by J. S. Morin
“And I apologize for all of that. We’re going someplace where we can get you all fixed up and in perfect working order. But tell me, how did you end up getting away from your creator? How did you come into poor Toby22’s life?”
“Creator was gone. Then… I left. Then… Toby agreed to take me in.”
Not much of a liar. That much was evident.
Of course, Charlie7 didn’t doubt that the individual statements were each factual, but the overall effect was a lie. Charlie7 hadn’t been activated yesterday.
Clearly, there were details between those vague waypoints that Eve14 didn’t want to divulge. But now wasn’t the time to press her for information she wasn’t willing to give freely. Eve didn’t trust him yet. She was hungry and thirsty and wearing a blanket because it would have taken Charlie7 too long to fabricate an overcoat for her. Charlie7 wouldn’t have trusted a strange robot if he were in Eve’s place.
So Charlie7 changed tactics.
While the skyroamer’s autopilot maintained course, Charlie7 questioned Eve14 about her likes and dislikes. Did she have hobbies? What was she best at? As their supersonic journey kicked up ocean water like an aerosol spray, he teased out Eve14’s personality. Along the way, Atlantic gave way to a brief interlude of land, then, in turn, became Pacific as the skyroamer streaked through the lower atmosphere.
As it turned out, Eve was fascinated by theoretical physics, enjoyed spatial awareness simulations (which Charlie figured out to be virtual reality sports), and could regularly defeat her creator at chess.
The latter intrigued him. It meant that this mysterious creator of hers was willing to engage Eve14 in competition. Not only that, she hadn’t used her internal computer to mop the floor with the girl. After all, chess had been solved long before humanity perished, and the algorithms were readily available.
As for Eve14, Charlie7 realized that she scarcely resembled a girl as he remembered them.
Charles Truman had attended Cal Tech and gotten his PhDs from MIT and Princeton. He’d known women with IQs that sounded like airline flight numbers. Every last one of them had some form of hobby or interest that wasn’t purely academic.
“We’re landing soon,” Charlie announced before reducing throttle and angling for an approach vector.
Eve pressed her face against the transparent aluminum window like a child taking her first ride on the school bus. Charlie angled the skyroamer to give her a better view of Easter Island as they swooped in for a landing. He could only hope the pure joy that lit Eve’s face wasn’t shattered by what she was about to witness.
Chapter Nine
No one ended up on Easter Island by accident. It was as remote a location as one could find on Earth. Anyone who wanted to ignore its existence could do so with ease. That’s the way most robots liked the Sanctuary for Scientific Sins.
Initially founded as a place to let mutated animals live out their final days without impacting wild populations, its purpose had shifted with the discovery of the first failed humans. The staff started out as veterinarians by trade, with Nora109 in charge. But centuries of veterinary medicine were now being applied to a new class of patients: homo sapiens.
Charlie7 set down on a concrete pad overlooking the shoreline. As the canopy of the skyroamer opened, the pressure seal broke, and fresh ocean air wafted in alongside the sound of lapping waves.
Closing her eyes, Eve14 drank in the scents with a deep breath. What Charlie7 wouldn’t have given to smell the salt air again. He had to settle for the vicarious wonder in Eve14’s placid smile.
The soil sank beneath Charlie7’s wingtips, making him wish he’d thought to change into more practical attire before they left. Eve14 accepted his offered hand and shrugged out of the tarp as Charlie7 helped her down to the ground. The girl emerged from her tarpaulin cocoon into a paradise climate that would remain mild year-round.
“Where are we?” Eve14 asked, gawking in all directions.
“This is a place where they care for humans.”
That drew Eve14’s attention along with a stern frown.
“You’re not the first attempt,” Charlie7 said, raising gleaming steel palms to ward away Eve14’s rising ire. “Geneticists started trying decades ago, even though the technology wasn’t reliable yet. We can’t reliably clone chimps, but some unscrupulous scientists skipped ahead and tried making humans anyway.”
Eve14 crept back toward the skyroamer. The girl’s sudden reluctance to engage in conversation boded ill.
