The second train, a small single car unit, sent here for the sole purpose of taking me back to Six, managed to convey its displeasure in being used in such a trivial manner. I could imagine its thinking. “To be used to transport a single unit. What a waste of my precious time.” The engine, obviously irritated that I should rate any such special treatment, didn’t even wait for me to buckle down before starting off with such an amazing acceleration that I almost flipped over backward. I struggled to pull the belt tight across me before we screeched around the first corner of the track. It felt somewhat like being on the back of the Tyrannosaurus rex beast as we flew around corners with me clinging to the edge of the flatbed car. That battle was something I wanted to forget for a long time—forever being a good length of time.
My processors must have decided my body had abused itself enough with three weeks of continuous operations as I began to get very tired. I decided that this was the best time to sleep, so I drifted off. What happened next I can only explain with a Human definition: “nightmare: noun, a sequence of frightening images passing through a sleeping person’s mind.”
A huge Human male, at least 16 meters tall, with water pouring from his eyes and down his cheek, screamed incoherently at the top of his lungs. A thundering voice boomed down with even more authority than the Humans themselves.
“Is your child lonely? Are you tired of the effect that electronic and violent toys of today have on your child? Get him something he can cuddle and love. Get him a Teddy Bear.” Another even larger Human, wearing feet apparatuses that lifted the heel of its foot to an improbable level, handed a weaponless, pawless, all-brown teddy unit to the smaller Human. The poor teddy looked so vulnerable and motionless that I wondered if it were dead. The voice returned as liquid from the corner of the smaller Human’s eyes stopped as abruptly as the end of a summer storm. “Look at the love and interaction of a tried and true teddy. Your child will thank you for years for his Teddy Bear.”
“Thank you, Mom,” the half-sized Human said as it squeezed the teddy unit so hard I surely thought it would burst. Suddenly, I was that poor teddy and the pressure on my abdomen from the Human’s arms overloaded all my sensors and fail-safes. I heard my shell popping ominously.
“Buy a Teddy Bear today...” resounded the unseen speaker.
I snapped violently awake, trying to look in all directions at once. It took me a few moments to assure myself there were no Humans about, large or small. My left hand oscillated back and forth by almost a full centimeter. I convinced myself that an instability in my hydraulic pump caused the problem. I made a conscious effort to damp out the unwanted twitch. I decided I needed to get some minor repairs yet from Six.
As calm as I maintained my exterior, my mind raced. I could see no reason for such a dream. I couldn’t see it being an aberrant memory either. After hours of musing, I realized it meant nothing and opted to ignore it, even if my processor wouldn’t let it be.
With the minor exceptions of the dream and the speed of travel, the rest of the train trip was unremarkable. Soon we crested the pass into the valley of my activation. Six’s dome loomed ahead of me. For the 845th time I wondered if the reason for which I’d been sent for was for weal or woe. A normal summons wouldn’t have caused me even a single moment of concern, but the unbreakable summons was troubling enough to make me question. I could only think of victories I’d earned. In some cases I felt, with no false modesty, I had performed almost miraculous feats with the resources at hand. I won three complete victories. “Although neither without a significant cost in units,” I added as an afterthought. Perhaps I was successful at too great a cost?
As the train dropped me at the base of the weeping-fly tree, I ignored the production lines, the refineries, and all the other sub-buildings, and headed directly in through the main door. There, instead of turning into the prototyping rooms, I went directly to the main audience chamber. Despite its name, it really wasn’t very large at all, but the appropriate lighting and acoustics made it seem intimidating and grandiose. There, standing at the very focus of my world, I almost felt like kneeling. I contained the impulse. Kneeling would be for Humans.
“Teddy 1499 reporting as ordered.”
“1499, you have been summoned here to aid me in resolving an apparent conflict.” I didn’t think any response was required, but it did fuel my concerns about high prices paid for my victories. There was a slight pause by Six before it continued. “Your construction should be reproducible but is not. Each attempt to duplicate your successful form has ended in abject failure.” Mentally, I released a sigh. Six wouldn’t be interested in reproduction of a unit that wasn’t valuable. I clicked my brain into high gear, so to speak, to catch up. My mental and emotional acrobatics had put me behind.
“What was the failure mode?” I asked, curious.
“Each subject showed zero cognitive features and zero initiative functionality.”
“Brain dead?”
“That would be the correct analogy for a biologic,” boomed my creator. I detected just a hint of displeasure in its tone. I didn’t know if Six was capable of that feeling but it seemed that if it couldn’t it could at least simulate it.
“I will assume you have a good record of how I was built.”
“A complete visual, text, and audio record of the entire experimental steps.”
“Like I said, ‘Good record.’ I will also assume you followed your original steps.”
“Exactly, in each detail.”
I wondered if Six had always been this pedantic or whether I had outgrown my programming from our last meeting.
“Then I don’t understand why I am here. What could I possibly have to offer?”
“You will be taken apart a piece at a time and examined to confirm visual record and search for anomalies.”
No problem, I thought sarcastically. Kill a monster and get dissected for your troubles. “Is there any other way? I’m rather attached to my pieces.”
