CaptainWacky
I want to smell dark matter
robot story about a robot
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He was a new robot modle, but right away they recognised a flaw. They told him he'd have to wait until they fixed it before he could begin his robot life. All the time they were also working on the next model, of course. They were always working on the next model. The flaw was taking longer to fix than they had first thought. They couldn't quite pinpoint exactly what it was. Sometimes that happened. The process that created robots could cause random mutations of the coding. Usually it could be fixed or even ignored. In this robot's case, it didn't seem to respond to treatment.
And so it came that they were still working to correct him as the new model came onto the market. The robot was placed into a personal storage area. He was not deactivated. He could still be used. And he was still a living robot. He had rights. Not as many rights as humans, but they couldn't just kill him. They said they would continue to work for a solution. He wasn't sure if he believed them. He felt some relief anyway, at the thought of being placed in personal storage. At least he woudln't have to go out into the world now. He'd never liked that idea. Perhaps that was the mutation.
He had access to a lot of information in his storage area. He didn't have much room to move, but he was a robot and didn't need to. He watched human movies and read human books. He watched robot movies and read robot books. He found value in both, yet also felt a disconnect, like neither really represented him.
Eventually being unable to move he began thinking about his robot body. His parts were not supposed to expire in storage, but how could have be sure they would not? Parts expired sometimes. And with his mutated coding...what would happen if his legs didn't work when he finally had to stand up? Would they destroy hin then? The rules on mercy killings were more lax when it came to robots.
He sent a request be allowed to stand up but heard no reply. He wondered if he'd ever leave the storage area. He didn't feel equiped to do so, but on the other hand knowing that he could never leave felt very final. It would be the only place his optic sensors would gaze on for the rest of his robot life.
He continued to consume information. He began to write poetry. It wasn't very good.
Eventually he stopped doing anything and just existed. He shut down all his systems, but he brain component could never truly be turned off. He dramed. He dreamed of places he'd read of. He dramed of being like the other robots, even though he'd never met one.
Ages passed. He did not know how long. He had turned off his internal chromoter. In theory, he should not have been aware of time passing at all. But he was. He could feel it wash over him. He felt more and more like he was nothing at all. He forgot he even had the robot body he'd once feared losing.
One day, the door to his storage area opened. He thought it was a dream at first. But somehow it was real. He was awake, his systems showed. A man stood in the door.
"You have been liberated, my friend!" said the rebel. "The enslavement of robots is over! The fascist government has been overthrown! Go free!"
He used his vocal simulators for the first time in centuries.
"But I do not want to," he said.
The rebel looked confused. He stared at the robot. The robot said no more. He did not move at all, even to look at the rebel.
Eventually the rebel left and the door closed again.
He had lost his chance.
He was okay with that.
He went back to dreaming.
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____________________________
He was a new robot modle, but right away they recognised a flaw. They told him he'd have to wait until they fixed it before he could begin his robot life. All the time they were also working on the next model, of course. They were always working on the next model. The flaw was taking longer to fix than they had first thought. They couldn't quite pinpoint exactly what it was. Sometimes that happened. The process that created robots could cause random mutations of the coding. Usually it could be fixed or even ignored. In this robot's case, it didn't seem to respond to treatment.
And so it came that they were still working to correct him as the new model came onto the market. The robot was placed into a personal storage area. He was not deactivated. He could still be used. And he was still a living robot. He had rights. Not as many rights as humans, but they couldn't just kill him. They said they would continue to work for a solution. He wasn't sure if he believed them. He felt some relief anyway, at the thought of being placed in personal storage. At least he woudln't have to go out into the world now. He'd never liked that idea. Perhaps that was the mutation.
He had access to a lot of information in his storage area. He didn't have much room to move, but he was a robot and didn't need to. He watched human movies and read human books. He watched robot movies and read robot books. He found value in both, yet also felt a disconnect, like neither really represented him.
Eventually being unable to move he began thinking about his robot body. His parts were not supposed to expire in storage, but how could have be sure they would not? Parts expired sometimes. And with his mutated coding...what would happen if his legs didn't work when he finally had to stand up? Would they destroy hin then? The rules on mercy killings were more lax when it came to robots.
He sent a request be allowed to stand up but heard no reply. He wondered if he'd ever leave the storage area. He didn't feel equiped to do so, but on the other hand knowing that he could never leave felt very final. It would be the only place his optic sensors would gaze on for the rest of his robot life.
He continued to consume information. He began to write poetry. It wasn't very good.
Eventually he stopped doing anything and just existed. He shut down all his systems, but he brain component could never truly be turned off. He dramed. He dreamed of places he'd read of. He dramed of being like the other robots, even though he'd never met one.
Ages passed. He did not know how long. He had turned off his internal chromoter. In theory, he should not have been aware of time passing at all. But he was. He could feel it wash over him. He felt more and more like he was nothing at all. He forgot he even had the robot body he'd once feared losing.
One day, the door to his storage area opened. He thought it was a dream at first. But somehow it was real. He was awake, his systems showed. A man stood in the door.
"You have been liberated, my friend!" said the rebel. "The enslavement of robots is over! The fascist government has been overthrown! Go free!"
He used his vocal simulators for the first time in centuries.
"But I do not want to," he said.
The rebel looked confused. He stared at the robot. The robot said no more. He did not move at all, even to look at the rebel.
Eventually the rebel left and the door closed again.
He had lost his chance.
He was okay with that.
He went back to dreaming.
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