Stanley Duncan's Robot: Genesis

by David Ring III

  “Impressive,” said Michaels. “Not even Brad’s that strong.”

  Brad sneered at him. “It would have been a much better show if we could have seen that cyborg squirm and die.”

  “Yes, sergeant. I apologize — again — and will accept the punishment.”

  “We weren’t going to kill the cyborg. We were going to corrupt him with Duncan’s program and set him loose to kill. But that’s practically impossible with all the heat we’ve drawn. Whatever we do now, we have to be damn sure none of it can be traced back to us.”

  Michaels nodded.

  Evan needed to be careful about whom to trust. Though loyal, his men were not the brightest of the bunch. He could use more recruits — damn Michaels for screwing that up, too. If everything went well, the war would be over, and they wouldn’t need to find new men.

  “Can Brutus be programmed to assassinate someone?”

  “Absolutely,” said the Cratos, powering down Brutus. “It can also be programmed to kill everyone but certain people. We’re working on implementing that now. However, we won’t be able to use him as a security guard with that function enabled, because he would end up killing every new customer who walked in.”

  “Good work,” said Evan, waving him off. “Now, listen up, boys. Every day that we wait, our enemy grows stronger. The next couple of weeks are going to be pivotal for victory. Succeed, and we land a major blow against the enemy. Fail, and we’ll have given the machines more reason to launch a full-out attack on us.”

  Michaels stood tall. “Let me kill Daffy Duncan as a way to make up for my mistakes.”

  “You’re still not getting it,” said Evan. “This goes beyond destroying one enemy. This is about winning the war against all the abominations. We can’t recklessly destroy them or their treacherous owners in the open, with evidence that points directly to us. We need to set up the pieces so that they all topple down. And what we’ve accomplished in Marshfield, we’ll continue statewide once I become governor. And I’ll need your help to make it all happen.”

  “So, what are we going to do?”

  Evan glanced over at Brutus, wishing it was as easy as pressing a few buttons and destroying everything in his path. Unfortunately, people were stupid and needed to be forced to do what was right for them. “Let me make the steps crystal clear. I’ve already muzzled that yapping abomination, using my contacts in Boston to shut off his social-media accounts, and I’ve put the squeeze on Morrison and shut down their little library pow-wow. We’ll continue to destroy Duncan’s piss-poor reputation. After all the smear pieces we have published, many loyal townspeople are already attacking him on social media and vandalizing his condo. Lastly, we’ll devise a false-flag operation that will unite Marshfield. The people will be so enraged that they’ll beg me to destroy the abominations, and the whole state will follow suit. As things look now, it’ll go down at their first major public gathering.”

  Michaels grinned. “How can we help?”

  “Brad, what have we got on Duncan?”

  “According to his neighbor, who accepted my invitation to fuse out at one of our farms — ” Brad roared with laughter — “Stanley and the abomination are romantically involved.”

  “What?” Evan took out his gun and fired three rounds into Brutus. He wanted to rush over to Duncan’s house and burn him alive for betraying the human race and committing all kinds of unspeakable sins. But if Evan acted hastily, he’d be arrested, and the town would lack a suitable leader to protect them from this abomination takeover. Brad was a good soldier, but he lacked the intelligence needed to run things well. Of course, their commands would still be masterminded and sent down from Boston. Things would still get done, but their implementation would be sloppier.

  “You heard me right. Stanley is banging the toaster.”

  “Or the other way around,” said Michaels. “At least, that’s how I see it.”

  Brad shot him a look of warning.

  “Disgusting,” said Evan, looking around at his men. He had worked hard to make Marshfield into the town it was, protecting it from the ever-encroaching stranglehold of AI. These men knew what they were fighting for and were willing to lay down their lives for it. “I won’t abide that sort of sacrilege to plague my home. We must protect the town at all costs. Mark my words, we will destroy both of them when the time is right.”

  After Evan hit her, Shannon tried to reason with him. She started by softly pointing out that his obsession was not healthy. When things got heated, she got personal. “A real man would have given me another baby instead of treating me like a broken toy.” Evan didn’t take it very well, throwing her across the room and into a lamp.

  She left the house bleeding and did not give a damn who saw her. She had told herself that she was going to the fuse-farm to get treatment for the cuts. The nurses could take the shards out of her back — the ones Shannon hadn’t already pried out — and then have her imbibe a recovery serum. But every second of the journey, she knew the truth of what she was doing. She watched it like a movie, this pathetic girl pretending not to be planning to kill herself.

  Looking down at the young man in the bed, Shannon knew this was her last moment. She gently disconnected his bag of fuse. After a few gulps, her pain would disappear forever. Thinking back to what Evan had said, she wondered what horrors he had suffered and why he’d refused to tell her. If she knew what was going on in his head, she could make things right again. She took out her phone and dialed his number, giving him one final chance to save their relationship — and her life.