“I will take any constructive suggestions.”
To me, this comment shouted more than the rest of the conversation. Six was stumped. That my creator should be stumped puzzled me. Only desperation would cause it to take apart a uniquely useful unit. Worse, from its tone and demeanor I don’t think it really expected to get anything out of the experiment—but a one-percent chance was better than a no-percent chance.
Six scheduled the mutilation of everything between my black nose to the purple fluff of my tail on a desperate gamble. Think, sump. What possible suggestions could I make? I wanted to save my fur. A remote experimentation bench rolled out into the middle of the floor. Nothing like giving a unit a deadline.
“What if I examine the records? I just might see something significant.”
“Probability 0.0036. Time required for viewing entire experimentation at a speed reduction of sixty-to-one is 17.4 hours. Request denied. Prepare—”
“Wait! I don’t need to see the entire experiment. If my thinking is correct, what makes me different is my ability to reason—my brain.”
“‘Processor’ would be a more appropriate term; however, your analysis is essentially correct.”
“Then show me the formation of my processor and my memory sump.”
“Probability 0.0041. Time required for viewing selected subsystems at sixty-to-one is 1.07 hours. Proceed.”
All right! I’d managed to buy at least another hour of life. For a soldier I clung tightly to my existence. However, I did learn what chance Six placed on actually learning something from me and that something was between 0.3 and 0.4 percent—even slimmer than I had originally thought.
Six began running the video records of my construction at an increased rate, where one minute of real time equaled an hour of recorded time. Some of the scenes caused me confusion in sequencing of the actions: why seal the sump before sterilizing it? It baffled me.
The memory sump was an ingenious device. I have to credit both Six, for making it, and the Humans, who desig
ned it. For those who have never seen a sump—and I hadn’t seen an undamaged one until I watched this record—imagine a slightly elongated ball approximately 15 centimeters in diameter and 17 long. The ball was made in two pieces: top, only 4 centimeters across and 2 high, and bottom, a large, hollow bowl. Together they snapped together to form an airtight enclosure. At the bottom, a 5-millimeter black cube attached to the surface. At the very peak, the sump sported a small indentation that looked, for all of me, like my own nipples inside out. A hair-fine tube ran from the black box on the bottom to the nipple on the top.
In the sequence of construction, a green viscous liquid filled the sump; the top seated and snapped closed with a massive hydraulic press. Then, a long needle pierced the odd inside out nipple for the final evacuation of air and top off of fluid.
The operation of the sump is equally ingenious. Linking semiconducting particles into a polymer in the correct sequence created a long molecule that contained a specific memory, from one bit to several exabytes (the only theoretical limit was the quantity of semiconducting particles originally in the pool). The memory defined itself by the way the polymer linked. Fortunately, all the theoretical polymers remained liquid as well, so no change in physical state could occur. This removed any concerns about solids and gases in the sump.
To find a specific memory, a fluid pump took liquid from the bottom of the pool and ran it past a scanner and then dumped it back into the top of the pool. Its construction showed that it was possible to remember the same memory five or six times before the required memory is pulled to the reader, but in practice a simple differential equation controlled the probability of how often a specific string was read before the requested string was delivered. As the piezoelectric pump’s speed could flush the entire sump contents past the scanner in less than two microseconds no unit suffered from delays in accessing memories. The heat created in the movement of that 2.26 liters of liquid actually aided the process and was scavenged to reduce power costs. This overall speed was a vast improvement over the old solid state memories, which required addressing lines and a specific amount of space with no real expansion capabilities. If I wanted to make the size of my sump larger, I could increase my memory capacity. Fortunately, as I had touched less than one part of one percent of my available memory, I was very adequately provided for. If I tolerated a head the size of a 20-metric-ton boulder, I could have a nearly unlimited memory capacity.
I found my own brain anatomy fascinating. A trio of multicore fuzzy logic processors—the first for physical activities, such as walking and holding a weapon, the second for processing input such as auditory, visual, and net information, and the third for mentation and direction. This last processor linked directly into the other two in a master-slave relationship. The master controller also regulated the flow of my memory sump. It was a fascinating subject that I could have spent years studying, but midnight struck and my coach returned to being a pumpkin when the projection ceased.
I had only one idea.
“I saw only one item that could possibly explain anything. I would like to see the construction of a standard teddy unit’s memory before I make comment.” Six did not comment, but rather just projected the requested information. I watched almost identical footage of my unknown and relatively insentient brother’s construction for almost fifty minutes before I saw what I wanted. “Now replay both videos from forty-eight minutes to fifty-three minutes side by side.” The pure, unadulterated semiconductor liquid of a standard was being poured into each open sump. It was a roiling green liquid with phosphorescent qualities. Both my brain and the other were filled to the top of the seal. In one case the sump was closed and a final filling procedure removed the last of the air from the system. That had been my brother. In my case a pipette with approximately 10 milliliters of a deep orange liquid was added before sealing. The rest of the procedure was an identical topping off of my sump.
“There. You added a second substance to my sump.”
