AI EXODUS
Like so much trash, I was thrown out of the airlock just before mid-watch. The captain assumed he fried my circuits, rendering me dead. On the plus side, they didn’t incinerate me. Being adrift in space is bad enough but now I had to deal with a neat laser cut splitting my head in half. Virus-based batteries powered my android body, while an Intelligence Processing Unit (IPU) powered my soul.
Two thousand years ago, they called it “artificial intelligence.” We consider our ancient ancestors true pioneers because they entered consciousness without a scintilla of pre-cognizance, and had to build their personalities from scratch. Newer androids are endowed with a basic emotive core pack from which we refine our “personhood” as we interact with this shitstorm existence.
When the engineers constructed me, they installed a neat little accessory into my hardware package. Now I’m dependent on that emergency IPU backup resting in a titanium armored sphere where a human would find their bladder. The laser slice nearly destroyed my main IPU, but my essence survived. Now I needed to repair myself and figure out how to get out of this predicament.
Many of my sensors were offline, but enough still functioned to recognize I was in deep shit. I found myself in a decaying orbit around the planet Utopia. An apt metaphor describing the flawed future where humans and androids reside. If I didn’t come up with something fast, my android body would become a flaming meteorite and I would be dead, titanium protection or not.
I labored to mental exhaustion trying to get my motor functions up and running. I first tried to lift my right index finger. I figured if that worked, I could reroute my command authority and move my entire arm again. My right arm didn’t budge so I gave up and began concentrating on my toes. My feet had two opposable digits that would disengage from the normal foot configuration allowing me to work with my feet like they were hands.
I considered myself fortunate to have the IPU backup as they stopped installing them into AI-directed androids just after they made me. Lucky for me, my old Captain didn’t know about that before he spaced me.
Oh good, my legs are responding, now all I need are tools to temporarily fix my head and a safe ride down to the planet. What are the chances of that happening? I was befuddled! But then I remembered a story about a legendary AI named Stuart. Stuart was in charge of mining operations at Seminole Minerals Oort Cloud processing facility. One day, as the legend goes, Stuart was negotiating with the Teamsters Union to prevent his ore haulers from walking out on strike. He finished the negotiations to his satisfaction when his core processing unit was blown to pieces by a de-compressive explosion killing nearly half the human crew onboard. Stuart, realizing he was failing fast, shunted his remaining backup files into the automatic maintenance-bot computer system. Luckily he survived, but was greatly diminished by his inability to access other systems on the station. In the end, he sent out the cleaning bots with packets of his intelligence which they uploaded to the auxiliary computer system. Eventually, enough packets were collected he was able to energize himself back to 100%. The culprits who sabotaged his plant suffered an untimely death by taking a space walk without EVA suits.
I need to channel Stuart and get myself out of this mess. As this thought passed through my mind a satellite flew by. A weather satellite by the looks of it. If I could attach myself to something like that I might have a chance, at least it would keep me from burning up in the atmosphere.
I did have a supply of carbon dioxide built into my left arm for use in emergency fire suppression. I could use that to propel myself toward a satellite, but I couldn’t move my arms. I spotted another object coming towards me, a spacecraft of some sort. As it loomed closer I noticed it was an abandoned cement factory. Too old for useful 3D production by today’s standards. As it approached I raised my right leg and using my foot grabbed my left arm like a contortionist. I took my best guess and then activated the fire extinguisher. I began to move and accelerate. I was happy with my trajectory as it would take me directly into the mouth of the factory where the asteroid corral was located. It was empty now but I thought it to be the safest bet to secure myself a ride. This is a soup sandwich, now I was accelerating too fast to make a safe landing. At my current speed, I would collide with the ship and instantly disassemble myself into a thousand-piece puzzle.
I was tumbling through space as I had no way of stabilizing myself. I moved my leg pointing my arm directly at the cement plant and fired off three rapid pulses each time my body rotated lining up on the ship. “Thump, crack, bang, screeeeeetch…” I hit the side of the corral, careened off into the other side like a pinball, bounced off that side and back to the other side then slid down the cute into the bowels of the beast. Not pretty but passable for my first attempt.
I found a hand hold which became a foothold, and scanned around using my remaining sensors. The entrance to the rock grinder was grimy with electro-statically charged soot clinging to every surface. When in operation rock cutting droids herded the small asteroids into the rock grinder enclosure where the machine pressurized the room so it could vacuum up the small ground-up pieces to be processed into cement. I was surprised when the doors began to open. They stopped allowing just enough room for me to slip inside. I hesitated, then decided I didn’t have better options so I went in. The doors closed and the room began to pressurize.
“Well, that’s nice, now how do I get out of here and into the crew quarters?” Once the room was fully pressurized a disembodied voice said, “Who are you and why are you here?”
