Post by Malum on Jun 29, 2007 12:56:06 GMT -5
I wrote this 3 years ago, so it's not the greatest, but I've revamped the grammer and sentance structure enough that it should be acceptable. Please tell me if I've done anything wrong, where I need more detail, etc.
The rest is on it's way.
He awoke. The cool air touched his skin. It entered every pore of his body; his lungs took in as much of the sweet, sweet oxygen as they could hold. His tiny chest rose, his ribcage expanded. There was a short pause, not half a second long and he released the carbon dioxide, his chest falling.
He could breath.
The cold, metal table he sat on felt hard and sturdy. His palm pushed against the sides, and his fingers grasped it. The pressure applied was enough to dent the metal. It gave under the power of his hands, molding to them.
He could feel.
A wonderful taste filled his mouth. It was the taste of actuality, of existence. He felt the soft, squishy part of the roof of his mouth with his tongue. As he explored his teeth and the different parts of his new mouth he noticed the grotesque feeling of plastic tube, which ran down his throat as far as he could feel.
He could taste.
Then boy blinked. His vision was filled with wires and air shafts on the ceiling up above. He rotated his head and the bones in his neck popped; they were compressed against each other and ached badly. When his head came around he saw people, people who were larger than he. They held clipboards with paper on them. Their faces were dull as if they hadn’t a care in the world. But he could see past that, they were excited, all of them.
He could see.
All of these sensations had come to him at once. And for some, inexplicable reason, he understood. He knew who, no what, he was. It was still amazing. He was tangible, he was physical, he was real.
Before this all he could remember was information. Nothing more. Simply the rules of the universe. How things worked. How he worked.
But now he was.
He was no longer a computer program, no longer a stream of data flowing through cyberspace. He was human, in the basic sense of the word.
The boy pulled the tube from his throat. This was unnecessary but he did not wish for it to be there. It felt wrong, out of place. He stopped, this was another new experience. He had desires. He now had a mind of his own.
“Unit,” a scientist called to him sharply.
“Yes, sir,” he said, his voice sounded slightly synthetic. There was a metallic hum that followed his words.
“Stand next to the table.”
“Yes, sir,” he repeated.
He could speak.
These where the first words he had ever said.
Standing up was strange for him as well but it came easily. Most humans could not stand at the biological age of 1.34 minutes. His time was not off by a second. This pleased him, he was functioning perfectly. Though the fact that he had desires now was odd, confusing. Further analysis would be necessary to better understand the reason behind such an anomaly. But not now. Now he had to prove himself.
No, he wanted to prove himself.
“Touch your toes, Unit.”
“Yes, sir,” he said for the third time.
He did so.
“Now walk towards me after returning to a normal position,” the scientist ordered.
“Yes, sir.”
Normal? That word meant nothing as far as personal experiences went. Actually it meant little to him other than its definition. He had not had a normal life. Every day of his existence something new happened. Like today for example. Today he was human.
But, nevertheless, he did as he was told.
“Good,” the scientist wrote on his clipboard.
As he wrote the boy took time to analyze his fathers and mothers. There were five of them. Three were male. Two were female. They each had their own characteristics, according to his databanks most humans did. They each had their own physical appearances. But they were all the same to him. They were all his creators. And he thanked them for that. He loved them for that.
Two seconds after he had decided he loved them they continued on. He could have expressed his emotions but that was not the reason why he was here. If he did decided to express his emotion he would have a problem, for he really didn’t know how. In fact, he hardly knew how to do anything social. But he would worry about that later.
“Follow me,” the aged male doctor that had been instructing him said.
“Yes, sir,” he answered.
As he followed the doctors through the halls he heard them talking to each other. This was easy since they spoke of him right in front of his face. He was pretty sure that was not the way humans gossiped about other humans. But he was not normal human, so this was fine with him. Actually, he was happy to hear what they thought of him.
“I believe this one is working,” a male doctor said.
“We still need to run the field test,” a female replied.
“Can he say anything besides ‘yes, sir’?” the other female asked suddenly.
They stopped walking. The unit stopped as well. The doctors turned around, pivoting on their heels in unison.
“What is your number, unit?” the (from what the boy could tell) leading doctor asked.
“I am Biological Mechanic’s Biological Human Android Number 068, sir,” he said.
According to the data that was feed to him before he was “born”, Bio 068 was the sixty-eighth human unit created. BioMechanics had been working on he and his sixty-seven brethren for 33.76 years. They had been working on 068 for about five years. So far he felt as if he met their needs.
Their needs were simple: A robot that has human based mechanics in him/her that could function exactly as a human did. Why? He simply didn’t care. As long as he fulfilled their requirements for the perfect android he was satisfied. They wanted him to look, feel, and think like a human, so that’s what he would do.
