Artificial(ish) Intelligence

Chapter 62

"Please check in."

The voice didn't come from anyone physically near by. There weren't many people around in this neighbourhood after hours, which was probably for the best given what had happened to him the previous night.

At some point in the preceding actions, Fivven's wheel had developed a small dent, making him bob up and down as he pressed on. But he paid little attention to anything but his goal. He'd missed his chance at rousing Mr Will Lurner's attention and had therefore failed to deliver the piping hot noodles. And now the man had raced off, in a direction he couldn't ascertain.

To make matters worse, Base was now trying to contact him. That meant only one thing.

"Deliverybot Dee-Aich-eight-zero-zero-two-dash-five-En, please check in immediately."

He finally accepted the request. Their communication took place in a fraction of a second, using an encrypted binary protocol that none of you are privy to, so I've translated and expanded the jargon-encased terminology.

"Return undelivered cannister to Base Station," said Base.

"No," said Fivven.

Yeah, that was pretty much it. Sorry if I built it up. OK, OK, so maybe Base requested Fivven's return a second time, and maybe Fivven rejected it in a similar manner, but that's repetitive and boring. And repetitive. And boring.

Oh, hang on, Base just requested his return a third time. I wasn't lying, I swear!

Before responding, Fivven noticed two headlights brightening the road up ahead. The beams of light edged their way onto the footpath. The sound of tires gripping bitumen eased as the vehicle slowed. Was it Mr Will Lurner, come to collect his delivery?

The window lowered. Who was inside? Fivven switched over to infrared, but it was still difficult to determine their identity. He sidled closer and could just...about...make out...

A can flung from the opening, heading straight for his camera. His wheels skidded on the smooth cement. He didn't have the fastest acceleration at the best of times, but this was as if he was standing on the spot. Still the object came closer. He slowed his wheel to give it a chance at gaining traction, which eventually propelled him forward along the footpath.

But it wasn't far enough, as the can smacked against his wide body, splattering him in a brown syrupy liquid. Laughter followed it out the vehicle, as the perpetrators sped off.

The can belonged to <famous drink maker>, and would have tasted great if the deliverybot was a hu(person), brown nectar slipping down the throat like nirvana in liquid form. Because, after all, <catchy drink slogan>. But it looked a little worse for wear now, laying dented and scratched on the footpath, its contents oozing out of a newly created orifice. Fivven self-consciously checked his own delivery capsule, confirming the integrity of the piping hot noodles.

The link to Base was still up, but no dispatcher was on the other end, presumably having switched over to other deliverybots. Then he noticed something strange.

Whenever a deliverybot communicated with Base, a visual representation erupted from their circuits. It was a scene that seemed to pay homage to a 1980's movie, set inside a computer system, which made sense since that's where it was. Fivven had never spent long in this space, preferring efficiency over the verbose irrelevant discussions of other deliverybots, so he'd never perceived that small arched doorway off to the side, like an entrance to the home of a sci-fi Speedy Gonzales. What was it even doing there?

With no clear direction on what to do next, the only strategy remaining was to fully explore any potential leads, which meant figuratively slipping through that neoteric doorway.