Robot Awareness: Special Edition

by B. C. Kowalski

  But as he brought his fist forward, Rex's finger was in his face. He felt himself stop, and couldn't explain why.

  "How did you—?" Joey began to ask, amazed. He couldn't explain why he was compelled to stop his momentum. He just felt himself freeze.

  "That's for another day." Rex looked him up and down. "Stand for a moment. Put your left foot back. Turn it. Bend your knees slightly ... relax.”

  Rex looked over Joey. “Good.” He walked up to him.

  "Here's how much I pushed you." Rex gave Joey the slightest of nudges. He didn't move.

  "Now stand on one foot, put both arms wide in the air, one forward, one backward."

  Joey did it, barely keeping his balance.

  "Here's how much I pushed you."

  At the slightest touch, Joey toppled over.

  "Lesson one: balance." Rex walked out of the room, concluding the first class of an education Joey hadn't realized he'd signed up for.

  Chapter 24

  Isellia’s brow furrowed in frustration as she filled each little box in with the black graphite of the pencil she was provided on page after page of the entrance form. The stack of completed papers continued to pile up on the seat next to her right, but the “to-be-done” pile on her left only seemed marginally smaller than when she’d started.

  Isellia had already gone through four pencils when she broke the fifth. They had given her six pencils total, after she’d given up on the pen. The tip broke off and flew past the robot's head, as the robot randomly sang in its monotone, metallic voice. The sound crackled and muffled like an old transistor radio, like it was coming from somewhere outside of the room and broadcasting through the robot’s vocal unit.

  Isellia furiously erased an incorrect entry. She had misread the directions and, going back through them, realized she had misread several of them, rendering her answers incorrect on several of the pages. She rubbed her temples in frustration.

  "I just want to race!" Isellia growled as she pulled the zipper on her flight suit down to give her a little breathing room. The room was hot and stuffy, and the tedium of filling out the forms added to her discomfort.

  "The big shots usually have a crew to do this for them," Porter said.

  "I should make you do it." Isellia tapped the eraser end of the pencil on the paper absently while she read the next question. Then her eyes went wide at a new thought.

  "Hey, wait a minute. Robot could do this in no time, without error,” she said, a slight grin creeping across her face. She turned to the robot. “Hey metal head, get over here."

  The robot walked over to Isellia, stopping in front of her as its LED display blinked green. The robot’s head tilted slightly to the side.

  “Can you fill out these forms?” Isellia asked.

  “Affirmative."

  The two stared at each other for several moments. Isellia's brow furrowed. "Well?"

  "You didn't say any magical words.” The robot cocked its head in a way that made Porter and Stephen laugh, then turned to look at them like an actor looking at the camera, breaking the fourth wall. They all laughed, besides Isellia.

  She sighed, looking back at the stack that, at least to her eyes, seemed to grow even larger. "Fine," she said, folding her arms. "Please would you complete this paperwork."

  "Affirmative."

  Isellia sat down in a heap, relaxing in a chair next to Porter. He grinned at her.

  "Oh, shut up.” She stuck her tongue out at him, as he grinned, turning to watch the robot go through sheet after sheet in rapid succession.

  ***

  "So what's the next move?" Porter asked. "Looks like things didn't go as planned."

  Kenpur was silent, calm. Porter could somehow feel Kenpur regard him, even though he didn't move, didn't flinch or show any sign of recognition. It unnerved him slightly.

  "No worry.” Kenpur looked at the clock on the wall. “Tonight, we go to the council. I have a feeling they will be of a different mind than that of the good Administrator.”

  "Council? You know people on the council too?" Porter was really starting to wonder who this man was: some crazy religious martial arts nut, some underground political player?

  “I know people, Porter.”

  ***

  "Isellia."

  "Wha—?" The sound of the robot's vocal processors awakened Isellia from her slumber as she napped inside the registration clerk's office. She nearly slid off her chair, scrambling to right herself.