Apparently he was successful so far. Otherwise he wouldn’t have the strange curiosity of why he existed. All humans had that question lingering within them. So he must be human, or at least as close as an android could get to being human.
They walked up to a white door. It slid into the walls, allowing them into a room the size of a large stadium. It looked like a rainforest if 068’s memory banks served him correctly, which he knew they did. The air felt like a real, natural rainforest’s air would, humid and sticky. It felt as if it had just rained. The leaves looked real, the rocks, the branches, the roots, and even the animals looked real.
But 068 knew these were not natural, but rather some of the more successful creations made by BioMech. Long before they had even attempted to build a human they had created thousands of artificial animals and plants. The company had even created certain cells and organs for donations to those who needed them to live.
Thanks to their research of the human body, BioMech had cured numerous diseases, viruses, and infections, including the common cold, cancer, all STD’s, diabetes, and neopolio.
For awhile the company had gone into cloning. But after the “Adam and Eve” laws were set in place they had to quit and destroy all of their creations.
None of which were as perfect as 068.
“Unit, run through this rainforest until you reach the end. Then stop,” the lead doctor said.
“Yes, sir.”
He ran like the ten-year-old boy he looked like. His elbows bent too much, his neck craned, his back arched, his feet hardly lifted from the ground. At least this was how he ran before the doctors contacted him on his internal communication unit.
“Unit Zero-Six-Eight,” a voice in his head said, “Sprint as quickly as you can.”
Internally, he responded, “Yes, sir.”
The machines in his legs were durable enough to let him move at speeds unnatural to any human. And his advanced internal GPS gave him a readout that showed every vine and every tree stump that stood in his way, giving him the ability to move out of the way of obstacles before he even saw them. By the time he moved, he was already next to the object, making his timing literally perfect. When he added this to his speed and super fast reactions he moved through the forest without touching anything but the artificial dirt and the occasional root.
When the unit reached the painted back wall he paused. Unfortunately he did work like a human even during these sorts of circumstances. He had to breathe at least once every ten minutes. And the more he breathed the better he operated. But he hadn’t taken a sip of oxygen since the beginning of the run, which was 6.49 minutes ago. So he quickly drew a breath and sat for a short recharging time.
“Unit 068,” the doctor called over the comm.
“Yes, sir?” 068 answered internally.
“Report back immediately.”
“Yes, sir.”
After another 6.49 minute run 068 arrived at the staring point. The doctors were writing on their clipboards when the boy arrived. Then, the leaders simply turned around and walked away with the other doctors. 068 knew this was a test to see his reaction. And he would please them. They had told him to report back. He did. Now they where playing Simon Says with him, he did not mind. So he waited.
He soon found how boring waiting could be.
After 6.12 hours it began to “rain”. He remained in the position where he was. Then, 2.89 hours later, it stopped raining. And after 27.05 hours one of his commands booted in.
He was (as all of BioMech’s machines were) programmed with auto response reactions. For example: if his hand was damaged he automatically recoiled from the source of the damage and remembered not to go near that source again unless necessary. When he was in danger he was to protect himself as long as this did not involve overlap of any of Asimov’s Laws of Robotics, which were programmed into him. But he could disable these reactions at anytime, after inputting a certain code if he had permission.
So when an artificial windstorm approached he jumped for the best suitable cover. It took him 13.02 seconds to find the best possible protection from this “storm”. And it served him well. His arms were strong enough to latch on to any tree and hold on for the rest of his life. But there was a chance that would damage the skin over his muscle and bones. So he went between two trees, ducked, and grabbed onto a root with one hand, and a low branch with the other.
1.32 hours later the storm stopped. He brushed himself off and returned to his standing spot.
He stood in the spot, waiting. Until, finally, 24.32 hours later, a doctor returned.
“Very good,” the female said, looking at the statistics on her clipboard.
“Thank you, ma’am,” he replied, though a reply was not neccessary he wanted her to know that he wished to serve.
“I think you’re ready for your upgrade. You are the first unit to ever make it this far. Well done,” she said with a hint of emotion in her voice. She seemed as if she was going to cry of happiness.
“Thank you, ma’am.”
“How do you feel?” she asked.
“Physically: Tired. Mentally: All systems functioning 100%. Emotionally: Proud. Curious. Wanting,” he reported.
“Why do you want?” she asked.
“I wish to get to know my mothers and fathers better,” he said slightly embarrassed. If she hadn’t asked he would have never told.
“You’re blushing,” she remarked abruptly.
“Yes.”
“Why are you embarrassed?” she asked.
“I feel that this is not an appropriate time for discussion of emotions. Since I am a product I do not believe this is relevant to my purpose,” he said.
