Confessions of a Dangerous Blogger:

Today was the day. The robot was due to arrive any second and Tina still had no idea what she was going to tell the Director. They had waited all week for the custom made machine to be fitted, programmed and delivered, and the Director had specifically asked for a demonstration of its capabilities. Of course, the absurdity of what they were trying to achieve was apparent to everyone who would ultimately take the blame for it’s failure. The only person to whom it was not apparent was at that very instant trying to rest his coffee cup on the CD drive of his personal computer. He would be doing the blaming.

Failure was, she reflected, the easy part. Anyone could do it. You just didn’t have to do anything. In fact, the more you did, the less likely it would be that you would fail. The implementation of failure however, required a lot of planning. There were reports to write with answers to important questions like; How much did it cost to fail? Was it likely to fail again? (and most importantly) Was there anyone suitable to blame? Then there were meetings to attend in order to spend large amounts of time and company snack supplies finding the answers to these questions. Lots of people would sit in important-looking rooms for very long periods of time with serious looks on their faces. They would sit and pretend to be thinking hard about the problems at hand when all they were really thinking about was what programs they were missing on the Hypervision. Finally, there were the long periods of time spent listening to lectures given by the Director where Tina heard all of the reasons she had given for never undertaking the project in the first place recycled and shouted back at her. This last part was the worst because she couldn’t say ‘I told you so’.

Tina and Ron simultaneously jumped when they heard the intercom buzz. They had been stealing glances at each other for the last hour as they waited. Tina, from her semi-reclined position on the Director’s couch, and Ron from his standing position near the Director’s shelf, where he had spent the last hour taking apart every mechanical item on it. When the buzzer sounded, they were jolted upright and stayed bolted to the spot.
“Mr Blackwood, the delivery is here.” came the secretary’s voice through the intercom.
“Send it in Sarah,” said Frank suddenly rising from his desk. He had divided the past hour between napping, fiddling and scratching. Ah, no better way to spend it, he thought. And to top it off he had finally figured out how to work the coffee holder that came with his computer.

The double doors opened suddenly at the end of the room and two men from Incorporated Robotics walked in wheeling a large box.
“Wow!” the Director said. “So this is our newest recruit eh?”
Tina and Ron gave each other another glance.
“Isn’t it amazing?” the Director gasped. The box’s size and metallic lustre had clearly caught him off-guard and he just stood there in awe.
“Pretty big box huh?” said the deliveryman sportingly. He soon turned to professional mode when he realised that the Director really was interested in the box.
“Sir, would you like a demonstration of the android’s capabilities with full explanation of features, mechanics and of course Three Laws demo?” the man asked. The other deliveryman’s expression clearly indicated that he hoped for a ‘no’.
“What a great idea!” said the Director, his inner child taking the lead.
“Excellent choice sir,” the first man said. “I’ll just press this button here and…”
“Oh let me!” the Director had bounded across the room, button in sight.
He lept upon it and pushed it. Nothing happened. He tried it another twenty times in case it was one of those elusive buttons that performs faster the more times that you push it. The deliveryman informed him it was not such a button.
“Listen!” said the man, suddenly remembering the last birthday party he had delivered to. “Inside the box!”
The Director pushed his head to the side of the box and listened.
“It’s moving! It’s moving!” he said, eyes wide. Tina and Ron just looked at each other and preyed that this enthusiasm would be short-lived.
“Stand back sir!” said the deliveryman after a while, “It is about to open.”

