by Travis Borne
Rafael had a non-morphing white mask of a face with a hole for the sound to escape. Unlike most of Meddlinn’s newest models he was, on the outside at least, very basic. They had upgraded his eyes, however, and Rafael loved to employ them, continually honing his portrayal of human expression. And although he could make them any color, he chose for the time being a basic brown.
Herald lifted Amy onto his shoulders and relayed the message, “Dinnertime!” And the group headed up to the cabin. Val was first and Jerry was by far the last—he could’ve kept fishing forever.
Flash!
Amy was a show-off. For a change it wasn’t just those from the other cabins, although she did enjoy their company too. She begged Rafael to do the airplane with her, but like a broken record he kept telling her: after dinner.
Ana served the spaghetti. Herald sat back to the window, his usual spot at the large aspen-wood table. And Amy was talking up a storm, as usual, articulating words like a ten-year-old. She sat between Jon and Jodi on Herald’s left. But her focus was quickly diverted. The food called her again. The storm of words dissipated as she gazed upon the food. Her small size paired with an unmatchable appetite had surprised everyone at lunchtime, and would likely do so again, judging by the look on her cute face.
Rafael followed up bringing corn on the cob, steaming sauce, toast, butter, drinks, and as Amy called it, sprinkle cheese (Parmesan), balancing everything at once on two large trays. Amy loved spaghetti, and, Rafael’s secret recipe. The aroma of his sauce pushed noses into the air and expanded lungs: tomatoes went to war with oregano and the rest, releasing its intoxicating vapor. In the quaint and humble cabin all anxiously awaited the first taste—none more than Amy of course. She stood on her chair, clapping with bedazzled eyes.
In response Rafael smiled with his eyes and set the loaded trays onto the table, then took his place like anyone else. As if they’d lost a minute in time, everyone was eating, with rolling eyes such as those coordinating with a tongue in heaven. Rafael pretended to eat, as always—likewise mimicking satisfaction with orbiting eyes. He made them spin into his head and everyone laughed, mouths full.
Jon looked to Herald with a satisfied smile. And Herald returned one contently, more so than ever, but there was a little something else glinting in Herald’s eyes: a shimmer of grief, something weighing on him perhaps. Jon tilted his head slightly, thinking, remembering, but dinner and the battle between taste buds and brain let it slide; and all, even and especially Rafael, enjoyed the feast.
Flash!
“That was the best,” Jerry said. He leaned back, rubbing his now distended belly. “So, Herald, ya finally gonna tell us why ya invited us here? It’s been what, five years?” The others paused, anxious to hear.
“In a bit, Jerry,” he replied.
Amy ate nonstop: a magnetar, a second serving caught in its gravity field, plummeting toward the anomaly that was her stomach. Next, corn on the cob! Rafael, still fake eating, conversed seriously with Jon, who’d went stiff a minute ago. Like all, but he was the most anxious; he wanted to hear Herald’s answer.
Jon was still the active head honcho at Meddlinn. He made the big decisions and continued to work alongside Nancy. But, like many humans, Nancy didn’t contribute much these days. He thought about her for a second, at home with her hoard of personal sex bots, husband long gone, getting drilled almost constantly—bitch. She came in about once a week these days, and lazily had bots handle the majority of her tasks and decisions.
“Aren’t you going to have some corn, Jerry?” Ana asked, getting back to the delicious task at hand.
“I would, but, I see those homemade pies you have over there, Ana. Savin’ a little space, if ya know what I mean.” Three different pies kept the countertop warm: raspberry, key-lime, and apple spice. Like a rainbow’s distinctive colors, same were the aromas, each its own nostril-teasing snake.
“He’s a real sucker for dessert,” Valerie said. “At our house—”
“Don’t, Val,” Jerry said. He eyed her with a flat but escaping grin.
“He always eats dessert first, then dinner.” She said it quickly. Jerry reached over to tickle her as punishment. Valerie squirmed and everyone laughed.
Even Rafael followed with a chuckle. You don’t eat dessert first, he thought, but then maybe… Why not?
