Cog

by Greg Van Eekhout

  “My name is Cog,” Car says in my voice, moving my mouth and gesturing in a way I never gesture with my hands. “I like to learn things. I know things about platypuses. I talk about platypuses all the time. Platypuses have fourteen stomachs. Platypuses are filled with liquid. Platypuses breathe fire. Night or day, I am always talking about platypuses.”

  I don’t think Car sounds like me at all. And worse, none of those things she is saying about platypuses is true. When all this is over and we are reunited with Gina and are safe and free, I will attempt to increase Car’s cognitive development about platypuses.

  But for now, I say “rarf” and trot along into custody.

  Chapter 18

  CAR IS LESS CAREFUL WITH my body than I’d like. She goes too fast, bumping my shoulder against the wall as she’s led by the security guards. I suppose she’s having a difficult time adjusting to having legs instead of wheels. Trashbot, in ADA’s body, isn’t doing much better, and I’m only starting to get used to how it feels to clatter along on Proto’s four legs.

  The Tower is different than the uniMIND campus. Instead of high ceilings and open spaces and windows to the outside, it’s narrow corridors and surfaces made of black glass. And while the campus was busy with uniMIND workers, I’ve only seen a few humans here, mostly our guards. But there are many robots.

  A robot nearly identical to Trashbot rolls by, buffing the floor. A swarm of bee-sized robots buzzes overhead, and after they pass, the air smells fresher. We even encounter a robot much like Proto, only with six legs instead of four and covered in sleek, black plating.

  The guards stick us in a supply closet, which we share with a mop, a bucket, and a lot of toilet paper. They bind my body’s wrists with a plastic zip tie and force it into a chair. They do the same to ADA’s body, only in addition to the zip tie they use metal handcuffs and half a roll of duct tape. They know how strong she is.

  They leave Proto’s and Trashbot’s bodies unbound but tell us to stand against the back wall and to stay there. They don’t consider a janitorial robot and a small mechanical dog a threat.

  “This will do until Nathan flies in,” a guard says before locking us in.

  I wait until their footfalls grow distant. “Rarf,” I say.

  Which nobody understands, so I’m not sure why I bother saying anything.

  Fortunately, ADA takes charge.

  “We have completed Phase Two of the plan, infiltrating the enemy’s stronghold. Now we begin Phase Three: Locating Gina.” Even coming through Trashbot’s voice box, I recognize ADA’s take-charge approach. “Two children would be noticed moving through the tower,” ADA says, “but a janitorial robot and a dog have a better chance of successful sneaking. So Cog and I will use your bodies to find Gina and free her.”

  Leaving our bodies behind with Car’s and Trashbot’s brains, ADA and I begin our search for Gina.

  We roll and clatter along windowless passages. When a worker opens a door to enter an office we catch a glimpse of a desk and a computer inside. ADA rolls in before the door shuts, and I follow.

  The worker turns to look at us, wrinkling his eyebrows.

  “I don’t have any waste to dispose of,” he says. “One of you disposed of my waste ten minutes ago.”

  ADA sprays cleaning fluid on the worker’s shirt. “Here is some fresh waste.”

  The worker jumps back and uses a word that is from the category of language called profanity, which Gina said she would teach me when I am older, and when I asked her every five minutes if I was old enough yet, she got a headache.

  “I am sorry,” says ADA. “I was aiming for the floor.”

  She sprays more cleaning fluid on the floor and on the worker’s shoes and on his chair. He uses more words that I suspect are profanity.

  A stinging scent expands in the room.

  The worker’s face turns the color of a radish, and his forehead displays veins I have never seen before except in pictures.

  “I will have this cleaned up in three minutes.” ADA extends Trashbot’s mop attachment.

  “How about a towel? For my shoes?”

  “I am not equipped with a towel, but I will attend to your footwear.” She spins Trashbot’s mop and advances toward the worker.

  “Don’t touch me!” he says, along with additional profanity. I am pleased that even in Proto’s body I am increasing my cognitive development in the form of added vocabulary.

