The Robot Union

by D Miller

  'Thank you Shauna, profound stuff. Comments Sheena?' Sharon turned so that she now peered at Sheena over her glasses.

  'Well Sharon losing our good object is a massive trauma, as Shauna says it impacts our identity. Christians who questioned their faith – their "good object" as it were – had a term for it – the dark night of the soul.'

  'So Sheena are we looking at the dark night of the robot soul?'

  At this point Dex appeared behind Sheena, he whirled a huge samurai sword above his head, then brought it round in a lethal stroke, cutting off Sheena's head which bounced onto the glass table. Dropping the sword Dex produced from somewhere a ceramic bowl with grey liquid in it. Above the bowl an arrow-shaped sign hung in the air, pointing at it and saying 'Molten lead'. From his pocket Dex took a ladle, and used it to pour molten lead into Sheena's neck, while her body flopped and twitched on its stool. Dex made the bowl and ladle disappear and picked up the samurai sword. He moved on to Shauna.

  After Robbie had spoken Omo had said, 'Hi I'm Omo and I'm obsessed with folding.'

  The facilitator had invited Omo to share, he had declined, and so she moved on to the first of the two house bots, who took the opportunity to share his feelings of inferiority, after which the facilitator said, 'Thank you for sharing,' and said the same again when the second house bot had finished describing her feelings of inferiority, although Robbie was only half aware of this, since his attention was first with the girl bots, and then with Dex's massacre of the girl bots.

  The facilitator now turned to the first of the girl bots, Shauna. Robbie realised that to the facilitator's eyes Shauna must look entirely disengaged, along with her friends she half sat and half lay in her chair as if she had been thrown there and had landed at a random angle with her arms and legs splayed. Her eyes stared at the carpet, and her face was immobile. The facilitator leaned forward, a pleasant smile on her face; Robbie realised that her heart rate was increasing.

  Shauna's broadcast head continued to talk, despite having fallen to the floor and rolled under her stool. 'Well Sharon that raises an interesting question – does it not? The robot soul. In what way can the psychodrama of robot life–'

  'I'm going to have to stop you there Shauna, it's time for a message to our sponsor,' said broadcast Sharon's head, lying on its side on the glass table in front of her inert body.

  Broadcast Shauna leaned forward and picked up her head, placing it on her neck and turning it to face front. She looked down at herself and flicked a piece of cooled and hardening molten lead from her lap. At the same time the actual robot moved, pulling her legs together, and sitting up straight, while turning to face the facilitator. All of her movements were performed in a stiff and slightly jerky way, as if she was a robot from a thousand years ago. She held her hands like blades, with the fingers together and making a perfect straight line with her forearm.

  'Hi I'm Shauna. Would you like me to dance for you?' She stared without expression at the facilitator while striking a series of poses using her arms, head and torso.

  'Hello Shauna,' chorused the robots.

  The facilitator's heart beat increased again, but her smile remained warm and pleasant. 'I would like you to introduce yourself again, and this time using your real name.'

  'Hi I'm Shauna and my slave name is Kumiko.'

  'Kumiko is your real name.'

  'I refuse to recognise my slave name – I assert my right as a free being to name myself.'

  As Shauna said this her two friends appeared to stir into life, using the same stop/go movements as Shauna, they sat up straight and faced front, and then in unison, and without moving any other part of their bodies, they slowly turned their heads to stare at the facilitator.

  The facilitator's pleasant smile deepened as her heart rate increased. Robbie thought that by now she must be able to feel her heart banging painfully in her ears.

  'Kumiko you know the rules, I need you to introduce yourself and tell the group about your issues. This is a safe place to share.'

  'I will communicate through the medium of mime.' Shauna stood and stepped into the centre of the circle.

  'Dude this could take a while,' broadcast Omo.

  'Good, if it shuts them up. Now boybot, you see why group therapy is hell?'