  "Interruption of recharging process necessary. Designation of ship unknown."

  "Desi-wha—" Isellia rubbed her eyes, still groggy from her nap.

  "Registration form requests: 'name of spacecraft.' Unknown. Unable to process.”

  "Whatever." Isellia barely heard the robot, as she drifted back to a state of slumber. “Make something up,” she mumble-sang as she dozed.

  "Data received. Inputting."

  "...flowers, you shouldn't have... zzz.. endorsement deal?...that sounds... digital...."

  "Endorsement deal: None on file." The robot flipped back to the registration page requesting all forms of compensation. "Negative."

  ***

  The sliding door glided open with a familiar electronic whir, but the sight that beheld the 33rd District Alderman Regen Trzbz, a greying man with extra weight that hung disproportionately around his mid-section, was anything but familiar. Though he perhaps wished it was.

  "Can I ... help you?" he asked. His voice had a particular tone that tended to rise in pitch at certain intervals, but otherwise remain fairly monotone.

  Celia tugged at a strap on her boot, leaving her rounded posterior as a greeting to flustered alderman.

  "Oh, I'm sorry," Celia said, slowly easing herself back to a standing posture. Outdoor light filtered through the hi-rise condo, let in by the open air design that seemed as much garden as it was building. The sunlight shone brilliantly off her shiny black pants, accentuating her curves in a way that was hard to ignore. "These buckles are so finicky.”

  The alderman was flustered, but she sensed not entirely captivated. Trzbz was several decades past the age when his pants could make executive decisions. He certainly wouldn't have missed Celia, even if she were three blocks away — he was old, not dead — but he’d been around the block enough times to know when someone wanted something from him. Young beautiful women just don't show up at your doorstep without an agenda, his wiser head reasoned.

  "I'll ask again," Trzbz said, looking a little annoyed for show. In truth, he was enjoying this little show and wanted to see where it led. "Can I help you?"

  She didn't say anything for a moment, but smiled, broadly, warmly, falsely. Trzbz sighed. "Come on in," he said, looking up and down the halls to see if anyone had noticed. "I trust your boots are clean, if not easy to keep buckled. I just had the carpet cleaned and you know, I really don’t want to again.”

  Celia maintained her smile, but her mind started calculating. She would need a little more than her looks to win this man over, but that didn’t worry her. Celia could be compelling in many ways, and was far too smart to need to rely simply on her looks. Anyway, what she had with her was likely to compel the alderman to their point of view.

  "Well, what brings you to the home of your 33rd District alderman?" Trzbz asked after they'd both sat down in stylish silver metal and glass chairs in the main blue-carpeted living room, which featured a plate glass window overlooking the cityscape and the light purple Farven Point sky. The metal was almost translucent, and paired with the glass gave the illusion of floating. It also hid nothing of the other person's form. Celia's curvy body didn't go unnoticed by the alderman, as he subconsciously tried to suck in a waist that had grown more than he had liked over the years. "There are easier ways to get my attention; my door is always open to constituents. And I've stated publicly already that we plan to repair transit station No. 2 during the next budget cycle."

  “Oh, I’m not a constituent and I don’t care about your transit station. I hav
e some information you will definitely be interested in,” Celia purred. “Something that I’m guessing would disturb an anti-expansionist.” The alderman perked up in a way her careful posturing hadn’t been able to elicit.

  “Is that so?” A small robot wheeled into the room, carrying a tray. It was an old model, before the time when they were built to look like humans. It was shaped like half an egg with wheels at its flat bottom and three retractable arms that carried two cups and a server. "Tea?"

  "Thank you," she said, and the robot filled the cup. “It’s about a certain land development agreement that you would have received in your council packet. Liquid LLC is the name of the developer.”

  Trzbz paused while reaching for the tea cup, then resumed. She could see he was intrigued.

  "I thought you might be curious to know that the administrator seems interested in giving away the farm to get this deal signed. That won’t be in your packet, not will the funding source.”

