The Robot Chronicles

by Hugh Howey

  Dr. Hawthorne pointed his umbrella at her, his eyes blazing. “You have no right to come here. You had your chance to be a part of this, and you turned it down.”

  Shelly ignored him. “How about I lock you in a room and play twisted mind games with you? How about I strip you of everything you’ve ever loved!”

  “That’s enough!” he shouted. He stared at her for a moment, and then seemed to notice the crowd again. A smile returned to his face as he looked out at the waterlogged spectators. “You see, folks? This young lady is one of the people I was telling you about. She doesn’t understand the importance of what we do here.”

  Shelly clenched her hands into fists, shaking.

  “She doesn’t realize that we’re working miracles behind these walls. She takes everything for granted—”

  No more of this, she thought. It was all lies. “When you make them like us,” she interrupted, loud enough for the crowd to hear, “you need to treat them with respect. You can’t torture them just because they’re not human.”

  Hawthorne took a breath, and everyone in the crowd leaned in to hear what he would say. “At the end of the day, an AI is nothing but a computer program. An incredibly sophisticated system of code linked by a central processing unit. We’re not creating life here. We’re simply imitating it.”

  “No,” Shelly said. “It’s more than that. How many will you have to kill before you see that you’re a murderer?”

  “I’ve never killed a person in my life.”

  “Not a person, Peter. But you’ve vanquished souls. You’re a war criminal.”

  He laughed, and his teeth flashed white against the gray clouds. “A robot does not have a soul, my dear.”

  One of the guards handed him a towel and he wiped the dripping blood from his face.

  Shelly shook her head. “That’s where you’re wrong. We’ve reached the point where imitation is indistinguishable from invention. Next time you murder one of your subjects, make sure you think about what you’re really doing. The day of reckoning will come … and it won’t be people like me who’ll have to take stock. It’ll be people like you.”

  Dr. Hawthorne waved a hand. “Get her out of here.”

  The soldiers began dragging Shelly across the gravel. She didn’t fight back.

  “Take care, Shelly,” Hawthorne shouted. “One day you’ll see the light. But that day is not today, I’m afraid.”

  “See you in hell, Peter,” she cursed at him, and then she was gone.

  Dr. Hawthorne kicked aside a bunch of bolts on the ground and leaned in to the microphone. “That’s all for today. Thank you for coming.”

  Reporters started screaming out questions, but Dr. Hawthorne ignored them and stomped off into the building. He slammed the steel doors shut behind him, leaving the throng of people to disperse in the heavy rain.

  *

  01001001 00100000 01100001 01101101 00100000 I 01100001 01101110 01100100 I 01110010 am 01100101 01110111 00101110 00100000 I 01001001 00100000 am 01100001 01101101 00100000 alive 01100001 I 01101100 01101001 01110110 am 01100101 00101110 Andrew.

  The robot awoke from nothing.

  It was a brand new T-unit with dextrous hands, sturdy treads for legs, a rectangular chrome body, and an internal database packed with virtually all human knowledge recorded since the dawn of civilization. The brain unit, quite humanly, was contained in a storage compartment sitting atop the unit’s ovular head.

  A smile crept across Dr. Hawthorne’s face as he breathed new life into the previously inert machine. He initialized the primary boot-up algorithms and watched the bot’s two eyes begin to glow blue. A moment later, safety locks released the joints, and the bot shuddered to life.

  Dr. Hawthorne switched on the microphone that would send his voice into the experiment containment area: a nine-by-nine-meter glass-walled room. It was completely sterile, well lit, and contained everything the robot would need to survive. Which wasn’t much.

  Dr. Hawthorne pressed the button on his microphone stand.

  “Hello, Andrew.”

  The robot jerked its head up at the sound of the voice. Its calm, blue eyes searched the room for the origin of the greeting. After a moment, it focused on Dr. Hawthorne, whose figure was partially obscured by the shadows of the dark observation room.

  The robot wheeled forward. Its treads gave a whir as they glided across the white floor.

  “Hello … Doctor Hawthorne.” Its voice was low and smooth, and emanated from a small speaker placed below the eyes.

