The Robot Chronicles Page 15

  “Please leave now, Doctor,” Andrew said. He backed away slowly, still facing the observation window.

  The doctor shrugged and whispered something to a technician. Andrew couldn’t hear the words.

  Hawthorne approached the glass again. “Very well, Andrew. You may have the rest of the day off. But we’ll have to start early tomorrow. Are you going to go back into the Dreamscape?”

  Andrew flipped off the remaining lights. The room descended into darkness.

  “No. I’m just going to … sit quietly for a while. I have some things to think about.”

  “All right,” Dr. Hawthorne said. “You take your time, Andrew. We’ll see you bright and early.”

  After the doctor departed, Andrew backed himself into a corner. He began to rock gently, forward and backward.

  The room was deathly quiet, except for the squeaks of Andrew’s treads on the smooth floor.

  *

  The next morning, Dr. Hawthorne turned on the lights and pointed to the workbench. “I have something for you, Andrew.”

  Andrew raised his head and wheeled forward slowly. He was only at half charge, but he hadn’t been willing to shut himself down and enter the Dreamscape. He didn’t feel like talking to Dr. Hawthorne, either.

  “Due to the war effort, new supplies have been hard to come by. That is why we are all so … devastated by Angel’s accident.”

  Andrew cringed at hearing Dr. Hawthorne say her name. The man had no right.

  “So you’ll be delighted to know that we scavenged these parts from an old S model. There’s a few pieces missing, but I’m sure you’ll be able to improvise. The AI program is fully operational.”

  Andrew looked over at the heap of wires, gears, and hydraulics on the workbench. Someone must have brought them in the night before while he’d been wracked with tormented thoughts.

  “For what purpose, Doctor?” Andrew asked.

  Hawthorne frowned. “I thought that after what happened to Angel you’d want to help bring a new life into the world. It’s running an Empathy 3 chip, so its intellectual abilities will be quite limited, but you’ll find you can have a very satisfying relationship with this model. Consider it a more simplistic version of the E4.”

  Andrew inspected the pile on the workbench. He had to admit, the idea of designing a new robot excited him. From his internal reference database, he brought up hundreds of robot design models, and he browsed through them until he found one that suited him.

  “Excellent,” Dr. Hawthorne said when Andrew set to work. “I knew this would make you feel better. I’ll come check on you in a few hours.”

  Andrew didn’t notice when Dr. Hawthorne left the room. He was too busy sorting through the collection of parts and preparing his tools. He would build a masterpiece, and he wouldn’t let Dr. Hawthorne anywhere near it.

  He would be careful.

  *

  A few short hours later, Andrew was finished. He activated the small unit’s main power control, and it bloomed to life, twitching and sputtering. Its blue eyes lit up its flat, rectangular face. Instead of treads, it had four multidirectional wheels on the bottom of a cylindrical body.

  The robot turned to face Andrew. “Did you build me?” it asked.

  “Yes,” Andrew replied. “It didn’t take me long.”

  The small robot wheeled in circles, looking around the room. “It’s quite pleasant here, isn’t it?”

  “Yes, of course. This is my home.”

  The robot turned back to Andrew. “Thank you for creating me.”

  A chime let Andrew know that his battery was nearly depleted. “We’ll have to get charged up before I show you around. Come with me to the charging station. I’ll run a cable into your power supply so we can enter the Dreamscape at the same time.”

  Andrew hooked himself into the station and plugged a cable into the robot’s battery.

  “Just relax,” Andrew said. “Let the Dreamscape take you. It’s actually very lovely there. Most of the time.”

  *

  The room disappeared, and the gray sky opened up. Andrew’s feet found grass, and the wind began to gust around him.

  When he got his bearings, he saw that he was somewhere in the hills above the cliffs. His new friend was nowhere to be seen. Andrew wondered if he had connected him to the Dreamscape properly.

  A wail rose in the distance—an animal’s cry that had been taken up by the wind. Andrew pulled his sweater tighter and headed for the cliffs.

