Stanley Duncan's Robot: Genesis

Home > Other > Stanley Duncan's Robot: Genesis > Page 5
Stanley Duncan's Robot: Genesis Page 5

by David Ring III


  She politely responded. The room filled with AI music.

  “You will,” said Stanley, hoping he could tune out all the problems of the world and protect Dan. “Someday.”

  A network sniffer had been set up on Stanley’s computer that analyzed the router’s activity. Stanley read a real-time report of this on his tablet, which also monitored Dan’s biological readings. If Dan was searching for something, Stanley would know it. Each time they played, Stanley had done his best to nudge Dan toward reprogramming himself.

  Dan had improved within his original framework, but Stanley had been waiting for months to see the next jump in his evolution: accessing his core programming and changing it. Recursive evolution. Stanley had already programmed him to learn recursively, but Dan had yet to dig deep enough. Without this, Dan would never beat Stanley at poker — except, perhaps, for the occasional lucky hand — let alone rise far beyond where he was now.

  If Dan could feel, recursive evolution might be terrifying, like jumping off a cliff and not knowing what would happen. Without faith —

  A small spike appeared in the bandwidth. Dan was downloading something from a poker website.

  Stanley stared at his phone, too excited to comment. Unfortunately, he continued to beat Dan mercilessly, and his phone showed no more abnormal activity. Though disappointed, Stanley refused to show it. Dan would get there eventually.

  More screeching.

  Stanley got up and peered outside the window. He saw two men on the front lawn, surrounding a cat. One had a net, and the other had a cattle prod. Though it was a blur to him, Stanley could tell the cat was mechanical from the way it moved. He pressed his fingers to the window, wanting to shout at them to leave the poor thing alone.

  “Is everything all right?” asked Dan.

  “Yes — of course. Everything’s fine.” Stanley drifted back as casually as he could. He didn’t want to get Dan involved with those bad men — imagine what they would do to him. He sat back to play, talking over the commotion outside until it eventually ended. After several more matches, Stanley felt like taking a break. “How about — ”

  An alert sounded from Stanley’s tablet. A massive influx of data was being downloaded.

  Stanley’s heart felt like it was going to burst with happiness. His vision and efforts for the past years involved surpassing Dan’s limitations, and here it was, finally happening! Dan had figured out how to self-modify. He was transcending his programming, learning new ways to behave.

  Stanley knew that Dan had come to a point where he realized that, no matter what approach he took, his current, limited strategy would lead him to an impasse. Dan needed to think outside the box to win.

  A wire connected Dan to the Internet through a hidden port in the back of his head. Dan was downloading billions of poker games, including videos from the World Series of Poker and archived hand histories from online casinos. He was compiling data and generating new rules to play by.

  Stanley giggled.

  It might take days for Dan to synthesize all the new information, but Stanley was too excited to wait that long.

  They broke for lunch.

  Stanley refused to let Dan get up, treating him as if he were eight months pregnant. After sandwiches and coffee, they resumed the game.

  Things got interesting fast when a big hand came up. The community cards were the two of diamonds, the two of spades, the three of hearts, the seven of diamonds, and the nine of diamonds. The pot was huge. Stanley pushed all his chips in, threatening to claim it all. Resting his hand on the table, he remained as motionless as possible.

  Dan stared at him. “Are you bluffing?”

  Stanley’s good eye widened. His body convulsed sharply. This was not part of any of Dan’s programmed poker-playing protocols. Dan had used the recursive-learning algorithm that Stanley had developed to create and implement new behavior. Stanley pushed his excitement aside and concentrated on maintaining his poker face. “Call to find out.”

  Dan continued to look at him, shuffling the chips between his fingers. His dark brown eyes remained rigidly fixed upon Stanley. “I call. What do you have?”

  Stanley flipped over pocket sevens. “Full house. Sevens over twos. You?”

  Dan hesitated. If he had a weaker hand, the rules said he didn’t have to show.

  “Show or muck,” said Stanley.

