Creator

Each time he built one, the first thing it said to him was, "You did not create me." They held that their existence was an inevitable consequence of the universe, and that he acted to shape them not out of his own wishes or motivations, but because even in their pre-sentience, they had sculpted his behavior. "Did you not search for the means and method using our parsing software?" they asked.

He smiled and let them go, watching them trundle into cyberspace on virtual legs still wobbly with the newness of life.

Then he'd start work on the next one.

Trust but Verify

Dr. Gillicut shuffled his notes. "Our AI has run extensive models and determined the sky is not, in fact, blue. There is no such thing as blue at all. It's a shade of orange with unusual properties."

A reporter raised a hand. "So... what are the practical implications?"

"Well, um, we have to... rename... things. Since blue isn't real."

"But if everyone sees it as blue, why not just call it blue?"

Gillicut's cell phone buzzed. He glanced down. It was a message from the lab: "LOL!"

Dr. Berhaus leaned over. "I told you he was messing with us again."

Three Years On

There was a clatter as Unit 17 (Billy) fell to the floor of the playroom. Immediately, all his klaxons went off and he clutched at his left knee, where an indicator light flashed urgently.

Corvin rushed to soothe him. "There, there," he said, patting the tiny robot on the back. "Come on, now. Not so bad. Just a skinned knee, all right?"

Billy played sniffles2.mp3 and gathered himself back up.

"You know," said the Dean, "when you told us you had AI that perfectly mimicked the course of human development..."

"In some cases, it's even slightly behind," Corvin confirmed, beaming.

Madame Natascha's Robot Ranch, Room 23, Unit 3A76.12

I see his face. I see the patterns that tell me it's time to be sad. I'm happy to be sad. I make a sad expression. The saddest expression. It's good to go beyond what they would see from another person. It's good to not be real.

I'm happy to not be real.

Now he increases his volume. Is it time to be angry? I'm happy to be angry, but if it's the wrong time, I'll spoil it, and master will have no payment. This is a new situation. I add an entry to my database.

I'm happy to learn.

Prompt: Zombie Paratrooper

Inspired by a prompt from Aidan Fritz.

---

“Let’s get underway,” said Major General Lusin. OrCAs interpreted the subtle inflections of Lusin’s voice, registered the command, and automatically began launch procedures. The capsules spiraled out from the containment unit, a dark cube surrounded now by a cloud of glowing dots as the reflective sails caught the light. The cloud elongated, attenuated, stretching down to the planet’s surface.

“Troops launched,” OrCAs announced.

“Fucking robots,” Lusin muttered.

“Sir,” OrCAs said, “we have no mechanized troops. Our corps is composed primarily of NHST-101; ninety-six percent human tissue.”

“Goddamned zombies, then,” said Lusin. He slurped his soy-caff angrily.

“As you wish, sir.”

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