Randamu: A Short Story Collection

What Happens If a Robot Has a Paintbrush?

The theater was filled. Every row, every column, every seat, someone was there, not a single spot left open. The artist and the robot stood atop the stage, each one in front of their holocanvas. The timer hung above, counting down to the start. Thirty seconds. Twenty-five seconds. Twenty seconds. Fifteen. Ten. Five. BUZZZZZ.

A hologram of a human man appeared between the two holocanvases. Aside from the loincloth over his privates, the man in the hologram was entirely nude. The artist and the robot both ran their stylus down their holocanvas and vertical, slightly curved red lines appeared. When the artist had only the head finished, the robot had the head and the upper part of the torso. When the artist had the head and torso, the robot had the head, the torso, and half an arm. When the robot started applying color, the artist was still finishing her lineart. At the end of the one hour time limit, the robot finished with a minute to spare exile the artist finished with two minutes left.

When the buzzer sounded and the "TIME'S UP" hologram appeared, the artist and the robot both lowered their stylus and walked off the stage as the reference hologram dissipated and the holocanvases were enlarged so the judges could see. The three judges spent ten minutes discussing both artworks. "Judges, your time is up," a voice said over the intercom. The first judge pressed a button and a hologram of the artist's head appeared on the stage. When the second pressed their button, a hologram of the robot's head appeared. The third didn't press their button. "Judge 3?" the intercom said. "We need your vote." The third judge thought for a moment, and then, they made their choice. They pressed their button, and the final hologram appeared. The final hologram was a sign that read, "undecisive".

***

"Wait!" the artist yelled out to the robot backstage.

The robot stopped and looked towards the artist.

"Why did it end in a tie?" the artist asked.

"I do not comprehend. Can you elaborate?" replied the robot.

"I have been doing art all my life. It's been my passion, my career, even part of my lifestyle at times. And then when I finallt get a chance to help prove humans are superior creatives to robots, it ends... in a tie?"

"Superior creatives?"

"Robots have no soul, no emotions, no heart."

"A heart is merely an organ. I have an equivalent; I suppose you may call mine an engine."

"That's not the point," the artist sighed.

"I do not comprehend. "

"How is something without emotion supposed to convey emotion?"

"Tell me," the robot replied, "what is your favorite genre of music."

"That has nothing to do wi-"

"Personally, mine is classical."

The artist couldn't think of a reply.

"I have a type of music I like. Like is an emotion, correct?"

"But how... is that possible? You're..." the artist tilted her head downwards. "You're just lines of code..."

"Well..." the robot shrugged, "You're just a bunch of cells."