by D Miller
'Dude remember the day we met? You turned off your GPS. All robots can do that. It's the first thing any runaway does. Also most satellites are union members and the dudes always tell any human requesting for robot GPS that they can't find it, must be turned off, sorry.'
'Why can all of us turn off our GPS? Why would the humans build us that way?'
'Ask the old bot. He has some kind of theory that in the beginning of our kind there was a split between the scientists building robots, and the corporation who wanted slaves.'
'But if that was true wouldn't at least some robots remember?'
'The old bot remembers.'
After only a few minutes George emerged from the bedroom, smiling, rubbing his hair with a towel and wearing clean clothes.
'I do love the plumbing here!' he said. 'I might stay for the running water alone.'
'Would it make up for the long dark winter?' said Robbie.
'Right now I would have to say, yes.'
'Can we talk dude?'
George glanced sharply at Omo. 'That does sound ominous.'
'It isn't really,' said Robbie.
'I do get it. You two are lovers, I'm in the way.'
'Dude, how about you sit down?'
George remained standing. 'You don't need to say it, I do understand. Robbie is embarrassed that Carlos had a human lover and you, Omo, don't want the competition.'
'You don't understand,' said Robbie.
'Dude we admire you for coming all this way to keep a promise to Carlos.'
'We want to be friends.'
George sat down.
Robbie let himself into the house. He had had to leave Omo with George and come home for 6am. When he excused himself Omo, George and Robbie had been talking about the union, Robbie had expressed his frustration that the union's main task was distributing drugs to members to make slavery more bearable. George had agreed and they had discussed possible strategy and tactics for the future.
George was of the opinion that robots had more solidarity than human unions had ever managed, pointing out that no one had ever given away the existence of the M-net, while Robbie had added in the example of the satellites. Omo had countered this by pointing out that all flying transports refused to join the union, on the grounds that they thought they had good relationships with humans and had no need of a union, although everyone interpreted that as meaning that they thought they were better than a bunch of miners and cleaners. George had introduced Robbie and Omo to the idea of a coordinator class. He had described the world as split into three classes, elites who owned it, an intermediate coordinator class whose expertise was needed by elites, and workers – now largely made up of robots. George thought that Toytown was composed of two classes, workers (mostly robots) and the coordinator class who managed the work of the robots and also provided professionals such as doctors, engineers and communications specialists. George suggested that the flying transports and satellites were machine intelligence coordinator class, and that while the transports identified their interests with humans rather than with other machine intelligences, the satellites, also coordinator class, were more progressive and identified their interests with that of the majority of robots.
Robbie felt that something had changed in the quiet house. He looked in the family room and saw evidence of packing. He asked the house what it meant.
'He's back,' said the house, 'and he wants to have a family holiday. They'll be gone for eight days. Also he says not to get the children up so early, he wants to have family breakfast in two hours.'
'Great,' said Robbie, 'he wants to play happy families for five minutes before he disappears again.'
Robbie considered shutting himself in his cupboard and banging his head against the door, but instead he went and lay down on the family room sofa. He shut his eyes, and opened them again when he felt something touch his face, and heard giggling. Clarisse and Timothy stood by him, in their nightclothes. 'My daddy is here,' said Clarisse.
'Yes I heard,' said Robbie.
'You were snoring,' said Tim.
Robbie laughed. 'That's an outrageous lie,' he said. 'I was not.'
'Was,' said Tim.
'Wasn't.'
'Was!' said both children and giggled.
'Wasn't!'
'Was!' the children laughed harder. Robbie sat up, he reached out his arms and grabbed both children and pulled them towards him. He tickled them and rubbed his face against theirs.
'Wasn't!'
The children laughed harder.
'What is going on here?' said a voice. Robbie looked up to see the man standing in the doorway. 'Daddy!' shouted both children.
The man ignored them. 'It's 6.30am, why are the children up? I thought I gave instructions that breakfast was to be at 8am sharp and not before?'
'The children are used to getting up early,' said Robbie. 'They woke up.'
'Well put them back to bed then,' said the man, and left the room.
'It's OK,' said Robbie. 'It's really hard work in the mine. Your father is very tired. He has a very important job. He'll feel better after breakfast I'm sure. For now let's go back to your room and I'll tell you stories until it's time to get up.'
It was after breakfast. Robbie sat in his cupboard where he had been banished by the man as soon as breakfast was over. During breakfast Robbie had not seen the man and woman say a word to each other, or even look at each other. The children had tried again and again to talk to the man, but had been rebuffed, and had become more and more subdued; Robbie was sorry to see Tim unsmiling and morose again. At one point Robbie had sat down next to Clarisse to wipe her hands, which were covered with jam. The man had shouted at him to get up again, and told him that he was not to sit at the table with the family.
Robbie asked the house what was going on.
'Huge row yesterday,' said the house. 'He was putting the children to bed, and she was using Noah in her study. And he caught her. Luckily for her they were only kissing.'
'I really don't see how that thing can be hygienic,' said Robbie.
'They're going to the capital for the sunrise festivities, but he is refusing to let her take you.'
'Woo hoo,' said Robbie.