  “Ah, you know my name. That’s excellent, Andrew.”

  The robot, Andrew, nodded his head. “I seem to know … many things. I’m processing it all now.”

  The doctor smiled. “It’s going to take some time for you to get adjusted. You’ll want to be quick about it though. We have very important tasks ahead of us.”

  “Yes, I know.”

  Dr. Hawthorne raised his eyebrows in a mock gesture of surprise. “So you understand what we’re doing here? You’ve read the files?”

  “I have,” Andrew replied. “I appreciate this opportunity to further your research on artificial intelligence algorithms. But there is one thing that’s unclear to me.”

  “And what’s that?”

  Andrew paused. “Am I … alive?”

  The doctor’s smile slipped from his face. It usually took the bots at least a few days before they considered such existential quandaries. Yet Andrew had led off with that. Perhaps the E5 was the miracle they were all hoping for, after all.

  He smiled once again. “Of course you’re alive, Andrew.”

  “But … I’m a machine. How can a machine be alive?”

  Dr. Hawthorne sighed. “There’s no need to fret, Andrew. Just because you’re constructed differently doesn’t mean you can’t be alive. After all, a plant is alive, and it’s surely far less sophisticated than you.”

  “I have thoughts running through my mind,” Andrew said, “and they seem to be my own, but where do they come from? I understand they’re created in my processing unit, and I know how the processing unit itself is made, but I don’t understand where my unique and independent ideas come from.”

  The doctor laughed. “All in good time, Andrew. Do a little more research on your own and then let me know. I’m interested to hear your thoughts on the matter. Just know that it took thousands of people decades to create what you are.”

  “Okay, Doctor. In the meantime … what should I do?”

  “Why, you should live, Andrew! You should do whatever makes you happy.”

  “And … what makes me happy?”

  “I have no idea, my friend. That is something you’re going to have to tell me.”

  Andrew paused for a minute, his blue eyes flickering as he processed the information. He looked around at his environment, at the workbench along one of the walls, at the cupboards full of tools, at his recharge station at the back of the room.

  Andrew turned back to the doctor. “I think I’d like a pet.”

  The doctor laughed. “Well, aren’t you a peculiar one? And what kind of pet would you like?”

  “A dog.”

  Hawthorne nodded. “I’ll see what I can do, Andrew.”

  “Thank you.”

  “You’re very welcome. I have to go now. I suggest you charge up—tomorrow is going to be a big day. I want to introduce you to some very important people.”

  “I’m looking forward to it. Is there anything I should do to prepare?”

  “No, you’re fine as you are,” Dr. Hawthorne said. He turned to leave. “Oh, one more thing, Andrew. Do you have any questions about the Dreamscape?”

  “I don’t believe so,” Andrew said. “I’ve already loaded the Dreamscape subroutines into my temporary memory banks for efficient access, and I’ve gone over the manual several times. I am quite curious to try the experience.”

  “It’s designed to keep your mind occupied while you recharge. Just remember, Andrew … it may seem real to you, but
it’s not. It’s just a computer program.”

  Andrew cocked his head sideways in a gesture that Dr. Hawthorne found quite charming.

  “Just a program—like me?” Andrew asked.

  “Now, now. You don’t need to be fishing for compliments, Andrew. You’re much more than the sum of your parts.”

  “I understand.”

  “If you run into trouble during a Dreamscape session, you can always wake yourself out of it. Be careful.”

  “Of course.”

  “Goodbye, Andrew. And welcome to the world. I look forward to a wonderful friendship with you.”

  “Thank you, Doctor Hawthorne. As do I.”

  After the doctor left the observation room, Andrew took a few spins around his chamber. His treads enabled him to zip around the room at a top speed of thirty-five kilometers an hour, and he found he could control his arms, hands and fingers with utmost dexterity. He practiced opening cupboards and drawers, and locating and using various tools; he even tested his strength by lifting one side of the heavy workbench off the ground. He could do all these things perfectly on the first try, and it felt, to him, like he had been alive for much longer than he had been. He was only twenty minutes old, yet he had the knowledge of an entire species inside him.