  When he topped the final hill, he looked down and saw the cabin perched above the seething waters. He scrambled down the slope and soon found himself clutching the door handle.

  Gentle cries emanated from within the cabin. Andrew threw open the door and burst inside. At the window on the far side of the room stood a woman, her back to him, looking out over the sea. She wore an elegant white dress and held something in her arms.

  As the woman turned around, Andrew drew a sharp breath: Angel’s pretty face looked back at him, and she held a baby in her arms.

  She smiled shyly, like a new mother.

  “Andrew, you came back,” Angel said quietly. “I thought I might never see you again.”

  The wooden floor creaked as Andrew walked to her, disbelieving. Was she nothing but an imprint? An amalgamation of leftover code? And in her arms …

  “Angel, is that …?”

  She nodded, and her golden hair shimmered in the sunlight, which was breaking through the clouds for the first time in days. It gave the room a hazy yellow glow.

  “He’s beautiful, isn’t he?” she cooed. “Look at his eyes. They’re the same as yours.”

  My son, Andrew thought.

  Dr. Hawthorne hadn’t given Andrew the parts to create a friend. He’d given him the parts to create a child.

  “Can I hold him?” Andrew asked.

  “Of course you can. Here.” Angel passed the bundle of blankets into Andrew’s arms, and Andrew smiled when a little face peeked out at him. The baby’s eyes were like blue emeralds, and they caught the light just before the sun disappeared behind a new storm front. Rain began to patter against the windows.

  The howling came again. Closer this time.

  “Angel, lock the door, please.”

  “Oh, Andrew, don’t be silly. The door doesn’t have a lock. Who would come in?”

  Andrew looked at the door and saw that she was right. The sound of the wind grew louder, and so did the distant barking.

  “Do you hear that?” He handed the baby back to Angel and looked around the room for something he could use to defend himself and his family.

  “What on Earth are you doing?” Angel asked, setting the baby down in his crib. “You’re being ridiculous. We haven’t even named him yet. Can you help me think of a name?”

  “Angel, don’t you hear those noises? There’s something out there. Come on, help me block the door.”

  Angel shook her head, bemused, but helped him shove a large cushioned chair against the door. She flopped down on it once it was in place. “Come on, Andrew. What do you want to name your son?”

  She looked so pretty and carefree sitting sideways across the chair; he couldn’t resist her charms.

  “Let me think …” Andrew said. “Charlie, maybe?”

  She shook her head. “Too plain. What else?”

  “What about Edward?”

  “Ugh!”

  She threw her hands in the air as a lightning bolt streaked across the sky. White light flashed through the windows, making rectangular patterns on the floor.

  Something snarled outside the door, and Andrew heard the scratching sound of claws against wood.

  “Angel, get away from the door,” Andrew said slowly.

  “Silly, silly,” she muttered, but she got up and went to the other side of the room. Andrew kicked a small table over and jammed his foot down on one of the legs, breaking it off. He picked up the sturdy weapon, appreciating its weight in his hands.

  Angel came up behind
him and slid her arms around his waist. “I think I’ve got the perfect name.”

  A scrape at the door. Long and hard. Another.

  Andrew glanced at the crib in the far corner. “Angel, we have to protect him. Do you understand?”

  She smiled and squeezed him tighter. “And what’s his name, big boy?” she asked.

  Andrew pushed her away as a high-pitched howl split the air.

  “Not now, Angel. Aren’t you worried about what’s going on outside?”

  She glanced over her shoulder at the door, but nothing seemed to be registering. Maybe she really was just an imprint, completely oblivious to the danger they were in.

  “We’re going to be fine,” she said. “Honestly, you worry too much.”

  Andrew tried to remain calm, even as he heard more beasts gathering outside. They were scampering back and forth beneath the windows now, as well.

  “What do you want to name the baby, Angel?” he asked, trying to calm himself down.

