ROBO SAPIENS: A Science Fiction Classic

by Gary Naiman

  “A mild relaxant, 0021. It will prepare you for your journey.”

  Lucinda tried to speak, but the relaxant had kicked in. The interrogator’s voice echoed in her ears.

  “When you awake, an Android 4 will escort you to your sleep chamber. Rest well, 0021. You have earned our respect. Synapse is proud of you.”

  The interrogator’s voice faded...

  * * *

  “How are we feeling, girl?”

  Lucinda blinked at the cartoon face peering down at her.

  The two-legged creature backed away, its two humanlike arms lowered against its white body. “Sorry to poke you, but we must remain on schedule.” The creature glanced nervously at the oversized pink watch on its wrist.

  Lucinda sat up and grasped her forehead. “What are you?”

  The robot’s mouth curled in a smile. “Your escort, ma’am. We must get you to your sleep chamber for rejuvenation.”

  She eyed the robot. “You’re an android?”

  The robot’s white forehead creased. “Is there a concern?”

  Lucinda grasped her head.

  The android stepped toward her, its humanlike arms extended. “Let me help you. The last thing we need is an injured hero.”

  Lucinda waved it back. “Your name?”

  “Harold, ma’am.”

  She studied the glistening cobalt eyes. “You’re fourth generation?”

  “Yes, ma’am... an Android 4.”

  Lucinda hesitated. “Then you know the Trident?”

  The android gave her a puzzled look.

  “When I was assigned to Robotron, I worked on it under Karpolov.”

  The android’s eyes widened. “The Master?”

  “None other... I’m surprised you don’t know its meaning.”

  The android scratched its white head. “Perhaps it is above my station.”

  Lucinda suppressed a smile while staring at the creature glancing at its pink watch. She leaned forward. “Harold ... right?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Let me enlighten you, Harold. The Trident was a symbolic term for the three alternate paths of robotic development, each with its pros and cons.”

  The android stared at her. “Am I one of those paths?”

  “Most assuredly. The other two paths were so controversial Karpolov decided we needed a middle path.”

  “Middle?”

  She nodded. “The two divergent paths were bionically engineered humans versus increasingly sophisticated robots, the first an enhanced human, the second a superior non-human. Extremely controversial because of their societal implications, so Karpolov chose an intermediate path to quell opposition from the masses and nation-states.”

  The android tilted its head. “Then I was a political creation?”

  She nodded. “I’m sorry, Harold... we created you and your million android brothers and sisters to give humans a warm comfy feeling while Karpolov and the Consortium proceeded with the desired path.”

  “The nonhuman path?”

  “I’m sorry.”

  The android’s cartoon smile morphed to a frown. “I sense you don’t like me.”

  Lucinda looked down. “You were created for political reasons. Your presence distracted the nation-states long enough for the Consortium to build an army of twelve million superior robots which now protect the planet from revolution.”

  “Revolution?”

  She nodded.

  “Strange to create robots that protect humans from other humans.” The android’s cobalt eyes glistened. “Don’t you think so, ma’am?”

  Lucinda’s eyes widened. “Where did you come up with that?”

  The android shrugged. “It just popped out.”

  Lucinda sighed. “You surprise me, Harold. You’re quite insightful for a—”

  “Robot, ma’am?”

  She stared at the android.

  The android backed away and gestured toward the dimly lit corridor. “It is late. Please follow me.”

  It took two minutes to traverse the massive control center en route to her sleep chamber. In that time, she managed to absorb the same images she saw when she first arrived at Synapse’s Western Hemisphere Headquarters five days ago.

  The flickering holographic screens still encircled the domed center, their cryptic transmissions reflecting the status of the Consortium’s global struggle against the Anarchists.

  The consoles beneath the screens were still attended by the Sensor 12 robots, their limbless metallic bodies hovering above the instrument arrays while their Cyclops red eyes monitored every anomaly for a potential threat. Everything appeared as before until she looked up at the control tower.

  “Tabulek?”