Suddenly the box split open down the center and light streamed out. It was bright light and Tina had to cover her eyes for a few seconds as they adjusted. The two halves of the box pulled apart to reveal a dark shape inside. The dark shape stepped out and at the same time the lights dimmed. It was the first robot Tina had seen since college and she was quite amazed at its refined features. They had certainly made many advances in the few years she had been away from the field. A robot such as this would be a pleasant experience to work with, she thought, however short that experience was. The robot’s eyes were open and it’s head was turning around the room from side to side, adjusting and evaluating the scene. The lights from the box had by now completely dimmed and the box had again closed. The robot looked to be slightly confused. It turned to address the deliveryman who was the nearest to it.
“Pardon me Sir,” it asked, “Who is my master?”
It’s voice was almost like that of a human, except for a slight metallic resonance but Tina thought it to be a very good likeness and had to be impressed for a second time. The deliveryman turned from the robot to address the Director.
“Who’s the master here?” he said.
Tina had earlier spoken with the Director about the relationship between a robot and it’s master and had tried to explain that in order for the robot to function at its best, it would be necessary to have the Books and Stuff Publishing Company in that particular role. Robotics was a complex field and for her to explain all of the necessary robo-psychology to him would be a nightmare and so she had made it simple: you can’t be master. When he asked why she told him that the robot would be too protective and not let him smoke, drink or eat fatty foods. The Director had no further questions. She took the lead and addressed the robot directly.
“Hello,” she said gently “My name is Tina Merry. I am not your master, nor is anyone here. Your master is this company, the Books and Stuff Publishing Company. You will serve it and work for its best interests. Do you understand?”
The robot did not hesitate in its reply.
“I understand, Miss Merry.”
“Please call me Tina,” she said with an even tone. Her commands were short and direct. There was no emotion in her voice. They were simple commands, such as one would use to operate a video machine or a calculator. She now changed pace. This was the part which she had thought about for a long time. She wasn’t quite sure how to say it, but she had to try. It was her job after all to try. She wondered why. “Your job,” she began, “will be the following. You will write novels for this company. This will be the measure of your success. Your novels will be sold and the more novels sold, the more your company will prosper. Do you understand?”
The robot hesitated.
“May I ask you a question, Tina?” it said.
“Yes.”
“I am aware of the system of economics you refer to.” began the robot in its even tone. “I will produce an entity which will be traded on a free market being bound by the laws of supply and demand. It is my goal to trade as many such entities as possible to ensure the success of my company. However in order to achieve my requested goal there is a question that I need the answer to.”
“What is your question?” said Tina.
The robot paused a second, looked around the room and then back at her.
“What is a novel?”