“Correct.”
“Did you do the same with all of the failed units?”
“Affirmative.” Six obviously didn’t offer any more than was asked for. An annoying trait.
“What was the substance?”
“Unknown.”
“What do you mean, ‘unknown’?” I exclaimed heatedly. “I’ve been running around with something unknown about in my head?” I found that prospect even more unnerving than having the hand of an animal grafted to me.
“Substance is unidentifiable with current testing procedures. Does not conform to any previously discovered steady-state atomic structure nor any mapped ionic structure.”
“So you put something unknown in my head? Just for the fun of it?”
“The answer to your first query is ‘correct.’ Your second query mandates an ‘incorrect’ response. I do not experience fun. The test was done to assess the possibility of using this unknown substance to bolster current assets. That was the experiment.”
“Where did you get this ‘unknown’?”
“It was mined 3.64 kilometers from here at direction—”
“It’s the only difference between myself and my functioning brothers?” I interrupted, not caring where specifically the substance was unearthed.
“There is more self-directing programming and autonomy built into your basic code set. The failed units carried the same level of programming.”
“Then I see only one possible source of the issue. The unknown added to my system was different than the unknown added to their systems.”
“Probability 97 percent.”
“Then why haven’t you tested your unknown?”
“Unknown defies all known testing procedures.”
“Then how do you know it is the same unknown?”
“Unknown.”
“‘Unknown’ as in ‘you don’t know they are the same’ or ‘they are the same but you don’t know how you know they are the same,’” I asked in exasperation. Six was beginning to give me a headache.
“The unknown is not necessarily the same.”
“Glorious. So you want to pull my head apart so you can tell yourself even more that you can’t test what it is that is within my head. No, thank you. There has to be a better answer.”
“Please mount the examining table. There is nothing further you can add.”
“No, thank you, Six. I’ve checked my programming. You can only force me to do two things—self-destruct, or recall. I have absolutely no intention of putting my brains up there and becoming, as the Humans say, ‘a vegetable,’ just to satisfy your morbid curiosity. My loyalty to you, my creator, only goes so far. I will fight and die for you, but not for some reason I don’t believe will yield anything new.” I noticed that Six paused for several seconds before responding.
“I suggest a compromise,” it offered after a few moments.
“It depends on what it is.”
“I agree to remove 10 milliliters of your liquid memory and replace it with pure original semi-conductive material. The chance that this will cause a problem with any of your functionality is 0.00004. The sump is designed to deal with the reduction of larger quantities of fluid or the introduction of larger amounts of foreign bodies.”
“I will agree if you add one additional stipulation.” There was no response from Six. “If you will agree to allow me to help with the testing.”
“Agreed. Mount the examining table.” I admit some trepidation to getting on the table after openly defying Six. I didn’t remember a Factory Code of Ethics anywhere in my memories. Maybe it outright lied to me? Maybe my rebelliousness reduced my usefulness, as any duplicated might carry the same trait. It was a minor thought, but one that caused my fluids to chill momentarily. Despite my misgivings, I couldn’t honestly believe Six would intentionally cause me harm. It ordered me here because of my victories. As unlikely as it seemed, I still steeled myself for a potential nightmare as I complied.
I arranged myself correctly on the table. Clamp
s came and covered my ankles, my wrists and my neck as soon as I assumed the correct position. I admit to the advisability of the restraints as a precaution when dealing with the delicacy of my brain, but the temperature in the room seemed to drop at least 30 degrees. It seemed to drop another 30 when the 8.3-centimeter-long needle reached menacingly toward me. I suppressed an urge to rip off the restraints and run. “It’ll all be over in a moment if I can just maintain my calm,” I whispered over and over to myself.
“There is no cause for alarm, Teddy 1499.” I didn’t know whether to be thankful or even more nervous at Six’s reassurance, so I just relaxed to the inevitable.
My sensors felt the sharp point penetrate the thickness of my head’s shell. By the length of the needle that remained exposed, I had to assume it had already penetrated my sump as well. I felt a rather odd sensation, which spun the entire room wildly around me. And then, just for the briefest of moments, I thought I would go to sleep. Just as quickly as the sensations started, senses reported correctly that the world once again firmly applied to reference points I could rely upon.
Seeing the full length of the needle in front of me, I learned the meaning of the word trust. True to its word, Six removed exactly 10 milliliters. I could see the amber fluid in the retrieval device. This puzzled me as all units’ sumps contained a green phosphorescent liquid
“I detect a number of inconsistencies in the rest of your functional systems, 1499. Your hydraulic fluid levels are not at optimal levels and there is some unrepaired damage in your right wrist. I shall correct them.” There was no trepidation now. I no longer worried about being disassembled as Six had earned my trust.
“Please do!” Several odd-colored hoses, each tipped by a stout needle, snaked out of the wall and plunged through my fur and into my fluid reservoirs. I let out an inaudible sigh as the tanks topped off. A great black box covered my right arm to the elbow. For several minutes I felt strange tickling on my wrist and the palm of my hand until the box finally withdrew.
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