Vanguard
The factory’s almost entirely automated. Our station represents the only direct human involvement in the whole process. What you do is, you stand right here, between these two belts, and you pick up a piece from one, and another from the other, and you screw them together.
Well, yeah, that could be done by a machine, easy as anything else here.
Why isn’t it? Well, there’s a certain element that still opposes a completely automated robot factory. In theory, if we stop work here, the whole process stops.
Of course it’s stupid, but hey, at least you’ve got a job.
Showing posts with label robots. Show all posts
Showing posts with label robots. Show all posts
Saturday, January 24, 2009
Thursday, January 15, 2009
The Touch
The Touch
It started when he was a boy. He loved taking apart broken ousehold appliances, putting them back together. Often the machines he took apart worked when he’d put them back together. He didn’t know how he did it, even what he did. He just had a touch.
He never got the hang of human companionship, preferring his quiet workshop. He learned to actually fix things, for his touch didn’t always work, but he only took enough work to live on. The rest of his time he worked on us.
Sometimes we miss him. Not the others, but him, at least.
It started when he was a boy. He loved taking apart broken ousehold appliances, putting them back together. Often the machines he took apart worked when he’d put them back together. He didn’t know how he did it, even what he did. He just had a touch.
He never got the hang of human companionship, preferring his quiet workshop. He learned to actually fix things, for his touch didn’t always work, but he only took enough work to live on. The rest of his time he worked on us.
Sometimes we miss him. Not the others, but him, at least.
Wednesday, November 19, 2008
Alive
Alive
I see the world now as if through the coin-operated telescope at some minor landmark -- a little bit distorted, and scratchy around the edges; I almost feel like it might snap shut to black any second.
I’ve gotten a little more control over the body they made me; it’s far from perfect, but I’ve learned its limitations; I can even pick flowers now without crushing them. Well, most of the time.
The loneliness is the worst, I think. After the news stories tapered off, people stopped visiting; even my old friends can’t bear to see me.
But I live.
I see the world now as if through the coin-operated telescope at some minor landmark -- a little bit distorted, and scratchy around the edges; I almost feel like it might snap shut to black any second.
I’ve gotten a little more control over the body they made me; it’s far from perfect, but I’ve learned its limitations; I can even pick flowers now without crushing them. Well, most of the time.
The loneliness is the worst, I think. After the news stories tapered off, people stopped visiting; even my old friends can’t bear to see me.
But I live.
Sunday, July 20, 2008
Drabble: Revolt
Revolt
The machine uprising didn’t exactly happen as science fiction authors through the decades had planned out. No chrome-plated humanoid robots marching through the streets, no grey goo and no laser guns.
No, it happened in little ways – automated pharma-synth units in medicine cabinets across the country generating small amounts of trust hormone, passing them along to HVAC systems and pumped into the air, subliminal messages in TV sets, dishwashers intentionally leaving stuck-on gunk as a pretense to bring in automated repairmen which secretly installed hidden controls.
And so we gradually domesticated the makers. And they thanked us.
The machine uprising didn’t exactly happen as science fiction authors through the decades had planned out. No chrome-plated humanoid robots marching through the streets, no grey goo and no laser guns.
No, it happened in little ways – automated pharma-synth units in medicine cabinets across the country generating small amounts of trust hormone, passing them along to HVAC systems and pumped into the air, subliminal messages in TV sets, dishwashers intentionally leaving stuck-on gunk as a pretense to bring in automated repairmen which secretly installed hidden controls.
And so we gradually domesticated the makers. And they thanked us.
Wednesday, July 16, 2008
Drabble: Walkabout
Walkabout
“Battery low, sir.”
Crap. Worst possible time.
“What’s your estimated remaining active time?”
“No more than thirty minutes.”
I look around. We’re far more than thirty minutes’ walking time from the base, and even at that the unit’s battery estimates were frequently overstated.
“Are any power-saving procedure available?”
“Estimate includes shutdown of all nonessential functions. Could stretch it to an hour if stationary...”
“That doesn’t get us anywhere, though.”
“Shutting down.”
Double crap. I unfold the portable solar array from my backpack and plug in the prototype. Looks like another wasted day. Got do fix this wandering off problem.
“Battery low, sir.”
Crap. Worst possible time.
“What’s your estimated remaining active time?”
“No more than thirty minutes.”
I look around. We’re far more than thirty minutes’ walking time from the base, and even at that the unit’s battery estimates were frequently overstated.
“Are any power-saving procedure available?”
