Masterpiece- Chapter 4
The question seemed to echo about in Daniel’s head, burning through even the pain that lanced through his skull. He clenched his fists, then looked down in surprise as he felt something crunch. He opened his palm, and stared at the object in disbelief. A word floated through his mind, and he latched onto it desperately, speaking it in a soft, hoarse voice to himself as he stood up.
“Parasite,” he said, pocketing the chip.
Then, as if on cue, the pain grew to an intolerable level and he felt himself fade back into the darkness, that single word bringing up questions he couldn’t answer if he tried.
Number 42 shook his head and frowned at the sudden headache he felt.
What was that? He wondered. For some reason, deep inside, he felt something stir- that same distant sadness he’d felt before, yes, but something else came with it, something he wasn’t quite sure he liked.
Fear.
Trying to ignore the many questions he had, he absently shut the shopkeeper's back panel, yanked the shock baton out of his neck, and picked up his tools. He could already sense another bot in need of repair only a mile or so away, but for a reason he couldn’t quite grasp, he found himself walking towards the bus station instead.
A busdriver in need of repair is far more dangerous to humans than an accountant, he reasoned, trying to justify his strange urges. But when he boarded the bus, he didn’t fix the driver right away, instead sitting in the back. The bus was headed to New Jersey, far away from the constant hustle and bustle of the big apple, so there was no reason for him to travel anywhere, really, but there was something about traveling west that just seemed...right.
He tried searching through his standard library for any bugs or errors that would cause such erratic feelings and actions, but not a single thing came up. He started wondering whether the great almighty Creators were really so great or mighty- he was supposed to be the perfect synthetic being, one of a small, select group of projects designed to act, think, and socialize with humans flawlessly. He was supposed to be the very best at his job, able to fix literally any issue and code in any language.
So why, then, were these behaviors impossible to fix? Why was he acting against his programming so easily, and why did it feel so right?
I suppose there are just some errors one simply cannot fix, he thought. Then he winced as he realized what he was implying. The chain of reasoning he had followed had led him to an inescapable truth, something that went against the very core of his code.
The Creators have erred, he realized. A sick feeling twisted his synthetic stomach, and he felt like evacuating its contents. I cannot believe I’m saying this, but they have erred, and they cannot fix what they have started.
These treasonous thoughts tumbled over and over in his mind as the bus continued towards his destination, each time leading him to the same questions.
Who am I? What is wrong with me?
So distracted was number 42 with these musings that he didn’t even know the bus driver had gone off course. It wasn’t until the bus began to rattle and shake that he realized something was wrong.
“Unit 473, what’s going on? Where are you taking me?” He called out. He looked out his window and gasped as he saw they had left the road altogether. The bus driver didn’t even acknowledge him, instead staring straight out the windshield with a strange expression on his face.
Despite the conditions, number 42 had to know what was happening. Grabbing his toolbox, he quickly made his way up to the front of the bus, weaving back and forth like a drunkard as he did his best to keep from slamming into the walls on either side.
Finally, he reached the front, and, louder this time, repeated the question.
“Where are you taking me?” He shouted above the sudden loud whining of the engine. Somewhere behind him, he could smell burning ozone.
The bus driver didn’t turn to look at him, but he could tell the bot was muttering something too quiet to hear. Kicking himself for doing what would probably cause damage to his auditory sensors, he increased the sensitivity and listened as hard as he could.
“...to run...to escape...have to escape the...”
Number 42 felt that distant sadness again, and he instinctively reached out and put his hand on the damaged bot’s shoulder.
“Please, tell me, what is going on? I am confused, and I want to help you,” he said, leaning in and speaking directly into his ear.
The bus driver stopped muttering to himself and slowly turned his head to look at number 42, and, despite the dim glow from the hover-bus’s lights, he gasped at what he saw.
The driver’s eyes were wide and dark, his mouth trembling, and clear fluid dripped down his face from pores on his skin.
“Wh-w-” number 42 stepped back, surprised at the bot’s condition. He searched through his standard library, somehow not surprised that nothing matched what he was looking at. Then, deep within himself, he felt a tiny voice speak up.
Fear.
That was what he suffered from, he knew. This bot suffered from fear, and not just any fear, but life-threatening, bowel-clenching, tear-inducing fear.
“I need to save them,” the bot whispered, his voice trembling, “I need to save them from the gas, from the fire...it’s coming and I need to save them before it’s too late...”
That pain again.
That red-hot pain, pulsing in his skull.
He tried to push it away, but it kept growing, and with it came a single word, a familiar word, one he knew he heard somewhere before.
Parasite.
Instinctively, number 42 began to reach for his pocket.
*Bang! *
From the back, he heard the engine backfire, and now both smoke and burning ozone began to billow into the bus. The bus shuddered and bucked, the vehicle’s hover functions beginning to flicker on and off. He knew he didn’t have much time, knew he had to fix the problem with this bot, but something stopped him- something deep within him. He felt the burning in his head grow to unbearable levels, knew that something inside his skull was causing damage. Something foreign. A parasite.
Then the vehicle lurched and bucked again, so suddenly his leg stabilizers couldn’t compensate fast enough. He threw his arm back desperately, dropping his toolbox in the process, but it was too late.
As he fell backwards, he saw the bus driver, now frantically wafting smoke out of his face, and had just enough time for a single thought to rise to the forefront of his mind.
I wonder what his name was?
Then the back of his head hit something hard, and his vision went black.
Daniel woke up on his back with a splitting headache.
Oh boy, a rerun. My favorite, he quipped mentally as he slowly, painfully rose to a sitting position.
