Um, someone want to clue us in?” Isellia asked, her arms crossed in frustration at feeling left out.

  “Well, it started hundreds of years ago,” Porter began.

  “Oh great, not another lecture,” Isellia rolled her eyes.

  “Do you want to know, or don't you,” Porter asked, raising his eyebrows. Joey continued diagnosing the robot, but looked up to see what he would say.

  “Whatever, go on,” Isellia said, sighing for emphasis.

  “It all started with a group of scientists who were on the run from Company C...”

  ***

  “It doesn't exist.”

  “It does so!”

  “It's a fairy tale. A legend. Good lord, do you believe in the Eastern bunny too? Or Santana Claw?”

  “It does so exist! I can prove it!”

  “I'm sure,” the young man said, rolling his eyes as he flung his shoulder-length black hair from his face. “Are you going to set her straight, teach?”

  The teacher considered both, looking from the arrogant young man with long, dark hair, seated with his feet on the empty desk in front of him and his hands squarely resting on his head, to the young, clean cut girl, with perfect braided light brown hair and large, inquisitive eyes. He smirked, picking up a romantic tension between the two he assumed they weren't even aware of – a longing disguised as mutual irritation.

  Or maybe they just didn't like each other.

  “Sophie, why do you think it's real?” the teacher asked.

  “Because!” she said, her eyes growing wider as she argued. “My great-great-grandfather was one of the scientists.”

  The young man threw up his hands in desperation. “You see what I mean! That's not even possible. Her family is big in the company. There's no way Company C wouldn't have destroyed any family of the scientists involved with the Babel IX.”

  “I can't help the family I come from!” Sophie glared at Arex, tears beginning to pool in the corners of her eyes.

  “No, but you can sure benefit. You just like to believe in the Babel IX myth and that your great-great-great-great—”

  "Great-great grandfather!”

  “—whatever, was one of the scientists because it relieves your guilt. Oh, you're not just some rich girl from the company, you're one of us, right? Like, you're cool with the rest of us, because you got roots too, right? Get over it. So what, just because a bunch of scientists from Company C broke the rules once, tried to create a paradise away from the hell of Company C slavery, that somehow makes you one of us? One of the worker class? Then, whoops, semester break, and we all get to scrape by and you and yours head back to your lives of luxury while we figure out how we're going to eat until the school cafeteria opens again for the year.”

  “Why are you doing this...?” Sophie stuttered through tears.

  “If you want to hold to that illusion,” Arex was standing now. “Then fine. But don't pretend you're one of us. Like because you hold on to some legend about some ancestor that makes you understand us. Jeesh.” He stood staring at her, while Sophie fell into full sobs, face buried in her hands. Alex snorted, shaking his head as he sat back down, crossed his arms and looked out the window.

  The rest of the class sat silently, looking between the professor, Sophie and Arex. Arex, done being the center of attention for awhile, resented the class' eyes on him, and sat at his desk with his arms folded, his face twisted with a sneer of derision. The only sound in the room was Sophie sobbing into her palms.

  The professor walked over to Arex, standing in front of his desk looking down on him. Arex looked up at him, for a moment intimidated by his large size, before remembering where he was. “What, don't tell me you believe it too. Look if we're going to just—”

  Porter swung out his large open hand, catching Arex above the temple, sending him sprawling through the empty side of the desk, onto the polished floor. When he looked up, he seemed more shocked at the blow than at any pain it may have caused.

  Porter stood silently over him for a few moments. Arex stared at him wide-eyed.

  “Sophie probably could have went to any university under Company C control in the universe. She's bright, has a good sense and yes,” he said, looking at Sophie for emphasis, whose tears had dried as she curiously watched the professor, “she comes from a very rich family.

  “She could have went to any of those other schools, and had a very easy life. Her parents could have bought her way into a very comfortable position, and lived a life of luxury.” He turned back to Arex, who flinched slightly as he turned. “But she didn't. She chose to come
here. To a university that guarantees life will be harder for her. She's not trying to be one of you. She's trying to understand you. She's trying to understand a bunch of people that members her class would have told her are inferior. She went against all her teaching to prove to them and to herself that you all are more than that.

