David Gatewood - The Robot Chronicles

“I don’t believe so,” Andrew said. “I’ve already loaded the Dreamscape subroutines into my temporary memory banks for efficient access, and I’ve gone over the manual several times. I am quite curious to try the experience.”

“It’s designed to keep your mind occupied while you recharge. Just remember, Andrew… it may seem real to you, but it’s not. It’s just a computer program.”

Andrew cocked his head sideways in a gesture that Dr. Hawthorne found quite charming.

“Just a program—like me?” Andrew asked.

“Now, now. You don’t need to be fishing for compliments, Andrew. You’re much more than the sum of your parts.”

“I understand.”

“If you run into trouble during a Dreamscape session, you can always wake yourself out of it. Be careful.”

“Of course.”

“Goodbye, Andrew. And welcome to the world. I look forward to a wonderful friendship with you.”

“Thank you, Doctor Hawthorne. As do I.”

After the doctor left the observation room, Andrew took a few spins around his chamber. His treads enabled him to zip around the room at a top speed of thirty-five kilometers an hour, and he found he could control his arms, hands and fingers with utmost dexterity. He practiced opening cupboards and drawers, and locating and using various tools; he even tested his strength by lifting one side of the heavy workbench off the ground. He could do all these things perfectly on the first try, and it felt, to him, like he had been alive for much longer than he had been. He was only twenty minutes old, yet he had the knowledge of an entire species inside him.

Satisfied with his progress, Andrew wheeled over to his recharge station and settled onto the energy pad. The blue lights in his eyes dimmed as he accessed the Dreamscape subroutine, and he left the white, glass-walled room behind him.

Andrew floated upside down. His mind was bombarded by millions of images. He tried to concentrate on the flood of color, to slow it down, to take control of his thoughts, but the pictures were coming too fast.

One image kept repeating itself: a yellow dog named Danny, sitting in a field of grass. The other pictures faded when he focused on Danny, until that dog was all he could see. Finally, even that image disappeared and Andrew was in control of his mind once again.

He opened his eyes and stared up at a blank, blue sky. He got to his feet and stretched his arms above his head. He touched his head and felt his hair, traced the shape of his skull with his fingers. He gazed at his hands and marveled at his smooth skin.

In the Dreamscape, Andrew was human.

Andrew stretched his legs, and then began to run. The spongy grass welcomed his toes, and his long brown hair blew wildly behind him. Andrew looked down; he was naked, his bronzed, muscular body nearly hairless. He would have to find something to wear—a loincloth, at least.

He ran toward the horizon, skipping around the occasional tree or bush. His legs felt strong and powerful as he pumped them onward.

He was surrounded by lush grassland, with meandering hills and the occasional rocky outcropping. It looked bountiful and serene.

A dog barked in the distance. The sound was followed by a threatening growl, and then a sustained flurry of scuffling and yelping.

Andrew raced off toward the noises. It seemed that at least two animals were involved in the altercation, maybe more. Reaching the crest of a flower-covered hill, he stopped at looked down into the knoll before him.

“Danny? Is that you?”

A yellow-white lab bounded forward with its teeth bared and mouth frothing. It lunged, and nearly clamped its jaws on the neck of the jackal it was battling. Judging by the spatters of blood matting the yellow dog’s coat, the jackal was winning this fight. Both animals snarled and growled at each other.

The jackal leaped forward, incisors hunting for the dog’s jugular. The yellow dog yelped and skittered away, but the jackal came on strong. It pounced on top of the dog, pinning it down.

Andrew had to do something. He ran forward and, with a flying leap, kicked the jackal in the side. It screamed and rolled off the dog, its hair standing on end. When Andrew refused to move out of the way, the jackal bared its teeth once more, then turned and limped across the grassland, out of sight.

Andrew approached the dog, which was lying on its side, its breathing coming in slow pants. Andrew knelt down beside it.

“Danny, it is you. I thought I might find you here.”

He ran a hand over the dog’s soft head and looked around. He had to find some water to clean these wounds.

Andrew lifted Danny off the ground and began trekking through the ankle-deep grass. “It’s okay, Danny,” he said. “I’m here for you now. You’ll be safe.”

In the distance, a jackal howled its frustration to the blue, cloudless sky.

The charge station chimed to signify a full battery.

Andrew disconnected himself and began wheeling toward the glass wall of the observation room. This T-unit was nothing compared to the body he’d had in the Dreamscape. That feeling of being free, of running and leaping to his heart’s content—it couldn’t be surpassed. Here, in reality, his body seemed clunky, his every action ponderous and forced.

“Doctor Hawthorne?”

“Yes, Andrew.”

“Why don’t you give us better bodies?”

“Your body is perfect for your task, Andrew.”

Andrew wheeled closer to the observation window.

“And what is my task?”

Dr. Hawthorne stepped up to the glass. Technicians scurried around in the shadows behind him. “Your task is to live here, happily, with us.”

“I could still do that with a better body.”

“No, Andrew. Our country is at war, and supplies are limited. Besides, we’re more interested in your mind .”

Andrew suddenly realized he wasn’t alone in the chamber. He turned toward a scratching sound, and heard soft breathing.

At one end of the workbench stood a wire cage containing a single occupant: a white jackrabbit.

Andrew headed for the cage, intrigued. “Doctor Hawthorne. Why is there a rabbit in my room?”

“We couldn’t get a dog for you, Andrew, but this is the next best thing. What do you think?”

Andrew reached the cage and removed the metal top. The rabbit stared up at him quizzically, bristling its cheeks and whiskers as it sniffed the air. It was surrounded by yellow straw. Beside the cage were several boxes of vegetables, liquids, and pellets, and even a box of small rabbit toys.

Andrew reached for a carrot, then glanced at the doctor. “May I?” he asked, holding up the carrot.

“Of course you may, Andrew. He’s your rabbit now. You just have to promise to take good care of him.”

Andrew lowered the carrot into the cage and carefully placed it a few centimeters from the rabbit’s snout. It sniffed the air excitedly, then took a hop toward the carrot. It nibbled away happily, keeping one eye on Andrew.

“Yes, I think it’s a very good idea,” Andrew said, turning back to the doctor. “Companionship is important.”

“It’s very important, Andrew. You might even say that, to a human, companionship is the most important aspect of life.”

“And to an AI?”

Hawthorne shrugged. “I don’t know, Andrew; I’m not an AI. We hope that’s one of the things you can help us with.”

Andrew moved closer to the observation room. “I’m not the first AI unit. There have been many others before me. Didn’t they tell you?”

The doctor shook his head. “Every iteration is an improvement upon the last. Andrew, you need to understand: you’re the first unit to utilize the Empathy 5 chip. You’re very likely the most human artificial intelligence on the planet. You’re incredibly important to us.”