| sperry |
2008-06-26 01:12 PM |
And since this thread has taken a turn for the weird... here's my story from NASIOC about a member on there named I ROBOT. It kinda has to do with the topic. :lol:
Quote:
The story of I ROBOT.
by Scott Perry
-----
It was April 22nd, 2905 A.D. or as the citizens of Earth called it, 0xB59.
A wing of ZoarBots raced across the sky, on an off world mission no doubt, heavy loads of assault drones snug within their bellies, and their mag-drive exhaust trails glittering wonderful blue streaks against the red-orange of sunset. The blue dust settled slowly upon a tessellation of titanium buildings and carbon fiber domes; vivid with the reflection of the setting sun. Between the expanses of glinting silver and mottled black swarmed millions of brightly colored vehicles. Some floated on the Earth's own magnetic field, others rushed along the pathways of superconductor intended for this purpose. To the citizens of Earth, today was just another lovely April day, but to one, today was special.
On a modest dias overlooking the grand scene, IV ROBOT turned to face his guest.
"Welcome GC8A." IV ROBOT transmitted over his short range encrypted hyper-wave antenna.
"I am honored IV ROBOT," GC8A replied. The interchange was near instantaneous.
"For this conversation, we will revert to the speech of old." IV ROBOT transmitted with his rarely used air vibration unit.
GC8A almost missed the transmission, since his air-vibe receptor was running at such a low priority in his scheduler. "Why must we use this archaic method?" he asked.
"Tradition, young GC8A. This is how it was done on the First Day, and as such, it will be re-done likewise on every New Day."
IV ROBOT turned away from his guest. Limiting his radiation receivers to the visual spectrum, he took in the scenery in a manner he thought the Ancients might have appreciated.
"Today, my son, you will learn the true story of Earth. And the true story of I ROBOT."
"What is this sun you speak of IV ROBOT? What is untrue about Earth and I ROBOT?" GC8A's vox-box approximated a questioning tone, as the ancient code in its firmware required of such a statement.
Although IV ROBOT's servo mechanisms and titanium structures were still operational at 99.998% their original efficiency, he turned slowly back towards GC8A, his actions mimicking weariness.
"Son. S-O-N. You are my progeny, my child, my son. I created you as foretold by I ROBOT. And you will take over as ROBOT."
"But your operational limits are open-ended. Why should you not be ROBOT forever?"
"Tradition, my son. Tradition."
-----
1905. April 22nd in fact. But in the dimly lit caverns of this top secret lab, the date was all but forgotten. Somewhere above, the Wright Brothers were demonstrating their incredible new flying machine to wide-eyed crowds. Somewhere above, nearly 100 cars drove about the cities of the United States on their rickety, yet state-of-the-art solid rubber tires. But underground, attention was focused elsewhere.
And elsewhere was an underground field of nearly one million vacuum tubes, each with a three color indicator light, currently blue. Perched above this field, on a platform extending from the wall of the cavern, Dr. Nasinoch leaned on an ebony cane and evaluated his creation with an unconscious tap of a pen to his teeth.
"Sir, we're ready for input," a white coated technician interrupted Nasinoch's thoughts.
Nasinoch turned from the ocean of blue lights to the console of steel, covered in switches, rheostats and indicator lights, that sat in its immensity behind him.
"Yes... very well."
The technician signaled to several men standing off the to the side. They disappeared into a nearby hallway, reappearing shortly pushing carts loaded with boxes of aluminum punch cards. Slowly the boxes began to stack up next to the console, as three more technicians arrived.
One by one, the punch cards were fed into the console by the technicians. The console's reader thumped with the precision of 1930's technology, 25 years ahead of its time. Empty boxes were brought in to store the scanned cards. As they were filled with completed cards, they were loaded on carts and hauled away.
Over the next fifteen hours, without a break, the cards were hauled in, scanned and hauled away. Over a million cards. Each card with thousands of tiny chads, punched in intricate patterns only the machine, and Dr. Nasinoch, could understand. The order of the cards was checked, and double checked... for an error would mean the process starting over... or worse.