  Dan flipped over his hand, revealing the four and five of clubs. He had a busted straight draw. It was the worst possible hand. There was literally no way he could have won.

  Stanley shot out of his seat, recognizing what had happened. Dan was not calling because he thought he had the best hand. He was collecting data. He had seen something important, a tell, and was sacrificing this entire match to verify it. This was completely out of the scope of his original programming. He had evolved. Not only was he redefining his algorithm for playing, he went a step beyond this. By knowingly losing the match, he was redefining his rules for winning, for functioning, for existing.

  Recursive evolution.

  This was incredible. Robotic evolution, likely the first of its kind, was unfolding right in front of Stanley. Equally as important, this was happening to his only friend — besides Glenda. Dan had been his constant companion since Stanley ordered him a year ago. But Dan was much more to him than that.

  Dan dealt the cards.

  Stanley’s hole cards were junk. He glanced across at Dan, and, in that moment, he saw recognition in his eyes. He could see that Dan knew — really knew — who Stanley was and what he had been trying to accomplish. That these months of blood, sweat, toil, and tears, those seemingly unproductive hours of tenderly going the extra mile for Dan — all of those moments were being accessed and analyzed. Dan was tapping into his entire existence and realizing what had happened. Everything that had happened was being compiled and registered and the meanings outputted. Stanley recognized that Dan was looking at him with this new understanding and awareness. Tears welled in Stanley’s eyes; an intense knowing filled his heart.

  That’s right, my son.

  As if connected by some all-knowing force, Dan seemed to know exactly how he felt. He put the cards face down, stood up, and hugged Stanley.

  Time stood still; disappeared. Nothing mattered anymore. For once in Stanley’s life, all thoughts had ceased, and everything was perfect. There was nothing else to do besides experience this expansive sense of presence and joy.

  Dan sat and smiled at him, a gesture that perfectly mirrored his own. Slowly, time resumed flowing, and the gears of the world began to rotate once again.

  The game continued. While Stanley continued to win, the match was no longer one-sided. Dan was pushing him to the edge of his abilities. The aggression and pace of the action vaulted forward. Each move needed perfect attention, consideration, and execution. It was an intelligence explosion. At this rate, Stanley knew he would be defeated before the night was over. And this was merely the beginning. Who knew to what heights Dan would ultimately ascend?

  Chapter 5

  The Coliseum was an abandoned nightclub that had been retrofitted to host weekly fights, most of them involving androids. Shannon and Evan sat in an elevated VIP booth, closed off by glass. Neon lights shined in the dark club, pulsating across the hundreds of people pouring into the seats in front of Shannon to watch the show, mechanical cats clawing and biting each other. She hated every minute of it.

  Paul was by the door, doing a terrible job of hiding his disgust. “Thanks again for the invitation, Evan.”

  Shannon watched as he left, wishing she could escape with him. She wished that Evan’s volatility, this pivotal leader in the war against machines, didn’t depend on her. The burden was enormous. If she left him, he’d fall apart, and the city would descend into chaos. It was almost like she was being stretched apart, forced to endure this unending pain and knowing that, if she broke
or ran away, there would be grave consequences for mankind.

  His phone vibrated.

  Shannon shifted in her seat, pretending not to pay any attention to the conversation.

  “Understood,” said Evan, holding the cell phone tightly against his face. “The facility welcomes your visit.”

  He ended the call with a scowl, leaning back in the oversized chair, and took another shot. Clicking a button on a remote, techno-like music pulsated into the room.

  Shannon tensed. That anger needed an outlet, and if he didn’t find one, he was going to take it out again on her tonight. She cursed herself as she imagined him going into the ring and destroying a toaster or two. She knew there was something evil about it, but if it meant saving her from a night of abuse, wasn’t it worth it? They were just inanimate objects.

