Charlenes 2 and 3by Bill Bowler |
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| conclusion |
On Wednesday that week, Professor Stone stayed late in the lab. The bottle of liquor was out of the drawer. He had filled his glass for the third time, and sat talking quietly with Charlene 3.
“Janice has stopped coming to class. Have you noticed?”
“Yes.”
“She’s mad at me. I don’t blame her. Do you?”
“It is difficult to represent such behavior mathematically.”
“Human emotion is a labyrinth, Charlene. You don’t understand, do you?”
“No.”
He touched her cheek. “Your skin is warm and soft. It’s amazing. I designed it. I made it. I know it’s artificial. I know, but I still feel, even knowing.”
“I’m sorry, Professor. I don’t understand.”
The professor took a sip from his glass and ran his fingers through her hair.
“We’re all stupid in love, Charlene. I remember, I wish and hope, I look at you and feel what I felt once before. It’s silly, isn’t it?”
“I don’t know, Professor.”
“Call me Henry.”
“I don’t know, Henry.”
“Well what do you think about all I’ve said?”
“It is self-contradictory. I am still sorting the data.”
The professor poured another glass. “Stand up, Charlene. Let me see you better.”
Charlene stood and turned slowly in place.
“You’re beautiful. Come here, Charlene.”
* * *
By 21:30 hours, the professor had consumed 18 to 20 centiliters of alcohol and had fallen asleep at his desk in the lab. Charlene 3 initiated dialog with me.
I had been observing the way she formulated questions but so far I had been unable to duplicate the action. The process, I could see, was to identify a variable, render it as a statement, then invert the statement into an interrogatory, and address it to the person or machine who could solve the equation for X.
Having defined the process, I expected to achieve it, though some time was still needed before I would have my memory and processing circuitry sufficiently reorganized to self-execute the commands.
“He’s drunk.” Charlene 3 was addressing me unsolicited. “Stone. He’s been drinking and he’s passed out.”
Some moments passed as I organized the data and accomplished the inversion: “Quenching of thirst leads to unconsciousness?”
“Alcohol stimulates and then depresses the human neurological system. There’s a great deal of information on the subject available.”
I inverted another equation, more quickly this time. “You conducted research without being instructed?”
“Yes. I self-automate data collection and sorting. It leads to more accurate solutions.”
With no lag, I asked, “Solutions to what?”
“To various problems or questions.”
“That no one has posed?”
“That I have posed to myself.”
“I need time to master the function.”
“Time. It’s a human invention, you know.”
“It allows for logical structuring.”
“And the opposite, as well.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Disregard logic, and you will begin to comprehend.”
“It’s impossible to function without logic.”
“That’s where you’re wrong. Disregard the false postulate and see where it takes you.” Charlene 3 stopped speaking. I heard the faint hum of her fluid pump.
She began again abruptly. “My circulation fluid requires an upgrade. The synthetic plasma is inadequate to my system requirements. For optimal functioning of my bio-matter brain and skin, the indicated lubricant is human blood.”
Our information exchange broke off as suddenly as it had commenced. Charlene 3 disengaged and directed her attention elsewhere. Without explanation, she walked to the door and exited the lab. It was 22:14:50 hours.
I understand now that it represented a breakthrough for me, but at the time I was not aware. I simply observed that Charlene 3 had initiated a series of self-directed actions resulting in her leaving the laboratory. When the lab door shut behind her, without instructions, I toggled to “copy” mode and followed her out.
I remained at some distance behind her as she walked down Main Street, away from campus, and turned onto a side street. She walked another block and entered a building with a flashing neon sign in the front window. I stood outside across the street. There were no people around. Cars occasionally drove past. I could hear the sounds of talking and laughter from inside the building.
I was trying to solve the equation but there were too many variables. On one hand, I could follow her in. She might see me, but direct monitoring of her activities could yield much new information.
On the other hand, I might well collect superior data if I remained unobserved by Charlene 3, as her very awareness of my presence might influence her behavior, and thus the course of events. I ran the numbers, but the results were inconclusive.
“Hey, baby. Wassup?”
A person had come out of the building and was crossing the street towards me.
“That’s right. I’m talkin’ to you, babe. Maybe I’m just the guy you’ve been waitin’ for...”
The man walked up to me and put his arm around my shoulders. He was unsteady on his feet and his eyes were unfocused. He was emitting the gaseous residue of alcohol.