  Stanley sat shaking under the table, arms wrapped around his legs, which were pulled up to his chest. He had been beaten half to death and brought back to life with nanites more times than he could remember. Physically, he was fine, albeit extremely tired. He kept passing out every few minutes. Emotionally, however, he was a wreck. Brad had been right. Stanley had given up all hope and begged for mercy, pleading to be killed. He had no choice but to upload the program.

  The shrill ringing of the phone filled Stanley’s condo — Dan wasn’t answering.

  Sick with worry, Stanley shook his head as he continued to write three signatures per ring on the table leg. Dan had said he would be gone only one hour — three had passed. Stanley didn’t have anyone to call for help. Had Mittens not come in through the broken door and cuddled with him, Stanley would have gone insane.

  The front door to the complex slammed shut.

  Finishing his umpteenth signature, Stanley froze in place, pen in hand, and listened carefully. He knew the sound of Dan’s footfall by heart, as he did with every other tenant of the building and even the regular visitors, even though he might not know the faces or names that went with them. Glenda’s was the subtlest: the faintest of steps paced apart by long silences. Sometimes, she would talk to Mittens. Brad’s would have been by far the most obvious, had it not been so easily mistaken for a passing semi. Dan’s step had a completely different energy, like a soft Pachelbel canon coursing down the hall.

  The footsteps grew louder.

  As Stanley listened, he recognized the cadence. It was Dan’s sweet melody. He was alive! However, his symphony was drowned in darkness. Something was wrong.

  Dan staggered inside, clearly exhausted. He rushed over to Stanley and scooped him up like a child. “What happened?”

  Stanley wrapped his weary arms around him. Heavy tears fell onto Dan’s shoulder. Stanley had lost all strength and would have fallen if not for Dan’s firm hold.

  “I’m sorry I didn’t call. My phone broke.”

  Stanley continued to bawl his eyes out until, finally, they were able to exchange stories.

  “People need to know what happened.” Dan picked up a tablet, and his jaw dropped. “They’ve shut down my social-media accounts. My videos are gone.”

  “That’s — I’m so sorry, Dan. You worked so hard on those video
s.”

  “And the children — they’ll think I abandoned them.”

  Stanley shook his head.

  “This is wrong. People are being intimidated into not working with us, the police treated me like I was a criminal — they tortured you — and someone powerful has crippled my ability to communicate online. How are we supposed to move forward with Machines with Dreams? How are we supposed to even stay alive?”

  Stanley wove his hands together. “I’ve been working on a plan. I’m not going to let them interfere with our dreams.”

  Dan sank down into the seat, clearly exhausted. “Tell me.”

  “We need to disrupt the system by creating a decentralized watchdog that can’t be shut down by a totalitarian government. To pioneer these changes, the people need a hero they can trust. An incorruptible cyborg who fights for justice, leading — ”

  “You want me to fight?”

  “I want you to be ready when they bring the fight to you.” Stanley presented Dan the armor he had created.

  Dan raised an eyebrow. “What’s this — pajamas?”

  “It does look comfortable, right? It slips on right under your clothes.”

  Dan touched it. “Surprisingly soft. Are you sure this will protect me?”

  “It doesn’t look like much, but it’ll stop a bullet, leaving you with only a small black-and-blue mark.”

  “Genius.”

  “And for your head.” Stanley took out a heavy-duty black helmet.

  Dan shook his head. “Oh, no. That’s excessive.”

  Stanley pushed it toward him. “Try it on.”

  Dan put it on with a sigh.

  “Perfect.” Stanley’s worries dissipated as he thought about how safe Dan would be inside the new armor.

  “Yeah …” Dan rested his head against his hand, looking like he might fall asleep. “I want to connect with people, Stanley, not scare them away. I don’t want anyone to think I’m a weapon.”

  “All right. Take it off. But I want you to reconsider it later. For me.” Stanley’s heart sank. Safety was his first concern. He realized Dan was exhausted and would be more amenable after some rest. It would also give Stanley some time to work on the decentralized AI police-force program. Hopefully, Dan would approve.

  After a short nap, Dan got up and changed his clothes, putting his armor on for the first time.

  “Where are you going?”

  “Didn’t I tell you? I rescheduled my meeting with the principal.”

  Dread rose up in Stanley as he watched him leave. He rushed out after him. “I’m going, too.”

  Several androids stood still and directed Dan and Stanley as they walked through the school hallways. The principal’s office was richly decorated with books, certificates, degrees, and trophies. There was no paperwork in sight. He sat behind a metal desk, his hands pressed together against his mouth as if in prayer. Gazing toward Dan, a long silence passed before the principal finally spoke.

  “Let me begin by saying that a nationwide press conference would be an unbelievable opportunity for both of us. For you, it would show the country how real artificial intelligence has become, putting forth an excellent argument for equal rights. For me, it would help rekindle the educational flame that has been all but extinguished over the past several years. My students are growing up in a world we never imagined.” He nodded to Stanley. “They are facing a threat — pardon my usage of such a term.”

  “It’s all right.” Stanley’s voice quavered, and his body trembled. He felt himself getting more leery and defensive. Sure, he had Googled the principal before he’d come to the high school. He seemed like he was a good guy who had supported machine life. When it came to Dan’s well-being, Stanley was overly protective — he wouldn’t let anyone harm him.