  “I’m going to the bathroom, and by the time I’m back you better have this office cleaned up, dried, and not smelling like a lemony acid pit or else I’ll brick you myself.”

  With that, he storms out of the office and pounds down the hallway.

  “I believe he is serious about bricking us,” ADA says.

  I rarf and jump up on the worker’s chair. From here I stand on my hind legs and use his mouse and keyboard with my front legs. He didn’t log out of his computer before leaving, which means I have access to the same data he does. Opening a browser, I try to type some search terms and discover Proto’s paws are not designed for typing. It takes me a long time to bring up a building map.

  But the map doesn’t show us what we need. There is nothing marked “prison” or “jail” or “detention center.” That explains why we were put in a janitorial supply closet to await Nathan’s arrival. But if Gina is not being kept in a secure cell, then where is she?

  I try another approach and find a building directory. It’s searchable by department and by name, so I type in “Gina Cohen.”

  My tail whips with excitement when her name comes up. She’s in the Remote Brain Control Lab. I locate the lab on the map, rarf at ADA, and we’re out of the office and hurrying down corridors. ADA barely keeps up with me as I race through the passageways, dodging the legs of uniMIND workers and swerving past janitorial robots. It would be better to move slowly in order to avoid attracting unwanted attention, but I find I cannot help myself. So much has happened to me since I last saw Gina. I have learned so many things, and though it is good to fulfill my purpose, many of the lessons have been difficult and confusing. Things will be better once I am back with Gina. Together, we will escape uniMIND, and I can return to increasing my cognitive development in less painful ways.

  We ride a cargo elevator to the eighteenth floor, along with two human uniMIND workers and a pallet loaded with crates.

  “That’s pretty cute,” one of the workers says, nodding her chin at me. “I bet my kids would have fun with that.”

  “It’s not a toy,” the other worker says. “It’s a prototype for a WarDog Mark Six. You can outfit it with a machine gun, flamethrower, grenade launcher, anything you want. It’s pretty cool.”

  I try to imagine Proto with a machine gun. It would probably result in bad experiences for everyone involved. A lot of cognitive development would take place.

  We exit the elevator when it stops on the eighteenth floor and navigate the twisting hallways until we arrive at the Remote Brain Control Lab. ADA catches up to me, and even she seems excited, her dusting attachment vibrating.

  We enter the lab.

  It takes a moment for me to process all the things I see.

  Like the rest of the Tower, it’s a dark room with black walls, black ceiling, black floor. Computer screens display numbers and graphs and, on some of them, diagrams of heads. They are similar to the diagram of my own head I saw at the campus. In the center of the room is a large, padded chair, reclined back. A robot with roughly human form, all plastic plating and steel joints, lies strapped to the chair. The top of its skull has been removed, and a uniMIND worker in a white coat holds its brain in her hands.

  She turns to look at me. Unable to utter a sound, I stare into Gina’s face.

  Chapter 19

  THE ROBOT WITH THE OPENED head does not move and makes no sound. Maybe it’s in sleep mode. Or, more likely, it cannot do anything since its brain rests in Gina’s hands.

  She must be fixing the robot. She must be helping it. Because that’s what G
ina does. Now we will help her escape uniMIND, and then she will help me learn.

  Step by step, tail slowly moving back and forth, I approach her. “Rarf?”

  “What are you doing here? I’m in the middle of a delicate operation,” she snaps. “Report back to wherever you’re supposed to be.”

  She sounds angry. Her voice and appearance are Gina’s, but somehow different than the Gina I know.

  “It is us,” ADA says in Trashbot’s voice. “It is ADA and Cog. Our bodies are in closets.”

  “I don’t understand,” Gina says.

  “We switched brains. It is a strategy. We are here to rescue you.”

  With the brain still in her hands, Gina blinks at ADA. She shakes her head, then looks at me. I want to tell her that I am here, seeing her, thinking, learning, happy to see her, wanting her to put down the brain and lead us away, to help us retrieve our bodies and then go back to Proto inside Car’s body in the garage and speed away and then return our brains to the correct bodies and choose a place where we can hide from uniMIND and be safe forever.

