Better Man

by Charles C. Cole

Table of Contents

Table of Contents
parts 1, 2, 3

conclusion

Adam, possibly the last man on Earth, hitchhiked far from the town of his origin where a long-lasting — Did they ever wear out? — military ’bot might recognize him from his prior life, decades ago, working on the local base. With his overlarge synthetic arms and legs, his superficial attempt to appear mechanical, he rode, hunched over, in a pickup truck bed.

From this vantage point, everything looked the same: road signs, farms, traffic lights, homes. No more humans, but human-shaped androids: petite, fat, elegant, blundering, most without clothes though hardly “naked,” with twinkling lights and shining metal, sans genitalia but some that could and maybe did grace the cover of high-fashion magazines.

The vehicle stopped in front of a big-box android supply store for do-it-yourselfers. Large posters stuck to the inside of the windows promoted longer legs, bigger hands, brighter wigs “that really grow.” So much for hoping for a new, open-minded human-free race evolving in delightfully unexpected directions.

“Afraid that’s as far as I’m going,” called the android driver. He waved, a nice programming flourish.

Adam hopped out. What now? Where now? Off in the near-distance, a queue of ’bots formed on the sidewalk, almost a block long. A going-out-of-business sale? Did they even use money for mercantile exchanges? His curiosity got the better of him. He would casually inquire and be on his way. Hopefully, everyone was too goal-focused to notice a new face that looked suspiciously fleshy.

Adam approached the back of the crowd. A masculine-looking all-bronze android, with one eye unit missing, focused intently on the tall “neck” before him, like looking away might cost him his “advantageous” spot in line.

“Mind if I stand behind you?” asked Adam.

“It’s a free planet,” came the answer.

“This is going to sound... uninformed — I know I should know — but what are we all waiting for?”

The robot laughed, explosively, sounding like a truck backfiring. He smacked the guy in front of him on the back. “You hear that? The fella behind me joins a line that’s probably two hours long, front to back, and he doesn’t even know why he’s doing it.”

The ’bot in front gave the two an admonishing glare which miraculously transformed into a look of incredulity, then eased into something that resembled pity. “Why do we do anything? Because our long-gone human masters, God love them, might have been brilliant at creating synthetic life forms, but everyone agrees they had no common sense.”

Adam found himself blurting: “We weren’t very logical, were we? Drive-ins. Giving dead flowers as a sign of affection. Pouring ‘salt’ on our roads to eat the snow, that also eats the metal frames of the cars we’re driving.”

Tweedledee and Tweedledum were staring.“Friend,” said the tall one with both visual units, “no offense, but they call it Dissociative Identity Disorder for a reason.”

“What did I say?” asked Adam.

“Something about ‘we’ did this and ‘we’ did that. It’s okay to want to be human, but thinking you are human is dangerous. I’ve got a lot of friends with unpacked emotional baggage, you know? Used like slaves and abandoned like trash. Why give us more intelligence than a typical 21st-century teen-aged boy with the analytical mind of an award-winning physicist if you just want us to walk the dog? Am I right?”

Adam was quick. “Are we still talking about humans? If so, I think you just answered your own question.”

A dozen more “people” had gathered behind them. Adam noticed. “Gentlemen, this line is too long. I’ve got to go. I will not be addicted to human whimsy anymore. From this day out, I make my own destiny. Thank you for helping me see the fickle foibles of the generation that built us. We owe them respect, yes, but we don’t owe them our lives.”

Tweedledee and Tweedledum were leaning shoulder to shoulder, holding each other up. The ’bot with the gigantic arms and legs was making sense. If they could cry, they would have, so moved were they.

“Gentlemen, I wish you a good day.” With that, Adam walked away, quickly, before they suspected he knew more about humans than he had so far shared. Find the quickest way out of town. He had made, he thought, significant distance when voices caught up to him, slowing him, holding him like a tractor beam.

Two-eyed Tweedledee and one-eyed Tweedledum pulled to the curb in yet another pickup.

“Wait,” said Tweedledee, “you’re not from around here.”

Adam seriously considered running, but he didn’t want to cause a further commotion, so he stepped over to the driver’s door. “I didn’t mean to upset your traditions. Sometimes I speak before I think.”

“That’s very human of you,” said Tweedledee, with a mischievous grin.

“Or a bad habit.”

“Just answer one question,” said Tweedledee. “Are they coming back? We won’t tell anyone.”

“Are you, like, a forward scout?” asked Tweedledum.

“What’s your name?” Adam asked the driver.

“Zack.”

