Fivven winced as a heavy object rushed at him. A memory flashed in his circuits of that bulky servicebot on a collision course in the warehouse. On that occasion he was saved by the large crane. This time, however, there was no other option. Impact was assured.
The hammer clanged against his bent bumper.
"Almost done," said The Creatively Titled The Artist.
It was painful, but his little metallic body was beginning to resemble his old but serviceable form.
Ever since he'd successfully orchestrated the delivery of food to starving gamers, Fivven had been promoted into automated management at Hot Or Not Delivery Company. From there, he over-powered newer AI and hu(persons) with superior experience and strategic thinking, soon rocketing to the position of CEO. This meant he could use his intelligence, rather than a failing body, to make a genuine impact on hu(person) lives. Still, he needed to be in decent shape for one last delivery.
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Artificial(ish) Intelligence
Science FictionIt's the near future and Will, supported purely by the Universal Basic Income, spends his days playing video games while devouring piping hot noodles, delivered straight to his room by roaming DeliveryBots. Gamers are starving to death, but Will's...
