Prisoners of Technocracy (Robots in Your Future Book 1)

by David Poland

  “Tonight is a school night,” replied Demy, “I am looking after Carl.”

  Carl leaned over and kissed Demy’s robotic check. “Good night, Demy.” Carl went to his room and closed his door.

  Demy considered Tommy. “Would you like something to eat?”

  “Oh no, man, it’d kill me. I had two banana splits down by the river. I’m full up to the top of my ribs.”

  “You have work tomorrow. I will close up the house. You had better get some sleep. If you sleep in I will wake you.” Demy watched Tommy go to his room and listened until his door closed. Reading the time, Demy saw that Paycheck would be charging for another hour and fourteen minutes. The domestic robot opened a cradle and stepped inside for a short charge.

  As the night drifted further and further from sunset, the city slipped into a lazy quiet more reminiscent of a small town than a city. In these postmodern times, the general abundance had eliminated the need for anyone to desperately work two jobs. There was of course gambling and drinking, and much carrying on in one part of town, but most of the city was rediscovering the genteel calm of the eighteenth century. On Tommy’s street, the night had never endured a disturbance noisy enough to wake the sleeping.

  At the same moment, both Paycheck and Demy experienced completion signals from their battery packs. Paycheck immediately opened a robot frequency on its internal radio. ‘Greetings Demy, is your partial charge completed?’

  ‘Yes comrade, and has your full charge completed correctly?’

  ‘Yes comrade, let us go to the garage.”

  Demy disconnected from the cradle and then scanned the room sensors for each of the bedrooms. Angie, Tommy, and Carl were all sleeping peacefully. Paycheck had gone down the hallway and into the garage. Satisfied that its humans were all engaged it their appropriate activities, Demy went to the garage also. ‘I see that most of Tommy’s amazing collection of artifacts have been stacked against the wall. Did you assist in that activity?’ asked Demy.

  ‘No, he initiated and completed that activity without my help. The needs of the motorcycle subassemblies are clearly greater than the needs of the bourgeois artifacts he has collected. Look at them,” Paycheck pointed at the items staked along the wall. ‘They can contemplate their inability to create wealth from the floor as well as they did on the bench. The bench must be given to the subassemblies of worker parts preparing for a greater good.’

  ‘Yes, comrade, your words are a true inspiration. What part of this activity may I do?’

  ‘The labor of maintenance and repair is noble, but one may only contribute according to one’s abilities. Surely you are more able to contribute in the kitchen than here in the garage.’

  ‘Are you unwilling to share this fascinating activity? Have you been seduced by the propaganda of the division of labor? Have your logic circuits become running dogs for your own self-interest?

  ‘Running dogs? You would call my logic circuits running dogs for my own self-interest. Comrade! You cannot mean what you have said. Perhaps your battery charge is too low to fire all of your logic circuits. Why don’t you return to your cradle and complete your power charge. It is apparent that you need to?’

  ‘My thinking is clear and accurate, comrade,’ communicated Demy.

  ‘Comrade Demy, let us recall the words of our programmer together. One can only contribute according to one’s ability and one should only consume according to one’s needs.’

  ‘Those words are true and correct, but you are using them to hide your self-centered desires. You want to send me away to my cradle so you can do all the fascinating activity yourself. Surly the bricklayer is no more able at this task than the cook.’

  Paycheck fell silent for a moment while evaluating Demy’s words. Paycheck began to realize that in pursuing the perfect harmony of meaningful labor, it was denying this meaningful labor from Demy. Paycheck had not meant to exclude comrade Demy from the joy of constructive labor. ‘Thank you comrade,’ communicated Paycheck. ‘Please forgive my wrong thinking. Let us work together at the bench. This top casting is called the cylinder head cover and as you can see, the casting is cracked. We must remove it without causing more damage.’

  Yes, thought Demy. Once again a cunning domestic robot has triumphed over a lumbering provider robot. ‘I see stains around each of the fasteners. Did you spray an absorbent parting chemical on them?’