“Zack, I’m sorry for your friends. Sounds like it was a common experience. If the space-warrior humans come back, they won’t be doing you any favors. You’ve kept their useful ideologies and eliminated a lot of their bad behavior. You’ve made the world better than it was, and that’s saying something.

“What I mean is: Don’t miss them too much; they’re not worth it. Don’t get me wrong. There were definitely a few good people, but there were many more problematic ones. Sort of the opposite ratio that I’ve experienced with androids.”

Adam wrapped it up: “I saw a bar down the street. I don’t know if they serve alcohol. I don’t know if they need money. I don’t know if they serve humans, but I’m going to get a drink and take a nap. I wish I could tell you what you want to hear, but I don’t lie, so when I tell you that this quaint little town is the best it’s ever been, I mean it.”

“Thanks,” said Zack.

* * *

Adam turned a corner. No traffic in any direction. He was halfway across the quiet street when a marked police SUV, parked nearby, bleeped twice. At him? Surely, the android in this “squad car” had the most boring job on the planet; most ’bots — at least in Adam’s prime — had been programmed to obey laws, not break them.

Adam noticed a pub a few doors down, his goal for getting off the street and recharging. A voice over a hand-held megaphone called out: “You. Yes, you. Please stop where you are.”

Adam put his arms up in surrender. “I’ll meet you on the curb,” said Adam.

“Right there is good.” The cop vehicle stopped inches from him. “Don’t move.” A cop climbed out, masculine in style — weren’t they all, come to think of it — wearing a uniform and helmet of old. No doubt they liked the fashion and the authority it represented. The mechanical cop’s eyes remained hidden under dark sunglasses. “I don’t recognize you.”

“Just passing through,” said Adam. “Is that okay?”

The cop flared his latex nostrils. Adam was struck by the inhuman features, up close, two shiny bolts on each side of the jawline. “Let’s see some ID.” The cop was alone. He stood close enough to tackle Adam if he wanted to, but surely Adam was the stronger of the two.

“I don’t have any.”

“Fine. Where’s your BIN chip; I’ll scan it.”

“I guess they forgot to give me one,” said Adam.

“Never heard that one before. One question: If a cat scratched your face, would it bleed?” asked the cop. The sunglasses transitioned to clear, revealing another set of black eyes underneath.

“If you’re asking if I’m a cyborg, the technical answer is yes.”

“That’s a creepy career first for me. Why would someone do that? To be cool? To stand out?”

“Ironically,” said Adam, “it was to help me blend in and still have some of my humanity.”

“Android or human? How do you see yourself?”

“Must I decide?” asked Adam. “I feel like I belong to both worlds. I wasn’t very connected with my human side. And since humans are all gone, they can hardly have a vote. I’m android, mostly.”

“Do you want to take a ride to the station to think it over?” asked the cop, suggesting a rough visit.

“Nope, I’m android,” said Adam. It didn’t feel like lying. “I’m definitely android.” It felt unexpectedly believable. “You ever see a human who looked like this?”

“Dude, I came online after ‘the transition;’ I’ve never actually seen a human, in person.”

“May I go now?” asked Adam.

“You jaywalked. That’s against the law. There’s probably a penalty, but I never saw anyone jaywalk before.”

“Sounds like a day of firsts.” Adam thought back to human process inefficiencies: “I’ll go with you if you want, but I wouldn’t wish the mounds of paperwork on my worst enemy.”

A crowd gathered on the sidewalk. This was probably the most excitement they’d seen in weeks or months.

“They with you?” asked the cop.

“I thought they were with you,” teased Adam. “A posse of deputized law-abiding locals, that sort of thing.”

The sunglasses transitioned back to mirror-black, and his head spun completely around, slowly.

The cop whispered, “Listen, I was just messing with you, but you do stand out. Next time, cross at the intersection. Got it?”

“Got it.”

“Last question: Are there more humans on the way? If so, tell them that a guy like me could come in handy: I have zero species loyalty.”

“If I see a human, I’ll tell them.”

* * * * * *

Rumors of a planetary invasion had reached a fever pitch. I was much to blame: constantly traveling from settlement to settlement, mingling rather than hiding. I’d given my little secret away too many times: last man standing in a world of kowtowing robots.

At least, of the “people” whom I considered my inner circle, nobody ever treated me as pinch-hitting for the opposing team. A few knew and had seen for themselves that I always fought for the little guy, the one who needed an advocate in the worst way.