“You will learn that your emotions are more relevant to your purpose than you realize,” she said after a pause.
He would have raised an eyebrow but that would be questioning authority. Which he did not want to do.
“Let’s go get to know the crew,” she said.
Biological Mechanic’s Bio Human Android Unit 068 sat in a chair for the first time. He was in the lounge room with the five scientists. According to his internal clock they had been conversing for hours now. Every minute they talked the more human he felt and, from a certain point of view, the more human he became.
068 had learned many things about his creators. He carefully cataloged each memory. According to the information he had gathered only three of them truly cared for him. The other two simply thought of him as an experiment, or a moneymaking tool. But he accepted this, after all it was the purpose he had been created for.
Dr. Jean Smith was the scientist who he found most likeable. She was very careful with everything she said and did, even when it was directed toward him. Dr. Smith never seemed happy though. According to what he observed she was a very lonely person and was plainly bored with life. 068 hoped he could help her, seeing that she was one of the only people that cared for him.
Second to Dr. Smith was Dr. Nate Kenn. Kenn’s personality was almost exactly opposite of Dr. Smith. He was in a very cheery mood, and most likely always was. The sarcastic comments that came from his mouth where always a surprise to 068. But he lacked a focused mind. Sometimes, during the middle of a conversation he would stray off and began to talk about something completely different. 068 hoped he wasn’t like that with his work.
The only other person that cared for him was Dr. Natalie Lock. Dr. Lock tried to make it appear as if she cared only for her work. But in truth (068 could tell) she cared for many people and things, including him. For reasons 068 did not know she attempted to keep these feelings hidden. He suspected (based on what he knew about acquired traits) that some event had caused this habit to develop, most likely a highly emotional one.
The other two doctors were hard to decipher. One (Dr. Rod Jay) had not spoken at all. He didn’t even seem to be paying attention to the conversation. But 068 could tell by the way his eyes moved so slowly across his paper that he was listening very intently. And by triangulating the direction his hand moved with his pencil 068 could “see” the words he wrote. They were simply notes on the conversation. By the state in which they were written it was obvious he cared nothing for anything but his work.
Dr. Alan Dean was most certainly the leader. He was much like Dr. Jay, except he spoke. Yet he only did so when giving 068 an order, after which he would quickly scribble down his reaction on his paper. His wrinkled, gray, face showed not expression. He could have been an android himself.
Long after the android had learned all this from his human creators they grew tired of drinking coffee and decided to call it a night.
“Unit 068,” Dr. Dean said.
“Yes, sir,” 068 replied.
“Go to your tube.”
Before 068’s body was built he was given information on a glass tank that would serve as his sleeping area. It was filled with some sort of regeneration liquid that would (in theory) keep his skin healthy forever. But this would only be so if he plugged himself into for at least five hours every night.
He soon learned it was just as uncomfortable as it sounded. A long tube was shoved down his throat and into his lungs. A filtration system was latched onto his heart after digging multiple, tiny holes into his skin. Many wires were stuck into his nerves and muscles. Not only this, but his brain was constantly being electrocuted by the helmet attached to his head. It was like an everlasting headache which forced his thoughts to jumble around in his head, as if he were watching multiple televisions and flipping through the channels at extreme speeds. The emotional highs and lows caused by this came and went so quickly, 068 couldn’t be sure what he was feeling, other than intense discomfort.
The liquid stung and stunk. It flowed through his nose and ears and mouth. Tasting the gooey stuff was not pleasant. And it was freezing. 068 felt as if he was stripped naked (which he was) and thrown into the icy waters of the southern sea. The colorless liquid scratched at his eyes, causing them to become red and teary. He believed the purpose of this was to rid his optics of any bacteria that rested on them.
Space was also an issue. He was cramped into the tiny container considered a tank. His knees reached the top of his head and his legs reached to his shoulders. His feet touched just below his waist. Suddenly everlasting skin sounded too good to be true.
After, yet another morning of spastic coughing up of the liquid in the tank 068 went to breakfast. Food had become enjoyable to him. His body reacted in different ways to different foods. This fascinated him. But such happenings could only entertain him for so long. Soon he was filled with another, slightly more familiar emotion: boredom. But (as contradictory as it sounds) he was fascinated by his boredom as well. Every new emotion was interesting, for a time. After time even boredom became boring. After nearly a month the lack of entertainment became almost unbearable.
He sat down at the breakfast table and began smashing his cereal into the milk to make it soggy, just the way he had become accustom to. Why had his parents not given him more tests? Maybe the boredom was a test in itself. He pondered this. It was about 87.32% possible. Considering all of the possibilities and variables for a short time he accepted his theory and continued on as normal.