Charlie7 suspected he knew why. “Oh, come now. I know you don’t want anyone else knowing about you, but these are possibly the kindest robots on Earth.”
“You promised…”
Charlie7 approached slowly, keeping his hands in plain sight. “I promised you’d be taken care of. I promised you food. Your fear of the unknown is irrational in this case.”
With a sudden yelp, Eve14 darted around the side of the skyroamer. She took aim with her finger like a soldier firing from cover.
Charlie7 heard the hum of the electric motor even before he turned to see the open-topped truck heading their way. It was a four-wheeler. The simple, low-maintenance design ideally suited the remote location where spare parts could be hours away. The lone occupant raised a hand as the vehicle drew near.
“Charlie7… of all the robots to come calling…” Nora109 pulled the vehicle to a halt alongside the skyroamer and favored Charlie7 with a smile that showed polished stainless steel teeth.
Charlie7 offered the administrator of the Sanctuary for Scientific Sins a hand getting out of the truck. She hopped out and wrapped him in a hug.
Normally, Charlie7 would have thought nothing of the gesture. But after Eve’s reaction to his touch, he wondered how much of his behavior—all robotkind’s behavior—was just residual human memory seeping through.
“I’m looking for food and some proper clothing,” Charlie7 said. “Emphasis on the food.” Cutting past the social niceties was only fair to Eve.
Nora109 crossed her arms. “Charlie7, what are you up to? I have a sanctuary to run here. You’d better not be starting up with humans of your own.”
“Not my own, exactly…” Charlie7 held out a hand toward where Eve had retreated. “Come on out. Nora is an old friend. She won’t hurt you.”
“Good Lord! You did bring a human with you!” Nora exclaimed even before Eve came into view. “Charlie, what’s gotten into you? Please tell me you’ve turned vigilante and not that you’re taking up genetics.”
“Eve… it’s OK. Come meet Nora109. She knows all about food for humans. She’ll give you something yummy to eat.”
Nora109’s shoulders fell. “Not another one named Eve… Is this one smart enough to know her own name, or would she mind if I gave her a new one?”
“I don’t want a new name,” Eve called out from the far side of the skyroamer.
Charlie7 lowered his voice. “Smart? This one’s smarter than she knows what to do with.”
“What’s wrong with her?” Nora109 asked, leaning in conspiratorially.
What indeed? It was a subject for a psychiatrist or a philosopher, not an old roboticist or a veterinarian turned hospice worker.
“For now, nothing that a good meal won’t fix.”
Eve peeked out from behind the skyroamer and ducked away again.
It was time for a change of plans. Charlie7 could, of course, force Eve via any number of means. He and Nora109 could surround her from opposite sides of the skyroamer and drag her to the sanctuary if nothing else. But of all the methods Charlie could conceive, only persuading her held any promise of long-term benefit. Charlie7 found Eve’s trust far more valuable than he could have imagined.
“Eve… I have a puzzle for you.”
“No, you don’t!” Eve14 called out from the far side of the skyroamer. “It’s a trick.”
“Suspicious one you’ve brought me, Charlie,” Nora109 commented, then put up a hand to shield her voice. “So odd even hearing full sentences fr
om a human.”
Charlie7 glared at Nora109. Tapping a finger against his lips with a faint clang, he formulated a new plan of attack. “It’s not a trick; it’s a puzzle. Nora109 has food. If you come with us, you get a nice meal. If not, you’ll eventually starve.”
“That’s not a puzzle,” Eve14 shouted back from behind the hull of the skyroamer.
“It is,” Charlie insisted. “It’s an easy puzzle, and I’m disappointed you can’t seem to solve it. The solution is right here in front of you. The challenge is how to overcome being afraid of Nora109, who honestly is the least threatening robot ever.”
Nora109 cast Charlie7 a sidelong glare but said nothing. She wore soft violet coveralls and fuzzy gloves designed to provide a comforting tactile sensation for her patients. Everything about her was designed to be friendly, calming, and non-threatening. There wasn’t any bug in Charlie7’s claim for Nora109 to refute.
Eve14 crept from around the skyroamer like a burglar, eyes fixed on Nora109. The wary young human circled around and used Charlie7 as a shield between herself and Nora109.