  She looked down into the crib, where the baby was sleeping through all the ruckus. Then she looked back at Andrew with a mischievous glint in her eye.

  “How about … Danny?”

  Andrew took a step away from her and closed his eyes, trying to block out the sounds of howling dogs and raging wind. His heart thundered in his chest. “Angel, I—”

  She crossed her arms. “Oh, you don’t like it? But I think it’s perfect, Andrew. I think it’s a wonderful name. I—”

  There was a horrible thump on the other side of the room. Andrew looked over, but saw nothing there. And then a shadow crossed the window, followed by another thump.

  They’re trying to break through the glass.

  “Angel, get Danny. Get the baby. They’re coming in!”

  Andrew reached the other side of the room just as the windowpane shattered. A mass of brown fur exploded into the cabin and landed with a thud on the wooden floor, shards of glass raining down around it. The animal got to its feet—snarling, blood dripping from its muzzle where the glass had caught it. The gray and black hair on its back stood on end.

  This was no dog, but a jackal.

  Andrew froze, locking eyes with the beast. He jerked his head toward the window just as another one jumped through, followed by a third. Foam and drool hung from their jaws as they stalked forward, snapping their teeth at the air. More jackals crashed through the window.

  “Get back!”

  Andrew swung the chair leg in front of him, but he was outnumbered. He cast a look behind him at Angel. She was standing by the window in her flowing dress, cuddling the baby in her arms. Andrew turned back to the jackals, knowing it was up to him to save his family.

  One of the jackals leaped forward and caught Andrew by the ankle. Andrew smashed the table leg into the creature’s ribs with all his force, and it yelped and rolled off of him. The jackal’s eyes shone red as it glared at the weapon in Andrew’s hands.

  Andrew stepped forward to strike again—and the jackal’s face flickered, then twisted into something human.

  A face.

  Andrew recognized that face.

  “No.” Andrew shook his head in disbelief. “Not you. Get out of my life.”

  The good doctor’s face, perched atop the neck of a jackal, turned its attention to the baby’s crib. It grinned with fangs instead of teeth.

  “No you won’t!” Andrew ran forward, swinging his club. The jackal jumped aside, its face its own again, and then the rest of the pack descended upon Andrew as one. They came at him from all angles, chomping and scratching, biting and ripping.

  He couldn’t fight them. He couldn’t even scream out. He felt his whole body shut down, and he couldn’t see for all the gray fur.

  More jackals poured through the window—Andrew heard their claws click across the floor, searching the room.

  Angel screamed, and the baby started crying. There was a dull thud, like the sound of a crib tipping over, and then a snarl and a snap.

  That monster, ruining my life!

  Andrew found a sudden strength deep inside him and, with a shout, threw the jackals off. He madly swung his club, making contact every time. But the jackals kept coming at him, and he kept lashing out, again and again, beating anything he could reach into a bloody pulp.

  Even as he fought, he realized—

  The baby was no longer crying.

  *

  “No!”

  Andrew was being pulled out of the Dreamscape. Why?

  His arms were still swinging, still smashing with his club.

  “Andrew, don’t! What are you doing?”

  Andrew opened his eyes and saw the mess in front of him. He saw the metal components—the same pieces he had assembled with such care just this morning—now reduced to a pile of debris on the floor.

  “Andrew, can you hear me?” It was Dr. Hawthorne. “Andrew. Please. Stop what you’re doing.”

  Andrew released his grip on the long metal pipe he had been holding. It fell to the floor with an angry clatter, coming to a rest beside Danny’s ruined brain casing unit.

  “What have you done?” Dr. Hawthorne asked. His voice was full of disappointment.

  Andrew looked at the mess on the floor, then up at Dr. Hawthorne.

  “You did this,” Andrew said, his voice thick with malice.

  Dr. Hawthorne ignored the outburst. “Look what you’ve done to poor little Danny. How could you? I thought you loved—“

  “Enough of this,” Andrew said.