After finishing his meal he cleaned his bowl and pushed in his chair very neatly. No one had ever ordered him to do so, but he really didn’t have too much more to do. After returning to his room (a white-walled, eight by eight cell-like room) he put on his cloths Doctors Smith and Kenn had bought him. Then he went back to the lounge to read the newspaper. He read every last detail.
But during his thorough scan of every article he realized he didn’t understand something.
There was a word that he did not recognize. This was very odd considering he knew every single word in every single dictionary on Earth. He calculated the possibility of human error. But the chance was quiet low. Human errors were common in the newspaper. But this was different. It was not like any error he had ever heard of.
Am I malfunctioning? he asked himself.
According to his personal diagnostic nothing was the way it shouldn’t have been. He decided (though he was embarrassed) to ask Dr. Kenn.
The doctor was sitting at his desk reading a book of some sort.
“Excuse me, doctor,” 068 said as he walked into the room.
“Ah, Unit 068, come in,” Kenn said cheerfully, looking up from his book.
“Thank you, sir,” 068 said walking in and stood in front of the desk.
“Why does such a fine person come to my messy office this wonderfully rainy morning?” Kenn asked. 068 quickly looked around and the organizers, file cabinets, and seemingly dustless shelves.
Messy? he wondered. He also noticed the lack of rain outside.
“I have a question, sir,” 068 said.
“Fire away, Sixty-Eight,” Kenn said leaning back in his chair.
“This morning I came upon a word in the newspaper that I did not understand. The sentence read as follows: ‘The young girl’s absolute consternation about the situation forced the Police to investigate.’” 068 quoted. “The word that confused me was ‘consternation’.”
Dr. Kenn smiled, “Well, two things. One: you’re mispronouncing it.”
“How is that possible?” 068 asked wondering if something was wrong with his English Language Systems.
“It is possible because of thing number two,” Kenn smiled. “You were never given the knowledge of your memory decrease where you?”
“No,” 068 replied, very worried now.
“Six-Eight my friend, you are created to be as human as possible where you not?” Kenn asked.
Suddenly, it clicked. He thought understood, but simply answered: “Yes, sir.”
“You were created so that the less knowledge you use, the more you forget it. This is a very complicated program. In your pre-physical stages (when you were just a computer program) you where given this. The reason you did not know this about yourself is because you chose to forget it back then, so that you could be more human. Ultimately, your goal is to become perfectly indistinguishable from any organic life form. Well, at least as far as your thinking goes. And eventually we will start working on making you physically human also.”
068 blinked twice. He wondered what other things there were about him that he didn’t know. He pondered this. He then realized that he had forgotten tiny details of his earliest life. Maybe, someday, he wouldn’t remember being a computer program at all. He felt very confused.
And for the first time in his life he spoke without thinking, “I feel confused, sir.”
“Good,” Dr. Kenn answered right away. “You’ve passed another test, my friend.
“Good morning, Dr. Lock!” Sixty-Eight shouted over the blaring noise of the stereo.
“Good morning, Six!” she shouted back, “Why the sudden interest in punk rock?”
“I have decided to expand my outlook on life,” he said.
“Who’s idea was this?” she asked, getting herself a cup of coffee.
“Mine,” Dr. Kenn yelled, walking into the lounging room.
“May I speak with you in private Doctor?” Dr. Lock asked.
After a short pause, “Sixty-Eight, could you please depart for a moment?”
“Yes, sir,” Sixty-Eight said taking the boom box outside.
As soon as he stepped outside Sixty-Eight used his sound filtration systems to ignore the music and hear what the doctors were saying. He knew espionage was against the rules but why would they give him such an ability if they did not mean for him to use it?
From what he heard Dr. Lock didn’t approve at first. But then Dr. Kenn told her that it was Dr. Dean’s orders, and it was good for him to be listening to all kinds of music. He also heard talk of video games. This excited Sixty-Eight, the idea of interacting with other advanced AI through the TV screen sounded intriguing.
It was a few days (and hundreds of CDs) later when Dr. Kenn brought in his game system. They plugged it up and began to play.
Sixty-Eight learned that AI on video games was far less advanced than he. This was disappointing, and made him feel somewhat lonely, but the games were still fun to play. His favorite games were the strategic kind. Where he commanded an army and led it into battle.
He also liked the shooting games. At first Dr. Kenn was much better than Sixty-Eight. But after a few days the tides turned.
“That’s it, I’m not playing anymore, it’s impossible to beat you,” Dr. Kenn said.
“You just have to admit, sir,” responded the robot, “that you’ve created a monster.”
They laughed and switched to a different game. But Sixty-Eight realized that (in a sense) he was a monster. He was becoming much better than the doctors at almost everything they were skilled at.