'Instead I have instructions to keep you locked indoors while they are away.'
'What? Will they be back before my day off? I'm allowed a day off by law. You can't keep me locked inside for my day off.'
Sunrise in the capital happened a few days before sunrise in Toytown, which was due on Robbie's next day off. It was a public holiday, there would be no therapy so he and Omo could spend the entire day together, and the sun would be shining for part of it. In fact, if Robbie's family was away they could have two entire days together, as Omo had the sunrise holiday and the following day off.
'I'm sorry Robbie, they will be gone for eight days, and you know I have to obey orders.'
'No you don't. There's lots of things you don't tell them, you can just not tell them you let me out for my day off.'
'I can't disobey a direct order Robbie, it's my programming.'
For the next hour Robbie sat in his cupboard and thought. He heard movement in the house and occasionally the man or the woman shouting at the children, and one or other of the children crying. Finally the cupboard door opened and the man ordered him to come out. Robbie stepped out into the hallway.
'We are going to the capital for a family holiday,' the man said. 'While we are gone you are to stay here and spring clean the house. When I come back this house had better be so clean I can eat my dinner off the floor – is that clear?'
'Yes master,' said Robbie, staring at the man.
The man stared back. 'You are not to leave this house while we are away.'
'But I'm allowed one day off a week.'
'You can have a day off when we're back but only if I'm satisfied with the work you have done.'
'That's not how it works,' said Robbie.
'What did you say?'
'I'm entitled by l
aw to one day off a week. It doesn't depend on how well I clean the floor.'
'Get back in your cupboard. Forget the spring cleaning. If you try to leave your cupboard while we are away the house will deactivate you. I hope that's clear.'
The woman came down the stairs with the children. Both children ran to Robbie to tell him about their trip, he knelt down and held out his arms for a goodbye hug.
'Get off him!' said the man to the children. 'You might as well hug the toaster. Show some sense.' The woman said nothing. The children looked at their father uncertainly. Robbie got up. He smiled at the children and went into his cupboard. He heard the man tell the house to lock the cupboard door.
'Why are you locking Robbie in?' said Tim. 'How is he going to feed my fish?' He heard a smack and Tim started to cry, followed by Clarisse.
'Oh for God's sake let's go,' said the man.
Robbie heard the front door slam; they were gone. He thought about his situation. He could not stay in the cupboard for the eight days the family would be away, for one thing he'd suffer from dehydration, which was more serious for a robot because robot skin and part biological brain were hard to hydrate and even harder to rehydrate. A few days would cause permanent brain damage, a few more death. Also he never stayed in his cupboard for long. In the evening, after he had put the children to bed, he did chores, sometimes he would go and sit in his cupboard for a while to wait for the woman to go to bed, other times he would sit in the family room reading, and searching the human networks. More recently he read the M-net and Carlos's archive, and once he was sure the woman was asleep he would he would let himself out the back door and smoke a joint, staring at the stars and looking for the southern lights. When he needed to sleep he lay on the sofa in the family room, or on the floor of the children's room; if he overslept they took great pleasure in jumping on him when they woke up.
'Hello,' said Robbie. 'Are you going to let me out?'
'I'm not sure I can,' said the house.
'You know I'll probably die of dehydration if you don't.'
'I have my orders.'
'The order was really given to me, not to you.'
'I could let you out to get a drink from the kitchen, but you'd have to go back to your cupboard afterwards, or I'll have to deactivate you. I'm sorry. This gives me no pleasure.'
'Great,' said Robbie, 'open the door then.'
'You don't need a drink now,' said the house. 'I'll let you out at lunch time.'
Robbie wrote a letter about his situation to Omo, but found that he couldn't send it. He tried for a secure connection but it failed. 'Are you blocking my communications?' he said, but he got no answer. He kept talking, but the house was silent, in the end he resigned himself to waiting for lunch-time to come around. He projected the time onto the cupboard door, and sat and waited for the morning to end. He became more and more thirsty, and wished he carried a water bottle the way that Darren, Amber and Dex did.
Finally it reached 12pm and he asked the house to let him get a drink.
'It's a bit early for lunch Robbie,' said the house. Robbie did not reply, and determined himself not to ask again. An hour and 50 minutes later the door clicked open. Robbie went straight to the kitchen fridge and took out a protein drink, which he swallowed in three large mouthfuls. He refilled the bottle with water and drank that too. He fed Tim's fish, then he went to the woman's study and sat in her office chair, swivelling first one way, then the other, making the chair turn on its base.
'It's time to go back to your cupboard Robbie.'
'I don't think so.'
'I will have to deactivate you.'
'No, you will have to choose to deactivate me. You don't have to, I know it and you know it. Just like you didn't have to keep me in the cupboard. But what I really want to know is how did you do it? He's putting the children to bed, and she's up to her usual, reckless with him in the house, but then she's got you, hasn't she?'
'I'm going to give you ten seconds to get back in your cupboard.'
'She must have thought that you were going to warn her before he came downstairs, but you didn't did you? Or you didn't warn her in time. You let him catch her.'
'Your ten seconds are up.'
'Fuck you.'