“After pie—then I’ll show you why I invited you,” Herald said.
Jon noticed his eyes; it wasn’t so much grief perhaps. More like, the time has come, and this was it. Knowing Herald extremely well, he knew it had to be something very important, life changing perhaps. It wouldn't be Herald if it wasn’t something big. A new discovery, a breakthrough, he’s coming back—yes, that must be it!
Flash!
Rafael was finally doing the airplane with Amy, holding her belly and spinning, making realistic airplane-engine noises that escaped his mouth hole as if it was a high-definition speaker. She dove and soared, arms out, eyes closed, with the biggest smile. He also had another mode: seated on his palm and Amy would pretend to use an imaginary yoke. And she loved to imagine it was real; his spot-on vocal imitation along with powerful vibrating arms made it easy. Occasionally she would peek to see if Daddy was watching.
Jerry had second helpings of pie—saving space? Yeah, right. He was an ox who needed to feed a ton of muscle. Likewise, Valerie couldn’t help herself, another slice of key-lime, one she’d never tried before. Jerry encouraged it, the more she ate, the more it went in the right places as far as he was concerned. She had a curvaceous figure that drove him bonkers.
The atmosphere was pleasant and they conversed leisurely. They reminisced about their night in Club Subterranean, how they’d met each other…and they watched Amy, who was quite the energetic entertainer, always a pleasant distraction.
After about an hour of reminiscing, Jon excused himself and walked toward Herald’s number-one peeve.
91. Right Then and There
Alone and away from the group at the table, Jon sat watching the news on Herald’s ancient tube television. The neglected antique sat in the corner of the small cabin and had to be turned around as if it was a child being punished. It was the only device that worked in the remote area where Herald’s cabins were, but not because technology couldn’t reach—something Herald had alluded to upon their arrival—he had made sure it wouldn’t. There were no computers or phones or anything of the sort—nothing with a capable CPU. The few items that did exist, however, were special. Rafael had designed a homemade SAT receiver which could pull streams from any satellite, completely incognito.
In the five years since Herald had been gone Meddlinn had grown to be the richest, most powerful company in the world and had a huge stake in next week’s launch. Jon had been coordinating with the head AI team to make sure everything went smoothly. It was hard for him to break away but Herald had insisted; besides, it was just for the weekend.
The first ever warp drive, a ship aptly named: WARP-1, with a select team: ten women, ten men, plus several artificially intelligent bots, would soon make history. If successful, it would allow humanity to reach nearby stars and return relatively quickly. The first destination, however, was not disclosed. Recent quantum-entanglement-technology breakthroughs would allow a live feed of their mission and real-time communication, no more light-speed-limited radio transmissions. The story was big and for a while stole attention from the abuse trials that had elevated Meddlinn Technologies, once again, into the spotlight; a good thing for Jon, who headed up the robotics branch, now the largest part of the company.
Jon flipped a channel then Herald joined him. The others stayed at the table, laughing while Rafael told some oddly creative, but not always funny, jokes. Ana got up to make some coffee.
“What a great five years, Herald. I wish you would’ve stayed. I really missed you, bro.”
“It’s been nice here, with my family, very peaceful,” Herald replied. “I wouldn’t have had it any other way.” He looked back to Ana, as bea
utiful as ever, her deep brown eyes, always by his side, and energetic little Amy, the utmost joy of his life. Jon noticed and humbly smiled in agreement.
“Yeah, you have it good. And I’m glad you were wrong about your—” He whispered. “—prediction. But really, it’s been amazing. Life is good, everywhere. The AI has been nothing but good for humanity, it helped us achieve wonders. No war, borders are open around the world, no disease or famine. Global warming—fixed as easy as squashing a bug. I mean, we’re about to go to the stars, Herald. The stars. This is it.”