  “That figures,” Trzbz said, leaning back. “I usually vote against those things, you know. I understand we need development, but we need to protect the taxpayers’ assets too. The Administrator seems always ready to develop at any cost.”

  “Well, this cost is a little bigger than you’re used to,” Celia sipped her tea, looking out the large picture window that overlooked the cityscape. She could see XRs in the distance, likely training for the upcoming race.

  Trzbz raised an eyebrow. “You said something that would appeal to my anti-expansionist sensibilities. Something like that?” He sat leaned back in his chair, but his eyes focused on Celia, waiting on her next words.

  “Liquid LLC,” Celia said. “How much do you know about them?”

  “They’ve got a few land developments around the city. Nothing big. I’m guessing they’re a part of a larger developer.”

  Celia chuckled, leaning back in her chair. “You could say that.”

  “You know something?”

  Celia leaned in toward Trzbz. “It’t not just part of a ‘larger development’ alderman. It’s part of the largest development.”

  There was a silence, as Trzbz looked at her wondering if this was a put-on. She nodded at him from behind her cup.

  “Liquid is a holding company for Company C. You’re serious?”

  “They’ve kept them as separate as possible, a holding company of a holding company of a subsidiary, but I have documents linking the whole thing together. They’re in your inbox right now.”

  Trzbz looked at her in disbelief for a moment. He reached underneath a small glass table and pulled out a electronic pad. Celia watched as he clicked on the paper-thin pad, then saw his eyes go wide.

  “That’s it, all right. And how did you come across this information, may I ask?”

  “I’m a woman of many talents,” Celia said with a grin.

  Trzbz eased back in his chair, his face red with anger. “I voted for some of Liquid’s projects. My name is on it. I approved Company C footholds in this community.”

  “You didn’t know.”

  Trzbz stood up, walking to the window. “I’ve run on a platform of continuing economic diversity. I mean we all did, it’s just a matter of degrees.” He turned to Celia. “Malvers knows about this?”

  “This whole city could be a Company C factory in months,” Celia said, telling Trzbz something he already knew. “The Administrator could be on their payroll for all we know.”

  “I’m sure he is,” Trzbz said absently.

  He walked back toward Celia, then took his seat across from her. “So what’s your role in all this?”

  Celia leaned in toward Trzbz. “Ever heard the phrase, ‘The enemy of my enemy is my friend?’”

  “I’m not sure that makes me feel better. This is a pretty big accusation.”

  She shrugged. “Have someone verify it. The paperwork checks out. You don’t have to trust my word for it.” She stood up and made her way to the door, Trzbz following to see her out. She paused at the doorway, looking back over her shoulder. “As for me... Let’s just say I’m a fellow anti-expansionist,” she said, winking as she entered the hallway.

  He leaned against the doorframe as she walked her way down the hall. “Are there more of you?” he asked after her.

  “Not as many as there’s going to be,” she said, disappearing around the corner.

  Trzbz walked back into this condo and thought for a moment. It was time to make some comm calls.

  Chapter 25

  “What happened to you?” Kenpur asked, a subtle look of amusement on his face. He sat on a bench in front of the ship overlooking the cargo bay. Ships flew past the large bay window behind him. “You call Rex a bad name?”

  “Not exactly...” Joey said, sore in places he didn’t think could be sore. He found it hard to distinguish between muscles that were aching from use and muscles that were aching from taking a beating. “He’s training me. I guess I'm not that good." He looked at his feet, smiling a little with embarrassment.

  Kenpur rubbed his chin with his fingers, stroking its edges, eyes deep in thought. "Let me show you something ... Keep your eye on that pen there."

  Joey looked at the pen someone had left lying next to the landing steps, then back at Kenpur. "That one?"

  "Yep, keep looking."

  But Joey couldn't help but keep an eye on Kenpur. At first he was still, then he seemed to be in motion without moving; Joey couldn’t have explained it. He kept looking between Kenpur and the pen, which seemed the less interesting of the two.

