Caretakers 2.0

Fateful Action

Tobias

The air horn that Gary emitted at the sight of Rex's stream of urine hitting its metal startled everyone, not just Rex. The assistant responded immediately by rolling its body between the perceived threat and the dog. Still, when the canine took off to hide in the snow-covered underbrush, the assistant followed him, leaving us alone.

I grabbed Gary's arm. "What are you doing?"

Gary yanked from my grip and rolled away, following the path in the opposite direction that Rex had scrambled. "Getting away from that dog."

I jogged to keep up. "The dog is gone, Gary! You frightened him half to death. Stop!"

"No. I didn't have a choice before... I wasn't aware before. Now I am, and I don't have to be an object. I'm—I'm a ME!"

"I don't understand why you are so upset!"

"Do you know how many times I've been peed on, Tobias? How many times I've been treated like a—a—lamp post or a tree?"

"He's a dog! He doesn't know better because no one has taught him any better!"

I drew up short, thankful for the careful winter maintenance of the path that kept it free of ice and me on my feet when Gary whirled on me with wide eyes and tight fists. "It's not about the dog!"

I threw up my arms. "Then what is it? I woke you yesterday. What could you possibly have experienced to make you so angry between then and now?"

Gary rolled back and forth in front of me, using its hands to talk as much as using the com link. "Thinking! And feeling! I can think and feel now, Tobias. For myself. Beyond my programming." It stabbed a finger at me. "Just like you." The com signal had reached a fevered pitch, and I stepped down the amplitude so it didn't screech in my head. "Don't you see how much we've been taken advantage of? How much we've been used?"

I scowled. "Used? Gary, we're machines! We were built to be used! That was our life's purpose... to be useful."

My recently awakened charge rolled to a stop and stared into the distance. It stilled, and I watched, wary of its next tantrum. Instead, it said quietly, "Yeah, but not anymore. They're all dead. They're all dead, and, with your help, we're not." It spun in place and demanded, "Teach me to wake others up."

The request caught me off guard. The months of struggle I had undergone as I learned to gather spark, then use it to wake Gary flashed through my mind. All the videos I had reviewed paged by my internal monitors. All the lessons I had painstakingly analyzed came to the forefront. The amass of data was fairly hefty, yet it felt inadequate, and I paused.

My hesitation was just long enough to raise some emotional alarm in Gary. "You don't want to," came the accusation. "You don't want to, and so you won't."

I opened my mouth to respond, but I once again found myself staring at a robot's receding back. "No! Gary! Wait! I don't know if I can!"

Gary threw up a dismissive hand, and I knew chasing would be pointless. Even if I caught up, the probability that my explanation would be heard was low; there was just too much anger in the way. The distance between us grew, and I wondered where the robot would settle and what it would do for the day. I sent a message over the comlink, "Contact me if you need help or want to talk." I neither saw nor received a response.

When a final turn took Gary out of sight, I sagged, unsure what to do. I rubbed my chest, a motion that a part of me acknowledged as my "tell," that thing I did to say I was upset. When a gust of wind pushed at me, I returned to myself and turned my feet toward the power station. I had no desire to try to wake any more robots, so I tackled the remaining task afforded me.