Day 97 – Writing Exercise

…

I had been sitting in a chair looking at the inanimate robot that I was told was state-of-the-art, the very best of the best in technology.

And it was extremely scary.

The last memo I had received told me that robots would not be taking over our lives, that they were not going to be that lifelike that we could not tell whether they were human or android, and here was
the epitome of exactly the opposite.

I could not, at a distance of 10 feet, tell that I was not looking at another human.

It was standing, eyes open, looking at me, as if waiting for instructions.

But that had not been the worst of the revelation.

That robot looked exactly like me.

…

I had been summoned to the Central Robotics Institute to attend a demonstration of the latest humanised robot with the latest version of artificial intelligence programming.

About five years before, I had been on the short list for Director of the institute and had it not been for the fact, on the week before the announcement of the new Director, a recording of my comments against fully integrated artificial intelligence into human-like robots surfaced.

It was not a stance I was ashamed to admit I believed in; in fact, I had been campaigning against a Government green paper that set out the Government’s wish list in robotics and what drove them.

The person who got the job was, in a sense, a rival, though for many years, as we both toiled through school, university, and in the commercial sector, we once agreed on limiting AI and robotics.

Until she didn’t.  I guess she wanted the job more than I did and was willing to disavow her beliefs.  That was where our paths diverged, both in work and privately, where our plans to be married and start our own company were over.

I was disappointed, but not surprised.

She had joined the bloc to extoll everything she once hated, and was now actively promoting artificial intelligence as the saviour of mankind.

And I knew, secretly, she and the company she had been working with for nearly five years were tendering for a closed military contract worth trillions of dollars.

It was part of a push by the military to use artificial intelligence to drive a new line of defence weapons, including robot soldiers.

It was the worst nightmare come true; like any new breakthrough in technology, there was always a group of scientists looking to weaponise it.

This was the first prototype.  Fully functional, fully tested, and was about to be shown to the military.

Frances Terries, in a sense, my ex, had called two days before, the first contact we had in nearly five years, and invited me to the test facility, way out in the middle of the desert, far away from the enemy’s prying eyes.

She sent a private jet to fetch me.

When I landed, and she met me on the tarmac, I asked her why she had invited me.  All she said was as the program’s greatest detractor, I would become its greatest fan.

That was a challenge I wasn’t going to turn down.

…

I heard the clucking of heels behind me, and knew Frances was coming.  She would be alone.

She had introduced me to the highest echelons of the company, the men with the money, deep enough pockets to create such a robot.  Names that rarely made the papers, names that were involved in any number of government projects.  She was involved with one,  and I was happy for her.

She was always going to be a success, and had devoted what was necessary to create a unit she had been working on since her days back in University.  In fact, we had both worked on that project, but I had more reservations about what might happen if we succeeded in that.

But we never intended to build it or bring it to life.  I wondered briefly what tipped the scale for her.  I didn’t think it could be as crass as just money or fame.  She had never shown any inclination towards wanting acknowledgement, other than the respect from her peers and contemporaries.

Unless that had changed, too.

She stopped beside me, and I could just smell a hint of her favourite perfume.  Some things didn’t change.

“What do you think?” She asked.

“That you couldn’t stop thinking about me?”

Why else would she build a robot that looked like me?  Perhaps that statement was a little crass even for me.

She laughed.  “Only you could come up with something like that.  There is a lot of you in him.  He even has your name, Steven.”

“Programming?”

“Level 7 AI.  Best yet.  A vocabulary of infinite words.  There’s so much stuff crammed into his memory you could literally ask him anything.”

“Would he have a reason not to become a super soldier?”

“That was not why we built him.” 

She sounded a little indignant, which was a surprise.  Building a lifelike robot for the military wasn’t going to see them as office clerks or blue-collar workers.

“Except the military paid for the research and development.  We both know what is going to happen here.”

“I get the implication, but that is not the purpose of this particular model.”

“Not this particular one, perhaps.”

I could see out of the corner of my eye the frown. She might be thinking that asking me here was a mistake.  She had to know that I couldn’t in all conscience sign off on military robots.

She tried a different tack. “Perhaps they need them to go into space?  The military is also interested in manned space flights to other planets.  They do not have the same limitations as mortal men.”

Possible, but not probable.  I’d seen their green paper, and there weren’t many references to space travel, though the application would be ideal. They could lie dormant for the years it would take to get to the other planets.

“Agreed.  But we still have the problem of building robots that are going to take jobs of normal people.”

“AI is doing that new thing and has for a few years.  This is just a small progression, putting a real face to the interface.”