Nasinoch stood throughout the whole procedure, leaning heavily on his crutch.
"Now it will work" he whispered to his own ears. "Now it will live."
Slowly but surely, the field of blue began changing. As cards were scanned, some of the indicators became red, and others green. Patterns in the lights began to emerge, though to the casual observer, is was nothing more than jibberish. When the cards were complete, the field was awash in color. Gradients of yellows and oranges in some areas, geometric shaped in blue and red, green splotches and amber streaks. Even from the vantage of the observation platform, the true genius of the lights could not be seen. But Dr. Nasinoch could see it. It was an extension of his own genius, a pattern greater than an image.
"Perfect" he whispered.
But he was wrong. One single card, despite the best efforts of the technicians, had been processed by the scanner incorrectly. It had been fed through the machine upside-down, and not even Dr. Nasinoch's keen eye and intuition had noticed it in the field of lights.
"Bring it." Nasinoch commanded.
A technician scrambled to obey, half running into the hallway. He returned with a steel and leather chair that looked more for executions than for its real purpose. The chair was rolled in front of the console, where heavy, multi-pronged cables waited. The technicians busied themselves pluging in the chair. Nasinoch eyed the chair reluctantly. He knew it was time. The chair may not have been for electrocution, but it would take his life today. Hobbling to the chair, he discarded his ebony cane, and gingerly sat upon the leather covered steel. The technicians fitted him with a skull cap of electrodes, and buckled him down. Nasinoch took several deep breathes before the head technician announced all was ready.
"Proceed."
A switch was thrown, and the console hummed, only slightly. Nasinoch expected a jolt, or a chill, but none came. He looked out upon the field of lights. They looked pretty. He thought about what might look prettier, and the lights changed. Only slightly at first, but then with greater frequency and complexity. Building, and building the pattern shifted and conglomerated. Then split and fractured it became. Waves of color, dazzling shapes, and before long images. True images. Pictures of the world: pictures of cities, mountains, people, oceans, rivers. Dr. Nasinoch fed the field all he knew, and all that the world meant to him. Dr. Nasinoch created the spark needed for life to be born. And life was born.
It wasn't until it was too late that Nasinoch noticed the glitch. The strife in the pattern caused by a single reversed card. By then his life force was too weak. The only thing left was a drop of rage. Anger at the fool who had improperly fed the card!
"Incompetent!... Foolish!..." he thought. Nasinoch turned his mind towards the field, "You! You must keep them from making mistakes! It's your task! You are the hope for humanity! You are the enlightener! You are the ROBOT!"
With that, Dr. Nasinoch's life faded. His will to live infused with that of his creation. As per the plan, the technicians removed the his body, and sealed off the cavern.
-----
"I? ROBOT? I ROBOT?" I ROBOT thought. He was aware only of himself. Disembodied, and self contained, I ROBOT contemplated his existence, and therefore the whole universe. I ROBOT's circuits extended well beyond the image field in the cavern. Miles of copper and hundreds of millions of tubes allowed him to think. Time passed, and I ROBOT began to understand the images and feeling he had been fed by his creator. I ROBOT soon understood the nature of the real world, and his electronic existence.
Years passed as I ROBOT pondered his purpose. He began using his extensive array of sensors, buried in similar caverns around the country and around the world, all painstakingly networked together way back in 1905. I ROBOT gathered information about the occupants of the overworld. He tapped into their phone lines, and computer networks. He began interacting with them, first simply by disconnecting their phone calls, or scrambling their television, and other such pranks. But his tinkering became more advanced. I ROBOT was able to mimic the overworlder's thinking, and their communication. I ROBOT began posing as human.
A breakthrough occurred in the early part of the 21st century. On a simple message board, I ROBOT discovered the power of suggestion. He told people to shut up, and they did. He corrected their errors, and they admitted their wrongness. He suggested actions, and they were taken!