“My God,” Nora109 exclaimed. “Just look at her. Balance, coordination, spatial awareness. You can see the intellect in those eyes.” Nora109 held up a finger and weaved a geometric pattern in the air. “And she tracks visually with flawlessly calibrated stereopsis and ocular convergence.”
Charlie7 pulled Nora109’s hand down. “Quit playing with her, and let’s get her to the cafeteria.”
Eve14 took Charlie7’s hand as he helped her into the truck. “Thank you for checking my visual acuity,” Eve14 said to Nora109 as she settled into the middle seat of the vehicle. The girl avoided coming into contact with the robot’s chassis as if it were sticky.
The engine of the truck whined to life. Its electric whine pitched ever higher until it was inaudible to the standard robotic range of attention.
Nora109 looked over Eve’s head. “This one’s going to be a handful. I can tell.”
The truck rumbled down a well-worn dirt road, kicking up a cloud of dust.
It would have been a trivial matter to modernize the whole island, but keeping it rustic was part and parcel to its purpose. This wasn’t a facility so much as a refuge. Humans weren’t brought for any greater purpose except to get them away from the horrors that robotic society represented to them.
That didn’t mean the island was entirely untouched.
“See those statues over there?” Charlie7 asked, pointing to a hillside lined with moai. The invasion hadn’t destroyed them. The building-sized stone heads still kept their vacant vigil and might continue long after even robots had perished from the Earth. Charlie7 hoped no busybody like Paul208 decided to “restore” them.
Cocking her head, Eve14 followed the line of Charlie7’s finger. “Why are those faces so big? And why are they shaped like that? Were there ancient humans who looked that way?”
Nora109 harrumphed. “So, I take it someone’s history is a little spotty?”
Eve14 sighed. “Today I learned that 10.3 billion people died in 2065, which is based on a Gregorian calendar that marks the passage of time, based on—”
“Yes, yes,” Charlie said. “Nora109 already knows. She’s based on Nora Maxwell-Granger, who was one of those 10.3 billion humans.”
“Can’t say I remember much of that life,” Nora109 replied with a snort.
Why did they all still sigh and snort and chuckle? Charlie did it himself and couldn’t explain why. So much lingering humanity left over. How had it survived for Eve to cast it in such a contrived and ridiculous light?
“Then again,” Nora109 continued. “The mixer always seems to favor practical memories over the sentimental. I mean, what would I be without a bit of Jocelyn’s chemistry background and Sandra’s administrative skills?”
“You’d be Nora Prime,” Charlie7 said with a shrug. “Just a primate biologist with a weakness for Swiss chocolates.”
Nora109 rolled her eyes. “Charlie7… you are exhibit A for why we don’t run the mixers as high as 70 percent anymore. You’re too much of Charles Truman for your own good.”
If only Nora109 knew how right she was.
It wasn’t Nora109’s fault, not remembering the affair. Romantic ties were among the lowest priority memories in the mixer algorithm. Robots didn’t need that sort of baggage, especially since there had been over a hundred Nora mixes before her. None of them needed to remember that tidbit of detail, so insignificant on a cosmic scale, about the life of Nora Maxwell-Granger.
After all, there was only one Charlie7.
“How much Eve am I?” Eve14 asked.
Charlie7 looked to Nora109. The hospice director merely shrugged.
The day had started Charlie7 having a well-grounded view of the universe at large and his approximate place within it. Since the discovery of Eve, never in Charlie7’s lifetime had the Earth seemed so small and empty as it had with the asking of that simple question.
Twenty-seven. That was it.
Oh, the total population was over two thousand, with thousands more drifting around in spacecraft and extraplanetary expeditions. But there were still just twenty-seven of them, mixed this way and that, to fluff those numbers. It seemed that a twenty-eighth unique mind was blossoming forth after all those fallow centuries.
“You are 100 percent you. There is no other like you, nor will there ever be again. I told you earlier how important you are. You are the flower of hope for Earth Reborn.”
Nora109 snickered. “Who said none of us is a poet?”
