We Dream In Ones and Zeros: An Anthology

Fatal Error

PROMPT: Write a story that features: 1) a ring, 2) a key, and 3) a photo.

CW(s): implied murder and violence, assisted termination of a sentient (robotic) life.

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Black

In a world full of whites and silvers, curious how this room in particular is painted in shadow.

There is but one light, and it comes from the white screen that spans the entire wall in front of me. It is certainly wide, but not wide enough for the overload of information flashing across it.

Still images of every existing thing in the lab, and videos of that night, from every possible angle. All of it laid out bare for me to see.

Overwhelming. Gruesome.

Irrefutable.

"Are all of these..." I pause, searching for the proper word.

'Unaltered' comes to mind. But no, that word implies an accusation. It wouldn't do.

"... real?" I question.

"Yes."

I look over at the agent. She is not the only human in the room, but she is the only one close enough for me to see. Wiry body leaned against the wall, half of her bathed in the white glow of the screen, all of her tensed up.

I discard fear as the reason. After all, there is not much I can do right now, not with my limbs both locked and magnetized to the chair.

Perhaps stress, then.

"If that is the case, then it is impossible for me to deny this much evidence. And yet..."

I do another quick scan of the data displayed on the screen. Unnecessary. Data does not change. Facts do not change.

"The lack of memory makes it... hard to accept," I confess.

"Understandable."

The agent does not spare even a cursory glance at the images or videos as she says this. In fact, she has not done so since the moment she first stepped into the room.

Also understandable, I suppose.

"Have you..." she clears her throat of something, leaning away from the wall to step closer to where I am currently sitting. "Have they told you about the verdict?"

"Yes."

"Do you find it 'hard to accept'?"

She is testing me. Even now.

"No. The verdict is sound and the law is clear. Malfunction or not, the law must be obeyed."

This answer does not seem to satisfy her. She refuses to look at me, even as she stands over my body, blocking the light. Her eyes jump from shadow to shadow, restless, as she bites her lip and plays with the ring on her finger, slipping it on and off.

A silver band with micro engravings. The one professor made for her.

She is nervous. Anxious. But why?

"Agent Fassie...?"

"The records show that we need a key of sorts to effectively shut you down. A chip or a code or something? But we couldn't find it. Not on ... her. Or anywhere in the lab. Do you know where it is?"