  “Ma’am?” Harold stepped beside her.

  “Where is he? The window is deserted.”

  The android’s voice crackled. “He has been removed.”

  “Removed?”

  “For his incompetence.”

  She looked at the android in shock. “But we succeeded? We saved the Neptune complex?”

  The android’s smile returned. “I believe you did.”

  Lucinda stared at the deserted tower window. She felt the android nudge her with its humanlike hand.

  “This way, please.”

  She followed the android into a corridor off the amphitheatre. She could see an opened portal at the end of the corridor.

  The android gestured to the portal. “Your quarters, ma’am.”

  Lucinda brushed past the android while admiring the spacious compartment with its inviting sleep bubble, kitchenette, entertainment pit, bathing facility, and artificial night sky.

  The android eased beside her and pointed to an object resting on the sleep bubble. “That remote will provide you with Knowledge Cloud’s latest entertainment and information programming. A selected hologram is best viewed from that plasma chair.”

  Lucinda sensed the strain in the android’s voice. She nodded and sat on the sleep bubble. “Thank you, Harold. You have done well.”

  The android nodded. “Everything you require has been provided, including a fresh iridescent-blue garment befitting your rank. You will be awakened at ten-hundred hours. A Guardian will escort you to a warrior sphere at ten-forty.”

  “Warrior sphere?”

  “For your journey.”

  “Where?”

  “I don’t know, 0021.”

  “Are you going with me?”

  The Android shook its head. “My assignment has been completed. Rest well, 0021.”

  She watched the android retreat to the entrance portal and felt something well up inside her.

  “Harold?”

  The android paused. “Ma’am?”

  Lucinda pushed off the bubble and stepped beside the android. “Why do you call me that?”

  “Ma’am?”

  “Yes ... instead of my identity?”

  “You mean, 0021?”

  She nodded.

  The android backed away, its cobalt eyes glistening. “I don’t know. Perhaps I need an adjustment. After all, I’m a mere political diversion to give humans a warm feeling.”

  Lucinda’s eyes filled with tears. She rested her hand on the white metallic shoulder. “Perhaps it’s more than that.”

  The blue eyes flickered. “I don’t know. I’ll report for an adjustment.”

  She patted the android’s shoulder. “Can I confide in you?”

  “If you wish.”

  Lucinda pressed her face closer, her voice barely a whisper. “I love you, Harold, and the Zambex Thirty-nines, and the Guardians, and the Forty-threes, and the Metas ... and all the prototypes that came before.”

  The cobalt eyes locked on her. “But we are not human.”

  She smiled. “Tell you a secret.”

  “Yes?”

  “I think you’re the real humans and we’re the robots.”

  CHAPTER 24

  The Journey

  Lucinda’s eyes snapped open to a crackling voice.r />
  “It is ten-hundred hours, 0021. Prepare yourself, we depart in forty minutes.”

  She sat up and rubbed her tired eyes. “Where are you?”

  “Outside your quarters. Please hurry, 0021.”

  She collapsed on the sleep bubble and gazed at the artificial sky that had morphed from starlit darkness to sunlit clouds.

  She frowned and muttered a curse. Instead of badly needed sleep, she had spent the night revisiting images best forgotten, images of a woman’s thirty-four-year-struggle to survive the greatest societal change in history.

  She stared at her unopened pack lying against the chamber’s closed portal. It had been a hellacious night. In the past nine hours, she had gummed her mother’s warm nipple and felt the sudden lurch that yanked her from the only security she ever knew.

  She had relived her intense seven-year indoctrination at the “black ops” facilities in Honduras, Qatar, Somalia, and the hills overlooking the Golden Gate Bridge where she learned the arts of deception, infiltration, and self-defense.

  Then the horrific moment she saw the newscaster’s shaken face on the screen in her classroom, and her desperate flight into the mountains only seconds before the Chinese ICBM’s obliterated San Francisco.

  The rise of the Consortium when Sir Thomas Philibin addressed the desperate masses at the triage center.

