Artificial(ish) Intelligence

Chapter 120

Fivven's cannister bumped against the roof of the chute on each rise of his distorted wheel. He carefully protected the lukewarm half-serving of piping hot noodles as he approached a break in the path.

The wall covering the entrance to the delivery chute had been fake. That's contractors for you, especially the ones squeezed on their profit margins -- there's always a way to cut corners. In this case, instead of solid red bricks, a large piece of fabric was painted, in, it must be said, an authentically aged design, mimicking the real thing as well as Milli Vanilli. In other words, very well for a short amount of time. At least, until Fivven had noticed it bulge from a stray defencebot.

They could still be around, of course, so he was on guard, hoping the patience he showed by delaying his entrance would buy him enough time to find Mr Will Lurner. Patience wouldn't overcome the current hurdle, though.

The delivery chute ended abruptly, with a makeshift wall blocking Fivven's path. As he contemplated this latest challenge, a whistle of wind brewed from behind. No, that wasn't it, since his rear sensors weren't registering any air disturbance. Ahead, the wall, almost imperceptibly, flapped.

This one wasn't painted brick, but it wasn't going to fool him. He edged closer, until the scuffed bumper protecting his fore pressed against it. The fabric gave way.

It should have been plain sailing beyond that point. He should have been able to power through more of the chute, deep into the heart of the building. A less experienced delverybot would have done just that, and found themselves tumbling down through an open grate.

The fabric wall really did demarcate the end of the delivery chute, as it branched into an air-conditioning duct. This must have been where the defencebot had come from. Fivven rode the boundary of the grate -- a few mops and brooms filling the small room below -- and squished within the duct tube, reasoning that the defencebots wouldn't be restricted to the vents alone, so there must be access points through which Mr Will Lurner would be reachable.

It wouldn't be an easy journey. In fact, he almost jumped on the spot. Probably due to the laser blasting at him from behind.

"Come on, ol' man!"

It was a defencebot, of course, the same he'd seen earlier. Having picked up on Fivven's energy levels, it was homing in fast.

"You're such a spunk, I jus' wanna shoot ya all day long."

The air conditioning ducts were a tighter fit, but Fivven squeezed through at a steady pace. A wisp of smoke curled from a pocket of glass-wool insulation up ahead, singed by a blast.

He turned down another duct, skirting over another closed grate, just as a second blast sailed past.

The defencebot was catching up, its large camera eye blinking rapidly. "Ain't you in retirement, yet?"

It held the same disrespectful, uninformed, malicious beliefs about him as the bullies at the depot, which caused those same feelings to well up in his emotional circuits. Why couldn't bots help each other? They were all working toward the same goal, of serving hu(person)ity. He wondered whether that was the cause, the egalitarian nature of their positions went against an emergent attribute of their programming that required a hierarchical system, imbued by their designers. If so, it couldn't be solved by reminding them of their equal positions within the world order but would, instead, ultimately require a totalitarian approach.

He found his way to another branch, longer, which drooped with his weight, enough to cut off a laser bolt. In fact, it effectively, if only temporarily, blocked the flying bot. Fivven took the moment to reassess his options. He noticed a sparkle of light hit the top of the duct at the end of the section. But he knew that as soon as he got there, the defencebot would be on him like a flash.

He may have acquired many skills over the years, building up enough knowledge of the world to consistently make wise decisions, but this was at the expense of agility and speed, attributes where newer robots left him for dead. And now it was this weakness that would cause a frying of his circuits and, subsequently, for Mr Will Lurner's lukewarm noodles to remain undelivered.

No, that wouldn't happen. Over the years he'd learned to use his strengths to paper over his growing weaknesses, and this situation was no different. Outsmarting dumb metallic muscle was his bread and butter.

He made an undulate for the shining material, racing as fast as his old wheel could carry him. About ten point seven centimetres from the spot, he stopped dead. The defencebot barrelled through the loosening duct, its wings fluttering like an incensed hummingbird. Just as its laser appeared poised, Fivven edged forward, the bolt missing his metallic bum by a few milimetres. Again, smoke rose from the blast, concealing Fivven's body enough for him to slip down through the grate. He landed with a heavy bounce, the kind you'd wince at if this was your very own expensive deliverybot.

Up above, the bot flew past, smoke and darkness obscuring its view. Fivven was safe for now, but it wouldn't take long for the defencebot to double back and train its sensors on him. These drones were as dogged as, well, dogs.

When he looked around at the dark room he'd dropped into, it was as if a new plan had formed by itself. Maybe there was a way to make this dog lose the scent.