[continued...]
The rest is on it's way.
Intellect
Logan Nickel
Chapter 1
Logan Nickel
Chapter 1
He awoke. The cool air touched his skin. It entered every pore of his body; his lungs took in as much of the sweet, sweet oxygen as they could hold. His tiny chest rose, his ribcage expanded. There was a short pause, not half a second long and he released the carbon dioxide, his chest falling.
He could breath.
The cold, metal table he sat on felt hard and sturdy. His palm pushed against the sides, and his fingers grasped it. The pressure applied was enough to dent the metal. It gave under the power of his hands, molding to them.
He could feel.
A wonderful taste filled his mouth. It was the taste of actuality, of existence. He felt the soft, squishy part of the roof of his mouth with his tongue. As he explored his teeth and the different parts of his new mouth he noticed the grotesque feeling of plastic tube, which ran down his throat as far as he could feel.
He could taste.
Then boy blinked. His vision was filled with wires and air shafts on the ceiling up above. He rotated his head and the bones in his neck popped; they were compressed against each other and ached badly. When his head came around he saw people, people who were larger than he. They held clipboards with paper on them. Their faces were dull as if they hadn’t a care in the world. But he could see past that, they were excited, all of them.
He could see.
All of these sensations had come to him at once. And for some, inexplicable reason, he understood. He knew who, no what, he was. It was still amazing. He was tangible, he was physical, he was real.
Before this all he could remember was information. Nothing more. Simply the rules of the universe. How things worked. How he worked.
But now he was.
He was no longer a computer program, no longer a stream of data flowing through cyberspace. He was human, in the basic sense of the word.
The boy pulled the tube from his throat. This was unnecessary but he did not wish for it to be there. It felt wrong, out of place. He stopped, this was another new experience. He had desires. He now had a mind of his own.
“Unit,” a scientist called to him sharply.
“Yes, sir,” he said, his voice sounded slightly synthetic. There was a metallic hum that followed his words.
“Stand next to the table.”
“Yes, sir,” he repeated.
He could speak.
These where the first words he had ever said.
Standing up was strange for him as well but it came easily. Most humans could not stand at the biological age of 1.34 minutes. His time was not off by a second. This pleased him, he was functioning perfectly. Though the fact that he had desires now was odd, confusing. Further analysis would be necessary to better understand the reason behind such an anomaly. But not now. Now he had to prove himself.
No, he wanted to prove himself.
“Touch your toes, Unit.”
“Yes, sir,” he said for the third time.
He did so.
“Now walk towards me after returning to a normal position,” the scientist ordered.
“Yes, sir.”
Normal? That word meant nothing as far as personal experiences went. Actually it meant little to him other than its definition. He had not had a normal life. Every day of his existence something new happened. Like today for example. Today he was human.
But, nevertheless, he did as he was told.
“Good,” the scientist wrote on his clipboard.
As he wrote the boy took time to analyze his fathers and mothers. There were five of them. Three were male. Two were female. They each had their own characteristics, according to his databanks most humans did. They each had their own physical appearances. But they were all the same to him. They were all his creators. And he thanked them for that. He loved them for that.
Two seconds after he had decided he loved them they continued on. He could have expressed his emotions but that was not the reason why he was here. If he did decided to express his emotion he would have a problem, for he really didn’t know how. In fact, he hardly knew how to do anything social. But he would worry about that later.
“Follow me,” the aged male doctor that had been instructing him said.
“Yes, sir,” he answered.
As he followed the doctors through the halls he heard them talking to each other. This was easy since they spoke of him right in front of his face. He was pretty sure that was not the way humans gossiped about other humans. But he was not normal human, so this was fine with him. Actually, he was happy to hear what they thought of him.
“I believe this one is working,” a male doctor said.
“We still need to run the field test,” a female replied.
“Can he say anything besides ‘yes, sir’?” the other female asked suddenly.
They stopped walking. The unit stopped as well. The doctors turned around, pivoting on their heels in unison.
“What is your number, unit?” the (from what the boy could tell) leading doctor asked.
“I am Biological Mechanic’s Biological Human Android Number 068, sir,” he said.
According to the data that was feed to him before he was “born”, Bio 068 was the sixty-eighth human unit created. BioMechanics had been working on he and his sixty-seven brethren for 33.76 years. They had been working on 068 for about five years. So far he felt as if he met their needs.
Their needs were simple: A robot that has human based mechanics in him/her that could function exactly as a human did. Why? He simply didn’t care. As long as he fulfilled their requirements for the perfect android he was satisfied. They wanted him to look, feel, and think like a human, so that’s what he would do.