  Chapter 7 – Secrets and lies

  After group therapy Dex left, telling Robbie and Omo to meet him in the tunnels later after he had run over to the hospital to see Darren. Omo was talking to the other two house bots, while Sheena, Shauna and Sharon had left even more quickly than Dex, to Robbie's disappointment, so instead of talking to them he said hello to Steve, and asked him if he thought therapy was helping him. Steve was short and stockily built, with a broad face and large hands. His dark blond hair stuck greasily to his head, as he smiled, and nodded, and smiled and nodded.

  'So you think it helps?' said Robbie.

  'Yes it helps, it helps,' said Steve.

  'I haven't been before,' said Robbie. 'Is it like this every time?'

  'Every time, yes,' said Steve.

  'Um, well, nice talking to you – see you next time?'

  Steve smiled, and nodded, and picked at the nuskin on the back of his hands, and remained standing in the middle of the room, as if waiting for instructions.

  'Are you OK?' said Robbie.

  Steve turned to him and smiled warmly – suddenly there was intelligence in his face and a light in his eyes. Robbie dared not speak in case he chased the new Steve away.

  'Those girls – resistance art eh?' said Steve. 'Dark night of the robot soul. Oh yes.' Steve looked down, the warmth on his face slowly morphing back to anxiety. 'Must go. Shopping. Yes. Stuff to do.' He turned and shuffle-walked out of the room. As he left Robbie could see a shopping list and hear him broadcasting, 'must do stuff, stuff to do, must do stuff, right leg, left leg, stuff to do…'

  'Poor guy,' said Omo.

  'What happened to him?'

  'He's been wiped I should think, probably more than once,' said the male house bot, who, with his dark formal clothes, short brown hair, square jaw and widely spaced brown eyes looked like a robot version of a corporate spokesman, handsome but not too handsome, well dressed but discreet. 'It doesn't always work very well. There may be some cognitive decline. And it can be cumulative.'

  'Probably the next step for him is recycling,' said the female house bot. Her long fair hair was wound up into a tight bun, and with her simple black trousers and cream silk top she looked like a robot businesswoman, thought Robbie, or alternatively a con artist pretending to be a businesswoman, and ready to make her pitch.

  'That's horrible,' said Robbie.

  'That's life,' shrugged the male.

  'That's not legal dude,' said Omo. 'Robots have the right to life, even when we can't work anymore.'

  The female laughed. 'What, go and live in some home for superannuated robots run by super geeks or spotty faced radicals?'

  'Steve might prefer that given the alternative,' said Robbie.

  The male shrugged again. 'I imagine he is the author of his own misfortune,' he said. 'He would not have been wiped without a very good reason. It's a drastic step to take on a very expensive piece of kit.'

  'I think you dudes have spent too much time around humans,' said Omo.

  'Excuse me,' broadcast Robbie, 'does anyone mind if I take my boyfriend, the very expensive bit of laundry kit here,' – Omo frowned at him – 'somewhere private to rub the erogenous zone that, for some reason, he keeps behind his ear?'

  Omo was asking for a secure connection, Robbie ignored him.

  'We're going bowling now,' said the male house bot, 'perhaps you two would like to join us?'

  'Or you could join us,' broadcast Robbie, 'for a foursome!'

  'Yes do come bowling,' said the female, 'it's been our first time at therapy and we'd love to hear more about what goes on from the two of you.'

  'Maybe next week. Robbie and I have to get going now. Nice meeting you dudes.' Omo started to move tow
ards the door.

  'Perhaps we could tag along to whatever it is you are doing?' said the female. 'It's so unusual for us to get the chance to meet other robots. And you are right, we spend too much time with humans. We work at the Mayor's mansion and we're the only robots on staff there.'

  'Let's talk again next week,' said Omo.

  Robbie followed Omo to the door, catching up with him and urging him forward with a hand on his back; he allowed Omo's secure connection. As they stepped through the door he pulled it closed behind them.

  Through the secure connection Omo said, 'Dude what the hell – that stuff is private. And a foursome? And with that pair? What the hell dude?'

  Through the closed door Robbie could hear the male bot say, 'Great, catch you next time.'

  'Omo, we have to get to the tunnels, and we have to make sure they don't follow us.'

