Grim, page 27
One day I needed to conduct an observational study. “Taking notes on robots in action,” I explained as I took him with me to one of the work areas of the center, one we hadn’t visited before. “I’m supposed to see if I can identify any ways to improve performance, or if I can guess the programmers’ main priorities for each design.”
“You could observe me in action,” Rowan said, and his grin was almost sly.
I laughed. “You don’t count, silly.”
“Why not?”
It took me a moment to reply. “You’re a prototype. There aren’t any others like you. And I worked with your programmer, so it would be kind of like cheating.”
Which was all totally valid and true. But what I’d really wanted to say was, You’re not like the other robots. You’re not like any robot I’ve ever met.
Or any person, either.
We’d come across other robots before, of course. They never took any special notice of Rowan as they performed their tasks, and Rowan had seemed less interested in them than in human beings. However, in this part of the center, robots outnumbered people. We were close to the operational cores where radiation levels made it impossible for humans to work. It was safe for us where we were—it was shielded, of course—but the majority of the laborers passing by were inhuman.
“My thesis is probably going to be about movement,” I explained to him as we stood on one of the high walkways, looking down. We were up so far that the enormous ceiling lights hung down slightly past us; below us the world was bright and clear, but we were in shadows. “You’re perfect. You move just like a human. But most robots don’t. Now, you have more intelligence than almost any robot, and that probably means you can process movement functions faster. So I have to see how to replicate that in robots without as much higher intelligence.”
Rowan was preprogrammed with most of that information anyway, which was why I wasn’t prepared for Rowan to look so troubled.
“They don’t walk correctly,” he said, glancing downward. “Their arms never move while their legs do.”
“No, and their steps are a little too long. That’s more efficient, though, so we might want to keep that.”
“They are programmed for efficiency. With no other goals in mind.” Rowan’s voice had become flat—not in a robotic monotone, but like someone attempting to disguise strong emotion.
Which was impossible, it had to be impossible...
“Does that bother you?” I tried to make my question sound casual. “The fact that we programmed the other robots for efficiency instead of intelligence?”
Rowan straightened. Our eyes met. And I knew in that moment everything he felt: the shame of being less than human. The anger that we treated robots like things. The horror at knowing that he had less in common with the robots clanking around below us than he did with a human being. And the depthless loneliness of being the only one of his kind in the whole world.
But none of that shook me as badly as what Rowan did next.
“No,” he said. “No, it does not bother me.”
Rowan had told me a lie.
He winced then, and turned sharply away from me. Apparently violating one of his core protocols activated something within Rowan that mimicked pain. I hated seeing that, but I was too freaked-out to respond appropriately—to respond at all. I could only stare. There should have been no way for a robot to violate core protocols. None. If Rowan could do that, then he had become something more than a robot.
When Rowan turned back to me, I could tell that he knew I’d recognized his lie; my expression must have given it away. He understood enough about cybernetics to realize how significant this was. Very quietly he said, “I realize that you must deactivate me now.”
I said the only thing I could say—something I’d never have dreamed of saying just a few short weeks before. “I’m not going to do that.”
“Why not?”
I couldn’t have done that to Rowan any more than I could have killed a human being. “I’m just not.”
“But you will report me.”
Slowly I shook my head no. Rowan’s face lit up again with the same wonder I’d seen when he first awoke—but somehow, now it was even more amazing.
“It’s just a malfunction,” I said hastily. “A glitch. No big thing.”
He wasn’t fooled.
I’d been hanging on to the railing this whole time. Slowly Rowan lowered one of his hands over mine, his fingers sliding between my fingers, his palm warm against the back of my hand. The professor had even gotten his body temperature right.
He was touching me for no purpose—at least, no purpose his programming should recognize. That was another violation of a core protocol. And all I could think about was that I’d been waiting for this moment since Rowan first opened his eyes; I just hadn’t known it until we finally touched.
Rowan said, “We are both malfunctioning, I think.”
“Maybe so.” If love is a malfunction.
Of course I didn’t report Rowan. But I did make another appointment with Professor Jafet.
“What’s going to happen to him?” I couldn’t even sit; I paced the length of her office, restless and uneasy. “You told me he was a prototype, but he can’t be. The world isn’t ready for hundreds or thousands of robots like him.”
“No, I suppose it isn’t.” Professor Jafet looked even wearier than before. Her skin had taken on a grayish pallor. “But he’s proved my theories were true. At long last, I know I was right.”
“Okay, that takes care of you. What about him?”
That was about when she should have bitched me out for yelling at a professor and questioning her authority. Instead Professor Jafet sighed. “Well, we have two options. First, we can downgrade his intelligence. Remove some of his processors. He’d still be brighter than most robots, but he’d be only a robot. The human qualities of his intelligence would be eliminated, as well as whatever emotional component seems to be troubling you so.”
It made me sick to think of turning Rowan back into just another machine. Once I would have thought nothing of it; now the idea was as grotesque to me as the idea of lobotomizing a human being. “You can’t do that to Rowan. Please.”
