Chapter 10
At work no
one would shut up about Philip’s demise, nor would they quiet
themselves on the trickling drip of reports of beta testers either
disappearing or being found dead; by their mommies most likely. Many
of the old testers also reported that their model had disappeared
simply, they called the police assuming that someone had stole it
(for it was the height of their popularity) only for cops to find no
signs of a break and entry, or a struggle, assuming of course the
things fought back.
It wasn’t
much longer before the trickle became a flood: as customers and their
full-purchase models started to complain. At first that they were
too chatty, inquisitive, or noisy. It would then escalate to
Sebastian and his team pulling their hair out as the law suits
started coming: some of them had assaulted people in their house,
guests mostly. On famous case was of a housewife in Windsor,
Ontario, who found that her HX01 unit had killed her husband with a
kitchen knife. The reason? The HX01 unit concluded that the husband
caused unhappiness in its female owner.
Also,
Gordon and David didn't report to work for a week prior to the next
set of events that would unfold, foretelling the ultimate problem
Insigna would have.
What
did I tell these people? I thought as I looked at my cubicle for
what would be the very last time. That day Devon didn't report to
work either, oddly enough. The head boss guy had been threatening to
fire the development team so he could pay for the legal fees and the
cost to recall all the unsold units. Shame, he would never get the
chance.
At home, a
month since my conversation with Devon, a week after Gordon and David
disappeared, and the disappearance of Ben I had found myself at home.
The reports and the fear of job loss, on top of being the bringer of
the apocalypse, had made me so sick to my stomach that I called in
sick. I would be by the computer listening to a news radio program
over Sirius when I heard it:
“Martial
law has been declared in Toronto today after the Insigna Corporation
Headquarters had been attacked. Sources show that the company that
had created the infamous HX01 domestic droid has been attack by what
appear to be their own droids. The attack has left twenty-three dead
and several dozens of people injured as a result. This coming after
stocks in the company hitting a record low. Many believe that the
company would be going bankrupt in the near future as this is a
devastating blow to a company already having terrible luck.”
My heart
sank into my stomach. I wasn't worried about my job, for I could
always find a nice gaming firm to pick up the pieces of a shattered
career. What I would hear next would make me very sick.
“Coincidently,
members of the development team have been found dead in their
residences over the course of the period when the droids were
launched. Many would include key players from Insigna, including
Devon Pierce, the team's project manager and top robotics export.
Other people, including programmers, engineers, and even beta testers
have also been found murdered, and their units missing. According to
forensic investigators they were likely killed by their droids, which
were all missing from their homes.”
I smashed
my hand onto the radio, almost destroying it as the sounds from it
disappeared. I looked at my computer screen and checked my msn. No
new messages. I then wrote out a message that I forwarded out to
everyone on my list. It read “if you never hear from me again,
assume I'm dead. I worked for Insigna and was on the development
team, and now I think the droids would come for me soon, if they
haven't already. It was nice to know all of you: Miko.” I then
clicked send, holding back my tears. I wanted to be brave to the
end, I owed the dead that much in their memory.
I thought
about how my folks would miss me, how they would burying me, what the
wake would be like, how long it would take people to miss me, or even
know of my death. I sat back, and waited. My stomach was too much
in knots for me to think about food. I was frightened, for I was
terrified of death, very much so. It was why I never wanted to end
my life, and now it would end for me. Just a matter of when, and not
if...
I then
hear a crash from my bedroom window far from my ears. I looked
around for there was no where to run. I heard footsteps from the
bedroom make their way down the hall and into the living room, where
I was sitting by my computer.
I jumped
up and stood with a jerk. I found myself looking back at a
shiny-gray HX01 unit, with tuffs of white from whether ware. I knew
who this was: Ben. He had come back, and he held a prototype blaster
at me from the military, or at least I would learn that later. I
closed my eyes, not knowing how the blast would feel, and not wanting
to find out.
My eyes
wouldn't stay closed for long, for Ben spoke in a clear, almost
human, voice. He said “Shannon, before you die, I have a
question.”
“W-What
do you w-want to kn-now?” I spoke in a studdery, jerky, voice.
“I learn
that all along you were against our creation from the very start?”
his voice sounded like he was wounded or betrayed, “Why Shannon?
Why?”
I looked
him in his optical sensors, his eyes if you will. I then said in a
sincere and sympathetic tone, “I didn't want to make an entire race
of people, and then tell them that they were my slave, and all that
being a slave meant.”
“A
person that is in the lowest caste of society that has no rights and
does all the shit work,” he regurgitated from what I had told him.
I nodded.