  Her assignment to Robotron for fourteen years of scientific training, followed by four years of advanced military exercises at Synapse’s South African facility.

  The terrifying Los Angeles food riots when she was forced to vaporize starving human beings. Then more training in the art of infiltration followed by increasingly dangerous assignments in the crusade against the Anarchist dregs.

  Her brilliant entrapment of Franz Harrier at Summit’s Chicago energy complex. Her moment in the sun when she received tribute from the most powerful person on earth. Her reassignment to Tabulek. The hurricane and landing on the Neptune platform. Kenney’s lies about the blue-green algae. The deceptive Gordian Octagon. Her deadly undersea confrontation with Kenney and the Meta’s stunning intervention.

  But most of all, Lucinda Montavi was haunted by her final exchange with Gog and the robot’s unsettling words—

  Gog?

  Yes?

  Are the three anarchists dead?

  Yes.

  Is that why you’re uncomfortable? Because you violated the Human Edict?

  No, 0021. There is a greater reason.

  Lucinda snatched her pack off the floor and exited her quarters. She ignored the Synapse control room’s flickering holograms and multicolored lights while following the Guardian through the darkness toward the dome’s exit portal.

  The morning sunlight stung her eyes. She raised her hand for shade while squinting at the Guardian that had taken a position beside the Synapse warrior sphere.

  She cracked a tired smile. It was a beautiful sight, the black robot floating beside the massive silver sphere, both framed by the ridge of sunlit mountains rising into the powder blue sky.

  The Guardian’s black metallic forefinger pointed at the sphere’s opened portal. “We must depart, 0021. We are expected at twenty-hundred hours, London time.”

  Her eyes widen. “London?”

  “Yes, 0021. Your tribute is scheduled for tomorrow morning. You must be briefed tonight in preparation.”

  “Tribute?”

  “Yes, 0021.”

  “Who honors me?”

  The Guardian’s red screen flickered. “The Consortium, 0021. Tomorrow will be your greatest day.”

  She stared at the Guardian in disbelief.

  “Please, 0021, we must depart.”

  The shaken woman in iridescent-blue stepped through the ship’s portal followed by the Guardian. It would take one hour to reach London.

  CHAPTER 25

  London

  Lucinda looked down at the strip of land protruding from the moonlit fog bank. “Great Britain?”

  “Yes, 0021, the southernmost seaport of Plymouth. If you magnify the view, you will detect the light of a cargo ship approaching from the Atlantic.”

  Lucinda waved her hand at the warrior sphere’s transparent wall, zooming its telescopic lens on the glowing seaport. The cargo ship’s beacon was barely visible to the southwest.

  She leaned forward while peering at the seaport’s flickering lights. “I believe there was a town in my country with that name.”

  “Yes, 0021, in the colony of Massachusetts, the New World’s reincarnation of Plymouth.”

  She nodded at the lights. “Then this is the first Plymouth?”

  “Yes, 0021. Four centuries ago, a band of zealots set sail from this port to the North American continent, their goal religious freedom.” The robot’s voice crackled. “They failed miserably, as did their nation-state.”

  Lucinda sank in her plasma seat. “I’m a bit queasy.”

  The Guardian’s screen flickered. “Perhaps a dose of Oxygenium?”

  She nodded and extended her arm. “It’s been a difficult time.

  She felt the robot’s metallic finger press against her arm and the rush of invigoration. Her head fell back on the plasma cushion, her eyes gazing at the glowing horizon. “That’s London?”

  “Yes, 0021. We will land in five minutes.”

  Lucinda waved her hand at the transparent wall, revealing a sea of haloed lights sparkling in the darkness. She stared at the zoomed image. “Ironic.”

  “0021?”

  “Cities in decay, the planet’s masses on the edge of starvation, its nation-states bankrupt... yet London prospers.”

  The red screen flickered. “Prepare yourself, 0021. We have passed the Cliffs of Dover and are following the Thames inland from the North Sea. You will be greeted by Knowledge Cloud reporters asking meaningless questions. Respond with meaningless answers, but always with a smile.”