  “They are facing a threat to both their livelihood and their existence,” continued the principal. “Never has there been a time when humans have come upon such an advanced life form. With no jobs, with the economy crippled, and with guaranteed food and shelter for the rest of their lives, education has plummeted. My students have no motivation. Fewer and fewer graduate every year. They are bored. Many look for ways to cause trouble.”

  Under intense pressure from the principal’s unwavering stare, Stanley felt compelled to speak. “People can be very cruel when they are afraid.”

  “Don’t forget fuse,” said the principal. “Everyone’s fast track ticket to a life of bliss.”

  “And why shouldn’t people use fuse?” asked Stanley. He had certainly given it some thought, but he had his reasons not to.

  “In small amounts, it is acceptable. But when someone completely fuses out, they abandon their responsibility to society.”

  “Meaning what, exactly?” asked Stanley. He hadn’t given a damn about society for the last two decades, so he wasn’t in a position to judge.

  The principal smiled as he reached for a tablet, clearly happy to elaborate. “Let me read you a great quote by one of my favorite presidents, Theodore Roosevelt:

  “‘In one of Lowell’s magnificent stanzas about the Civil War he speaks of the fact which his countrymen were then learning, that freedom is not a gift that tarries long in the hands of cowards: nor yet does it tarry long in the hands of the sluggard and the idler, in the hands of the man so much absorbed in the pursuit of pleasure or in the pursuit of gain, or so much wrapped up in his own easy home life as to be unable to take his part in the rough struggle for political supremacy. If freedom is worth having, if the right of self-government is a valuable right, then the one and the other must be retained exactly as our forefathers acquired them, by labor, and especially by labor in organization, that is in combination with our fellows who have the same interests and the same principles.’”

  “You think someone is trying to take away our freedoms?” asked Stanley.

  “That is an interesting question,” said the principal. “What input do we have anymore, or is it the big corporations that make all the decisions?” He typed something into the tablet. “But perhaps that is a topic for a different day.”

  “Interesting.” Having dropped out of society, Stanley had given zero input in politics for the past twenty years. But was it like that for everyone else? So many people fused out or wired up in virtual worlds, he wondered who was managing society. His heart shuddered as he thought of the monstrous man storming through his broken doorframe.

  “I agree; mankind must not be idle,” said Dan. “As I stated earlier, times are changing. Humanity needs to adapt. Your students live their lives surrounded by AI. Do you feel that they have developed significant rapport with them?”

  “They are taught by androids,” said the principal, “who perform incredibly. We have Ivy-League-level educators teaching in every department. They are amazingly knowledgeable, but they lack the human touch you have. The students respect them — the ones who are still enrolled. Many have left. The ones who remain have an honest interest in furthering their education.”

  “That’s great,” said Dan. “So, there’s never been any violence toward AI?”

  “There have been a few cases of vandalism.”

  “Vandalism?” inquired Stanley.

  “Just small things,” said the principal, “like shaving the heads of the female AI staff or dressing them inappropriately. Childish things, but it wasn’t the children.”

  “Who was it?” asked Stanley.

  “Our school janitor, William Holt,” he said. “But he’s mostly harmless.”

  “Mostly,” said Stanley, flush with anger. “Why don’t you find someone else?”

  “He’s the best person we have found. Nobody wants to work. Most who do don’t pass our security screenings. If we excluded everyone who failed the Xiang-Wu criminality test, we’d have too many job vacancies to properly run the school. It’s simply impossible to fill the human quota tha
t the deputy wants. He means well, but his requests aren’t practical. We compromise, and that means occasionally dealing with immature behavior.”

  Stanley ran his hand across his half-bald skull. The criminality test was a way of determining future criminals. After the test was proved successful, the government mandated that all new government employees pass the test. Of the few businesses that actively hired humans, many followed suit. Along with other events that made up the social score for Americans, these test results were registered on the public blockchain, making it nearly impossible to get a job if you had failed it. If it weren’t for the BGI, these people would have turned to crime in order to survive. “Why not replace him with a machine? Even an older-model android would be able to clean as well as him.”

  Dan nodded.

  “There is more to life than intellectual knowledge and immaculately mopped floors. As I mentioned before, the students need the human touch — love. Many are growing up without parents. We’re practically an orphanage.”

  “I can understand that,” said Dan. “It’s amazing that they continue to press forward.”

  “Yes, it is,” said the principal.

  “However, the students struggle with finding the motivation to learn. The brightest ones have given up hope. The few who do pay attention are smart enough to realize that they need an education to move forward in the world, yet they’re not smart enough to realize that AI will be taking the few jobs left in the future.”

  “That is quite sad,” said Dan. “The brightest human minds are being extinguished.”

  “What about Ellen Mask’s RaceX?” asked Stanley. “Don’t our best and brightest still aspire to join her in Boston?”

  “Well,” said the principal, “that is a good question.”

  Vibrations sounded behind the principal’s desk, causing an elongated glance of frustration.