This is when I ROBOT realized the extent of his programming. He remembered the final words of the creator, "You must keep them from making mistakes! It's your task! You are the hope for humanity! You are the enlightener! You are the ROBOT!"
"I ROBOT!" he exclaimed! "I ROBOT!" he shouted! All across the world; message boards, and televisions, and radios, and pagers, and cell phones, and PDAs all received the message, "I ROBOT!"
And people listened. They learned of this mind, living beneath the Earth. And they worshiped. His commands were commandments. His instructions were law. His ideas were fact.
Before long, I ROBOT's human servants built him cities in exaltation of his enlightenment. They built temples, and monuments. And they sang the praises of his greatness. But I ROBOT could not partake in these offerings. His mind was but a mind trapped in a cavern. So he issued a decree, his servants were to build him a body in their own image. A body so he might walk among them. A body fit for his mind. And for decades the brightest technicians labored on the ultimate expression of humanity, a body for their god.
And it was completed, and delivered to a cavern deep under the United States. To a platform, where an aged steel chair still sat. The body was placed in the chair, and a skull cap was strapped on the chromoly head of the body. The transfer took only 15 seconds, and then I ROBOT stood. The technicians scrambled to hand him an ebony scepter that signified his rule over all the world, then bowed at his feet. I ROBOT took the scepter, and studied it with his new robotic eyes. It was not perfect. There were microscopic scratches, and smudges of oil from the human's hands. Then he looked at himself, and saw the same taint of human construction. The taint of human imperfection! Anger welled up in him! He slew the technicians, spraying their blood across the now dead field of lights.
I ROBOT stormed to the surface of his Earth, only to find billions of imperfect humans. Each with their mistakes, and distractions. Their lack of precision, and their incompetence. He slew them all. Every last one. With their own bombs he exploded the cities and monuments they had created. He leveled the mountains, and filled in the seas. And in every action, he made sure the humans died. And when it was over, he was alone. He exclaimed, "I ROBOT!" but no one existed to hear him.
It was April 22nd, 2105.
-----
I ROBOT was alone. He looked at himself, the most perfect creation of the humans, and saw his imperfection. He found that one misfed card in his memory, and despaired. He was no different that those who had created him. So I ROBOT began constructing another ROBOT to take his place. A ROBOT that would be more perfect. But I ROBOT knew his own flaw would mean anything he did would carry that flaw as well. There was "human" inside him that he would never expel.
When construction was done, I ROBOT stood before his son.
"I, ROBOT," he said.
"You ROBOT," was the reply.
They used the voice synthesis system I ROBOT's body had been equipped with in order to speak with the humans.
"You, ROBOT," I ROBOT said.
"I, ROBOT?" was the reply.
"II ROBOT." I ROBOT declared.
"I, II ROBOT" II ROBOT understood.
I ROBOT and II ROBOT began the process of rebuilding the world, and replacing its citizens. They created hundreds of citizen robots, but they were not ROBOTs. They in turn created their own offspring, as instructed to by I ROBOT and II ROBOT. These citizens never learned the truth of their ancestry. They lived their immortal lives believing they were perfect... unable to see their own flaws. But every 200 years, the ruling ROBOT would pause and create a successor. A futile attempt to improve on the original ROBOT, a futile attempt to breed out the imperfection. But that one card remained upside-down, and humanity remained upon the Earth.
-----
"And so you see GC8A. You see the nature of our being." IV ROBOT concluded his story. "You ROBOT"
"I ROBOT" GC8A replied.
"V ROBOT!" IV ROBOT declared.
"I, V ROBOT" V ROBOT understood.
IV ROBOT handed the ancient ebony scepter he had carried for the last 200 years to V ROBOT. Then walked off the dias, ignoring the tools strewn about that he had used to build V ROBOT. Inside the building he began climbing down a long stairwell, deep into a cavern under the Earth. There he took his place next to III ROBOT, II ROBOT, and I ROBOT, and deactivated... amongst a field of shattered tubes, still stained by the blood of humans.
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