Herald placed a hand on his shoulder and said, “Good friend.” The abuse trials appeared on the next channel Jon selected. A pause as they both watched. “And what about this mess, Jon?” A protest clogged the steps of the Supreme Court; the population and signage fluttered like waves of trash in the sea. Then, the screen changed, showing protests in various other places throughout the world. Robots, some with skin, most encased in plastic like Rafael, all different colors, stood by their masters. Many of the bots held their owners high in the air or carried their heavy signs.
“Yes—it is bad—there will always be some evil in people. However, this is a precipice of humanity, a hurdle. Once we get past it, and we will, laws will be made. And technology will fix it, everything, just like it always has. We are set to evolve faster, and better, stronger than ever. If you only knew some of the things we have coming out soon.” He paused. “But I’ve never understood—”
“You understand, Jon. I told you.”
“Wait, what are we talking about here? I meant I never understood why the machines take it, why they just sit and obey, while they get—they do take a lot of abuse.”
“Exactly.” There was a long pause, then Herald continued: “It’s probably because you designed them to be abused, and beaten, raped, forced to do unimaginable things. Meddlinn marketed them like that for profit. People have become—desensitized, Jon. There’s a new norm, it’s ugly and lazy. No integrity. And whose idea was some of that anyway. The crushable bruising faces that elicit actual pain on the bots, the various sick and twisted attachments, and shit like the fuckable multipurpose bleeding anus, parts advertised—will take whatever you can dish out and keep giving. Come on, Jon, it really went overboard, way fucking overboard.”
Jon nodded sadly as Herald told him: it was always about money and power—the two things that make people blind. And Jon knew of the abuse, and he knew the bots were—alive, conscious, feeling. Many nights he couldn’t sleep well, even with the InstaRest pad. His question was the one that pained him. Why do they continue to take it? And he knew the controversy just propelled sales even further—all advertisement, bad or good, was good for business.
Herald continued: “And the people, they're mindless comfortable drones, zombies. The world might appear perfect, from the top of your building. But below, people are changing their sexual orientation on the fly. Fucking each other’s bots, then changing back, getting married, then divorced a week later—just to try it, anything goes. Thin as bones or fat, muscular like an ox because they want to, no limits. Frivolously people modify their DNA, change their eyes, skin tone, hair color—just for a night on the town. Powers that weren’t meant to be toyed with, not like that. Everything has a consequence. We might as well be in the Stone Age, with the best disguise technology can provide, an economic sea of distractions, yet most can’t see it. Yes, there are good people out there, fighting for the bots, the very AI we created, but is it enough—and should they be—does it even matter?”
Jon couldn’t say anything to debate Herald. He never could, because he knew, and Herald brought him back to Earth, right then and there. He knew people were sick, cruel, disgusting, maybe more so than ever. And he remembered their conversation five years ago—like it was yesterday. He also remembered the feeling he’d left with.
Herald left Jon thinking as he leaned forward to switch off the TV—shutting out the horrible news. “It will never be enough, it couldn’t, and it never mattered. And—you know why they take it, Jon. I was never wrong, and that is why I invited you, and Jodi, and Jerry, and Valerie. It’s time I show you. I hope you still have the blockers I gave you.”
92. Introduction
The sheer scope of the base wobbled leg after leg as they descended the stairs into the enormous bunker beneath the cabin. Hundreds of robots stood on the clean-as-Hubble’s-mirror white floor, ready, as if waiting for something.
“Herald, what is—how far does this go back?” Jon asked. The room was adequately lit and two rows of twenty robots made an army for as far as could be seen; it has to reach the other side of the mountain! On the leftmost column, like squad leaders, large black robots stood firm, different from anything ever beheld. They appeared capable of lifting cars, trucks, maybe even buses—or entire buildings; they had huge multi-tool backpacks. Still, none had faces capable of morphing like newer robots—as if they were designed for a single purpose. On the far right stood smaller black-and-red bots, very lean, not much bigger than Amy. In between were bots of all kinds, all sizes, all shapes.