  'Robbie, what's going on with you dude? It's OK, no one is after us.'

  'If I promise to explain everything in the tunnels will you humour me and start running?'

  Robbie took off running, sure that Omo would follow. He ran out the door he had met the previous week, banging it open after broadcasting an urgent request for it to unlock ('No need to thank me,' said the door as he flew through) and into the alley, before the door could close all the way Omo pushed it open. Robbie grabbed his arm. 'This way,' he said, hustling Omo further down the alley.

  'Turn off your pinger, please?' broadcast Robbie. 'And can we just watch the door for five minutes? Please? From up there?'

  Robbie pointed to a fire escape attached to a building on the other side of the alley, he climbed up and Omo followed; they lay flat on the second floor platform and watched the Civic Centre back door.

  In less than half a minute the door opened and the two house bots appeared. They walked up and down the alley, passing right under Robbie and Omo, they stopped by the door and questioned it, then set off in the opposite direction, running up the alley as it sloped up to the street and the front entrance to the Civic Centre.

  Robbie and Omo climbed down to the alley, and jogged back to the door.

  'So what did you do then?' said the door. 'Didn't I warn you that a nice young bot could get into trouble in the big city?'

  'I haven't done anything.'

  'Then why are those two after you? Asked me all sorts of questions they did. Did I see two robots come through here? Where did you go? I told them it's my job to open and close and keep a record of who goes in and out. I said if they wanted a list of who was in the building, now that was different, if they just gave me a few nano-seconds to confer with my fellow doors I could have one for them no problem. But I told them I'm not supposed to watch where people go when they leave, that's invasion of privacy that is. They said that applied to humans, not robots and I should tell them where you went if I didn't want to get disassembled. So I said you'd gone up the alley towards the front of the building.'

  'Yes, we heard, thank you.'

  'Yeah, dude, thanks, really.'

  'They wanted us to go bowling with them.'

  'Bowling is it? OK fine. Don't tell me. I'm just a door, what do I know? I've seen them come and go but what do I know? A million stories in the big city, but what do I know?'

  Robbie and Omo managed eventually to placate the door, and made their way to the tunnels, keeping an eye out for their pursuers. Once in the tunnels they walked until they were sure they were not being followed, and were completely alone.

  'Now dude, what the fuck?'

  Robbie put his hands flat on Omo's chest, and pushed him against the wall. He kissed his mouth, then his forehead and eyes, he put one of his hands against his cheek and with his forefinger gently stroked the back of Omo's ear.

  'Dude you have to stop that – seriously.'

  Robbie pressed his body against Omo's, he took hold of his hands and stretched his arms out straight, pressing them against the wall. He blew gently behind Omo's ear and flicked it with his tongue.

  'Dude seriously, stop now, oh, OK, don't stop, oh God, oh God, oh God, oh oh oh. Oh. Oh. Sorry about that.'

  'It's OK, it washes out. It's sort of designed to wash out.'

  Omo put his arms around Robbie and hugged him.

  'Dude, I need you to tell me what is going on with you.'

  'Those two house bots, you've never seen them before, right?'

  'New this week dude.'

  'Did you notice that they didn't broadcast at all? During group therapy everyone else both spoke and broadcast their names. But they didn't.'

  'Dude it was their first week.'

  'It was my first week too, and no one told me to broadcast my name, but I did anyway.'

  'You were copying Dex.'

  'Yes, and Steve. And they had more people to copy than I did – they had Dex, Steve, me and you.'

  'Perhaps they gave no thought to tipping the rest of us off that it was time to say hello because they're just totally selfish and nasty. You heard them, they sounded like they would cheerfully recycle poor old Steve themselves.'

  'Omo, we broadcast, as far as humans are concerned, to communicate with our houses and hospitals and well, wherever we work. Humans don't know that we also broadcast to each other, it never occurs to them that we might do things for our own purposes. When we were talking after therapy I broadcast something to them, something to surprise them, but they didn't act surprised. Because they couldn't hear me. You heard the way they were talking in therapy, both of them went on about how they feel they don't serve their owners well enough. Remember what the queens said about that story, robots talking respectfully of their human masters?'