Professor Jafet’s green eyes stared deeply into mine. I wondered what she saw there. “The alternative is to upgrade him yet further—to give him full human intelligence and independence. That’s against our rules here, of course, but what the hell is tenure for?” She coughed, a hollow, rattling sound. “Besides, I doubt I’d be around for the disciplinary hearing.”
“Professor? Are you okay?”
She ignored this. “Blue, I want you to understand—if we upgrade Rowan’s intelligence, it’s not the same as, oh, waving a magic wand and turning him into a real boy. If he acquires full human autonomy, he won’t be the same any longer. It will be as profound a change as downgrading his intelligence, just different.”
“But it would be a change for the better,” I insisted.
“In some ways. At that point, certain legal protections would kick in—old rules, for that long-ago generation of AI that went beyond these boundaries. Nobody could dismantle him after that, downgrade him against his will. But Rowan will lose some of his innocence. His gentleness. It’s possible that whatever emotional bonds he’s formed would vanish. For instance, the way he has imprinted on you—I doubt that would survive.”
I stepped back, stung. Rowan’s feelings for me—whatever they were—they were more than a spare part somebody could remove.
...weren’t they?
“We can continue to evaluate him,” Professor Jafet said. “I’ll go over his charts. But you’re the one who’s able to spend the most time with Rowan. Your recommendation will be important.”
She’d just put Rowan’s entire future into my hands, and I didn’t know what to do.
I lay awake that whole night, tossing and turning, until my roommates yelled at me to lie still, or at least be restless more quietly.
What kind of person was I, to shut out every single guy I knew but fall for a robot? Did that mean I was emotionally stunted, or selfish? Or was it only natural? I didn’t think I’d fallen for what was fake about Rowan; I thought I’d fallen for what was real in him...what was human.
Rowan showed me the world like it was new. He made me see beauty where I’d seen only drabness, showed me colors where I’d seen only gray. And Rowan made me see myself differently, too. Maybe I wasn’t just this...antisocial loser. Maybe I was someone extraordinary.
Or maybe he imprinted on you like Professor Jafet said, I thought. Maybe this is just the malfunctioning of a machine.
But I didn’t want to believe that.
All night I lay there, trying to work out the right thing to do, but the answer never came.
“You’re very tired,” Rowan said the next day—this morning, just hours ago—as we walked along one of the hallways. “Are you well?”
“I’m fine. Just didn’t get enough sleep.”
“I wouldn’t want you to be unwell. Like Professor Jafet. I think she is very seriously ill.”
“I think so, too,” I said, surprised he knew. Maybe Rowan’s analytical side had picked up on her problems more accurately than I had. “What do you think is wrong with her?”
I never learned what he would have answered, because then a guy from one of my classes yelled, “Hey, Blue!”
Todd wasn’t a bad guy; I waved at him. “Hey, Todd!” But that was too encouraging, because Todd came loping over, his shock of red hair bouncing with each step.
“Where have you been lately? Thought you were working on a special project.” He grinned at me. “And hey, who’s this?”
Rowan brightened. He obviously liked the idea that a human being wouldn’t know he was a robot. Did that mean he walked around ashamed of himself all the time? I hated to even imagine that.
“This is Rowan,” I said. “He’s the special project.”
“Wait. You’re kidding, right? Whoa.” Todd took a couple of steps back. “That is amazing.”
“A pleasure to meet you, Todd,” Rowan said. I could tell he wasn’t sure how to handle this.
“Amazing!” Todd’s smile only widened. “Special project, no kidding. He’s way ahead of anything else we’ve got.”
“How long have you known Blue?” Rowan was trying so hard to be polite; it broke my heart.
“Todd and I are in the same apprenticeship year,” I interjected. “Right, Todd?”
“Since when did you get all formal?” Todd laughed. He still didn’t speak to Rowan; he only spoke about him. “That’s not the Blue I know. Did Jafet delete your personality?”
That hurt. Always, before, I’d wanted people to think I was hard and cool. Now that someone had recognized the real me—since Rowan—that mask didn’t fit any longer.
Rowan saw my downcast face, and he gently brushed his hand against my shoulder as he said, “Blue’s personality is extremely complex.”
Todd’s face fell, and I thought, Oh, damn. Damn.
Rowan touched me. He violated a core protocol, and Todd saw it.
“...I gotta go,” Todd said, and he turned without another word.
As he vanished down the hallway, Rowan said, “I messed up.”
The words were mine—he was copying me—and that would have moved me if I were any less horror-struck. “Yeah, you did.”
“Will he report me?”
“Yes.” Like I said, Todd wasn’t a bad guy, but he played by the rules. Unlike me, he didn’t have anything to gain by turning a blind eye. And unlike me, he didn’t care what happened to Rowan.
Rowan turned to me. “What will happen?”
“I’m not sure,” I admitted. “But I think it’s going to be out of Professor Jafet’s hands.”