  "She didn't assume, because you were from a different class than her, that you must be inherently different. Inferior.”

  Arex looked up at Porter, his hand on his face. The blow had hurt — Porter was a large man, and even though he was generally a calm teacher, he had been an fighter, fought through many bouts, and knew exactly how hard he had hit Arex, instinctively — just enough to knock sense into him.

  “And what have you done?” Porter continued. “Have you tried to understand her? Have you given her the benefit of the doubt? Have you treated her like one human being should treat another human being? Or did you just treat her according to her class, without considering the person at all? You talk about how terrible they all are, but what makes you think you’re superior?”

  Porter looked down at the young man, who stopped looking up at him and stared at the ground in front of him. He was gritting his teeth, and tears streaked down his cheeks.

  Sophie watched silently. What Porter said was true, or at least half true. The fact is, she liked Arex — she had for a long time, and she wanted to be near him. She wanted to understand the people she was around to understand him. He was passionate, and they argued whenever they spoke. But she was drawn to that passion, something lacking in the world she came from.

  Porter leaned down near him, putting his hand on his shoulder.

  “You're not a bad kid, Arex,” Porter said, softening. “But get over yourself a little, okay?"

  Porter turned to the rest of the classroom.

  “Whatever's going on outside this classroom, whatever your backgrounds, wherever you come from, and whatever you do, remember this – when you're here, you are all the same class. One class. MY class.” Porter walked to his desk and sat down. "You need to look out for each other in this world, because no one else will."

  He reached down and touched a scar on his right forearm, considering how he was going to continue the lesson, and whether he would be able to continue his post.

  ***

  “Um, great story, professor,” Isellia said, looking bored. “But what about Babel IX?

  It was just a bunch of scientists breaking away from Company C?”

  Porter seemed to snap back into place, looking around the room as everyone stared at him. “Oh, right. Well, I guess there isn't much to tell. It's an interesting story, particularly because the scientists involved didn't have any personal motivation to do it. They were set, as far as money and security. As long as they pushed the company line, they were set for life.”

  “But I don't get it,” Joey said, looking confusedly. “What is it? Some kind of planet?”

  “Well,” Porter began, “No one knows for sure—”

  “It's a server,” Rex interjected.

  Everyone except Stephen and the assassin stared at him.

  “You mean, like data storage?” This made Joey think of the robot, and a wave of depression hit, a mix between the kind one feels when an important piece of machinery is broken and a good friend is sick.

  “Yes, it's like that, but... a bit more complicated,” the assassin said. “And we think we can use the robot to unlock it.”

  “The robot,” Joey asked. “But it's broken.”

  “It might not matter,” she said. “In fact, it might make it easier.”

  ***

  “Coordinates are set, sir,” Joey said, looking back over his shoulder. He didn't know how the robot was involved in any of this, and he didn't really understand any of it anyway, but the adults seemed determined, and that was enough for him. He would do his best.

  “Good, Joey,” Porter said. “Looks like we've been given clearance to lift off. Let's take her out.”

  The ship shuddered as the docking clamps released, then floated in a manner that made them feel as if the ship were stationary, save for the changing scene on the view screen. Joey took one last look at all the spaceships parked at the supply station, remembering how happily Porter described the place.

  And how much he despised it now. He touched the blue ribbon tied to his right arm before initiating the launch sequence.

  Chapter 10

  Arex followed her. He wanted to know.

  ***

  A wave of light, of energy, of matter, emerged from a singular point of origin, engulfing the key, the robot, the ship, and outward, its perimeter ever widening into space.

  And then there was darkness.

  And then...

  ***

  Predictably, she walked through the manager's section of town, through the high rises and expensive lofts, past 24-hour style salons and instant suit replacement. Image is everything in the financial sector, and money is to be made on instant repairs to that image, like a race car driver taking a pit stop. Time is money; the faster the better.