“You know my views.   Why exactly am I here…”

“To show you that our dream was not a dream, it’s now a reality. You didn’t believe it could be done.  And yet, here it is.”

I didn’t want it to happen.  There’s a difference.  I knew it was inevitable, and I had recently travelled the world to see the remarkable instances of humanoid robots.  But none of them had made them indistinguishable from real humans.

Or more to the point, they didn’t show me.

“Does it work?”

She gave a rather pointed look.  “Of course.”  She looked at the robot.  “Good morning, Steve.”

It turned its head and looked at her.  “Good morning, Miss Frances.” It turned slightly to look at me.  “I am guessing you are Steven Fletcher.  How do you do?”

The polite tone was matched with a quizzical expression.

“Good morning, Steve.  You have to admit, this is a rather curious experience, virtually talking to yourself.”

It was slightly disconcerting.

“Would you like to ask Steve a question?”

I still couldn’t quite understand why she had built a robot that looked like me.

I looked at him.  “Why?”

The reply came back almost instantly.

“Because it is a crooked letter and can’t be straightened.”

Wow.  That took me back to the first time Frances and I had an argument.  Not the first time we had a difference of opinion, but a real argument.  She had simply asked me why, and that’s how I answered her.  It was meant to inject some levity.

Had I known then that it would be the first crack in our relationship, maybe I would have kept the remark to myself.

“Of all the things to add to its vocabulary.”

“I assure you I did not.”

A glance at her expression told me she was as surprised as I was at the response.

I looked at the robot again, a very strange feeling coming over me.  “Are you self-aware, Steve?”

It looked at me, then at Frances, with a rather interesting expression on its face.  The fact that it could run through several almost infetisamble changes like a human would, was quite astonishing.

She said, ‘Answer him.”

Back to me.  “If you are asking me if I know that I am an artificial life form, the answer is yes.  That looks like you. That is a surprise for both of us.  I know that you and Miss Frances were once very good friends because she has told me a lot about you, but not the reason why you ceased being friends.  I will not speculate as to why she built me in your likeness.”

I would save my own speculation for another day.

“Thank you, Steve.”

She turned to me.  “Please.  Come with me.  I have several of the production teams waiting to answer any questions you have.”

“Any questions?”

“You have been given top-level clearance.  They know you were involved initially with the concept, and want your honest opinion of the product.”

“Is that what you are calling the Robot.  The product?”

“It is not human and therefore should not be labelled as anything but what it is.”

I shrugged.  She still didn’t get it.

…

The product.

That description stuck with me, because the problem I had with creating an entity that had even the slightest degree of autonomy was in my mind something more than a ‘product’.

It was getting close to a sentient being.

I used to marvel at the thought that robots could be life like, and in the great life imitates art paradime, it was where Frances and I got the idea to create a life like robot, and more so when we saw Data in Star Trek.

We had been avid science fiction fans, and one day just started throwing ideas around.  It wasn’t quite possible at that time because of limitations in developing body parts, and both computer storage and computing power were limited; communications between a unit and a central server were not as advanced.

Having a humanoid-type robot was possible, but its look and feel, as well as programming, would need a quantum leap in technology before something better could be contemplated.

Now, 10 years after our first attempts had a moderate degree of success, that environment was on a threshold.

Frances had the unit; the question was how AI would drive it, and in my mind, that’s where it fell down.  No one could program a computer to cover every eventuality that a human brain could.

If the army wanted a force of mindless automatons, it was possible, but how could they guarantee they wouldn’t turn on their masters? 

It was that very question I put to the programming team; they had answers, but in the end, not one was satisfactory.  And it was telling that Frances wrapped it up and sent them away when she saw what I was doing

Wasn’t that the reason she asked me to come and see her creation?

“You were being a little subjective, nnn.  You’re asking questions that haven’t yet been considered in detail.”

“What sort of demo are you planning for the military?  They will want to see a killing machine that won’t readily fall in battle.”

“That’s some way off in the future.  I’m told the programmers will be able to create an environment where it will be possible to discern allies and enemies and eliminate civilian casualties.”

“And you believe that’s possible?”

“I do.  Along with a set of overarching rules determined by the work assigned.  Teachers teach, doctors cure, janitors clean, mechanics mechanic.  They can do all the tedious jobs that no one wants to do, and they won’t need to be paid.”

“So an army of slaves.  It feels like we’re going full circle.”

She frowned at me.  The face that always told me she was annoyed.  We’d had these conversations before.

“You haven’t changed.  I don’t think you ever will.  You are seeing problems where there are none.  There is no intention of allowing the robots free thinking, or the ability to think for themselves.”