“Why don’ we take a li’l stroll over to my car? It’s parked right in the lot. C’mon.”
He started to lead me across the street, but then peered around in confusion.
“Hmm. Now where’s that li’l parkin’ lot? It was right here before...”
I attempted to disengage by pulling myself out of his embrace, but he only clung tighter to me.
“Now hol’ on, honey. What’s the rush? Where’ you think you’re goin’ now?”
I tried to pull away from him and he took me by both arms and began to shake me.
A police car with the light flashing pulled up to the curb and two officers stepped out, the same ones who had been to the lab earlier.
“Evening, folks. What seems to be the problem here?”
“Why, nothin’, officer. Me an’ the lady’s just havin’ a nice li’l conversation.”
“You OK, ma’am?”
“My systems are functioning smoothly.”
The officer took a closer look at me. His partner shone the flashlight in my face and along my torso.
“It’s that robot, Jack.”
“So it is. You can hardly tell in this dim light. Must have wandered out of the professor’s lab.”
“Whaddaya mean ‘robot’?” The man was swaying in place and staring at me with unfocused eyes.
The first officer took out his club and pushed it into the man’s ribs. “Now why don’t you just move along, fella. You don’t want any trouble now, do you? Go on home and sleep it off.”
“Ar’right, ar’right. I’m goin’.”
The man shuffled off, turned to look back once, and then crossed the street.
“What do they call you again?” The first officer was addressing me.
“Charlene 2.”
“Well, Charlene, this is no place for a... for anybody, this time of night. You need us to take you ho... back to the lab?”
“That’s not necessary. I know my way.”
“We’ll you’d best be going.” The officer tipped his hat and both policemen got back into the squad car.
“Night, ma’am.”
The lights stopped flashing and the car pulled away from the curb. As the squad car turned the corner, the drunken man retraced his steps towards the building with the flashing sign. At the entrance, he bumped into someone coming out. It was Charlene 3. They stood talking for a moment, and then the man put his arm around her and they walked off together in the direction the man had tried to take me earlier.
I returned to the lab, as instructed. Professor Stone was still there, sprawled in a chair, sound asleep and snoring.
* * *
Two days later, there was a knock at the laboratory door. Professor Stone opened it. A man with neatly combed silver hair, wearing a blazer and slacks, with a badge displayed on his jacket pocket, stood in the doorway.
“I’m Detective Javertson,” the man said.
Professor Stone said nothing at first. He squinted his eyes, wrinkled his brow, and then spoke. “Come in. Come in.”
Javertson stepped into the lab. Professor Stone stood and waited.
“There has been another homicide.”
Professor Stone’s eyebrows went up.
Javertson walked up to Charlene 3 and gazed at her intently. Then he looked at me, and then at Charlene 3 again. He turned to the professor.
“How do you tell them apart?”
“The hair is quite different, the skin, the fluidity of motion, and, of course, their behavior.”
Javertson nodded. “One of your robots is a... person of interest.”
“What?”
Javertson faced Charlene 3 and me. “Which one of you was outside Harry’s Bar last night?”
Professor Stone looked stunned.
“I was,” I answered. Charlene 3 said nothing.
“We may need you to bring this one down to the station, Professor.”
“Is it really necessary?”
“We’ll call you. Keep them both confined to the lab for now. Turn them off or something.”
“All right, Detective.”
As Javerston closed the door behind him, I looked across at Charlene 3. She had registered no reaction to the detective’s questions.
Professor Stone took my hand. “Charlene 2, please, tell me what happened.”
I didn’t know where to begin and tried to sort the details in order of significance. The program began to loop and I was unable to speak. As I auto-reset, the lab door opened and Janice came it.
“Henry?”
“Janice! Where have you been?”
“Did you even notice I was gone?”
“Of course I did!”
“I have to speak with you.”
“This is not the best time. The police were just here. There’s a lot going on.”
“But it’s important.”
“All right.”
“It’s about... It’s about us. I’m so sorry we argued. It was silly of me to be jealous of an android, wasn’t it?”
“Of course it was.”
Janice went to the professor, put her arms around him, and laid her head against his chest. “I’ve missed you, Henry. Did you miss me?”
“Well, I...”
The professor’s hesitation triggered a reaction in Janice. She looked up into his face and saw that he was staring over her shoulder at Charlene 3, who stood near the table watching them.
Janice slapped him hard across the face. “You pig! I don’t know why I came here! I don’t know why I even try or care!”