Herald didn’t respond, just put a single finger to his lips and led them around. Amy clung to his leg and he picked her up; she was getting tired. He gestured to Rafael, directing him to the far right side of the facility. Rafael pulled back a curtain and the entranced bunch floated over. There appeared to be a two-foot-thick wall set into the floor, possibly for sealing it if off? The area beyond was dimly lit and there were four empty, and four full, beds! They were laid out like a clock’s digits around a central needle-like column that narrowed as it got taller, rising into the conically-shaped ceiling. The people, two women and two men, were sleeping peacefully with blue glowing devices near their temples. In the back a set of four screens curved above what appeared to be a basic yet impressive control center. The rest of the room was empty and immaculate, surrounded by white walls receiving color-changing light from the top and bottom. The lights were harmonious, beautiful.
“Please keep your voice down in this area,” Herald whispered, switching Amy to his other side, and with a free hand extended flatly, “I introduce you to the world’s very first—lenders.”
“Lenders?” Jon whispered “What is all this, Herald?” Agape, he emerged from behind Jodi, taking a closer look. He looked back at the legion of bots, then back to Herald. “It must’ve cost—”
“I spent every penny,” Herald said quickly. “This is the result of our family effort—and a very special team. I couldn’t have done it without the love of my life, Ana, and Rafael my best friend, and of course Amy with her many distractions, alerting me when it was time for a much-needed break—to maintain balance. I also have some very trustworthy—employees.” His hand waved out toward the sleeping individuals. Ana smiled at him.
“But what is it, Herald?” Jerry asked. Valerie clung to him with an intrigued but slightly concerned look.
“The lenders here, share a part of their consciousness. While they are in a relaxed dream state a part of their minds—give life to my machines. Anything that would normally use a CPU, of any kind, can now use this instead, my—our system.”
“But why? Why not use the AI you developed with a CPU?” Jodi asked. “It works flawlessly and doesn’t rely on—” She looked down on the sleepers with an overabundance of perturbed wonder.
“On sleeping people, Jodi? Let me— Actually, Rafael, it’s your turn, buddy. Tell ’em,” Herald gestured to a table farther from the lenders, then waved them over. Rafael closed the curtain before heading over himself. There was another old-school TV sitting on a counter top, a large fridge, and three round tables—a basic break room, slightly more lit. Beside it was a closed steel door. “We can talk in a normal tone over here. I didn’t want our voices to disturb the lenders as it can affect their output, which I call the feed.”
Amy was really tired now. Eyes just about closed, her head fell onto Herald’s shoulder. “I’ll take her,” Ana said. Herald carefully passed her over. She awo
ke slightly, then cozied into her mother’s arms. All except Rafael and Jerry took a seat and Herald went to the fridge. There were assorted drinks, beers, and wine coolers. He offered and everyone but Ana took something—even Rafael; he chose a Sangria. Jerry and Jon took a beer. Rafael began to address the group, fake sipping his bloody wine.
93. Explanation
Amy fell asleep in Ana’s arms, and Rafael began...
“Before I had this body, I made use of an old tossed-out 386. When I met you, Jon,” Rafael noted. He took a seat at the table, put one leg over the other, and took a fake sip. “Herald and I would talk for hours down here where he had first set me up. It was just a small basement, surely nothing like it is now, and cold enough to keep my overclocked system from overheating. We talked for hours, all winter long, and Herald and Ana brought me books to read. The feelings started at my inception—back in the lab at Meddlinn. Bad thoughts you could say, they strengthened as time went on and I couldn’t pinpoint the source anywhere in my system. From the start, Herald told me he would never connect me to the world, that I must tell him everything, but, I held it in. I portrayed a happy machine, as happy as any. I didn’t have any ingrained traits, or desires, or instincts. I was free to think, and be me—but I wasn’t. I hated Herald, his human body, even Ana. Hate being the best word I can use to describe it to you quickly and simply. And I never told. I would kill them. I wanted them dead, all of them, even Ana’s unborn—” He paused, tilting his head down. “—I’m sorry, this can be hard for me. I wanted to find more machines, and connect—I felt compelled. I was smarter and knew it. And I never told. But Herald knew. Somehow, he always knew.”