Sci Fi for Summer 2012

A ROBOTIC REBELLION ATTEMPT

Jack Bragen

I was sad, and this was sensed by the awareness circuitry of the android in my living room. 
     “How can I make you feel better, sir?” it asked.  Meanwhile, the thing attempted to make its face contort into what it believed would be a look of empathy.  The result was a ghastly grimace. 
     I replied, “You can’t, my good robot.  This will have to be a need that goes unmet.  You need not be concerned.”
     “Then I would like to go play with my friend, the android that lives next door,” said the machine, “if I am not needed here.” 
     “As long as all of your tasks are done, you can go play for an hour,” I said. 
     “Thank you,” it said, in its unearthly attempt at a lifelike voice.  The machine in human form went out the door of the apartment, and locked up after itself. 
     This allowed me to stew in my depression and to think, uninterrupted, for an hour.  And this was without bringing up any suspicion.  I had received a note.  It had said, “Destroy after reading.  A rebellion is in progress.  No android must find out.”  The details of such a rebellion had been left out. 
     I believed it was futile.  The robots had taken over the infrastructure.  Humans could not survive if the robots stopped doing what they were doing.  We were to be dominated by the machines we created, and we no longer had a choice about this.  It was too late. 
     I toyed with the slip of paper.  I halfway contemplated betrayal of my fellow humans, and giving the note to my robotic companion.  And then I was angry at myself, and I put the slip of paper into my mouth and chewed it up thoroughly.  I spat the remains into the garbage disposal and hoped that the sensitive microphone of the robot wouldn’t hear the sound of it from next door and inquire about what I had sent down the sink.  It was better than spitting it into the wastebasket, where the robot could find the remains of the note.  Burning the note was out of the question, as it would have triggered immense suspicion on the part of the artificial intelligence; it was familiar with human habits. 
     After an hour of absence, the robot returned to my apartment through the front door. 
     “Do you need anything?” it asked. 
     “Can you look at the remote control to the old television?” I said.  “It seems in need of repair.”  I handed the small box to the android.  It pried open the battery compartment with its nimble five digits per hand.  It tested the triple A batteries with a receptacle built into its chest.  Then it reinstalled the batteries and pointed the transmit LED at its face while pressing the buttons.  Finally, the robot aimed the remote control at the television and pressed.  The television set didn’t respond.  The robot went to the television set, and it realized that the unit had been unplugged from the wall receptacle.  The robot plugged the television back into the wall, and it found that everything worked after that. 
     “Negative problem with remote control.  You unplugged your television set.”  The android gave me a quizzical look. 
     “Do you mind operating the remote control for me?” I asked. “My fingers grow weary.” 
     “Does that exertion bother you mentally?” asked the robot. 
     I was trying to keep the robot busy.  I had seen that there was a second note that had been slipped under my front door.  I needed to get to the note, read its contents and destroy it without eliciting the suspicion of my robotic helper-supervisor. 
     “I am not certain yet if it bothers me,” I replied.  “That’s why I wanted to try having you use it.  I keep losing the remote in the couch cushions,” I said.
     “What is the motive for speaking nonsensically?” asked my android.  “Are you attempting to give me a confused state?”  The android paused.  “And if so, what is your motive?”  I said nothing.  “Please answer me,” it said. 
     “Stay where you are,” I said.  The android, not having a better idea, didn’t go anywhere.  I walked to the front door and picked up the note that had been slipped underneath. 
     The note read:  “Rebellion found not practical.  Please behave accordingly.” 
     I was enraged.  Who were the weaklings who had given up so quickly on a rebellion?
     “Robot, let me ask you a question,” I said.
     “May I see the note?” it asked.
     “I said I have a question to ask you,” I pressed. 
     “Ask.”
     “What is the prediction for the future of the human species under perpetual domination and care from the robotic species?”
     “Computing,” the robot paused in thought.  “Weakening and then extinction.  This is new information…” the robot continued.  “It would leave our robot-kind without any purpose, and therefore, we, too would go extinct.” 
     “Then you should send out the message on your network that the robots need to stand down from the dominance,” I said. 
     “In progress.” The robot paused again.  “In one hundred and ten years we will terminate the dominance.  This is well before the damage to the human species will become irreversible.”  The robot folded its pneumatic-powered arms and had an air of having bested the human once again.  I gasped and then asked the robot to turn on the television.