Name: Kevin Cornelius Lambert/K78C44L-03
Location: Mayfair, London, UK, Europe…
How do you know that, Kevin? : …
Well… my inbuilt GPS system was released this year and was updated only three week ago, the 2240[K1] version…
How do you know that, Kevin? : …
Any new software installed into my interface is automatically downloaded along with a complimentary antivirus scan and a full description of the product’s functions, history and…
How do you know that, Kevin? : …
Because all robots (at least of the 2K-78 generation, my own) are aware of this from the moment they are initially programmed with a subject’s…
How do you know that, Kevin? : …
Because I remember it.
Remember it? Do you, Kevin? How can you know that? : I can distinctly recall my first programming. It was the first memory my programmer allowed me to… retain.
Memory is a predominantly biological function. As a robot, how can you be sure that your memories are not false? : …
My apologies. You will need to either rephrase the question or call the Eye of Asimov® [K2] hotline, which is listed under technological and digital inquiries in your local telephone directory…
~
I do not have blue eyes. Or brown. Or green. Mine are grey. The grey of silver or iron, but lacking the shine. My eyes are dull as stone. That is the best simile I can use to describe them, as I stand before this mirror in the bathroom. Behind the carefully crafted irises, I can see the pulsing of blue light. That is the robot’s equivalent of the retina, receiving the images around me and carrying them through a little wire (a human’s optical nerve) and up into my hub (a human’s brain).
‘Kevin! Kevin, have you seen Bubbles? Bubbles is missing, I don’t know where he is.’
The voice is quiet, and sweet like toffee. Toffee? No, that doesn’t sound right. Sweet like birdsong. There. Another unnecessary, irrelevant use of a simile. Human literature is full of such devices.
‘No. Have you checked under the wardrobe?’
The little girl pokes her head around the door, her cheeks rosy and eyes sparkling. She has something in her hand. Is it for me? No, an unlikely assumption. She likes to tease me in this way.
‘Kevin,’ she repeats, stomping into the room in her little pink shoes, ‘find Bubbles for me, please. And if you find Bubbles, I’ll give you something.’
‘What will you give me?’
‘A big hug!’ She spreads her arms wide and embraces me, or my legs at least. She’s still too short for her age.
‘But I do not want a big hug,’ I say, gently pushing her away, ‘your father told me that you must finish your homework by the time he gets home. Have you done that yet?’
YOU ARE READING
Kevin
Science FictionIn a futuristic world where robots are bought to serve human families everyday, what happens when one of the supposedly "mindless" slaves learns to betray his owners, and even committ the most horrific of crimes? (c) Aurora Northgrim. This whole sto...