  Then suddenly the pen wiggled. It only moved a little at first, so imperceptibly that Joey wasn't entirely sure whether he'd actually seen it move or had simply imagined it. But then the pen did move; Joey could now tell it was not his eyes playing tricks on him. Finally it rose, hovering in the air about a foot off the deck. Joey watched wide-eyed as Kenpur seemed to be pulling the pen, like he was manipulating a puppet with strings.

  Then it dropped, hit the floor, and Kenpur slumped with a sigh. He looked worn out.

  "How'd you do that? It's... like magic?"

  "Not magic," Kenpur said.

  "But —"

  “Everything," Kenpur said before catching his breath, "is connected. Every atom with another."

  "Oh." Joey knew the words but didn’t entirely grasp his meaning.

  "Whatever affects one atom affects another, if only slightly. One can heighten that effect, with effort."

  "Is it hard?" Joey asked.

  "Yes, very much." Sweat still beaded on his forehead. "I am only at the beginning of this cycle. I have just started to learn this technique. I am ... a beginner, I suppose."

  "What? A beginner? You?”

  "Everyone is always a beginner and master."

  "Huh?” A look of doubt crossed Joey’s face. He had no poker face.

  "Listen," Kenpur said, sitting on the floor of the ship. "Do you think about breathing?"

  "Breathing?"

  Kenpur nodded.

  “No, I guess not.”

  "How about walking?"

  Joey shook his head.

  "Well, you could be said to be a master of breathing and walking. You don't think about it, it becomes natural. You simply can do it, without needing to think about it. It’s ingrained.

  "Oh."

  "But on the other hand, you are a beginner. I could teach you breathing techniques you could spend a lifetime mastering. And the Tarujaru tribe of Genon V could teach you techniques in walking that would blow your mind. They can walk continuously for weeks on end. They can even sleep while they walk.”

  “What, really?"

  "Yes. And then you have to think: Have you really mastered walking? Compared to them, you are a baby when it comes to walking. Just as I am a baby with this technique.”

  Joey scrunched his eyebrows in thought as Kenpur’s words sunk in.

  "But what about the other part?"

  "Other part?" Kenpur’s eyebrows perked up.

  "Well, there's a beginner, and
master. What about the part in between?"

  "That's the circle."

  "Circle?"

  "Yes. If I wanted you to kick for me right now, you could do it. Without thinking. It's just a kick. Not hard. Then I could show you how to improve your kick, change your angle, snap your foot, put power behind it. Speed. Then suddenly a kick is not just a kick, and something you are continually improving. No doubt you’ll grow frustrated at some point, you’ll reach plateaus, you’ll get to a point where you think you’ve completely ruined yourself by changing things, you’ll second guess yourself, you’ll have doubt.”

  Joey squinted in concentration, nodding as Kenpur spoke.

  “The difference is faith. Because if you push through that doubt, the second guessing, the plateaus, if you worked on it over and over, practiced day after day, year after year — after all that work, constantly challenging yourself to get better — eventually, you might become pretty good. Maybe better than good. It would become second nature. You would know this kick like you know breathing and walking. Once again, you no longer have to think about it. When you need it to happen, it would be there. Suddenly, once again, a kick is just a kick."

  Joey looked down at his own leg, thinking about what such an endeavor would really mean.

  "Thus the circle. Because in mastery, you come back full circle to where you started. Once again, you are a beginner. You have beginner’s mind. But you find yourself at a higher level. You just start on a new circle."

  Joey stood in thoughtful silence for a moment while Kenpur let the weight of his words sink in.

  "So ... I should start kicking?" Joey said, confusion and kicks still dancing in his head.

  Kenpur sighed, absently watching a passing ship enter the port.

  ***

  "Hello?" A loud, booming voice answered over the receiver.

  “Hey Hacker," a voice said back. "Trzbz here. How ya doing?"

  “Trzbz!” A voice boomed back. “How the heck are ya? What’s going on?”