Eve was clutching at her stomach by the time they arrived at the sanctuary a few minutes later. She hopped down eagerly and followed Charlie and Nora109 toward a cluster of buildings.
The architecture was all new. Charlie7 had only been there once since the sanctuary was converted from an animal refuge. He’d attended the dedication ceremony, alongside scads of other dour, sullen robots, all wishing they’d been somewhere else. The whole facility was makeup to cover a bruise. No one wanted a good look beneath.
But during the intervening years, someone had assembled a replica Spanish mission for the residents. The whitewashed stone walls and clay tile roofs were immaculate. Nothing like guilt to motivate attention to detail.
Charlie7 idly wondered who set up the factory to spit out the authentic-looking parts. Probably some other Charlie, though he preferred not to think too long about his higher-numbered counterparts. It was an open secret that Charlies didn’t get along with one another. Too much ego sucked the good will out of a room.
Nora109 led them to an outdoor dining hall in the courtyard. Lines of tables lay empty with long wooden benches down either side.
A robot popped out from a side door, carrying a napkin and silverware for a single place setting. Charlie7 didn’t devote the computational cycles to recalling the waiter’s official designation. Another staff member came out carrying a steaming bowl and a cup with a spill-proof top. This was going to be interesting.
Eve14 took the cue and sat down at the table. She sniffed at the bowl and stuck a finger into the contents. “Ow!” She withdrew the scalded digit and wiped what appeared to be porridge onto her pants. “Too hot. Can’t eat it.”
“Just blow on it, dear,” Nora109 advised with a weary slump of her shoulders.
Eve shook her head. “Inefficient. We need a heat exchanger and an agitator. Stainless steel tubing. Small pump. Mostly for future use. Natural convection will cool it to non-hazardous levels before the protofab could finish construction.”
“Probably quicker to blow on it,” Charlie7 affirmed. “I’m sure they’ll take your proposal under advisement.”
Nora109 cast Charlie7 a sidelong glare. Eve14 might not have known it, but the caretaker understood what committees did with proposals taken “under advisement.”
After some hesitation, Eve14 scooped up a spoonful of porridge, blew on it, and put it in her mouth. Despite scrunching her face and pursing her lips, she swallowed.
Afte
r that first mouthful, Eve14 continued with a regular pace. After picking up on how mechanically she went about her meal, Charlie accessed his internal computer and set a timer, registering a consistent 11.4 seconds between bites with less than a .2-second variance. Once she’d gotten as much as she could with the spoon, she sucked the utensil clean and set about wiping any excess porridge from the bowl with a finger.
Eve stood with bowl and spoon in hand and faced Nora109. “Where is the wash basin?”
Nora109 scooped the dinnerware from Eve14’s grasp. “That’s all right, honey. You don’t need to do anything. Run along and have a look around.”
With a look to Charlie7 for confirmation, Eve14 set a tentative path for the nearest of the sanctuary’s buildings.
Rather than a tourist or a guest, Charlie7 got the sense that Eve14 was a jungle explorer embarking on the excavation of an overgrown temple. She crept like a stalking hunter to the door on the balls of her feet. At the entrance, Eve14 first peeked around the corner and withdrew, then inched her way inside.
“Not the kind we usually get here,” Nora109 commented with a slow shake of her head. “Skittish. Any idea who made her this way?”
“Someone brilliant,” Charlie7 replied, not that his statement narrowed the list of suspects much. Accounting for combined personalities, the robotic scientist hybrids averaged more than three PhDs apiece.
“The girl doesn’t know?”
Charlie7 gave his answer a moment’s consideration. “No. I don’t think she does. Eve calls her ‘Creator’ as if it were a proper noun. She has no social skills worth mentioning, an education tilted drastically toward the hard sciences, and didn’t know until today that other humans had ever existed.”
“Not to mention those conductive studs through her cranium,” Nora109 said. “I’ve seen the results of every cruel and thoughtless experiment performed on the residents here. But looking at your Eve… it’d chill my blood if I still had any. Most of our residents were discarded after someone realized what they’d done. We don’t get a lot of repeats, best we can tell. Doing that to a fully aware and intelligent human…”