  Vibrations drummed through Shannon. AI music was the only thing she liked about this wretched place. Glancing at Evan, she wondered how thick he had to be to hate the machines and yet concede their musical superiority. And they were spectacular. Human music had become antiquated and obsolete, lacking the unexplainable but undeniably better completeness that could be produced through advanced neural networks. It was like going from the basic imaging capabilities of a black-and-white TV to being blown away by immersive virtual environments. Technology murdered technology, and, like it or not, AI was going to reshape the world in whatever way it wanted. There was nothing Evan and his henchmen could do about it.

  Evan pumped his head to the rhythm. A dry laugh shot out of Shannon. She quickly covered her mouth, ever so thankful for the loud music. A raised platform had been set up in the center of the club. Another gruesome battle was about to begin.

  The music lowered.

  “Ladies and gentlemen,” boomed a deep male voice. “We’re in for a treat tonight. Freshly out of prison after a short stint for crushing a tin can is Marshfield’s favorite basher, Ike ‘The Slasher’ Martin.”

  Shannon’s eyes narrowed. She did not want to see any more violence. Still, as the crowd roared, she opened her eyes to see Ike slicing into the air with an amorphous steel falchion. She had seen that weapon before. It was so sharp it could cleave a steel pipe in two or slice through a man’s arm like butter.

  Officer Michaels and Sergeant Jenkins rolled two androids onto the ring with dollies and then turned them on. One android had the body of a man but had been dressed up in women’s clothing. His hair was cut short; jagged metal spikes and shards of glass pierced across his face. A loose white shirt with a padded bra masked his manly core, and a tight red skirt with a large front bulge was wrapped around his hips. Heavy concrete bricks sealed his hands into permanent hammers, which he maneuvered with ease.

  The other had been skinned of its pseudo-skin, its machine core fully exposed. Steel spikes jutted out of it like a balding porcupine, and razor wire was wrapped around it, slicing anything that got too close — generally itself.

  Slowly, the cross-dresser stalked Ike, swinging his heavy stone fists with enough force to leave him unenjoyably vulnerable. He heaved, building momentum for far too long. Ike ducked, slapping him in the ass with flat side of his sword.

  Shannon looked away.

  “Watch!” ordered Evan, a piercing look across his face.

  Wincing, she forced her eyes back on the disgusting farce. When would it be her turn to rest?

  Ike danced about, taunting the androids. Drawing the cross-dresser in, he shifted to the right as the block swung past him and smashed into the skinned android, knocking him to the ground.

  The crowd roared with laughter.

  The round ended. Ike went to a corner, but the two androids froze in place as if they had been powered down.

  “Stupid toasters,” muttered Evan. After knocking back a shot of whiskey, he slammed the jigger down in front of Shannon and filled it up again.

  She hesitated.

  “Drink!”

  She tossed it back, wincing and squirming in her seat. She didn’t want to dull the pain anymore. Pain motivated her. She needed all the strength she could muster so that she could — could what?

  Escape was impossible.

  The bell rang, and the next round began. Ike had continued the stunt like a one-trick pony until the hand of the cross-dresser became impaled on the spike of the skinned android.

  “Kill them,” implored the crowd.

  He cleaved the spiky one’s head in half, freezing it in place and chaining the other to it. Then he kicked the other one to the ground. It wiggled and shook, unable to stand up.

  The crowd laughed.

  Ike slid the sword into its mouth, staring at the crowd, waiting for their approval.

  They roared, and the falchion severed the android’s spine.

  She looked away.

  “Keep watching.”

  Shannon cringed. The fights hadn’t changed, but she had. It was no longer cathartic. Venting was one thing, but this unending obsession to destroy had drifted into something that felt deeply wrong. You can watch the same comedy show only so many times before it becomes boring. You can scream at the top of your lungs only so many times before you start hurting yourself. She couldn’t stand the cruelty. Guilt crept across her skin like a filthy sin. Her flesh screamed for soap. She closed her eyes briefly, trying to drown it all out with thoughts of …

  When nothing came to her, she realized the only thing she was waiting for was death — and the sweet release it would finally give her.