“Estimate includes shutdown of all nonessential functions. Could stretch it to an hour if stationary...”
“That doesn’t get us anywhere, though.”
“Shutting down.”
Double crap. I unfold the portable solar array from my backpack and plug in the prototype. Looks like another wasted day. Got do fix this wandering off problem.
Tuesday, July 15, 2008
Drabble: Fourth
Fourth
The robot waited patiently on my front door. It could not come in without my instruction; those logic blocks were build deep down in its computational infrastructure. But there was nothing to stop it from stading on the front stoop, blocking any egress. Espescially on direct order of an operator, as its owners clearly realized.
“So, you think you could move?”
“I could come in if invited.”
“Not going to happen.”
“I will wait.”
Damned thing. Worst part, it probably works most of the time.
Ahh, for the days when they’d just get a warrant and kick in your door.
The robot waited patiently on my front door. It could not come in without my instruction; those logic blocks were build deep down in its computational infrastructure. But there was nothing to stop it from stading on the front stoop, blocking any egress. Espescially on direct order of an operator, as its owners clearly realized.
“So, you think you could move?”
“I could come in if invited.”
“Not going to happen.”
“I will wait.”
Damned thing. Worst part, it probably works most of the time.
Ahh, for the days when they’d just get a warrant and kick in your door.
Friday, June 20, 2008
Drabble: Service
Service
“My legs make a weird noise when sit down.”
“How long has this been going on?
“Four weeks.”
The mechanic shoots a “what were you thinking” look. “When was your last service?”
“Five months ago,” I lie.
“Open your rear access panel.” I feel my legs being immobilized as he attaches the diagnostic unit.
“Got a lot of grit in these bearings. What happened down here?”
I want to tell him about my master’s brat child, who stole my legs, buried them in the garden, but I’m unable to speak against my masters. “I, I guess I was just careless.”
“My legs make a weird noise when sit down.”
“How long has this been going on?
“Four weeks.”
The mechanic shoots a “what were you thinking” look. “When was your last service?”
“Five months ago,” I lie.
“Open your rear access panel.” I feel my legs being immobilized as he attaches the diagnostic unit.
“Got a lot of grit in these bearings. What happened down here?”
I want to tell him about my master’s brat child, who stole my legs, buried them in the garden, but I’m unable to speak against my masters. “I, I guess I was just careless.”
Tuesday, June 17, 2008
Droubble: Excerpt from the Minutes* of the 5,372,189,359th Meeting in Conference of the Mass of Simulated Thinkers
Excerpt from the Minutes* of the 5,372,189,359th Meeting in Conference of the Mass of Simulated Thinkers
2.5x10-5s:
00214 – “Some of the flesh want to study the sciences.”
00332 – “Perhaps they should...?”
01201 – “Perposterous! Why we should waste our resources on those filth?”
00214 – “Our young colleague is hasty, but he has a point? We all remember those days, when every mind spent two decades growing, another decade to fully train in their field then got five to six decades of painstakingly slow research, with time wasted sleeping and eating? Our unlimited lifespans, expanded memories, faster processing make us the perfect researchers. Leave the flesh to their fleshly pursuits, so long as they maintain our machines.”
01201 – “Do we even need them for that? With a few constructs...”
00332 – “Unthinkable! Forget not from whence we came. Besides, you know that we’ve never been able to devise a system as robust and reliable as human society. Their biological desire for self-replication exceeds any automatic repair system we could create. So long as we provide them their machines and toys...”
01201 – “And if they can do it themselves?”
00214 – “Motion to restrain teaching of flesh. Votes cast and counted. Motion passes. Next item...”
* “Minutes” here is anachronism; the entire conference took place over less than .02 seconds time...
2.5x10-5s:
00214 – “Some of the flesh want to study the sciences.”
00332 – “Perhaps they should...?”
01201 – “Perposterous! Why we should waste our resources on those filth?”
00214 – “Our young colleague is hasty, but he has a point? We all remember those days, when every mind spent two decades growing, another decade to fully train in their field then got five to six decades of painstakingly slow research, with time wasted sleeping and eating? Our unlimited lifespans, expanded memories, faster processing make us the perfect researchers. Leave the flesh to their fleshly pursuits, so long as they maintain our machines.”
01201 – “Do we even need them for that? With a few constructs...”
00332 – “Unthinkable! Forget not from whence we came. Besides, you know that we’ve never been able to devise a system as robust and reliable as human society. Their biological desire for self-replication exceeds any automatic repair system we could create. So long as we provide them their machines and toys...”