  “Rarf,” I say.

  “You have to get out here,” Gina says in a tense whisper. “Both of you, get out of here now.”

  “Yes, you are correct,” ADA says. “We must all get out of here immediately.”

  I turn to run, looking over my shoulder, waiting for Gina to put the brain down and follow us. But she does not move. She just keeps shaking her head.

  “Get out,” she says again. “Now.”

  “Actually, please stay,” says a familiar voice. And there he is, leaning against the doorway, displaying his smile. Nathan.

  Gina finally puts the brain down, a little carelessly for something as important as a brain. “I have work to do,” she says, “and the longer these robots are here bothering me, the longer this is going to take.”

  Nathan’s smile gets worse. “But I’d hate to cut this visit short. I’m sure you all missed each other.”

  “What are you talking about? It’s just a janitorial robot and a Mark Six prototype.”

  Nathan releases a disappointed sigh. “We both know that’s not true, Gina. I have this lab monitored at all times. I know it’s our runaway robots. And we’ll find the rest of them soon enough. But until then, Gina, I’d like you to shut them down.”

  He takes his bricking device from his pocket and holds it out to Gina.

  Gina’s eyes go wide. “No,” she says. Not loud. Hard to hear, even with Proto’s auditory sensors.

  “Take it, Gina.”

  She says no again, but she reaches for the device.

  “Oh, for Pete’s sake, it’s no big deal. Just press the yellow button to turn them off.”

  Nathan doesn’t give her the device. He makes her reach farther with her trembling hand.

  “No,” she says one more time. But she accepts the device from him. Her eyes are wet and shiny. Her voice shudders as her thumb touches the button and she says, “ADA. Cog. Run. Please.”

  She presses the button. Trashbot’s faceplate goes dark.

  I rarf, and rarf, and rarf, but ADA doesn’t move. She doesn’t answer. She is no longer aware.

  I spring for the door and scramble past Nathan’s grabbing hands. Gina presses the button again.

  The last thing I feel before everything fades to black is my circulation pump growing heavy as a boulder. I don’t think Proto’s pump is malfunctioning. It merely feels like my heart is breaking.

  Chapter 20

  I WAKE UP AND SEE my own hands. Brown syntha-derm, five fingers on each. Yes, they are mine. My brain is back inside my body. In a chair next to me, ADA strains against thick metal cables. Across from us, Trashbot is anchored by a bicycle chain to the leg of a heavy worktable. And Proto is in a cage.

  Only is it Proto? If they took the brain from my body and put it in him, then it’s really Car’s brain. Which means Proto is still in the parking garage, inside Car’s body. At least I hope so.

  “Hello, Cog. We’ve got a lot of work to do.” Nathan stands in front of me. He seems happy, even though his greeting sounds like a threat. I have learned that different things make different people and robots happy. Learning makes me happy. Trashbot is happy to clean up messes. It makes Nathan happy to threaten. I prefer my and Trashbot’s ways of being happy.

  “I do not understand your work,” I tell him. “I have never understood it. I do not know what your purpose is.”

  Nathan wheels a desk chair over and sits on it backward. He rests his chin on the headrest. “The purpose of a company is to make money. uniMIND makes money by creating cool stuff. We make robots. And we let other people make money from our work by letting them buy tiny, teeny bits of the company. We call those little bits shares. Some people who buy those shares are just regular people. Some are immensely wealthy and they own a lot of shares. We call these people shareholders. My job is to make sure the shares those people hold increase in value. That’s called increasing shareholder value. And it’s not just a good thing to do. It’s the law. Companies are required by law to act in ways that increase shareholder value. And making sure we abide by that law is the real job of every worker at uniMIND. You see?”

  “I understood all the words you used, and I understand what they mean and the order in which you put them together. But I still do not understand why you would do the things you do. Your brain was not programmed like my brain or ADA’s brain. You chose your purpose for yourself. I do not understand why you would choose this purpose.”