Apparently he was successful so far. Otherwise he wouldn’t have the strange curiosity of why he existed. All humans had that question lingering within them. So he must be human, or at least as close as an android could get to being human.
They walked up to a white door. It slid into the walls, allowing them into a room the size of a large stadium. It looked like a rainforest if 068’s memory banks served him correctly, which he knew they did. The air felt like a real, natural rainforest’s air would, humid and sticky. It felt as if it had just rained. The leaves looked real, the rocks, the branches, the roots, and even the animals looked real.
But 068 knew these were not natural, but rather some of the more successful creations made by BioMech. Long before they had even attempted to build a human they had created thousands of artificial animals and plants. The company had even created certain cells and organs for donations to those who needed them to live.
Thanks to their research of the human body, BioMech had cured numerous diseases, viruses, and infections, including the common cold, cancer, all STD’s, diabetes, and neopolio.
For awhile the company had gone into cloning. But after the “Adam and Eve” laws were set in place they had to quit and destroy all of their creations.
None of which were as perfect as 068.
“Unit, run through this rainforest until you reach the end. Then stop,” the lead doctor said.
“Yes, sir.”
He ran like the ten-year-old boy he looked like. His elbows bent too much, his neck craned, his back arched, his feet hardly lifted from the ground. At least this was how he ran before the doctors contacted him on his internal communication unit.
“Unit Zero-Six-Eight,” a voice in his head said, “Sprint as quickly as you can.”
Internally, he responded, “Yes, sir.”
The machines in his legs were durable enough to let him move at speeds unnatural to any human. And his advanced internal GPS gave him a readout that showed every vine and every tree stump that stood in his way, giving him the ability to move out of the way of obstacles before he even saw them. By the time he moved, he was already next to the object, making his timing literally perfect. When he added this to his speed and super fast reactions he moved through the forest without touching anything but the artificial dirt and the occasional root.
When the unit reached the painted back wall he paused. Unfortunately he did work like a human even during these sorts of circumstances. He had to breathe at least once every ten minutes. And the more he breathed the better he operated. But he hadn’t taken a sip of oxygen since the beginning of the run, which was 6.49 minutes ago. So he quickly drew a breath and sat for a short recharging time.
“Unit 068,” the doctor called over the comm.
“Yes, sir?” 068 answered internally.
“Report back immediately.”
“Yes, sir.”
After another 6.49 minute run 068 arrived at the staring point. The doctors were writing on their clipboards when the boy arrived. Then, the leaders simply turned around and walked away with the other doctors. 068 knew this was a test to see his reaction. And he would please them. They had told him to report back. He did. Now they where playing Simon Says with him, he did not mind. So he waited.
He soon found how boring waiting could be.
After 6.12 hours it began to “rain”. He remained in the position where he was. Then, 2.89 hours later, it stopped raining. And after 27.05 hours one of his commands booted in.
He was (as all of BioMech’s machines were) programmed with auto response reactions. For example: if his hand was damaged he automatically recoiled from the source of the damage and remembered not to go near that source again unless necessary. When he was in danger he was to protect himself as long as this did not involve overlap of any of Asimov’s Laws of Robotics, which were programmed into him. But he could disable these reactions at anytime, after inputting a certain code if he had permission.
So when an artificial windstorm approached he jumped for the best suitable cover. It took him 13.02 seconds to find the best possible protection from this “storm”. And it served him well. His arms were strong enough to latch on to any tree and hold on for the rest of his life. But there was a chance that would damage the skin over his muscle and bones. So he went between two trees, ducked, and grabbed onto a root with one hand, and a low branch with the other.
1.32 hours later the storm stopped. He brushed himself off and returned to his standing spot.
He stood in the spot, waiting. Until, finally, 24.32 hours later, a doctor returned.
“Very good,” the female said, looking at the statistics on her clipboard.
“Thank you, ma’am,” he replied, though a reply was not neccessary he wanted her to know that he wished to serve.
“I think you’re ready for your upgrade. You are the first unit to ever make it this far. Well done,” she said with a hint of emotion in her voice. She seemed as if she was going to cry of happiness.
“Thank you, ma’am.”
“How do you feel?” she asked.
“Physically: Tired. Mentally: All systems functioning 100%. Emotionally: Proud. Curious. Wanting,” he reported.
“Why do you want?” she asked.
“I wish to get to know my mothers and fathers better,” he said slightly embarrassed. If she hadn’t asked he would have never told.
“You’re blushing,” she remarked abruptly.
“Yes.”
“Why are you embarrassed?” she asked.
“I feel that this is not an appropriate time for discussion of emotions. Since I am a product I do not believe this is relevant to my purpose,” he said.