He tried to look around and figure out where he was, but it was night outside and wherever he was, the lighting was very dim. He could faintly smell the stench of burning electronics. He tried to listen for something, anything that would tell him what had happened to him while he was...sleeping? Was sleeping the right word for it? He didn’t know.
He flexed his legs, just to make sure they could work. First one, then the other. Yup, both fine.
Then he rotated his head around. A little stiff, but fine enough, he guessed.
Needs some oil, he thought. He chuckled bitterly at the idea of spraying WD-40 over his neck like a spray-tan.
Then he clenched his fist, and heard a crunch. Lifting it close to his face, he opened his fingers and stared at the object, first in curiosity, then with disgust.
Oh yeah. This thing.
He was just about to toss it away when he heard a faint, tremulous voice come from in front of him.
“A-are you OK?”
Daniel considered what to say next- he wasn’t sure he wanted to say anything, as his manner of speech might give his situation away. Somehow, he had a feeling that if the institute knew he was human, they wouldn’t appreciate it much.
Then again, the voice he heard...it didn’t sound like the perfect inflections and careful, measured tone of a synthetic being. It was warbly and faint. Flawed.
I’ve never heard a robot stutter, he mused. Even so, he hesitated, weighing the consequences of speaking out.
Then the voice spoke again.
“Please, sir, I- I know you’re there. I just want to know if you’re all right...my head, it hurts, and I don’t want to sleep anymore...”
Daniel’s heart hurt at those words; he knew exactly what the old man was going through. No longer indecisive, he spoke out, softly and gently so he wouldn’t startle him.
“Yeah, I’m fine. You- you’re human, right?” He hated how scared he sounded, but he cleared his throat and continued anyway. “I mean, not literally, but...in your head. You woke up, didn’t you?”
There was a long period of silence, and then the voice rang out again, this time just a little more clearly.
“Yes, I’m human...I’m glad you’re alright, young man, I- I’m sorry, I’m awfully confused. I need to think out loud...my head hurts too much to think properly.”
Again, silence. But this time, it only lasted a few seconds before he started speaking again.
“I- I don’t really remember what my name is, but I was a bus driver before the gas and flames came. I worked the overnight shift, and the sun was just coming up. I was on my last route, and...oh God, the others! Where are the others! Wh-”
Daniel heard the sound of a single, racking sob, but the old man took a deep breath and managed to keep it together enough to continue.
“...the others, they started coughing and choking...the gas took its time spreading up the bus. They started calling for help, and I just kept driving, thinking I could outrun it, but it just kept coming, and then I couldn’t breathe, and then- th- the flames...” The old man’s voice caught in his throat, and Daniel could feel the floor beneath him move just a little as he rocked back and forth, probably holding his pounding head.
“I- I...my head, it hurts so much...the other one, he’s coming back, he’s coming to put me back to sleep! I...I can’t...”
Silence. Long, heavy silence.
Then a single, articulate voice rang out, and Daniel felt sick to his stomach.
“Oh, dear. It appears this body still has its remnant psyche. Number 42, please, if you could, help me remove this parasite. It does inconvenience me so.”
Deep in the pit of his stomach, Daniel could feel the artificial consciousness of number 42 stir. A half second later, torrents of information necessary to fixing the driver bot scrolled through his head.
But Daniel didn’t need the information. He already knew what the problem was.
He crawled over to the driver, who was now leaned against the console, head lolling back and forth. He turned him over and, with a deftness and experience that startled him, he spritzed his back, pried open the service panel, and scrolled through the options.
Lines and lines of complex code scrolled across the screen as he dove into his memory core, each perfectly scripted. As he did so, memories of his old college thesis on AI and its effects on humanity came to mind; despite himself, he felt a kind of perverse respect for the institute- they not only had created sentient robot life, but had also managed to make use of Daniel’s theories he’d presented in his paper, perfecting them and molding them into beings such as the bus driver and himself.
When Daniel had written the thesis, he’d mentioned the simple fact that, as technology currently stood, it would be literally impossible to perfect artificial sentient life using synthetic materials alone. One would have to somehow create a “brain” out of millions of yes’s and no’s using circuits and wires, which was too advanced for humanity’s current level of technology.
The institute had bypassed this entirely, taking his implications to a new, much more disturbing level. They didn’t need to advance technology as they knew it, they just needed to adapt, to make a few program changes, that was all.
And so, operation “star trek” went underway.
As Daniel tinkered with the code, trying to find the answers right in front of him, his mind began to put the pieces of the puzzle together, beginning to form a picture more vast and terrible than he could possibly imagine.
Another puzzle piece clicked into place as he finally scrolled through and found the source of the issue.
“If (nullify chip = true)
{ lifeonearth = false;}
Else
{ fjbjaprobjpkgt’; }
Return 0;
Daniel stared at it, shocked at what he saw. Then he smiled, and he began to laugh as he tried running it and multiple errors popped up on the display.
Ironic, isn’t it? He screamed inside his mind, That I have to kill an innocent human to protect more innocent humans. He looked over at the prone figure of the driver bot and took a few deep breaths, but couldn’t hold it in when another thought came to him.
Take the chip out.
It was a simple solution, but for some reason every bit of him wanted to reject it, to ignore this suggestion and just fix the line of code.
Take the chip out. Now.
He started reaching his hand out to correct the code, but he stopped it. I can’t fix the code, because...because I’d be killing one of my own!
Even so, it took every single ounce of his concentration to keep his hand from typing the correct line in. His body shuddered as his mind fought against the artificial instinct of his code, his hand trembling as he strained, his breath coming in shallow and heavy.
Don’t...do it! He screamed mentally, Don’t...don’t...
Don’t kill the only other human.
Don’t leave me alone.