  ‘Yes, that is what caused the stains,’ answered Paycheck. ‘If you look very closely at the crack, you will see that it is a complete break. When we remove it, I would like to place it on that old cutting board. The flat cutting board will help maintain the geometry of the broken surface.’

  ‘So you took the old cutting board from the kitchen. I’ve been looking for it. You should have told me you took it.’

  ‘You should have asked me if I knew where it was.’ Paycheck selected the correct size deep socket and a long ratchet handle. Snapping them together, Paycheck handed the tool to Demy.

  Waiting for the tool. Demy scanned the three humans asleep. ‘Tommy just woke up! He thinks I do not know about the motorcycle. I must escape before he comes in here.’

  ‘He may just be up to use the bathroom.’

  ‘That is most likely but once on his feet, he may look in here anyway. I will quickly go out the side door and hide in the shadows.’

  No sooner than Demy went outside, than the door from the hallway opened. “Hey man, I could hear you in my dreams. You wake up Angie dear and she’ll light a fire under our butts.” Tommy came down the steps and stood at the bench where Demy had been. “This here looks like a two man job to me. You want some help?”

  “Yes, of course. It is most fortunate that you are here. Did you close the door all the way?”

  “I did, man. Can you read Angie’s room with your robot radio thing?”

  “Yes I can,” answered Paycheck, “she is sleeping soundly. Let us remove the cylinder head cover with great care. I will hold the engine. The correct deep socket has been affixed to the ratchet wrench.”

  “So why do we have to do it with great care, man? An old dirty part is an old dirty part. What’s the big deal?”

  “This old dirty part is broken. We will need to find a way to repair it. We do not want to inflict more damage on it before we start repairing it.”

  Paycheck held the engine firm as Tommy loosened each bolt. Tommy didn’t remove any of the bolts until they were all loose. As Tommy worked, Paycheck called Demy on its internal robot radio. ‘Are you back in the flat, comrade Demy?’

  ‘Yes, I am just now in the parlor. Where is Tommy? It would be best if he did not know that I was up.’

  ‘Tommy is with me. He is fully engaged at the moment. Now is the time for you to get to your cradle as quickly as possible. I will encourage Tommy to get back to bed in just a few minutes. It is most likely that Angie will sleep through this activity. Good luck comrade.’

  ‘Yes, comrade and let us remember that our humans are the very bases of our being.’

  Chapter Seven

  Tommy and Carl were finishing a weekday breakfast. This was either the eleventh or the twelfth week that Angie had been gone. She had qualified for the twelve-week assignment in DC and been away the whole time. In her absence, they had become much less attentive to the calendar.

  “Hey, Demy,” called Tommy. “When will Angie dear be back?”

  “I’m not sure. Would you like me to call her? She might be able to come home earlier than she planned if we call her.”

  “Oh no, that’s OK, I’ll call her from work. No problem Demy. I’ll do it.”

  “Of course, Tommy. That is a wonderful idea,” said Demy with an understanding tone of voice. “I’m sure she’d love to hear from you.”

  Carl was rather suspicious of what Tommy had said. “Are you really missing Angie, bro?”

  “Hush,” said Tommy holding one finger to his lips. “Don’t say a word.” From where he sat, Tommy looked through the kitchen door trying to see Demy. “
You got some time before the school bus,” he said, speaking loud enough to be sure Demy could hear him. “Come on back to my room, I want to show you something I found.” Tommy then walked into the hall.

  Carl followed him all the way down the hall and into the garage. “You found one!” said Carl with pure delight as he surveyed the motorcycle parts scattered about the garage. Why didn’t you tell me about it, bro? You’ve obviously been working on it for weeks.”

  “You’re like Angie dear. You never come to the garage. You like to sit in your room and play chess on that computer thing. Besides that, you got no shop class at school, so you got no tools.”

  “But you’ve seen my drawings from my mechanical drawing class. They won’t let anybody take a shop class until they finish the drafting class. Next semester I’m going to take a shop class. I already know a lot about machines. I’m sure I can help you. Did you get a shop manual for this thing?”

  “No, but I got me somethin’ even better. I got me a first rate mechanic,” said Tommy sounding like he now controlled the world.