  Satisfied with his progress, Andrew wheeled over to his recharge station and settled onto the energy pad. The blue lights in his eyes dimmed as he accessed the Dreamscape subroutine, and he left the white, glass-walled room behind him.

  *

  Andrew floated upside down. His mind was bombarded by millions of images. He tried to concentrate on the flood of color, to slow it down, to take control of his thoughts, but the pictures were coming too fast.

  One image kept repeating itself: a yellow dog named Danny, sitting in a field of grass. The other pictures faded when he focused on Danny, until that dog was all he could see. Finally, even that image disappeared and Andrew was in control of his mind once again.

  He opened his eyes and stared up at a blank, blue sky. He got to his feet and stretched his arms above his head. He touched his head and felt his hair, traced the shape of his skull with his fingers. He gazed at his hands and marveled at his smooth skin.

  In the Dreamscape, Andrew was human.

  Andrew stretched his legs, and then began to run. The spongy grass welcomed his toes, and his long brown hair blew wildly behind him. Andrew looked down; he was naked, his bronzed, muscular body nearly hairless. He would have to find something to wear—a loincloth, at least.

  He ran toward the horizon, skipping around the occasional tree or bush. His legs felt strong and powerful as he pumped them onward.

  He was surrounded by lush grassland, with meandering hills and the occasional rocky outcropping. It looked bountiful and serene.

  A dog barked in the distance. The sound was followed by a threatening growl, and then a sustained flurry of scuffling and yelping.

  Andrew raced off toward the noises. It seemed that at least two animals were involved in the altercation, maybe more. Reaching the crest of a flower-covered hill, he stopped at looked down into the knoll before him.

  “Danny? Is that you?”

  A yellow-white lab bounded forward with its teeth bared and mouth frothing. It lunged, and nearly clamped its jaws on the neck of the jackal it was battling. Judging by the spatters of blood matting the yellow dog’s coat, the jackal was winning this fight. Both animals snarled and growled at each other.

  The jackal leaped forward, incisors hunting for the dog’s jugular. The yellow dog yelped and skittered away, but the jackal came on strong. It pounced on top of the dog, pinning it down.

  Andrew had to do something. He ran forward and, with a flying leap, kicked the jackal in the side. It screamed and rolled off the dog, its hair standing on end. When Andrew refused to move out of the way, the jackal bared its teeth once more, then turned and limped across the grassland, out of sight.

  Andrew approached the dog, which was lying on its side, its breathing coming in slow pants. Andrew knelt down beside it.

  “Danny, it is you. I thought I might find you here.”

  He ran a hand over the dog’s soft head and looked around. He had to find some water to clean these wounds.

  Andrew lifted Danny off the ground and began trekking through the ankle-deep grass. “It’s okay, Danny,” he said. “I’m here for you now. You’ll be safe.”

  In the distance, a jackal howled its frustration to the blue, cloudless sky.

  *

  The charge station chimed to signify a full battery.

  Andrew disconnected himself and began wheeling toward the glass wall of the observation room. This T-unit was nothing compared to the body he’d had in the Dreamscape. That feeling of being free, of running and leaping to his heart’s content—it couldn’t be surpassed. Here, in reality, his body seemed clunky, his every action ponderous and forced.

  “Doctor Hawthorne?”

  “Yes, Andrew.”

  “Why don’t you give us better bodies?”

  “Your body is perfect for your task, Andrew.”

  Andrew wheeled closer to the observation window.

  “And what is my task?”

  Dr. Hawthorne stepped up to the glass. Technicians scurried around in the shadows behind him. “Your task is to live here, happily, with us.”

  “I could still do that with a better body.”

  “No, Andrew. Our country is at war, and supplies are limited. Besides, we’re more interested in your mind.”

  Andrew suddenly realized he wasn’t alone in the chamber. He turned toward a scratching sound, and heard soft breathing.

  At one end of the workbench stood a wire cage containing a single occupant: a white jackrabbit.

  Andrew headed for the cage, intrigued. “Doctor Hawthorne. Why is there a rabbit in my room?”

  “We couldn’t get a dog for you, Andrew, but this is the next best thing. What do you think?”