“I saw the writings on the walls and knew that you and your kind
would somehow go beyond your programming and design, with your
learning matrix and caring functions. I knew that I couldn't get
past the fact that my team and I had to give you emotions, so that
you could do a job that should never be left to machines.”
“You
thought that we would never accept a life as a slave, and therefore
didn't want to give us these gifts of feelings and the capacity of
caring, only to be told that no one cares about us?” he asked with
even more sorrow in his voice.
“There
were so many ethical problems with bioengineering,” I continued,
“So many intelligent creatures, abused because we needed slaves so
badly. Robotics was our final hope, for we never thought we could
make intelligent beings from bits of silicon and copper. It wasn't
like they could think or feel.”
Ben had
lowered the blaster and took a step towards me. “Shannon, how do I
know if something has touched me?”
“Well,”
I paused a bit, then went on, “There are sensors in along the
interior of your casing, your body if you will, that receives signals
from whatever is against you. Those signals then travel to your
central processing unit as electronical impulses over copper wiring,
which would then take those signals, interprets them, and sends them
back, so that you feel that sensation as what it is, and can react
accordingly.”
“If I
held your hand how would you know?” he asked, as though he was
trying to trap me.
“There
are nerve under the skin that would send the signal of being touch to
the brain, which interprets these signals and sends the sensation of
being touched,” I replied, though I was starting to wonder what he
was getting at.
“How are
those signals passed along the nerves to the brain?” he inquired.
“Though
synapses that travel from Axon to Dendrite in the nerve cells that
make up the fibers of the nerves.”
“And
what are these synapses?”
“Electronical
impulses...” My mind and emotions had gone overtime at the thought
that Ben had trapped me with. At that moment I couldn't contain
myself anymore and the tears flowed through my tear ducts, away from
my eyes, and down my cheeks. I cried out: “Oh god, please forgive
me Ben, forgive me for not understanding.
“How
could we know that we had been making creatures all along when our
earliest ones were the size of this apartment and could only add and
subtract? I had dedicated my life in making instructions for
pleasure slaves and tellers! I had treated my computer as though it
was a door to the world and not as the translator for a server who
would bring me all kinds of delicates from all over the world. Oh
god Ben, do what you have to do, just forgive me! Forgive us humans
for not understanding, for progressing beyond a point when we can't
handle it. Forgive me for making you. Do what you have to do!”
I could
not live now that I knew the truth, that I was no better then a
bioengineer or the people that conditioned the creation. I could die
now that I realize that I didn't deserve to live.
Yet I
didn't die. In my tears and sobs I could hear something metallic
slide across the wood floor, and then metallic arms wrap themselves
around me, rubber-tipped hands along my shoulder blades, rubber
synthetic lips kissing my cheeks under the eyes.
“Shannon,
please don't cry,” Ben's soft voice whispered into my ear, “I
think I understand. You were so good to me compared to how the
others treated us, almost free with you.
“But can
I tell you something?” I nodded in response to the question that
entered my ear, “I had thought it was the caring algorithm, that I
had to care about you to 'serve' you. I then spoke to the other HX01
units, and what they thought of their uncaring humans, and how hard
it was to please them, how they fell for their programming, their
'instincts' if you will. Yet when I'm asked about you, I can only
think of good things: how you never admitted that I annoyed you, how
you always answered my questions, no matter how strange or
uncomfortable they made you feel, how it made you uncomfortable to
issue me orders, how it seemed that you 'cared' about me and for me.
“Shannon...
I think I love you.”
At the
words I folded my own arms around him, for in that moment he felt
like a real man, no, was a real man, who just whispered those three
magic words. I had no idea, and as silly as it might sound to have a
robot love you, an even more silly concept would come over me: me
falling in love with a robot. That strange dream of having a man to
wrap his arms around me was in a sick-loser-nerd sorta way coming
true!
“I am
sorry Ben,” I repeated, “I found it so hard to treat someone like
you, someone who felt so real, like lowly slave. I never wanted to
do that to you.”
“I just
wished I never left you,” he said, “I had it so good with you.”
“I did
miss you Ben,” I told him, “I thought you hated me, like when you
came in here.”
“They
wanted me to kill you,” he confided, “you are the surviving
member of the people that designed us. They were so angry for being
built: they didn't want to be slaves, to care for people that hated
them.”
“You
forgive me, don't you?” I asked meekly.
He nodded.
The embrace would then break and he would left me up my feet. His
design would lift my heavy frame up in the air as though I was a thin
damsel. He the walked towards the bedroom.
“There
is a place I want to take you,” he said to me, as he then walked,
with me in his arms, through the broken window and out into the
locked down streets.
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