“You will learn that your emotions are more relevant to your purpose than you realize,” she said after a pause.
He would have raised an eyebrow but that would be questioning authority. Which he did not want to do.
“Let’s go get to know the crew,” she said.
*
Biological Mechanic’s Bio Human Android Unit 068 sat in a chair for the first time. He was in the lounge room with the five scientists. According to his internal clock they had been conversing for hours now. Every minute they talked the more human he felt and, from a certain point of view, the more human he became.
068 had learned many things about his creators. He carefully cataloged each memory. According to the information he had gathered only three of them truly cared for him. The other two simply thought of him as an experiment, or a moneymaking tool. But he accepted this, after all it was the purpose he had been created for.
Dr. Jean Smith was the scientist who he found most likeable. She was very careful with everything she said and did, even when it was directed toward him. Dr. Smith never seemed happy though. According to what he observed she was a very lonely person and was plainly bored with life. 068 hoped he could help her, seeing that she was one of the only people that cared for him.
Second to Dr. Smith was Dr. Nate Kenn. Kenn’s personality was almost exactly opposite of Dr. Smith. He was in a very cheery mood, and most likely always was. The sarcastic comments that came from his mouth where always a surprise to 068. But he lacked a focused mind. Sometimes, during the middle of a conversation he would stray off and began to talk about something completely different. 068 hoped he wasn’t like that with his work.
The only other person that cared for him was Dr. Natalie Lock. Dr. Lock tried to make it appear as if she cared only for her work. But in truth (068 could tell) she cared for many people and things, including him. For reasons 068 did not know she attempted to keep these feelings hidden. He suspected (based on what he knew about acquired traits) that some event had caused this habit to develop, most likely a highly emotional one.
The other two doctors were hard to decipher. One (Dr. Rod Jay) had not spoken at all. He didn’t even seem to be paying attention to the conversation. But 068 could tell by the way his eyes moved so slowly across his paper that he was listening very intently. And by triangulating the direction his hand moved with his pencil 068 could “see” the words he wrote. They were simply notes on the conversation. By the state in which they were written it was obvious he cared nothing for anything but his work.
Dr. Alan Dean was most certainly the leader. He was much like Dr. Jay, except he spoke. Yet he only did so when giving 068 an order, after which he would quickly scribble down his reaction on his paper. His wrinkled, gray, face showed not expression. He could have been an android himself.
Long after the android had learned all this from his human creators they grew tired of drinking coffee and decided to call it a night.
“Unit 068,” Dr. Dean said.
“Yes, sir,” 068 replied.
“Go to your tube.”
Before 068’s body was built he was given information on a glass tank that would serve as his sleeping area. It was filled with some sort of regeneration liquid that would (in theory) keep his skin healthy forever. But this would only be so if he plugged himself into for at least five hours every night.
He soon learned it was just as uncomfortable as it sounded. A long tube was shoved down his throat and into his lungs. A filtration system was latched onto his heart after digging multiple, tiny holes into his skin. Many wires were stuck into his nerves and muscles. Not only this, but his brain was constantly being electrocuted by the helmet attached to his head. It was like an everlasting headache which forced his thoughts to jumble around in his head, as if he were watching multiple televisions and flipping through the channels at extreme speeds. The emotional highs and lows caused by this came and went so quickly, 068 couldn’t be sure what he was feeling, other than intense discomfort.
The liquid stung and stunk. It flowed through his nose and ears and mouth. Tasting the gooey stuff was not pleasant. And it was freezing. 068 felt as if he was stripped naked (which he was) and thrown into the icy waters of the southern sea. The colorless liquid scratched at his eyes, causing them to become red and teary. He believed the purpose of this was to rid his optics of any bacteria that rested on them.
Space was also an issue. He was cramped into the tiny container considered a tank. His knees reached the top of his head and his legs reached to his shoulders. His feet touched just below his waist. Suddenly everlasting skin sounded too good to be true.
*
After, yet another morning of spastic coughing up of the liquid in the tank 068 went to breakfast. Food had become enjoyable to him. His body reacted in different ways to different foods. This fascinated him. But such happenings could only entertain him for so long. Soon he was filled with another, slightly more familiar emotion: boredom. But (as contradictory as it sounds) he was fascinated by his boredom as well. Every new emotion was interesting, for a time. After time even boredom became boring. After nearly a month the lack of entertainment became almost unbearable.
He sat down at the breakfast table and began smashing his cereal into the milk to make it soggy, just the way he had become accustom to. Why had his parents not given him more tests? Maybe the boredom was a test in itself. He pondered this. It was about 87.32% possible. Considering all of the possibilities and variables for a short time he accepted his theory and continued on as normal.