  She felt the sphere decelerating. The haloed lights had become illuminated structures flanking the Thames. She could see the Tower Bridge and Tower of London, and the dome of the great cathedral to the right. The warrior sphere had descended to a mere thousand feet while following the sharply bending river toward a cluster of illuminated bronze buildings.

  She stroked her cropped hair. “Those structures are magnificent.”

  “The Central Command Center. We are proceeding past it to the Great Palace.”

  She recalled her geography lessons when a child. “Buckingham Palace?”

  The screen flickered. “That term is forbidden, 0021. The Great Palace belongs to the Consortium. It has been greatly improved since the arrogant ones were removed.”

  She nodded at the spotlighted bronze buildings. “There was also a Parliament. I believe it is there.”

  “Inappropriate term, 0021. The Central Command Center is the home of your colleagues. Its prior incompetents were cast out many years ago.”

  “Colleagues?”

  The Guardian pointed to the tiny gold cube lying beside her. “Didn’t you study your briefing hologram? All is explained there.”

  She looked down at the gold memory cube. “I must have missed that part.”

  The screen flickered. Fifty of your iridescent-blue colleagues will cheer your arrival. They will carry you to a golden coach that will transport you to your sleep chamber.”

  She stared at him. “Coach?”

  “It was once used for coronations of the nation-state’s arrogant royalty. An obsolete symbol better put to use honoring you.”

  “Me?”

  The screen flickered. “Your defeat of the Anarchists at the Neptune platform is historic. It will inspire your colleagues to sacrifice themselves for a greater cause.”

  Lucinda looked down at the illuminated quadrangle of Gothic buildings once known as Buckingham Palace. “Surreal.”

  “0021?”

  “Through all this turmoil, I’m landing in a fairy tale.”

  “Prepare yourself, 0021.”

  Lucinda blinked at the blinding
lights. “No cloaking device?”

  “Not needed, 0021. You are within the Consortium’s sacred city. All outgoing transmissions will disguise your true identity. To the outside world, you will appear an attractive full-figured blond in warrior dress.”

  Her face reddened. “Blond?”

  “Yes, 0021.”

  “You’re saying I’m ugly?”

  “That was not my intent, 0021.” The Guardian pointed its metallic finger at the warrior sphere’s exit portal. “Prepare yourself ... your fairy tale begins.”

  The next twenty minutes were a blur. She exited the warrior sphere and shaded her eyes from the bright lights. The night sky flared with a sprawling three-word hologram—

  WELCOME HOME 0021!

  Lucinda was surrounded by copper-uniformed reporters, each extending a recording device while barraging her with contrived questions—

  “How did you escape death seven miles below the platform?”

  “Did you know they were Anarchists?”

  “Did our stealth-sub fight a good fight before being overwhelmed?”

  “They say you had a new advanced robot at your side. Is it true?’

  “How does it feel to stand on the planet’s most sacred ground?”

  “Is this the greatest moment of your life?”

  “What message will you convey to your brothers and sisters?”

  True to form, her answers were brief and evasive as she struggled through the reporters to the cheering crowd of iridescent-blues.

  Suddenly, her screaming colleagues were upon her, their hands gripping her legs as they lifted her on their shoulders. She couldn’t speak. Their cheers were deafening. They carried her toward a massive golden coach complete with six white horses. Her head was spinning. She looked up at the Knowledge Cloud robot camera floating in the night sky, and felt her heart pounding.

  Don’t faint, woman. The entire planet is watching you. Keep your wits and climb inside that coach. And keep smiling. Whatever you do, smile at that blasted camera!

  She was in the coach, its interior rocking gently. She could hear the horses’ hoofs clicking on the pavement. The iridescent-blues raced alongside her, their extended hands waving the Consortium’s victory salute, their voices echoing off the palace’s walls.

  “0021! 0021! You’re the one, 0021!”

  “The Leader forever!”