He must have been so afraid, and I knew by then that Rowan felt fear as deeply as any human being did. But he said only, “Let’s go home.”
The only home Rowan had was a workshop where he had a charging station. That tore at my heart like claws. “Come on. Let’s go.”
And as long as the damage was already done, I took his hand.
When we arrived at the workshop, though, all the screens were lit up: priority communication. Todd had worked faster than I’d imagined. Rowan stopped short when he saw the red borders around the screens, but he was the one who had the courage to step forward and open the message. That was when we learned the communication didn’t have anything to do with Todd, or with Rowan violating a core protocol.
The message told us Professor Jafet had died.
While I was still breathless with shock, the message continued, “Video from Professor Isadora Jafet, for Millicent Fairchild. Play?”
Rowan frowned. “Who is Millicent Fairchild?”
“Me. That’s me.” I told you my name was stupid. “Blue is just a nickname.”
“I think Millicent is a pretty name,” he said, thus becoming the first person ever to say that since the dawn of time. “But you’ll always be Blue to me.”
“Thanks.”
“I mean—even if they take me away, after this—when I am deactivated—something inside me will remain. Whatever it is that is more than metal.” Rowan’s dark eyes met mine. “It’s the part of me that will always remember you. The part that will remember how gentle you are beneath the hard exterior, and how patient you were when you showed me the world. That part will remember how—how when I looked at you I knew what it would mean to be alive. And will always remember you wanted to be called Blue.”
Tears were welling in my eyes, but I just jabbed at the screen to make the video play.
The image that came to life on-screen was that of Professor Jafet propped up in a bed. “I haven’t much time, Blue,” she rasped. “But you should know that after our last conversation, I added a codicil to my will. From the moment of my death, Rowan legally belongs to you. That means his ultimate fate lies in your hands. I trust you to choose well. You’re a smart girl—maybe smarter than you know. You’ll need that—it’s a hard world. Good luck, Blue.”
Jafet smiled, and then the video ended. The professor had left my life forever, still as much an enigma as when we’d met.
“I belong to you.” Rowan smiled at me like that was the best news in the world. When I didn’t smile back, he hesitated. “It doesn’t matter, does it? Not after I violated a core protocol in front of Todd. I’ll be confiscated no matter what.”
This might be the last time, so what the hell. I took his face in my hands; he covered my fingers with his own. “Rowan,” I whispered, “do you trust me?”
“Completely.”
“I can fix it so they won’t take you away. But I’ll have to modify you.”
He didn’t even ask what I planned to do. “We should act immediately.”
Todd was probably talking to the authorities right now. “Yeah, we should.”
I started to move, but he held me fast. “Wait.”
“Yeah?”
“Just once, I wanted to do this.” And Rowan leaned forward and kissed me.
It was a soft kiss, unsure and gentle, lasting only a moment. But it still made my heart seem to expand within my chest, as though it were unfolding into bloom like a rose. Tears welled in my eyes.
When our lips parted, Rowan said, “Did I do it right?”
I managed to smile for him. “You sure did.”
And that brings us to here, and now. Rowan lies on the workshop table, unconscious. His fate is entirely in my hands.
Do I downgrade his intelligence, make him more like another robot so that the authorities have no reason to take him away? Rowan would still be devoted to me, and I could keep him forever. But he would just be a shell of the Rowan I knew.
My other choice—add more intelligence, make his mind indistinguishable from a human being’s. Give him some legal rights so that he couldn’t be deactivated or taken away...and in the process, take away whatever it was he felt for me.
Like I said, love makes you selfish. I want to keep him with me no matter what it takes. I want to keep seeing the world made beautiful through his eyes. I need that—need him—more than I ever imagined I could.
But love gives you a power that goes beyond anything selfish. I feel it inside me, holding me up, keeping me strong.
This is not about what I need. This is about what Rowan needs. He needs to be free. He needs to be real.
Rowan wakes up after I’m done. He opens his eyes. And once again he says, “Oh,” in that voice of wonder—but the wonder isn’t for me. It’s for the windows I’ve opened up in his mind.
“They can’t touch you now,” I say. My voice doesn’t shake. Good job, me. “You belong to yourself.”
“And to you,” Rowan says as he sits up.
“Legally, I guess. For now.” I did some research on this over the past few weeks; now I know that an Emancipated Artificial Intelligence gets pretty much the same rights as a human being—old legal precedent. That’s one reason why businesses try so hard not to make any more of them. “But you belong to yourself, really. Soon, officially.”
“Yes. And to you.”
His hand reaches out for mine. Slowly he lifts it to his lips and presses a soft kiss against my palm.
“But—” I can’t let myself believe this. If I do, and I’m wrong, my heart will shatter into so many tiny pieces that I’ll never be able to put it back together. This is what happens when you break something so hard, so brittle, and find the softness inside; you never get to repair the cracks again. “You’re not like other robots any longer. Your feelings are real now. You’re real.”
So shyly, so gently, Rowan smiles. “This was always real.”
* * * * *