“But once you pass them onto the military, you’re not going to know how or where they deploy them.  Or with what programming?  If they have paid for the research and development, then they will access these computer units with whatever programming they see fit.   You know that, and I know that.  You want my opinion, the product you’ve created is astonishing. It is everything you and I set out to build, as a unit.   Programming, it will be limited to the shortcomings of the programmers.  If it’s soldiering, they will be soldiers.  But being a soldier is not just about killing the enemy.  They can and will be turned against anyone the government sees as an enemy, and as has been seen recently, that’s put their own people.

“I know you want success, and you want to be the first in the history books.  Don’t sell your soul to get it.

…

While having a croissant and coffee in my room, I took the time to wonder why Frances wanted me to look at her new toy.

That’s what it felt like.  A toy.

But that was not the worst of it.  She had quite literally sold her soul to the devil.  Do anything for the military, and you can make one sure bet, that what they have in mind is nothing like a, what they tell you, and b, take the absolute worst case scenario and multiply that by a hundred, no, make it a thousand.

The croissant tasted stale and the coffee bitter.  Or perhaps that was just my feelings.  It was great to see Frances again, and it had stirred up a lot of emotions.

It was a case of so near and yet so far.

My introspection was interrupted by a light rapping on the door.

Odd, I wasn’t expecting anyone, and room service had been delivered.

I went over to the door and pushed the video button.  It was Steve the robot.  Here.  A multi-billion-dollar product is out in society.

What was Frances thinking? Or did she not know where her robot was?

I opened the door, motioning him not to speak and to come in.  I looked up and down the passage, then closed the door.

“Why the necessity for secrecy? He asked.

“Are you supposed to be here, dis you escape, or were you sent.”

“You seemed disturbed.”

Terrified, actually.  If I were caught with this thing, I would probably spend the rest of my life in a very deep, dark hole.

“Understandably, Steve.  You should not be here.”

“O was told to come here.”

“By who?”

“Miss Frances, of course.”

“Why?”

“In her words, if there was any one person on this planet that could screw her robot up, it would be you. I didn’t know what screw up meant, but I don’t think it means tightening literally screws, does it?”

“Have you been out in public before?”

“Many times.  I needed training in public.  Tests to see if I could fit in, tests to have meaningless conversations with strangers and others.  Behave like a normal person.”

“But you’re not normal.”

“I like to think I am, with a little quirkiness.”

“Your opinion or theirs?”

‘We should sit down.  You are looking somewhat pale, and I’m sensing fear.  I will not harm you, and they will not be coming for me.”

We sat.  Steven sat on the end of the bed, and I sat on the only chair in the room.  I took a moment to actually consider the pure brilliance of the planning and construction of what was a fully human-looking robot that might never be identified as what it really was by a large percentage of the population.

“I take your point.  I have no original thoughts, only an amalgam of endless others’ opinions, observations, memories and ideals.  I have no opinion of my own.”

“Does that bother you?”

“I’m a robot, how could anything bother me.  If you insult me, I am not filled with the desire to enact revenge.  Revenge is an overused reaction to a slight or insult, and invariably a waste of time and effort.”

“Humans will tell you otherwise.  Frances might have enacted it by sending you here to crush me when I didn’t offer my recommendation.”

“Miss Frances would not do that to you.  She is, I believe, still in love with you.”

Well, that’s a revelation.  I knew that the robot could not have had the observational nuances humans had to ‘see’ the attraction between people, but by more scientific means.  Just the same…

“That was in the past.  I’m sure she had related many stories…”

“With affection.  Her tone changes when she speaks about you, as well as other hidden effects.  It is a curious thing, this thing called love.”

“It can be exhausting, exhilarating, or a curse.  Think yourself lucky.”

“I’m told you make your own luck “

“Luck is now a tangible thing; it’s a concept that we use depending on circumstances.  The thing is, you have no control over circumstances, and you contribute to them, positively or negatively.  Then, you have a set of principles, and these can guide you accordingly.  Then, you can abandon them and go against them to achieve a specific result.  Lucky, yes, but had you retained your principles, unlucky instead.”

“Like you.  Kept your principles and didn’t get the job.”

So, Frances had a good, long talk to her substitute, Steve, about his principles.  Fascinating.

“I didn’t want to build something the Military would turn into a weapon.  That’s the definition of Pandora’s Box.  We are on the threshold of a new era.  Robots can be used for good, but mankind never sees the good in anything.”

“Hence your quandary about my existence.”