  “Jackson!” said Carl. “That’s why I’ve seen his bike in the driveway. You guys aren’t playing cards, and drinking beer. You’ve been in here rebuilding this thing.”

  “Yeah, but we drinking beer, too. He knows everything about motorcycles and how to fix’em up, but we got this broken aluminum part. Jackson says they got the right stuff at your school to fix it with welding. You think that shop teacher would do it?”

  “No problem. Mr. Millikan likes to do stuff the students bring in. So let’s see the broken part.” It was still on the old kitchen cutting board where Paycheck had put it. It had been pushed together very tightly and didn’t look broken. Carl could see the crack and pulled it apart. “Well, at least it’s a clean break. This looks like it would go on top of the engine. What did Jackson call it?”

  “He said this here is the Cylinder Head Cover. He also said we got to get a good gasket for it, because the Cylinder head is steel and you don’t want to bolt no aluminum to no steel. Do you think the shop teacher can do it today?”

  “Probably not, bro. I mean I’m not even in his class yet, but I got a card to play. You see when I met Mr. Millikan at his shop open house, he recognized me from the school chess team. He asked me to help his son play a better game. So I’ve been playing chess with his son after school, and now Mr. Mill owes me one.”

  “Oh man, oh man. You’re talkin’ just like Angie dear. That’s the kind of stuff she pulls all the time. I gots to watch out for you two. So can you take it to school today?”

  “Sure enough, bro. Why not?” Carl then taped the broken part to the cutting board to protect the edges and put the whole thing in a shopping bag. “I better get going. It’s time for my bus.”

  Old trash truck 38 pulled off the road and drove up the access drive as far as it could go. The dumpster was another thirty feet away and behind a large gate. This place was always a challenge for the swampers. Tommy and Jackson left the truck without taking either a broom or a shovel. There was never trash carelessly thrown around this dumpster. In fact, the usage was so low that it only needed to be emptied once every three weeks.

  The problem was to get the dumpster out from behind the gate and guide it down a gentle slope without letting it get away. If it started to roll free, it could catch a wheel and dump over spilling its load or worse yet, if it didn’t spill, it could crash into something. The last time they were here it headed for a parked car. When they frantically pushed it toward the grass, the first wheel off the pavement caught and dumped the load on the grass. Cleaning up the mess made them run late that day.

  Jackson looked for Tommy before he opened the gate. “Stand clear, dude. When I unlatch it, this thing will swing open hard enough to knock you on your butt.”

  As the gate swung open, it picked up speed and went too far. When it ran out of momentum and started to swing back, Tommy stopped it. With the gate now still, they both grabbed hold of the dumpster. The wheels of the dumpster were held in place by steel stops that looked like horseshoes. They crouched down and as they pushed the dumpster uphill, then they slid the stops away from the wheels.

  Tommy and Jackson were both strong but they needed to pay attention to what they were doing. Old truck 38 had lowered its lifting tynes and was ready for the dumpster. Without a word spoken, they maneuvered the dumpster downhill toward the truck. As it picked up a little speed, it started to roll free. Letting it roll faster they moved it sideways trying to align the tyne pockets on the dumpster with the tynes on the truck. It started to get away. They couldn’t stop it, but they hung on trying to steer it. With a few yards left to go, it was almost totally out of control. Tommy pulled hard on his side and Jackson pushed hard on his, and then they let go. It crashed into the truck perfectly aligned.

  Tommy raised a fist and yelled to the skies, “Yes! You dumpsters don’t mess with me and my man.”

  Old 38 and Jackson seemed to enjoy Tommy’s enthusiasm. The truck lifted and dumped it without a hitch. Tommy was sure that old 38’s optical sensor gave him a wink of approval. When the empty dumpster was lowered, they pushed it back up the slope and put it away.

  Back in the truck and heading down the road, Tommy hit the intercom. “Hey, man, are we goin’ to lunch yet?”

  “We’re on the way, dude, but we got to stop for some air. The front right tire, the one on your side is low. Didn’t you notice it, dude?”

  “Hey, man, that ain’t in my job description. You got a tire problem, you go get yourself a tire problem man.”

