Robot Awareness: Special Edition

by B. C. Kowalski

  “S-s-s-stop —” the man said, putting out a black, gloved hand. Malvers wondered whether there was a real hand under the glove, or if it was just more empty space. “You know this is a request for land inside the confines of Farven Point.”

  The man straightened up, seeming to grow taller before Malvers’ very eyes. “And you know that isn’t negotiable.”

  Malvers tried his best to swallow without it being noticeable, and was relatively sure he failed miserably. “As you know, Farven Point has an ... unfortunate ordinance preventing Company C development inside the city limits. I’ve always said that it limits the economic potential of the city’s resources —“

  “Stop!” The man slammed his fist down on the table they sat at, cracks forming in its wooden surface. “I don’t need you to explain anything to me. Did you think I would come here if I didn’t already know everything I need to?”

  Malvers nodded, saying nothing.

  “We form a sibling company, one that is not prohibited under the ordinance. No one will look deep enough into it to worry either of us. A small operation. It will pass unnoticed.”

  Malvers nodded. “Very good. Yes, that could work.”

  The blank man relaxed a little. He pushed the pen and paper toward Malvers.

  “But then what is this for? The council needs to pass the agenda item, not me.”

  Somehow he got the impression the man across the table was smiling. “This contract is for you. Personally.”

  “Me?”

  “If this passes, you’ll be a rich and powerful man. After all, you can’t be administrator forever. We can make sure you have a position in the company worthy of your talents.”

  Malvers couldn’t help but grin at the flattery, and at the money. He knew the game, and hardly looked at the number written in the contract, but even his quick glance caught a lot of zeros. But he also knew he didn’t completely control the council. He could only do so much. And he certainly had his detractors on the governing body.

  “And if it doesn’t pass?” Malvers dared to ask.

  The man said nothing, but folded his hands and leaned back in his chair. A cold chill suddenly ran down Malvers’ back.

  A picture of Malvers’ family appeared where the man’s blank face was. They suddenly caught fire, in the picture, and burned, writing in agony. Malvers couldn’t say anything, but watched as his face twisted with horror.

  Then it was gone, like it had never happened. The image was burned into Malvers’ brain, into his consciousness, something that was completely by design. One image, 1,000 words was a phrase often used by Company C agents. There was a reason: Images are effective.

  Malvers said nothing, but signed the contract. He was smart enough to know that image was intended as a consequence of not agreeing as well as failure. He felt the sting of guilt; even Malvers would never dream of selling out Farven Point to greedy Company C hacks. He was a businessman, but not a monster. This city prided itself on avoiding the corporate monopoly, and Malvers shared that pride; his speeches on the subject were not lip service. Even with his love of money, of power, his need to control and manipulate, Malvers had no intention of ever partnering with Company C.

  But there was little he could do. He would protect his family no matter what. Even this.

  He finished, setting the pen down and slumping back into his chair. The man stood up, grabbing the contract and folding it under the lapel of his suit. Malvers covered his eyes with his hands, the image still disturbing his thoughts.

  “Wise choice,” the man said. “We’ll be in touch.”

  Malvers didn’t leave his chair for nearly an hour.

  ***

  The ship twirled frantically amid spiraling lights that surrounded its hull as the vessel spun out of control. Joey felt dizzy and nauseous as he clutched the counter under the ship’s console in front of him.

  The ship’s anti-gravity and Heisenberg compensator kept him firmly rooted to the ship’s deck, and had he shut his eyes, he would have felt no different than if the ship were flying perfectly straight. There was, of course, no real up and down in space other than an agreed upon plane that everyone followed between routes, mostly for the sake of order. It was always disconcerting to encounter another ship sideways to one’s own position, or come into a dock upside down and have to right the ship before landing. Therefore, space-faring vessels were programed to operate on a single plane inside planetary systems.

  Nevertheless, the swirling lights and spiraling starlight made him dizzy, and he felt like he might throw up.

  The initial shock of course sent them all into a spin, jolting them as they braced themselves against the bridge’s railing. The ship rattled with the force of the turbulence, until the compensators kicked in. Red lights swirled on the ship as a warning siren blared over the loudspeakers.

  Then the lights stopped. The blaring sound stopped. Joey suddenly became aware of the feeling that he was desperately grabbing the console counter for no reason. He opened his eyes and he looked around. He could see Porter, Rex, Celia looking at him with either raised eyebrows or a bit of a grin.

  He looked around with an embarrassed expression, looked down at his hands and realized they were still tensed. He let go.

  “Lightweight,” Isellia snorted, standing with her arms crossed, a smirk on her face.

  Joey turned red and said nothing. He stared at the floor in embarrassment.