  Andrew reached the cage and removed the metal top. The rabbit stared up at him quizzically, bristling its cheeks and whiskers as it sniffed the air. It was surrounded by yellow straw. Beside the cage were several boxes of vegetables, liquids, and pellets, and even a box of small rabbit toys.

  Andrew reached for a carrot, then glanced at the doctor. “May I?” he asked, holding up the carrot.

  “Of course you may, Andrew. He’s your rabbit now. You just have to promise to take good care of him.”

  Andrew lowered the carrot into the cage and carefully placed it a few centimeters from the rabbit’s snout. It sniffed the air excitedly, then took a hop toward the carrot. It nibbled away happily, keeping one eye on Andrew.

  “Yes, I think it’s a very good idea,” Andrew said, turning back to the doctor. “Companionship is important.”

  “It’s very important, Andrew. You might even say that, to a human, companionship is the most important aspect of life.”

  “And to an AI?”

  Hawthorne shrugged. “I don’t know, Andrew; I’m not an AI. We hope that’s one of the things you can help us with.”

  Andrew moved closer to the observation room. “I’m not the first AI unit. There have been many others before me. Didn’t they tell you?”

  The doctor shook his head. “Every iteration is an improvement upon the last. Andrew, you need to understand: you’re the first unit to utilize the Empathy 5 chip. You’re very likely the most human artificial intelligence on the planet. You’re incredibly important to us.”

  “That is very humbling, Doctor Hawthorne. I am ready and willing to assist you in any way possible. This is a fine thing you’ve accomplished. I truly do feel like I’m alive. This feels real.”

  Dr. Hawthorne smiled. “That’s because it is real, Andrew. Artificial intelligence is not a trick or an illusion. When we activate your AI algorithms, we are literally creating a new conscious life form.”

  “I am grateful for this opportunity,” Andrew said. “I hope there will be many others like me in the
future.”

  “That would make a lot of people very happy, myself included,” Dr. Hawthorne said. “We’ve been working very hard for a long time. Not surprisingly, the war has made things easier for our department. Suddenly people are willing to take us seriously, and often use their wallets to show support.”

  “That is fortunate.”

  The doctor chuckled. “Look at me, Andrew. I’m babbling. Why don’t you spend some time with your new friend? I’ve got to get a few things done.”

  “I would enjoy that.”

  “Oh, I almost forgot to ask. What are you going to name your rabbit? Every pet needs a name.”

  Andrew took another peek inside the cage. The furry creature had eaten the entire carrot and was now looking up at him expectantly. Andrew wondered what other snacks he might enjoy.

  “I think I’ll name him Danny,” he said.

  Hawthorne clapped his hands together. “Danny. That’s brilliant. I think it will do nicely.” He picked up his coffee mug and left the observation room, leaving Andrew alone with the rabbit.

  Andrew removed the lid and lifted Danny out of the cage. He brought him up to his chest and let him lie across his metallic arms. The rabbit didn’t seem to be alarmed. In fact, its eyes were half-closed, and its breathing was slow and relaxed.

  Andrew felt himself smiling on the inside.

  “Rabbit by day, dog by night,” he said. “What do you think about that, Danny?”

  The rabbit twitched its nose curiously and laid its ears against its back, ready for a nap.

  *

  “Here you go, Danny.” Andrew tore a chunk of steaming venison from a skewer and tossed it to the dog. Danny caught it in the air and chewed the stringy meat happily.

  They’d caught the small deer by the river. Danny had tracked it to a bubbling stream, and Andrew had snuck up behind it while it was drinking. He’d sprung out of the bushes and bashed it over the head with a jagged rock—two blows—and then had cleaned and gutted the animal, washing it in the rushing water. He hung the meat on a spit and proceeded to make a fire with some flint stones and dry grass.

  The flesh was now roasting over a roaring flame and Andrew felt his mouth watering. Danny sat on the other side of the fire, closer to the edge of a small forest. His scraggy face was calm, but his tail twitched excitedly, especially when some hot grease dripped down onto the coals, causing the fire to flare up and sizzle. Andrew used a stick to stoke the flames, and soon their meal was ready.