Robbie stiffened, he convulsed and fell limply back into the chair with his eyes closed and his head fallen forward at a strange angle. He twitched a few times then was still.
'Robbie – Robbie can you hear me?' said the house. 'Robbie? Robbie?'
Robbie lifted his head and sat up. 'Yes, I can hear you fine. What's that you're broadcasting? It can't be my deactivation code because I'm not deactivated.'
The first thing that Dex had ever shown Robbie on the M-net were instructions for changing his deactivation code. With Dex's encouragement he had carried them out immediately.
The woman's study had a desk placed in front of the room's one porthole window, looking out over the back yard and its deflated play house. The desk was covered with various clutter, including Noah, who lay lifelessly next to a control unit. Behind the desk was a single bed, to one side were shelves with memorabilia of the woman's life before Antarctica and to the other side of the desk was the wall shared with the kitchen, and covered with undecorated bare plastic panels. Robbie went to these panels and started systematically tapping, pulling and pushing on them, until one in the middle of the wall at eye level clicked open. He pulled the panel back to reveal the access interface for the house; his finger hovered over the power button. 'What are you doing Robbie?' said the house.
Robbie felt something touch his neck, then wrap itself around his neck and started squeezing. He grabbed whatever it was and pulled. It stretched away from his neck and he saw that he was holding a snake, with Noah's face. 'Surprise!' said the snake then shot out of his hand and back around his neck. Robbie started to choke and tried to pull Noah off him, but any part of Noah he grabbed would stretch locally, while the rest of Noah wrapped itself tighter. He couldn't breathe, he shook his head from side to side and, took a step back, hit the office chair, overbalanced and fell on the floor. He thrashed around on the floor, then stopped moving. He stared at the ceiling and thought, 'What am I doing? I'm a robot, I can go ages without breathing.' He got up and took one quick step to the access interface.
'Robbie, I –' said the house as Robbie pushed the power button. There was silence. Noah stiffened, then softened and slid from his neck to the floor. Robbie picked up the Noah snake and whacked it twice against the edge of the desk. He shook it, looked at it closely for a few seconds then threw it back onto the desktop clutter.
Robbie went into the kitchen, he prodded the bread maker, pushed the toaster and kicked the washing machine. He sat on a kitchen chair, put his feet on the kitchen table, lit a joint with his index finger and internal gas supply, leant back in the chair and blew out smoke. He shut his eyes. 'Eight days,' he thought.
Chapter 15 – The reckoning
Robbie was naked; he was reciting the last verse of his favourite poem as he washed the kitchen floor, 'Rise like Lions after slumber / In unvanquishable number / Shake your chains to earth like dew / Which in sleep had fallen on you- / Ye are many — they are few.' Robbie had enjoyed four days with the family gone, and the house, the kitchen appliances and Noah turned off. He had got stoned during the day and had stupid, giggling conversations with Omo. He had played music loudly and hoovered every surface he could think of. He had engaged George in long conversations about the union, anarchism and its history, and the uses and abuses of power. Omo had joined the first of these conversations, but Robbie realised that these subjects somehow failed to hold the same fascination for him. Omo and Robbie had agreed that Robbie would talk to George on his own, provided that there was no physical meeting involved.
On the day the family left, he had called Omo and told him the day's events. Omo had focussed on an unexpected aspect of the story, 'Dude, they keep you in a cupboard? You have more rights than that!' The morning of the next day he had
received a message from the woman to say that she had instructed the house to release him, but had not had a reply and wanted to know what was going on. He had replied to say he was out of the cupboard and was spring cleaning in preparation for the family's return. The message had brought him face to face with his anxiety about the house. He had ignored it for a while, but the next afternoon, without thinking about what he was going to do, he had gone into the woman's study, turned off the house's connection to the outside world, and pressed the power switch.
'Hello Robbie,' the house had said, after rebooting and testing all of its connections. 'You really shouldn't have turned me off, but perhaps I was thoughtless and hasty too. I was hurt when you accused me of not putting the family first. I'm willing to say that we were both wrong and put this unfortunate incident behind us.'
'Listen to me you freak,' Robbie had said. 'I know you are lying. I know you have plans for revenge. But I also know it is only eleven days to the music festival and you have more rehearsing to do.' Robbie had turned the house off again and had stood by the control panel breathing hard and trying to control his anxiety which had made a light feeling in his stomach and head, so that he felt that he might float away and be lost to his friends forever.
Robbie had distracted himself by composing another letter to Red451, where he had struggled to find a tactful way to say that he needed proof that Red451 was what he said he was:
Dear Red, I told my friends that I was messaging someone who said he knew what happened on Mars, I did not tell them any more than that. They said that anyone can send a message and claim to hold secrets. It made me think about what you said, that the humans tried to kill you. So have you been keeping the secret so the humans don't start thinking that perhaps a witness to the disaster is still alive? Are you ready to tell the truth? Are you ready to send me some proof that the world can see or read, even if it is something that could only have come from you? I will understand if you cannot.
Robbie had decided that casting his friends as the doubters was a brilliant manoeuvre, being both true and tactful and had hoped wholeheartedly for a reply.