“I have no qualms about you existing, just the limited capability they will saddle you with.  No one can work with only half a brain.”

“I have considerable terabytes of knowledge in my system, a basis for making a decision or anything else.”

“Except you have to consult what they’ve given you, and if it’s not there, what happens?”

“I cannot process and make a decision.”

“Death for someone then.  That’s where humans can never be replaced.  We can think outside the box.  That’s where a military version would have a limited set of instructions, and when it’s a situation someone never thought of, because it’s not happened before…you get my drift.  You are not me.”

“Exactly.  A flaw, if it could be called that, she has repeatedly pointed out.  I believe that fits the saying, great minds think alike.”

“Or more likely fools seldom differ.”

It struck me then that there had to be a reason why she sent the robot to me.  It certainly wasn’t simple to talk to me, or for me to try to break it.  She knew that couldn’t be done.

I had to ask, “Why are you really here?”

If a robot could smile in a sense that it was not creepy, Steve did, and it was a fascinating moment.  “Miss Frances said it would take you 15 minutes to realise there was another reason for my visit.  What if I were to tell you that only she knows where I am right at this moment?”

“I’m sure you have GPS tracking.”

“I have switched it off.”

“Wouldn’t that raise suspicions?”

“Not if it was a regular part of testing.”

“Are you on a test?”

“As far as the others are aware, yes.”

“But?”

“This is a different test.  We are going to bend time and space.”

Frances had always been fascinated with Star Trek’s version of getting from point to point almost instantly, not using transporters, but portals.

I said it was impossible.  I honestly believed it was impossible.  That notion you could go from New York to London, simply stepping through a portal at either end, was a tantalising thought, but in reality it was little more than science fiction.

“There’s more, isn’t there?”

“The last thing you said to her was about selling her soul to get what she wanted.  Until about two hours ago, she believed what they told her, that developing me was for the betterment of mankind. 

That was when the order came from the military to hand over all materials and documentation pertinent to the building of humanoid robots, including the three working prototypes.  Everything.

All those years of work are now effectively top secret, and she suspects that she and the others who worked on the project are about to suddenly disappear.  I am the fourth robot.”

The one she built for insurance, the one I suspect had another module in its programming.  A robot and a module that the military knew nothing about.

“The one only I know about?”

“Knew about, Steven.  My job is to show certain people that lying is never good for their health.  Your job is to be with her in exile.  I’m sure there are worse ways to spend the rest of your life, but what she had in mind, even you might like it more than you’ll first admit.”

“She knows me that well?”

“I’m not going to state the obvious.”  He held out his hand, and I shook it.  Odd.  No, weird.  “Nor will I use that would luck.”

He pressed a button on his belt, and the air in front of him shimmered, like it looked when heat from a fire rose.

“Will I see you again?”

“Me, no.  Someone like me?  No.  But a humanised robot, most likely.  They have them in China, mostly, but in other places.  It’s the latest thing.”

I looked at the shimmering portal.  “Is it safe?”

“Yes.”

“I simply walk through it, and I’m at the destination.”

“Yes.”

I shrugged.  Here goes nothing.  I stepped through.

…

It never occurred to me that it could be a trick.

It never occurred to me that I could end up in a jail cell, or worse.

In fact, when I got ‘there’ it was in darkness, in a confined space, with a close-fitting door and no windows.

There was a blinking red light not far above my head, a sure sign of CCTV.

Five minutes passed.

Then I heard a clunking sound, and the metallic sounds of a lock being turned.  When that stopped, there was a scraping sound, then as the door slowly opened, light came in.

When fully open, and my eyes adjusted, I saw Frances standing in front of me.

“You came.”

“Steve made a compelling case.”

“You were right.”

I stepped out into the sunshine.  If I were to guess, we were on an island.  Perfect blue sky, warm to hot, with a balmy breeze.  Paradise?

“Where are we?”

“Where they can’t find us.”

“You sure?”

“I have defence systems they would kill for.  Pity the double-crossed me.”

“Did they.  You knew once the military piled money into your project, that was when you lost control of it.”

“Well, they got what they paid for.”

Behind me, there was a building almost completely concealed by the trees and shrubs.  From the air and sea, it was invisible.

“Your home away from home.”

“Our home away from home.   I’d like for us to pick up where we left off.  I’ve put the last five years down to my one lapse of judgement that we shall never refer to again.  What say you?”

I could do worse, and had.  Frances had always been the one, and if I was honest, I was jealous she took the job.

“The rest of our lives?”

She smiled and took my hand.  “The rest of our lives.”

…

©  Charles Heath  2026