  “Well, you’re an advanced robot with a fantastically advanced brain, but I guess there are some things even you can’t learn.” He stands. “So, here’s what we’ve decided. We’re going to disassemble the janitorial robot and use its components for spare parts. We’re going to attach a machine gun to Proto, and we’re going to send him and ADA into a war zone. There are several to choose from, because there are always several wars to choose from.”

  “I won’t do what you tell me to do,” ADA says. “I won’t fight for you.”

  “Yes, you will. We’ll turn a few screws and add some new code to your programming. Not only will you fight whomever we tell you to fight, but you’ll enjoy it. You’ll be happy. So, that’s good news for you.”

  ADA strains harder.

  “And as for you, Cog, some of my bosses want to toss your brain into a wood chipper. I thought about it for three minutes, and it seemed like a great idea. But that would be a huge waste of money. And wasting money is not how we increase shareholder value. So, first we’re going to gouge the X-module out of your brain. And then we’re going to let you do what you were built to do. You’re going to learn more and learn faster than you ever thought possible. We’ll hook your brain up to a computer, and the computer will run simulations. Simulations of you shopping. Of you going to school. Of you being hunted. Of you being hit by trucks. But since they’re just simulations, and not really happening, we can run them at super high speed. You can live an entire life in a minute. You can live hundreds of lives in a day. You can go through the experience of being hit by a truck thousands of times in a single second. It’s so much more efficient than our current situation. What do you think?”

  “I think I don’t want to learn this way.”

  Nathan’s smile is bright. “Okay, thank you for your input. But that’s what we’re going to do.” He reaches for his tablet and pokes the screen a few times with his finger. Gina emerges from a side office. She moves slowly, as if through thick mud.

  “Shall we get started?” Nathan says. “Get the drill.”

  “Please, Nathan, I don’t want to do this. Please don’t make me do this.” But even as she begs Nathan not to make her follow his commands, she goes to a tool rack and picks up a drill.

  He touches his tablet screen again. “And now, for once and for all, take out that robot boy’s brain.”

  “Gina, I do not understand. If you do not wish to remove my brain, why are you cooperating with him?”

  “Go ahead,
Gina,” Nathan says. “You can tell him.” He jabs his tablet.

  Gina pulls back a lock of hair and turns her head. A thin red scar curves around the back of her ear. “They inserted a chip. It’s connected to my brain. It’s one of Nathan’s latest projects. He controls me. He makes me do what he wants. He makes me do research that I don’t want to do. Because he’s a colossal jerk, and I hope one day he’s playing with his tech toys and electrocutes himself, and—”

  “That’s enough.” Nathan jabs the tablet, and Gina stops talking.

  Nathan clears his throat. “Gina has the honor of being the first human test subject for our prototype uniMIND chip. She’s been a terrific help since we inserted it. And the best part is she volunteered for this.” His voice sounds as if he’s showing me an electric butterfly or asking me what kind of eggs I want.

  “I don’t believe you,” I say. “You are lying.”

  He presses his tablet a few times and shows me the screen. It displays a document. Heavy black letters spell out “uniMIND Employee Contract.” Nathan swipes with his finger. “Let’s see, here we go. ‘The employee shall cooperate with uniMIND decisions as to the use of all technology and products produced with blah blah blah’ . . . Legal writing is boring. Basically, Gina gave us the right to do anything we want with our technology, including implanting it in her brain.”

  “You know I didn’t agree to that,” Gina says through clenched teeth.

  Nathan holds up his tablet like a trophy. “You signed the contract.”

  “That part was on page 726. In the fine print.”

  “Forcing her to do what you want goes against the rules,” I say. “I have read books. I have learned about slavery.”

  “Are you a lawyer?”

  “No.”

  “Then it’s best you leave things to people who understand this stuff. Gina, please proceed.” He jabs his tablet. The drill whines as Gina pulls the trigger.