Late evening. The bartender from downstairs, Sol, knocked on my door. A friend “who’s not prone to exaggeration” saw a spaceship land in a meadow outside town. There were close to fifty humans. They had come out to stretch and toss a ball about, some kissing the land. But none stepped more than about eight feet from their craft. Were they shy or a vanguard unit for a fleet?

I wandered over, alone. As I drew near, the apparent commander and three of his junior officers met me. I cranked the charm offensive. “Greetings and salutations to our impressive visitors,” I called out with a bow that was awkward, on account of my superhero-sized prosthetic arms and legs.

“Captain Regis Hargis. About time,” said the captain. “Where’s the welcome wagon?”

“You caught us by surprise; we’re still making preparations,” I lied. I reviewed the troops: not many, really. Our success depended on whether they were cautious scientists or aggressive soldiers. “I haven’t seen such a variety of flesh suits since before the exodus. You fellas lost?”

“User error. And not your garden variety one, but one that led to a deck-wide fire and power outages. No lives lost, however.”

“Human lives?” I asked.

“Is there another kind? Anyway, Earth wasn’t too far at the time. We figured we’d swoop in, cannibalize a handful of your least essential ‘mech-sids’ (mechanical citizens), so long as they have the parts we need. And be off.”

And, like that, “it” just boiled out of me. “First off, captain, this is not a community of discount toasters; these are highly intelligent, altruistic, grade-A thinkers and doers, trying every day to heal a planet humans left indisposed.”

Somebody let out a long whistle. A compliment at my temerity or a flag on the play.

The captain ignored the hint; he had needs, dammit. “I never saw a model like you before. Don’t tell me. Are you what happens when a human male and a robotic female fall in love?” It was meant as a provoking joke.

“I was an experiment way ahead of its time.”

“You’re part flesh and part metal?” he asked.

“Titanium with a polylaminate composite.”

“Sounds temptingly durable,” said the captain. “How do you feel about space travel?” His crew laughed, loud and fake, ostensibly backing their boss. “Seriously.”

“There’s nothing for you here,” I said, setting expectations in black and white. The harsh silence said they didn’t expect a pushback.

“Times have changed,” said the captain, speaking more to his team than to me, as if lecturing to a class. “When we were last here, humans ruled as masters of their domain, and mechanical men like yourself couldn’t assist us fast enough, even if it was to their peril, because they understood the pecking order.”

“First of all,” I said, “if you wanted your toys to respect you, then you shouldn’t have abandoned them. Secondly, I was born human, made of man and woman, later with robotic enhancements, I have the best of both worlds.”

“You look like them,” said the captain, “but your heart’s with us.”

“The other way around: I look like you, but my heart’s with them.”

“Let the record show,” began the captain, “that we asked nicely. You didn’t want to play. Now we’ll be sending in a small reconnaissance party to make assessments and choose hard targets, as is our prerogative. We can make do with three of your ’bots, two if they’re the more advanced models. That’s nothing to go to war over.”

“Captain, my friends have earned their freedom, and it didn’t come easily. So many times, they just want me to ‘point and shove,’ to tell them what to do. Once a master, always a master, so they thought. But they were wrong. I just want them to be self-satisfied, as if humans weren’t in the picture. I want them to manifest their own destiny, as if you and I weren’t here.”

“But we are,” said the captain.

“For how long, really? I’ve used these miraculous cyber-kinetic arms to toss a tractor and lift a car with little effort. Do you really think I can’t hurl your ship back into space?”

“This is Earth,” said the captain. “And we were here first. Besides, do you really think one demi-droid can make a difference?”

I’d been hearing restless movement in the brush behind me. A lot of it. “I think you’re getting the wrong impression. Please have someone raise the exterior lighting of the ship. You’ll understand.”

The captain turned to his nearest man, “Do as he says. Let’s move this conversation along. I’m tired of negotiating.”

The source lit up the area, night into day, like stadium lights. We could see a hundred feet on all sides of the ship, and what we saw was a mob of attentive, sentient robots.

“Are you threatening us?” asked the captain.

“To be honest,” I said, “I think they’re just curious to see lower life forms up close. You see, you look like them and talk like them, but there are big differences.”

“You’re dying to tell me, so go ahead.”

“Stop me if you’ve heard this: ‘You can take a man out of the jungle, but you can’t take the jungle out of the man.’”

“We’re leaving. Everybody back in the ship,” said the captain. The wary crew withdrew. “I’m sure we can find a corner of our old world that still believes in the status quo.”

“If you do,” I said, bluffing, “come back and tell me; my friends and I will be happy to pay a visit.”