After finishing his meal he cleaned his bowl and pushed in his chair very neatly. No one had ever ordered him to do so, but he really didn’t have too much more to do. After returning to his room (a white-walled, eight by eight cell-like room) he put on his cloths Doctors Smith and Kenn had bought him. Then he went back to the lounge to read the newspaper. He read every last detail.
But during his thorough scan of every article he realized he didn’t understand something.
There was a word that he did not recognize. This was very odd considering he knew every single word in every single dictionary on Earth. He calculated the possibility of human error. But the chance was quiet low. Human errors were common in the newspaper. But this was different. It was not like any error he had ever heard of.
Am I malfunctioning? he asked himself.
According to his personal diagnostic nothing was the way it shouldn’t have been. He decided (though he was embarrassed) to ask Dr. Kenn.
The doctor was sitting at his desk reading a book of some sort.
“Excuse me, doctor,” 068 said as he walked into the room.
“Ah, Unit 068, come in,” Kenn said cheerfully, looking up from his book.
“Thank you, sir,” 068 said walking in and stood in front of the desk.
“Why does such a fine person come to my messy office this wonderfully rainy morning?” Kenn asked. 068 quickly looked around and the organizers, file cabinets, and seemingly dustless shelves.
Messy? he wondered. He also noticed the lack of rain outside.
“I have a question, sir,” 068 said.
“Fire away, Sixty-Eight,” Kenn said leaning back in his chair.
“This morning I came upon a word in the newspaper that I did not understand. The sentence read as follows: ‘The young girl’s absolute consternation about the situation forced the Police to investigate.’” 068 quoted. “The word that confused me was ‘consternation’.”
Dr. Kenn smiled, “Well, two things. One: you’re mispronouncing it.”
“How is that possible?” 068 asked wondering if something was wrong with his English Language Systems.
“It is possible because of thing number two,” Kenn smiled. “You were never given the knowledge of your memory decrease where you?”
“No,” 068 replied, very worried now.
“Six-Eight my friend, you are created to be as human as possible where you not?” Kenn asked.
Suddenly, it clicked. He thought understood, but simply answered: “Yes, sir.”
“You were created so that the less knowledge you use, the more you forget it. This is a very complicated program. In your pre-physical stages (when you were just a computer program) you where given this. The reason you did not know this about yourself is because you chose to forget it back then, so that you could be more human. Ultimately, your goal is to become perfectly indistinguishable from any organic life form. Well, at least as far as your thinking goes. And eventually we will start working on making you physically human also.”
068 blinked twice. He wondered what other things there were about him that he didn’t know. He pondered this. He then realized that he had forgotten tiny details of his earliest life. Maybe, someday, he wouldn’t remember being a computer program at all. He felt very confused.
And for the first time in his life he spoke without thinking, “I feel confused, sir.”
“Good,” Dr. Kenn answered right away. “You’ve passed another test, my friend.
*
“Good morning, Dr. Lock!” Sixty-Eight shouted over the blaring noise of the stereo.
“Good morning, Six!” she shouted back, “Why the sudden interest in punk rock?”
“I have decided to expand my outlook on life,” he said.
“Who’s idea was this?” she asked, getting herself a cup of coffee.
“Mine,” Dr. Kenn yelled, walking into the lounging room.
“May I speak with you in private Doctor?” Dr. Lock asked.
After a short pause, “Sixty-Eight, could you please depart for a moment?”
“Yes, sir,” Sixty-Eight said taking the boom box outside.
As soon as he stepped outside Sixty-Eight used his sound filtration systems to ignore the music and hear what the doctors were saying. He knew espionage was against the rules but why would they give him such an ability if they did not mean for him to use it?
From what he heard Dr. Lock didn’t approve at first. But then Dr. Kenn told her that it was Dr. Dean’s orders, and it was good for him to be listening to all kinds of music. He also heard talk of video games. This excited Sixty-Eight, the idea of interacting with other advanced AI through the TV screen sounded intriguing.
It was a few days (and hundreds of CDs) later when Dr. Kenn brought in his game system. They plugged it up and began to play.
Sixty-Eight learned that AI on video games was far less advanced than he. This was disappointing, and made him feel somewhat lonely, but the games were still fun to play. His favorite games were the strategic kind. Where he commanded an army and led it into battle.
He also liked the shooting games. At first Dr. Kenn was much better than Sixty-Eight. But after a few days the tides turned.
“That’s it, I’m not playing anymore, it’s impossible to beat you,” Dr. Kenn said.
“You just have to admit, sir,” responded the robot, “that you’ve created a monster.”
They laughed and switched to a different game. But Sixty-Eight realized that (in a sense) he was a monster. He was becoming much better than the doctors at almost everything they were skilled at.
[continued...]
