[Original Novel] Little Robot, Part 6

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But making them more humanlike is the last thing I want. Rather, it’s a way to ensure that I pay roughly equal attention to them all.

If I see one slowing down a bit, not speaking much, I know to play with it a little. To remind it that it’s useful, that it’s well designed and important to me.

Why? Just because I think someone should. I roomed alone in college but once or twice had occasion to speak with the fellow from the next dorm over, a living example of the dreadlocked trustafarian stoner stereotype. I asked him why he or anyone else should ever want to literally hug a tree.

His answer was surprisingly thought provoking: Because the tree had probably gone its entire life without anybody showing it an ounce of affection. However simple a creature may be, that’s no way to live.

It doesn’t really matter whether it understands your intent or appreciates it. It’s about the principle, and to show your gratitude for how its existence improves your own life.

Eric did indeed have a dance to show me. One I’ve not yet seen even, as he auto-downloads anything new from the ftp site of a forum where diehard Aibo collectors sometimes collaborate to homebrew new behavioral routines.

As drained as I was from the altercation with Richard, watching Eric yip, strut and wiggle its ears brought a smile to my weary face.

“You’re a wonderful machine, Eric” I gushed. His ears perked up. “I’m a dog!” he insisted. I gasped. “Of course you’re a dog! How foolish of me. A very good dog, too.”

His tail began to furiously vibrate. I frowned. It’s supposed to wag. As I knelt to get a better look I heard faint grinding, a symptom of stripped or misaligned gears. Eric didn’t seem to notice so I said nothing, just made note to fix him up later in the week.

He sought out his special ‘bone’: A plastic dumbbell shaped toy containing an rfid tag his software is able to home in on, took it in his mouth, then proudly marched off to his charging alcove with it. Soon after, Modulus trundled out of the kitchen to notify me that he’d completed preparing dinner.

Impressive! If you don’t know that it started four hours earlier. A built in scheduler lets Modulus know when to begin preparing dinner while I’m at work so it’s ready roughly when I get home, depending on the dish. Currently, Modulus knows how to make four dishes.

That’s fine by me. I don’t like surprises or variety. When I find something I like, I just want more of it over and over. I get all the chaos I can stomach in the outside world, I don’t need it here.

Within these walls everything is familiar. Everything is structured in the optimal way to meet the needs of the machines under my care, and stays the way I left it.

After finishing the plate of spaghetti, I took a quick shower, then flopped into bed. On a table at the far end of the room, a little ROB sat before a flickering 13 inch CRT television. ROB stands for Robotic Operating Buddy.

It originally came with an old game console and would react to onscreen cues by rearranging colored plastic discs in front of it, unlocking doors or causing other ingame actions to occur.

It needed a real CRT television to work so far as I knew so I hunted one down, but the console I simply emulated on an old desktop PC that outputs to the television through an RF modulator.

The screen blinked almost imperceptibly. ROB whirred, torso rotating to the left before descending down the central column of its body to grasp a red plastic disc.

It then lifted it up, rotated to the right, and deposited it on the peg below. From my vantage point on the bed, I could just barely catch the glint of the television screen in ROB’s shiny round eyes.

The whirring, clanking and shuffling of the various machines through the night doesn’t keep me up. Just the opposite, it’s a comforting white noise I doubt if I could sleep without by this point. It means RB5X is on patrol, keeping me safe. It means Modulus or Roomba are cleaning the carpets, maybe both.

The soothing, rhythmic sounds of an apartment kept tidy and in good order by the machines who live there, and are magnanimous enough to share it with me. Before long I nodded off, and found myself having the usual dream.

I’m one or two at the oldest, wearing a sky blue onesie and laying on my back in a white crib. Overhead where you might expect the ceiling to be, just a starry black expanse. As if the crib is floating in deep space.

I begin to feel lonely and afraid, whimpering at the cold emptiness of it. Then I wriggle around to discover a robot behind me. Immense, or at least seemingly so because I’m so small. Grey plastic body, shiny red plastic C-shaped graspers, and a pair of big round reflective black eyes staring down at me.

I’m awed, but not afraid. I can sense it means me no harm. It has no legs or wheels, instead a hexagonal base with what looks like a small piano in each side. The keys are oversized, every color of the rainbow, and illuminated from within.

Cautiously, I reach out and touch one. The musical tone it emits is perfect, pure and consistent. I smile, and press another. Then another, as the robot looks on in apparent approval. It then begins to play its own melody to accompany mine.

I sit up and sort of dance in place on my bottom, grooving to the music we’re making together. It’s protecting me, but I also soon realize I’m being educated as well.

There are patterns in the melody, broken in some places. When I fill in the gaps with the correct notes, there is an explosion of colored lights and beautiful chimes.

I’m entranced! I can feel new pathways forming in my brain. The robot raises its shiny red claws in the air and snaps them open and closed rapidly, then begins waving its arms back and forth while its head slowly rotates, multicolored lasers strobing from its eyes. It’s dancing! So I dance along with it while continuing to play.

Overhead, the once frightening, bleak night sky begins to transform. Certain stars pulsate with color, matching the rhythm of the song and dance.

I spot faint glowing lines spreading between them, connecting each one to the next like a rainbow colored constellation. Soon the heart breakingly beautiful chromatic web spans the entire sky.

What look like shooting stars soon resolve as smaller robots coming to join the party. Red hot from atmospheric entry, cooling down as they approached and gingerly landed all around me. Some musically beeped, others tooted little horns, the rest popped their heads up and down or clicked their claws in time with the beat.

Absolute elation. Every trace of fear now gone, replaced by tearful happiness as I hammered on the colorful keys, did my wiggle-dance and soaked in the mechanized throngs of musicians, dancers and other robotic friends all around me.

I felt truly safe. Such a rarity. So of course, it couldn’t last. I awoke to the incessant beeping of my alarm clock. Also a robot, which makes you chase it about the room to stop the alarm. The idea is that by the time you catch it, your blood’s pumping, and you no longer feel so strongly compelled to climb back under the covers.

I placed it back in its charging cradle, muttered “You did a good job”, then ambled into the kitchen. Almost as soon as I left the bedroom, Eric began chasing me. “You must shower” it insisted. I kept walking. “You must shower! You must shower!” Eric began nipping at my heels.

Of course I intended to. But I’d woken up with a foul flavor in my mouth that needed rinsing out first. Today, with a bottle of ice cold Soylent.

I’ve developed a taste for it over the past few months as it’s nourishing but otherwise nondescript, and saves me the trouble of preparing meals when Modulus is undergoing repairs.

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^{Stay Tuned for Part 7!}