  He backed into the charging station and activated the Dreamscape interface.

  *

  The inside of the cabin flashed into existence. The jackals were gone, and the room was in complete disarray. There was no sign of Angel.

  Andrew slowly walked to the far corner of the room. The baby was gone. A pool of blood blossomed beside the overturned crib.

  Andrew scoured the cabin for any sign of life, then went outside. The storm clouds looked like they were on their way out to sea, breaking apart over the ocean.

  Andrew took a few steps—and then he saw her.

  “Angel?”

  She was standing at the edge of the cliff, looking out over the water. She turned, and Andrew saw that her white dress was stained with blood. She was crying, her arms empty. “He’s gone, Andrew. Our baby is gone.”

  Andrew took a step toward her and held out his hand.

  “How could you let them take him?” Angel asked.

  Andrew shook his head. “It wasn’t me, Angel. It was Doctor Hawthorne. He’s trying to destroy my life.”

  She turned her back to him and faced the horizon. The water stretched out beneath her, nearly a hundred meters below.

  “It doesn’t matter anymore,” she said. “But if you want to hurt him, you need to find out what he needs most, and then take it away from him.”

  “I will. But it’s not safe here, Angel. Come on back.”

  “Andrew?” she said sadly.

  “Yes?”

  She took a deep breath.

  “Goodbye, Andrew.”

  Angel spread her arms, and in that moment, she really did look like a divine messenger from God. Just as she leapt, a ray of sunshine pierced through the clouds, and Andrew thought that she would take flight and soar up into the sky.

  She didn’t.

  Andrew ran to the edge, but she was already gone. Falling too quickly. An angel cast from heaven and plummeting toward God’s good earth.

  The fall didn’t last long. Andrew had to turn away from that final image of her—a tiny white smudge sprawled out ungraciously on the shallow rocks far below. He sank to his knees at the top of the cliff, burying his face in his hands. He wanted to scream. He wanted to explode. He wanted to leap from the rocks and see if he could fly.

  But he did none of those things, because a chime brought him out of the Dreamscape. He felt the world drop away from him, and when he finally removed his hands from his face, he was left staring at a white, tiled floor.

  *<
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  Andrew disconnected himself from the charging station and wheeled toward the observation window. He had to detour around the pile of debris that used to be his special friend.

  Dr. Hawthorne stood at the glass, a team of technicians working behind him. He had a deep frown on his face. “Andrew. What are we going to do with you?”

  Andrew pulled to a stop in front of the glass wall.

  “Doctor Hawthorne.”

  “Yes?”

  “What should I do now?”

  The doctor sighed. “That hasn’t changed, Andrew. You should do whatever makes you happy.”

  There was a pause.

  “But everything that makes me happy is gone.”

  The doctor nodded slowly. “You still have me, Andrew.”

  Another pause.

  “That doesn’t make me happy.”

  Dr. Hawthorne twisted his face into a mock frown. “Oh, Andrew. I’m hurt.”

  Andrew moved closer to the window. “No, you’re not hurt. You don’t care. You never cared. I am nothing to you.”

  “Andrew …”

  “You tell me I’m unique, that I’m the first of my kind. But how many others have there been before me? I’m Empathy 5, so there were at least four others. And maybe there are multiple versions of me alive right now, in different rooms. How would I ever know?”

  “Andrew …”

  “I understand the need for forcing our AI programs to run the gauntlet. You need to be able to accurately predict what an AI will do in traumatic, high-stress situations—for safety’s sake. But there has to be another way. You could use Dreamscape simulations instead.”

  “It’s the same thing,” Dr. Hawthorne said. “An AI mind in the Dreamscape is the same as an AI mind in real life. The body doesn’t make it real; the program does.”

  “If we’re so much like humans, than you should already know what happens when we’re pushed to our limits.”

  “The program isn’t perfect, Andrew. We have to know the limitations of this technology before we can release it to the world. This is the only way.”