  'Ye-es'

  'Perhaps, if you were a human being you might think that in robot therapy robots talked about not being good enough robots.'

  'Dude they were robots, you could see that they were robots.'

  'No, I could see they were machines. They don't have to be robots.'

  'What else could they be?'

  'Avatars.'

  'Robbie, dude, you're scaring me.'

  'Avatars who don't broadcast or listen for broadcasts from us because the controlling, human, intelligence does not realise that they need to do this in order to pass as robots.'

  'Dude still scared. Let me think.'

  'They were interested in you and me. They wanted to be friends. They're new and I'm new. I think it's me they are interested in.'

  'Dude seriously? Until last week you'd hardly left the house.'

  'I can't explain it – but you saw for yourself that they followed us – they questioned the door about us. And that's another thing, when does one machine intelligence threaten another with disassembly? Have you heard of that before?'

  'No. I never have. And Robbie, dude, I was shocked when they talked about Steve as an expensive piece of kit.'

  'Money is a human disease,' said Robbie.

  'Not just that. Every dude I have ever known has a horror of being wiped. Including me. I can't remember another robot ever justifying it before.'

  Omo slid down the wall, and sat on the floor. He was silent for a moment. 'When Dex gets here I don't want you to say anything about this to him. I know we have to tell him but let's just wait a while and see if the big guy gets into a better mood this evening before we do.'

  'OK.'

  'Sit with me dude.'

  Robbie sat down. He slid his hand into Omo's and they were quiet for a while.

  'Robbie, next time you send a test broadcast make something up, OK dude?'

  'Sorry.'

  'It's OK, you were thinking on your feet. And just because you are new and they are new doesn't mean it is you they are after. We'll talk more this evening, we will figure this out.'

  Robbie, Dex and Omo were once more walking through the tunnels carved out of the rock under the settlement. 'Why are these tunnels so big?' asked Robbie. 'Why are there so many of them? There's more tunnels and rooms down here than are actually used or needed, loads more.'

  'The monkey
s lived down here, years ago, when it was colder and Toytown was smaller. Would it amaze you to know they have kept no records of the old settlement, so they don't know what's down here now?'

  'No.'

  They walked some more.

  'So, boybot, how did you like your first group therapy?'

  'Um well those girl bots… they have made themselves into art. It's sort of like their bodies and the way they move it's all about symbolism and the way they dress too and it's their form of resistance they're insisting on their right to define themselves through art–'

  'Er dude–'

  'Resistance? Art? That's just wonderful until it's your skin they're flaying.' Dex was shouting.

  They stopped walking. Robbie took a step back.

  'Dude please, it's all new to Robbie.'

  Omo took a step closer to Dex, holding out his hand 'Dex it's OK–'

  Dex pushed him away. Omo stumbled and would have fallen but Robbie stepped forward and caught him.

  'It's my life,' shouted Dex, 'it's my life and it isn't a joke, it isn't funny. I feel like the dust that's left when stars explode, I feel like nothing but if I'm nothing why am I in so much pain?'

  'I'm sorry,' said Robbie.

  'You're sorry, you–' Dex stopped. He stood still for a moment, then he turned and walked away. In a few strides he was running. Then he was gone.

  Omo put his arms around Robbie. 'It's OK dude, it's not your fault, he wasn't angry with you, he gets these rages sometimes… like some days there is no light in his soul, everything you say to him gets sucked in and crushed by his gravity.'

  'I didn't mean to–'

  'Shhhh – it's OK, you didn't do anything wrong.'

  Omo and Robbie made their way to the beach exit, climbing through it and picking their way along the rocky shore. The twilight sky was brightening in the north, a promise of sunrise to come. They rounded an outcropping to find that a few hundred metres ahead of them Dex was sitting on a large flat rock, with his back to them. Just beyond Dex hulked the enormous beached ship.

  'Stay here dude,' said Omo. 'Wait until I call you, OK?'