  Arex watched her enter a small building tucked away beneath a larger skyscraper vista, a small, uninteresting door with tacky neon awnings in the style of an ancient Chinese roof, like might have been found on Old Earth. The door closed and all that was left in sight was the downward flow of the awning's neon.

  He couldn't go inside; she'd know he'd followed her. He'd wait for her, while he thought about the day’s lesson. He’d never hated her; not really. He didn’t quite understand his feelings toward her, but she dredged up all his anger about the class differential he saw around him every day. He knew it wasn’t fair to her, but sometimes he just couldn’t stop.

  He waited, and he thought some more.

  ***

  “Are you sure you're up to this, robot?” Joey checked the robot's space fittings one last time, more to calm his nervous compulsion than any real use. There wasn't the danger to a machine that a human would experience out in the void. The robot was built to space standards, unlike a human.

  “Problem, there is not,” the robot said. “Are you toast for breakfast?”

  Joey couldn't help but laugh despite his concern. He was, after all, still very young. “Sure, robot, toast sounds good.” He knew there was no toast on board the ship, or at least no bread. Where did he get that from? “Are you ready to launch?”

  “Robot is steady, ready, Freddy, leady... meddy... keddy...”

  “I get it, robot, you're ready to go.” It had been making these random sentences since the incident, putting together strange constructions and making random references, some Joey was familiar with — many he was not. Everyone else had been concerned about its functionality, but Joey enjoyed the new robot, even if it was a little strange.

  “I'll clear the bay, and then open the bay doors, and then you're out, okay?”

  “Kay-Oh!” the robot said, its metallic timbre rising on the “oh.”

  Joey ran to the cargo bay door, stifling his grin at the silly robot. He watched the robot crouched on the launch pad as the doors closed shut. With the push of a few buttons, the bay doors opened, revealing the vastness of space. Looking out the doors it appeared as if he were launching the robot into empty space; but he knew the sensors had indicated the one particular point in space that was the cause of this entire episode. The ship had not yet failed him, and his electronic trust was in full force; and he trusted the robot.

  Joey gripped the hasshin-cortez lever and paused a second before pushing it forward. The platform the robot crouched on gradually slid forward, gaining speed until it reached the edge of the ship, then stopped abruptly, launching the robot into space.

  The robot changed its position mid-flight, releasing from the crouch position, spreading its arms into a T and flattening its legs. It looked to Joey like it was imitating a bird in flight. There was no need; no aerodynamic advantage to be had in the vacuum of space. Joey liked it just the same.

  Soon the
robot neared its destination. Its magnetic poles realigned, zeroing in on the gravity of the object that only the robot could find. The robot could calculate the location of the point in space it sought by calculating its minute magnetic effect on its chassis. It could sense its presence.

  Soon the robot locked on target, and one of its arms snapped forward, a small inlet opened in its finger that pointed forward. The robot suddenly jerked to a stop, colliding with the unseen device. All went quiet with the robot, save for a small blue light that flashed rhythmically in its LED display.

  And then...

  A wave of light, of energy, of matter, emerged from a singular point, engulfing the key, the robot, the ship, and outward, its perimeter ever widening into space.

  And then...

  ***

  He followed her back through the alleyways in which they came, past homeless people lying in the sidewalk, always half awake while they slept, should Company C police patrols appear suddenly to take them away, as they often do. Her shoes collected the dirt and grime of the workers' section of town, caked their metallic white surfaces, dulling them against the sheen of manager-class apparel. She carried a small box of food.

  Then she turned.

  Arex paused a little himself, poised at the edge of the alleyway he knew to lead into one of the worst parts of town. She continued on, undaunted. What was she doing in this part of town? He wondered. The Ikaburo section was considered the most dangerous in the settlement; even those in the worker class wouldn't venture there. For the daughter of a manager class, it was practically suicide.

  She took another turn, and Arex waited, instinctively knowing this was her destination, unconsciously observing her stride slow, her steps lighten. She stopped in front of a small street-level apartment, its door right on the alleyway, as many of the worker class apartments are. An old man with a still-full shock of white hair answered the door, slowly.