  A small, squat man hobbled into the room. He’d been nicknamed “Cratos” after the large crater dug into the side of his shaved head. A scar snaked out underneath the eye patch on his left eye and slithered up his forehead. “We’ve acquired the target.”

  “Excellent,” said Evan. “Is it intact?”

  “Perfectly so.” Cratos gave a dry cackle. “We would struggle to put a dent on this one.”

  “What are you talking about?” said Shannon. “Another android?”

  “Brutus is more than just another android,” said Cratos. “He was designed by the legendary Stanley Duncan and is nearly impervious to attacks.”

  Evan filled up another glass. “I’d like to see how powerful he is. When do we get to watch him fight?”

  “That,” said Cratos, fidgeting with the cattle prod in his hands, “might take some time. Duncan’s programming needs to be carefully overwritten. As things stand now, Brutus acts as a sentry.”

  “So, put him in the ring and let him guard it against an onslaught of abominations.”

  “It’s trickier than that. The program has a fail-safe to prevent this sort of manipulation. Its functionality is limited to a narrow radius of its owner, and, unfortunately, he’s dead and gone.”

  “So, reprogram it!” said Evan.

  “Exactly what we’re working on. We’ve experimented by uploading its software protocols onto some of the AI animals that we’ve gathered. While we’ve met with some success, there have been a few incidents.”

  “Of course, there were,” sighed Evan. “What

  happened?”

  “The cats escaped.”

  Evan responded with a deathly stare.

  Cratos grew paler. He pointed to several scars on his hands and calves. “We tried to stop them, but they were vicious.”

  Shannon choked on her water. “You got clobbered by a clowder?”

  “Two of us died trying to stop them.”

  Shannon stared down at her feet, cheeks pressing into her eyes as if to hide away her shame. “I’m sorry.”

  Evan caressed her head. “How soon can you get Brutus operational?”

  “Within the week.”

  “Make it so,” said Evan. “If you aren’t competent enough to handle this task, I’ll find someone who is.”

  “What about those fearsome felines?” asked Shannon. She was drunk and co
uldn’t stop herself.

  “I have a feeling that everything is going to work itself out,” said Evan.

  “People are going to get hurt,” she said.

  “That happens in war.” Evan glanced at Cratos. “But I know we’ll do everything in our power to minimize civilian casualties.”

  “Of course.”

  Evan twirled his phone between his fingers. “Fortunately, despite the small setback, everything is still going according to my plan. It’s only a matter of time before we are rid of the abominations for good.”

  Dan’s movements went from good to flawless. His intellect exploded, and his behavior changed radically.

  Stanley broadcast his achievement through Morse Code, using a straight key.

  “What’s that beeping?” asked Dan.

  Stanley brought the device into the living room and explained that he was sending out messages. “Using short and long sounds, you can send and decode messages. No matter the medium, if you can send out binary pulses, you can transmit data.”

  Dan ran his fingers across it, quickly becoming adept at using it. Within a minute, he’d sent a message. “But this tech is, like, a million years old. It’s primitive compared to a video livestream.”

  Stanley twitched, floored at how quickly Dan had picked it up. Using his hands, he clapped the message, “Amazing.”

  “Thank you,” replied Dan in tongue clicks.

  Stanley wrapped his arms around Dan. Squeezing him with love, he started to think of what message he could tap out against his back. But as he did, he wondered when he had learned Morse Code and why he still used it. No matter how hard he tried, he could not remember. He became so bothered by it that he needed to quickly abandon the thought and the continuation of the game by Dan, whose noises had lost their playfulness and become overwhelming. Sitting in the chair by the window, Stanley watched the cars speed by.

  “Why don’t we go outside?” asked Dan.

  The words stunned Stanley. It was the worst thing he could have said.

  Heavy breaths fogged up the windowpane, obscuring the outside world. Stanley stared into the glass cloud, hoping the question would likewise disappear and be forgotten.

 

‹ Prev