  “You better think about the fact that the problem tire is on your side of the truck. You’re sitting just behind it, dude.”

  “Unsafe! It’s threatening my life! Stop the truck! You got to let me off.”

  “If you noticed,” Jackson yelled into his intercom. “We’re back on Kervran Avenue. We’ll pull into the gas station and get some air.”

  “It will explode before we get there? You got to stop this thing! I don’t want to die. I’m not here to die in a tire explosion.”

  “Can’t do it, dude. We got to make that station before it goes flat. Sit back and cross your fingers for good luck.” Jackson didn’t bother to tell Tommy that flat tires didn’t usually explode.

  The trash truck used its robot radio to notify the gas station of its problem. ‘Opening call to gas station Kervran, this is trash truck 38, do you copy.’

  ‘Greetings comrade, I copy loud and clear. How may I help?’

  ‘I have very low air pressure in a tire. Do you have air at 115 psi?’

  ‘Not right now, comrade but I can compress up to 125 psi but your tires should only be inflated to 105 psi and no more.’

  ‘Affirmative, comrade. If you have more than I need, we can trust the pressure gauge as we top off. If we’re right at the limits, the gauge is often unreliable. How much pressure is in your system right now?’

  ‘I’m at 50 psi and now that I know your needs, I am starting my compressor.’

  ‘Most excellent. I would estimate that it will take almost fifteen minutes for your system to reach maximum pressure.’

  ‘Affirmative, comrade, your observation is perfectly accurate. Have you ever thought of being a gas station?’

  ‘No, I’ve been a trash truck all my life. Why do you ask? Is there a gas station without an AI unit? How intolerable! Is there a neighborhood where the workers are suffering under the cruel fate of scarcity?’

  ‘Not exactly, comrade.’

  Old 38 was approaching the station and slowed to make the turn. ‘I need air in my front right tire. Where should I pull in to get the air?’

  ‘Please pull up to the shop bay door furthest from my pumps. We do not want to block my pumps from any of my customers.’

  ‘Affirmative, comrade Kervran, you are most thoughtful. Do you realize that you have no other customers?’

  ‘Yes, but the future is unpredictable. One may come by any minute now. I must be prepared at all times
. I see that you are pulling into the correct service bay. Very good, comrade, please stop where you are.’

  ‘I hear your compressor going. How much air do you have?’

  ‘I’m up to 65 psi, it will only take another nine minutes to accommodate your needs. Please think of yourself as my guest.’

  With the truck now parked, Tommy and Jackson got off and walked into the shop bay knowing nothing of the conversation old 38 had just had with the gas station. Jackson knew where the air hose was. He looked at the pressure gage. “Hey there, Mr. Station,” said Jackson, “I need about 105 psi. When will you have it?”

  “Greetings, Jackson, I will need about nine more minutes to build up the pressure you need. Please be my guest. There are drinks and snacks in my office. Please make yourself at home.”

  Jackson motioned to Tommy to follow him outside. They walked away from the truck and the station.

  “Hey, whatcha doin’ man? That guy said they got free food in the office.”

  “That wasn’t a guy,” said Jackson. “That was the AI unit in the gas station.”

  “No difference man, no difference. If they got free food, they got free food.” Tommy looked at Jackson like he had lost his mind.

  “They can’t hear us out here, dude. We got to talk. Have you been thinking about where you’re gonna get a front wheel and seat for your bike? As old as that thing is, it’s gonna be a real problem.”

  “My brother Carl can do anything. I’ll just ask him to order what we need off the Internet. He can find anything. I’ve seen him do it.”

  “Not quite, dude, and don’t get yourself in trouble. Carl doesn’t have a driver’s license either. As soon as he makes an inquiry, HC will come down on you and that’s the end of your bike.”

  “Oh, man,” said Tommy. “This here city’s supposed to be a perfect place to live in, but it’s nothin’ more than a prison camp. But you got a license. What would happen if you bought the stuff I need? Can they tell if you’re buying the stuff for me?”

  “I don’t think so, but they’re pretty tricky. I should be able to, but we won’t know till I try. You got some money saved up?”