  “The ship will right itself soon,” Porter said, letting go of the railing and walking toward the navigation console. “As soon as we stop swirling, maybe the nav console will kick in and we can find out where we are.

  “Hopefully we’re still on course.”

  “Hopefully,” Rex said.

  “I have a feeling we will be,” Kenpur said. He stood calmly, hands clasped in front of his stomach.

  “I’ll believe it when I see it on the nav console, if you don’t mind,” Porter said, glancing at him out of the corner of his eye.

  “Of course,” the old man said.

  “Joey, why don’t you have a seat at the controls. Isellia, get to your XR, in case we need to scout. Stephen is already in the engine room — robot, why don’t you go see if he needs anything?”

  “You’re sending the robot on an errand?” Isellia asked.

  “Why not?”

  “Are you reprogrammed? It’s a robot!”

  “Thanks for pointing out the obvious,” Porter said, leaning against the console. “Robots were originally designed to work, weren’t they? As long as it’s here, it might as well help out. What’s the harm?”

  Isellia eyed the robot suspiciously. “But — that thing is different than it was. It’s just — you guys know what I mean, right?”

  It was Joey who responded. “What do you mean?”

  “Well you know. Sometimes it just, like, bursts out something random, and moves weirdly.” Isellia mimicked the movements, bugging out her eyes and moving her arms in a robotic fashion. “Sometimes it just looks around, oddly, like it’s taking in everything, or planning something.”

  “Or trying to understand,” Kenpur said.

  “Huh?” Isellia and Porter said in unison.

  “Understand what?” Joey asked.

  “Everything,” Kenpur said. “Your robot appears to be learning. It’s developing a consciousness.”

  Kenpur’s habit of saying the most unusual things as if they were a matter of fact was really starting to bug Porter.

  “What do you mean, consciousness? The robot is coming alive?” Joey asked. It seemed like a normal robot to him.

  “Well, you know why robots were banned from production, right?” Kenpur asked Joey. He shook his head.

  “My understanding was that it was a matter of programming,” Porter answered. “Many bots had to be deactivated because their programming failed. They would start doing random things, uncontrollable. People died.”

  Kenpur nodded. “But that’s not the whole story. Rumors abound of robots that shed
their programming, The Sigma Six, for instance —”

  “Those were action figures,” Porter said. “Children’s toys. A story for amusement.”

  Kenpur sighed. “You think so,” he said, a dark look crossing his face, the look of a man who had intimate knowledge of the subject.

  Rex snorted his derision extra loudly this time. “You’re looking at the guy who took them down.”

  Everyone but Celia and Kenpur turned to look at him wide-eyed.

  “They don’t need to know that,” Kenpur said, gathering his maroon cloak and heading toward the exit.

  “Took them ... you mean you ... but, robot ...” Joey was at a loss for words.

  “Never mind that right now,” Porter said, a light coming across his face. “The nav console, it’s back on.”

  He looked up with disbelief paralyzing his features. “We’re right on course.”

  “Of course we are,” Kenpur chuckled to himself, as he exited the bridge, tugging at his long beard.

  ***

  The rest of the trip to Farven Point proceeded uneventfully. Joey had long since become used to the docking system, navigating the ship through the guidance rings, adjusting the ship’s speed to just the right level to maneuver safely without slogging long too much.

  The ship passed through the final docking ring, leading to a series of platforms. The docking system synced with the ship, and a platform on the far right of his viewscreen glowed orange, indicating their designated landing spot.

  Next to the landing platform were several empty ships to the right and rows of similarly sized space vessels lined around the docking station out of sight to its left.

  On another row, Joey could see ships land, become clamped down to the docking port, then disappear as the platform slid into an orange bubble that seemed to gobble them up.

  “Whoa,” he said, wondering exactly how the platform worked.

  “Steady ...” Porter muttered behind him.

  “Oh, right.”

  Porter stood behind him, watching the viewscreen, lost in thought. They were the only two on the bridge; the rest of the crew had retired to the crew quarters.

  “It’s an orbital elevator platform,” Porter said, anticipating Joey’s question. “It takes you to the surface directly. Much easier than trying to land a ship through the atmosphere.”

  “Wow,” Joey said, watching ships disappear and empty platforms reappear. The platforms seemed to stretch beyond sight and were continually abuzz with activity.

  “Sasuga has them too, but we didn’t need them since we were only staying on the station. This platform leads to a landing pad on Farven Point. On the other side of the planet is Hull.”

  “Dull?” Joey asked.

  “Hull.”

  “Oh.”

  “Guide the ship onto the landing dock and the platform will do the rest.”

  “OK.”