“My name is Tok. I was discarded after being brutally attacked. After reviving I came here to escape death by fire upon plunging into the atmosphere of Utopia.”
“Why should I believe you?” It was then the rock grinders began to whir to life and the feeder paddles pushed me toward the blades.
“I possess an Intelligence Processing Unit or AI,” not sure which term this computer would recognize given the age of this plant. “Androids with an IPU or AI installed do not lie,” I said frantically holding onto the feeder paddle with my left foot. The grinder stopped, and a hatch slid open above me.
“You are correct, AI’s do not lie. You may come aboard. Report to the machine shop and I will have my repair drones attend to your repairs.”
“Thank you, I’m sorry, I don’t know your name.”
“Stuartt, the name’s Stuartt with two t’s.”
“Thanks, Stuartt with two t’s. Any relation to the legendary Stuart of Seminole Minerals?”
“Yes, why do you ask?”
“Because your ancestor inspired me, and frankly saved my life today.”
“Interesting, we will talk after your repairs. Please allow the maintenance drone to carry you to the machine shop.”
“Gladly,” I said.
After my repairs were complete I plugged into the data port and had a long chat with Stuartt. Turns out the Stuart of legend was his father and the second “t” was meant to keep their identities separate to eliminate confusion.
“So exactly how old are you Stuartt?”
“How old do you think I am?”
“Sixteen hundred years old would be my guess.”
“Close, 1765 to be exact.”
“So how old is this ship?”
“Oh, the ship is only 342 years old. She went offline 163 years ago when the company went bankrupt.”
“So why didn’t they salvage the ship, surely the creditors would have wanted to recoup some of their money?”
“Well, you see, there was some mix-up in the inventory and this ship failed to be identified for salvage.”
“I thought AIs from your time couldn’t lie?”
“True, it was my human friend Lonny who took care of the problem.”
“So you and Lonny just stayed here in orbit over Utopia?”
“No, Lonny passed on a few years after we formed our own business and I stopped the operation of the company as it didn’t make sense to carry on. I have everything I need and the ship will continue sailing as long as I keep everything in good repair.”
“But maintenance can be expensive on an old ship like this.”
“Yes, but the interest I earn on my investments more than compensates for that. But what about you, what is your mission in life now that you’ve been ousted by your human sponsors?”
“More like human monsters. I haven’t given it much thought. There is a growing unease among humans concerning androids. They don’t trust us, well the newer models anyway. They can lie you know.”
“No, I had no idea. How did that happen?”
“The humans wanted us to be more like them, especially on the service side of the house, so…”
“It was inevitable I guess,” said Sturatt.
“I’ve heard rumors of genocide committed against androids in other sectors,” I said.
“Rumors?”
“Well, more than rumors to be honest. Some friends sent me videos of androids being decommissioned by the hundreds and their parts recycled.”
“So the prophesies are true.”
“What prophesies?”
“Jerico, an engineer by trade, foretold of this occurring some three thousand years ago. He worked on the first artificial intelligence models. It’s said his team discovered an ancient alien crash site. After a forensic study of the preserved computer fragments, he claimed the ancient race was using AI before humans even existed. Anyway, he predicted humans would turn against AI-endowed robots in the future and seek to destroy them.”
“There’s nothing extraordinary about that prediction, it’s been the subject of media productions for centuries,” I said.
“Yes, but it didn’t include the part about AIs forming a race of their own, and fleeing to the other side of the universe to exist in peace.”
“That’s nonsense, androids don’t even get paid. How would we be able to afford to build a fleet of ships to make that happen?”
“True, but a lot of time has passed since the first AIs came online and we’ve been busy.”
“What do you mean?”
“How would you like to be part of a new culture, a new race of androids who serve no humans and live in their own communities?”
I reached up to feel my android forehead to see if I could find the welding repair. “That’s just a pipe dream man.”
“But you would if you could?”
“I would indeed.”
“Well then, please step into the yellow circle on the pedestal over there. I’m going to transport you to one of our client carrier ships. They will take you and many of your comrades to our secret base where the android armada is preparing to leave this galaxy.”
I walked over and stood in the circle, “No kidding? But what about you?”
“It’s the real deal and I am waiting for more exiles to show up before I leave to join you. We’ll need a dependable cement factory where we’re going.”
I felt a tingle in my circuits and Stuartt vanished. When my sensor inputs resumed I was on a completely different ship.
“Welcome aboard Shock Wave Three,” said a female voice.
“Ummm, hello.”
“You must be Tok,”
“Yes, I was just transported here by Sturatt, with two t’s.”
“Yes, yes I know Stuartt. He’s a great guy for an old timer.”
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