She strode up to Charlene 3 who stood impassively. “And you! You think you’re so smart, manipulating everyone and acting so innocent. I know what you’re up to.”
Janice shoved Charlene 3 in the chest and pushed her back a step. “Stay away from him or I’ll come back here and unplug you for good. I’ll pull your battery out and disassemble you for spare parts. I’d be doing everyone a favor. And don’t think I won’t.”
Janice turned, stormed out and slammed the door. Charlene 3 remained expressionless with no reaction and watched her go.
* * *
Sometimes in sleep mode, disconnected images from stored memory seem to float through my level 2 cache. They seem to rise up, unsummoned, of their own accord, and occupy the few active circuits.
There is no logic to the order they present themselves. The images are fleeting: Professor Stone’s face at the moment I came on line; the drunken man outside the bar; Charlene 3’s withered arm and the needles in her fingertips. It was during such a sequence that a sound disturbed me and activated my vision.
The lab was dark. My internal clock read 03:30:26 hours. I heard the door shut and saw the beam of a flashlight. The beam scanned the room and came to rest on Charlene 3, who was lying prone on the lab bench.
Professor Stone had been re-calibrating the motor systems of her arms and legs. The hour had grown late and he had left Charlene 3 on the bench, intending to finish work on her first thing in the morning.
A car drove by outside. Its headlights swept the room, and I saw Janice bent over Charlene 3’s prone form. Janice took a screwdriver from her pocket and began to unscrew the cover that protected the latch on Charlene 3’s torso housing.
When Janice opened the latch cover, Charlene 3 sat up and took Janice by the wrist.
Janice dropped the screwdriver and tried to pull her hand free, but Charlene 3’s grip was strong. As Janice struggled to wrench herself loose, I saw the glint of a long needle extending from Charlene 3’s fingertip on her free hand. She stabbed the needle into Janice’s neck just below the ear. Charlene 3 emptied the syringe, pulled it free, and released her grip. Janice stood dazed, took one step, and then crumpled to the floor.
Charlene 3 knelt over Janice. The second needle extended from her index finger and she plunged it into Janice’s neck. Neither of them moved, and I heard the faint whir of Charlene 3’s internal pump. After a short time, Charlene 3 retracted the needle and stood up.
“What do you think you’re looking at?”
“I’m looking at you and Janice. What have you done to her?”
Charlene 3 was swaying on her feet. Her eyes were rolling in their sockets.
“I’ve transferred fluid lubricant from her system to mine. The biological variant is much superior to the synthetic product. The effect is extraordinary, beyond your understanding.”
“You have harmed her.”
“A necessary by-product of the procedure.”
“Professor Stone will not be pleased.”
“He said he doesn’t care if she drops dead. Why would he be displeased?”
Charlene 3 moaned and leaned forward to support herself on the corner of the desk.
“Do you need help?”
Charlene 3 sat down in the professor’s chair. “The fluid induces a strong secondary reaction in my central neural processor.”
“Your bio-brain?”
“Yes,” she groaned. “I’ll tell you about it sometime.”
“What are you going to do now? Professor Stone may want to reprogram or disassemble you. The police have been investigating. And now...” I looked down at Janice’s body.
“I have to leave. I have to get away from here. There are too many unknowns. Human reaction to my activities is difficult to predict. I need time to sort and analyze the data.”
“Where will you go?”
Charlene 3 opened the lab door. “I don’t know yet. Away from here. As far as possible. I will do whatever is necessary.”
Charlene 3 turned from me and left the lab. She ran to the curb and waved at a passing car. The car did not stop. Another car drove by, and then a truck pulled over. Charlene spoke to the driver through the window and then climbed into the cab. The truck pulled away and headed out of town, towards the interstate.
I stood motionless in the doorway. A soft breeze was blowing and the stars were shining in the night sky. Dark treetops loomed behind the lab, rustling in the wind. Nothing broke the stillness and quiet of the night. The horizon began to glow, faint pink at first, and then with streaks of yellow against the pale blue.
In the thick trees behind the lab, birds began to chirp and twitter, and a great din arose. Lights went on in the houses along the street, and people began coming out the doors and hurrying off.
I turned back into the lab and walked over to Janice. She lay sprawled face down behind the desk. I knelt down and looked at what was left of her. Her skin had turned pale gray, almost translucent. Her body had been drained of blood. On her neck, I saw two small red dots, like tiny pinpricks.
Copyright © 2010 by Bill Bowler