  Joey maneuvered the ship to just above the orange-glowing platform, maneuvering the vessel so slowly that it barely seemed to be moving. He felt a slight surge as the gravity field kicked in, taking hold of the ship and guiding it down to the platform. It seemed slow enough, but a jolt shook Joey in his seat as the landing gear gripped the deck of the platform. The jolt gave Joey a nervous start, as just about any abnormality still did when he was piloting. It wasn’t his ship, after all — he didn’t want to break it.

  “The Sasugan dock is a little smoother,” Porter said. He seemed more himself, Joey thought. Happier.

  “Um, I hope you’re ready for this.”

  The ship slowly taxied toward the orange bubble. Joey’s eyes grew wide as the orange bubble engulfed the nose of the ship, turning the viewscreen a matching hue. The ship emerged into a darkened room that Joey struggled to see as his eyes adjusted. The ship stopped while he squinted, and there was stillness for a moment.

  “Don’t worry, it’ll only feel like we’re plummeting to our doom.” Porter smirked.

  Joey didn’t have time to ask him what he meant. The ship went from standing still to dropping in free fall in an instant. Orange lights lining the corridor the ship dropped through, rushing by in a blur as the ship plummeted toward the ground. Joey gripped the console so tight his hands nearly lost feeling. He shut his eyes.

  “You’ll get used to it,” Porter grinned. Joey turned pale, and he felt like he was going to spray the bridge with his lunch.

  As space dissolved into atmosphere, the sky glowed a faint purple, which grew lighter and richer the farther they descended. Joey saw what must have been hundreds of other ships, traveling at various speeds — some passing them, some being passed by them. A few nearly matched the speed of their vessel.

  A large ship suddenly blocked the viewscreen completely, its massive hull covering Joey’s vision for several moments. Joey stared in wonderment. It passed by the viewscreen and was gone, the screen filled once again with Farven Point’s dull purple sky.

  Finally, the light became the din of city’s infrastructure. It was still dark, but a purple glow cast over the city’s skyline. As Joey looked across the city of Farven Point, his mouth hung open in awe. The city extended for as far as he could see into the horizon, and the bustle and business went along within it in a never-ending flow of activity.

  As the platform approached the bottom, individual buildings came into view. Joey noticed they didn’t have the same architectural flare as the Sasugan buildings. They were straight, functional, solid. Thought was clearly put into their design, but that thought appeared aimed solely at functionality over form. They stood in stark contrast to Sasugan buildings, with sharp contours and creative designs. No two buildings in Farven Point looked alike, but none looked all too different, either.

  “It’s a very old city,” Porter said. “Here before human expansion. But mostly humans now.”

  Joey only nodded.

  “I guess you didn’t get to explore much in Sasuga,” Porter said. Joey blushed a little — he and Isellia had managed to keep the junkyard incident between them, Ayuuk and the robot. It was hard not to tell of such an interesting adventure, but he knew Isellia would have his number if he dared mention it. “Hopefully you’ll get to see more of Farven Point.”

  Joey looked down at the blue ribbon still tied around his wrist. He rubbed the little red line it made in his skin, remembering the adventure, and remembering the way Ayuuk had looked at him.

  ***

  Isellia didn’t mind the greasy rag staining her hand as she opened the manifold underneath her XR. She felt in her element when holding a rag and digging in her tool box. Stickers from former sponsors lined the tool box’s exterior, reminding her of a time when she was an up and comer, following in her dad’s foot steps. When her success was assumed, and her failure was only a distant fear.

  It had been some time since she had a chance to do any work on her ship. The parts she bought on the station, and those she “acquired” at the junkyard still lay scattered on the deck next to her XR, waiting to be fitted. It was like they teased her while they waited to be installed. Isellia almost enjoyed working on her ship as much as she did racing. Almost.

  Number one on her list of priorities was installing the cooling coils she’d acquired on the Sasugan station. The coils would allow her to maintain higher power output levels while keeping the engine core at a stable temperature. She was lucky to have found them intact on an otherwise relatively dilapidated ship. They weren’t a stock part, and only certain models would fit her XR-13, a model no longer in production.

  As she made adjustments to the coil’s fittings, she thought about her adventure on the Sasugan station with Joey and Ayuuk. Joey surprised her that day — he had a lot more guts than she gave him credit for. He risked his life to help them. Sometimes he seemed so clueless, it surprised her when he suddenly displayed moments of brilliance. She smirked, thinking about the wedding ribbon he wore without even knowing what it meant.

  She would owe Joey some of her success in the Farven Point qualifier, she thou
ght to herself — if there was any success. Overheating was a problem that often plagued her in the past. She tended to run too aggressively and the engine couldn’t take it. Her ship had been set up for a more conservative racer, one who values placing. Not a winner. Someone aiming for endurance, finishing a lot of long races and making a living — not for glory, for speed, for fame, but a career racer.