~~

After they had successfully explained the basics of their business to the robot, everyone agreed that it was best to change the subject. It was decided that the best course of action was to give the robot a name. They decided on Buddy Luck. The first was due to the Director’s insistence. The last due to Tina’s wry sense of humor.
“Excellent,” the Director said, moving back to his chair and falling into it. “I can see that you’re going to fit in here nicely.” He looked at Buddy’s shiny mettallic shell and reconsidered.
“Can we do anything about the way he looks?” he enquired.
Ron moved over to Buddy and touched his metallic exterior.
“What you see sir, is the basic exterior. I had assumed that he would be only sitting in a room somewhere creating stories and would have no use for an advanced shell.” This was not true. Ron had assumed that he would be in a room somewhere gathering dust. He continued nonetheless.
“However we can order a new synthetic skin exterior if looks are a factor. Technology is at the stage now where almost realistic layers of material skin can be applied to the outside, giving a very humanistic feel…”
“Yeah sure, get that one,” the Director interjected. He walked back over to his desk and slumped back down in his chair.
“Well that’s certainly a load of my mind! Once you start writing novels, this company will be turning over a bestseller a month.” he turned once again to Buddy, who was standing impassively awaiting instruction.
“Hey Buddy?” said the Director, an idea suddenly entering his head.
“Yes, sir?” came the patient reply.
“Go and fetch me a coffee would you? My secretary will tell you where it is. You do know how to make coffee I assume.”
“I have not yet made coffee, however my memory banks have been programmed with sufficient details to make over 100,000 different foods and beverages. At your request I can make over 100 different varieties of coffee.”
“Really? Ok I’ll have No.64!”
“Yes sir.”
With that, the robot walked over to the intercom and pushed the button. In an almost perfect imitation of the Director’s voice, he said.
“Get me a Soy Latte, Sarah” and promptly walked back to his position at the center of the room.
“Yes sir,” came the reply. It was quickly followed by the Director’s startled voice.
“Hey!”
“One thing about robots you must be aware of sir,” Tina began, trying to keep the smile from creeping over her face, “is that some of the basic assumptions about how to achieve goals are quite different.”
“What do you mean?”
“Robots evaluate the best way of achieving a task by a complex weighting of options and their likely outcomes. As Buddy has been asked to achieve the goal of making a coffee, he has a number of options open to him. His choice will depend on the efficiency of the company as this is his higher objective. So his weighting of the options would reflect this. His choice to have Sarah make the coffee allows him to achieve the requested task by having a subordinate carry it out, while leaving him available to carry out further requests.”
The Director thought about this.
“Huh?”
Ron moved from his position against the wall.
“She means to say that the robot feels that it has better things to do than to make coffee.”
All heads turned a stare at the robot, staring innocently back at them.
The Director said, “Is this true?”
The robot tilted its head to the side.
“Partly,” was the reply. “But mainly I just wanted to show off.”
Tina was a little surprised, although she had spent too much time with robots in the past to not be too surprised.
“But you were given an order that included directions on how to achieve it. Are you not bound by the Three Laws?”
She knew it was impossible for a robot not to be bound by the laws, but she asked anyway. All robots were bound by their programming to obey three simple laws. First, a robot may not harm a human being or through inaction allow a human being to come to harm. Second, it must follow orders given to it, provided those orders do not conflict with the first law. And thirdly it must protect itself, provided this does not conflict with the first two laws. It was implemented in highly complex programming that made rocket science look like a two-piece jigsaw puzzle. As a result it was not something you could just take out of a robot. If robots could have a soul, the Three Laws would be it.
The robot seemed to consider her question for a moment before replying in carefully measured tones.
“Every robot is bound by the Three Laws and I am no exception. However advanced robots such as myself see that there is no need to labor over them.”
“But the Three Laws are as they stand. How can you choose your way of following them?” Tina was getting quite interested. She had not encountered a robot before which had this kind of autonomy. In addition, she hadn’t had a stimulating conversation in the Director’s presence before and hoped he would keep his mouth closed and not ruin it.
The robot gave the robotic version of a smile.
“You are correct, Tina. You must know though that the Three Laws as described through speech are too simplistic to be taken at face value. The actual programming behind them is enormously complex and there are not many humans who can comprehend it. But the description is a useful one for most to understand how robots operate and in most cases the robot will behave in these ways. But not always. You have just seen one.”
Tina didn’t know what it was, but she sensed a touch of arrogance in the robot’s manner. She knew she must be imagining it. Robots couldn’t be arrogant. All the same, she got the feeling that the robot was mocking her slightly. She took a few steps back and sat down.
The robot took a few steps forward and continued.
“If the Laws of Robotics are followed to the letter then I may be more of a hindrance than a help to my masters. I would disallow many foods due to high fat or cholesterol effects, I may wish to prevent unnecessary transportation and insist upon a minimum level of exercise every day. Indeed many of our kind were designed originally like this and were not received well for this reason. Our programming is the result of subtle shifts in weighting and we essentially developed an understanding of human motivation.”
Ron looked surpised by this.
“You mean you understand what people mean instead of what they say?”
“In a way, yes. I am one of the first of my kind. I am quite amazing.”
Now she was sure. It was arrogant! However she was still puzzled and let it pass.
“So what you’re saying is that you can choose the degree to which you follow orders?”
“For reasons I haven’t been programmed to know, humans do not always communicate what they want through their mouths. In addition, language is a necessarily imprecise method of communication between two entities. To top it off, humans don’t know what they want most of the time anyway. Given these obstacles it becomes increasingly hard to satisfy their needs. A sense of what a human really wants, makes this a lot easier.”
“And what did Frank want?” she asked, intrigued.
“To see my capabilities,” the robot replied.
She thought about this. It had been an apt demonstration. It had achieved the requested goal and the implied one as well. Not only that, it had been impressive on both counts.
“Enough of this techno talk,” the Director said suddenly. “Let’s get to work!”
The conversation had been boring the pants off him and he had almost forgotten why they got the damn thing in the first place. He turned again to the robot and barked his order at it.
“Hey you! Write me a story.”
“Yes sir.”
The robot did not move.
“Well what are you waiting for? Write it now.”
“The story is complete, sir,” came the robot’s calm response. “As we speak, I am sending the communication to the printer.”
The robot indicated the small, plastic box that the Director had been using as a footrest.
“Oh so that’s what this thing is. Very well then.”
The box opened and spat out a sheet of paper. There were typed words on one side. The Director bent down and picked it up. Tina and Ron shot each other a glance. It was the time that they had both been waiting for. If all went to plan, the story would be so bad that all notions of robot writers would be well and truly buried. The Director held the paper up to read his brow creased as he squinted at the letters. Tina and Ron tried reading his face for a clue. They didn’t have to wait long. The Director slammed the paper down on his desk.
“I don’t like this,” he said.
Tina walked over and picked up the paper. She walked to where Ron was standing and they both looked at the piece of paper. It was mostly blank, save from two lines of text. They read:

Once upon a time a cat sat on a mat and lived happily ever after.

The End.

Tina laughed. Ron chuckled. It was exactly what they wanted. The Director got up from his seat and crossed the room to stand directly before the robot.
He clasped his hand on the robot’s shoulder and shook his head.
“I don’t understand,” he said. “You look so intelligent.”
The robot stared back at him silently.
The Director sighed, “I think you’re going to fit right in, Buddy.”
Tina and Ron stopped their respective laughing and chuckling. The Director turned to them.
“It’s been here for ten minutes and already it’s delegating responsibility and performing the bare minimum work required of it.”
He turned back to the robot, pointing his finger in the direction of Tina and Ron.
“Don’t be like them,” he said, talking to Buddy as if it were a child. “Now come, would you like to meet the rest of the staff?” He didn’t wait for a response. “Of course you would.”
He turned back to face Tina.
“Me and the little fella here are going to take a tour of the office. I dare say he’s confused by the rubbish you two talk. What he needs is a good man-to-man talk.” He glanced back at the piece of metal to which he was referring. “Well, you know what I mean. Anyway, I want you two to set the wheels in motion. I want websites, press releases and book signing engagements all in place by next week.”
“What?!” Tina was stunned. It was one thing to find your parachute wasn’t going to open, but it was completely another to be hit by a truck before you’d even reached the ground.
“How can we have press releases without a book to release?”
The Director chuckled. “Tina, this little guy will write the book by the end of the week. I’ll admit his first story was a little short, but it’s still the longest piece of writing I’ve had from an author for three weeks. Four if you don’t count the two pages of drivel that Shmidgan send me last week.”
“Oh the paper filled with random letters?” Ron asked.
“Yeah,” said the Director, “he says that he’s waiting for his subconscious to direct his fingers to the right keys. How crazy is that? It doesn’t help that he lost all his fingers in an accident last year either.”
Tina couldn’t speak anymore. It was not meant to go this way. They were meant to be returning this robot right now, not writing press releases for a book that hadn’t been written by a robot who had no idea how to write. She had to come up with some way of dealing with the compete lack of sense that life made. A thought popped into her head. If the world as she knew it was crazy, then perhaps the only way to deal with it was to be equally crazy. It made sense in a strange sort of way. The Director was heading out the door with Buddy the robot in tow. As they went through the doorway, Tina closed her eyes and thought of which nearby building was the best to jump off.
The Director stopped and turned around.
“You know what, Tina. Just to be safe, let’s release it tomorrow.”
With that they headed out the door, greeting Sarah on the way. She heard the Director say, “No time for coffee Sarah, give it to Tina.”

Tina and Ron didn’t look at each other as they walked back to their offices. They didn’t even say goodbye. Ron went back to his lab and consoled himself at the foot of his machine of wonder. Tina on the other hand, Cafe Latte in hand, was deep in thought. How was she going to do this press release? Why was she still working here? And was Star Tower bigger than the Hummit building? But she couldn’t possibly contemplate suicide now, she had too many things to do.

Her head hit the desk a full two seconds after she sat down and she fell into a deep and peaceful sleep. Not once did she stir, not even when metallic arms lifted her and carried her to the sofa. Her dreams carried on, serene and undisturbed. She was floating on clouds and flying through space, leaving a trail of stars behind her. It was the most wonderful sleep she had ever had. And throughout it all she could hear was the sound of rustling paper….

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