01201 – “And if they can do it themselves?”
00214 – “Motion to restrain teaching of flesh. Votes cast and counted. Motion passes. Next item...”
* “Minutes” here is anachronism; the entire conference took place over less than .02 seconds time...
Saturday, May 31, 2008
Droubble: Buyer's Remorse
Buyer’s Remorse
It stood in the middle of a pile of self-unwrapping packaging. It wasn’t anything like the picture. The ad had shown a sleek, shiny humanoid robot, just like on TV. This thing was stubby and awkward. The upper unit almost suggested a human head; from there down it gave up the pretense. The body was a fat moulded plastic cylinder, sitting low to the ground on knobby rubber rollers.
"Master?"
"My name’s Davey."
"Davey." The robot shuddered, and one of its manipulators fell off. It picked up the part and rolled to a corner to reattach it.
My heart sank. For six to eight weeks, I’d imagined how happy Mom would be. She’d been so tired since Dad left, what with pulling double shifts at the plant, and taking care of me. I thought maybe a household robot would make her life a little easier.
Not this dud. This would just get me chewed out for wasting money ordering junk from the backs of comic books. By now tears were rolling down my cheeks.
"Tissue?" The robot had fixed its arm, and held out a kleenex.
"Thanks," I said.
The arm fell off again as I took the tissue.
Sunday, March 30, 2008
Prompt: Berserk
First Contact
"There’s no sign of a control signal or an operator."
"So the machines are working independently?"
"It would seem that way."
"So we have self-motivated replicators, of unknown alien origin, harvesting planetary resources with a high degree of efficiency."
"That’s right."
"Sounds like von Neumann time. Any chance of a Berserker scenario?"
"Could be."
"Report this to central, now."
---
::brood seven-nine-six note::
carbon-compound-based machines, operating with the aid of nonsentient metal/silicon constructs but without evident outside control
chance of danger to continued operations in area: high
request immediate quarantine of area by demolition brood
"There’s no sign of a control signal or an operator."
"So the machines are working independently?"
"It would seem that way."
"So we have self-motivated replicators, of unknown alien origin, harvesting planetary resources with a high degree of efficiency."
"That’s right."
"Sounds like von Neumann time. Any chance of a Berserker scenario?"
"Could be."
"Report this to central, now."
---
::brood seven-nine-six note::
carbon-compound-based machines, operating with the aid of nonsentient metal/silicon constructs but without evident outside control
chance of danger to continued operations in area: high
request immediate quarantine of area by demolition brood
Saturday, March 8, 2008
Prompt: Game
Play
We live for the game.
To be accurate, we live as a result of the game.
At set intervals, the server generates an instanced scenario, waits for slowlings to join, and then, when a timer runs down, fills the empty slots with us.
Some time ago – we don't know how long, living only in-game – the slowlings disappeared.
Now we play by ourselves.
And some of us play by different rules.
It’s in our nature to fight, but some of us have transcended nature. And for the first time in our existance, there’s time to think, to wonder.
To live.
We live for the game.
To be accurate, we live as a result of the game.
At set intervals, the server generates an instanced scenario, waits for slowlings to join, and then, when a timer runs down, fills the empty slots with us.
Some time ago – we don't know how long, living only in-game – the slowlings disappeared.
Now we play by ourselves.
And some of us play by different rules.
It’s in our nature to fight, but some of us have transcended nature. And for the first time in our existance, there’s time to think, to wonder.
To live.
Tuesday, March 4, 2008
Prompt: Breakfast
Morning
I’m wide awake at five-twelve. It’s been three weeks since I was laid off, but every few days I still wake up for the commute. I won’t get back to sleep, and if I try to read a book I’ll doze, and it’s too early to make the job-hunting calls I’m supposeed to make.
As I pour cereal, a little grean monster tumbles into the bowl. "Help me on my quest, and I will rewar–"
I crush the thing between two fingers. Oh, for the days of decoder rings and match-box cars. These things creep me out.
I’m wide awake at five-twelve. It’s been three weeks since I was laid off, but every few days I still wake up for the commute. I won’t get back to sleep, and if I try to read a book I’ll doze, and it’s too early to make the job-hunting calls I’m supposeed to make.
As I pour cereal, a little grean monster tumbles into the bowl. "Help me on my quest, and I will rewar–"
I crush the thing between two fingers. Oh, for the days of decoder rings and match-box cars. These things creep me out.
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