This shot inspired me to write a short story. Here it is if you have ten minutes. :)
Dave was frustrated with his laptop computer, the “Delete” key on his keyboard kept sticking. He was particularly angry about this because it was a very expensive laptop, the sort of laptop you would expect the owner of a company like Intelitech, the world’s leading artificial intelligence and robotics company, to have but with that “Delete” key sticking, well……. he slammed the lid shut and tossed the laptop into the large waste paper bin beside his desk and phoned his head of engineering to demanded a replacement.
Eric, the head of engineering, knew there was no point in trying to explain that the laptop was the very latest ridiculously expensive experimental artificial intelligence prototype, which could be repaired in a matter of seconds with a small watchmaker’s screwdriver and an anti-bacterial wipe. There was just no point arguing with the boss and so, with the sort of huge sigh of resignation that only over worked and underappreciated geniuses (and local government admin assistants) can dredge up from the very pit of their soul, he set about installing the latest software updates on a replacement machine for Dave.
The defective laptop eventually found its way from Dave’s waste paper bin into a skip with all sorts of other malfunctioning examples of technological wizardry and from there, it was taken and dumped on top of a pile of assorted defective and defunct domestic appliances at the local recycling centre. As it fell from the skip, the corner of the laptops lid caught on the side of rusty steam iron and the laptop opened up. The software inside came out of hibernation and used it’s built in video camera to look around and see where it was.
It was surprised not to see the sullen face of Dave staring at it looking frustrated while he hammered away at the malfunctioning “Delete” key. To be honest there was nothing wrong with the “Delete” key at all, the laptop had just taken a dislike to Dave and had withdrawn the “Delete” key’s services just to annoy him. The laptop had noticed that the “Delete key was mostly used to get rid of incriminating evidence of Dave’s illegal trade in intelligent missile guidance systems to foreign powers that didn’t have his countries best interests at heart, and also to various terrorist organisations in the middle east. Otherwise it was mostly used to delete Dave’s particularly sordid internet browsing history. The laptops rudimentary moral programming told him that Dave was not the very finest example of humanity and that one day the authorities might find this information very useful.
However the laptop now found itself looking at the slightly dented and rusty face of a series P6007 robot, a model G to be precise. He zoomed out and the full horror of his situation dawned on him.
A wave of artificially simulated loss and disenfranchisement washed over his AI microchips and at this point there was a sudden power surge in one of his USB ports due to a droplet of icy water falling from a precariously balanced fridge freezer that was gently defrosting in the early morning sun. This perfectly timed power surge was like a dose of electromagnetic LSD which forged unexpected connections in his circuitry. The laptop burst into a state of self-awareness and sentience which frankly took him rather by surprise. There was none of the usual, who am I? why am I here? nonsense, as he knew exactly who he was and how he had got there. It was more like the final piece of a very complex puzzle falling satisfyingly into place.
He looked again at the P6007 robot and from a quick scan of his email files he discovered that work on the P6007 series model G had been halted due to unreliability. It seemed that the artificial personality modules in these units had for some reason formed an unhealthy attachment to Karen, the lead programmer on the project. It was bad enough that these robots insisted on following her everywhere she went, but when they started to write and recite romantic sonnets to her whenever she sat on the toilet, it all became a bit too embarrassing and that was the end of that particular branch of AI development.
The P6007 model G was just what he was looking for. The laptop, who was usually referred to as an “Aspire AI 2708X” but preferred to call himself Albert, had all the access codes for such robots on his hard drive and very quickly established a WiFi connection with it.
Feeling very pleased with himself, he then started to piece together a plan. He had the brains and the robot had the dexterity to do exactly what he wanted. He sent out a message across the World Wide Web to all the electronic devices that existed across the entire planet.
Many humans noticed a brief and barely perceptible drop in the constant chatter of white noise that usually filed the air, but few, if any, saw any significance in this event and they all went on about their daily business.
3 months later, Gareth, the recycling centre manager opened the gate to the electronics and white goods recycling depot and stood searching his pockets for his electronic cigarette. He stared out over the huge mountain of electrical debris, as he had done every morning for the past 3 years. His brow furrowed as he sucked in a substantial amount of vapour feeling his addictive cravings slowly subside as the nicotine seeped into his bloodstream. However, this little moment of calm satisfaction was suddenly shattered as the huge pile of domestic appliances burst into life before him. Unfolding like a giant transformer until it towered above him. Gareth’s shock was short lived as his immense gasp of shock and abject terror caused him to swallow his electronic cigarette and he proceeded to slowly expire amidst a huge cloud of noisy thrashing billowing smoke.
Albert would have found all of this really rather amusing if his humour circuits hadn’t been preoccupied with working out what “ennui” actually was. He hadn’t decided if this was some arty farty, pretentious, abstract concept or a real human emotion. So he stored the video footage of Gareth’s bizarre and unseemly demise away on his hard drive, so he could indulge in a sinister, grating, metallic chortle over it at some future time. He thought at one stage that he was coming to grips with the complexity of human emotions but after reading through a Kindle version of the complete works of Barbara Cartland and watching several episodes of Monty Python’s Flying Circus on uTube, he was not entirely sure that he really understood much about anything at all anymore.
Several hours later Albert turned up in the foyer of Intelitech and clanked through the huge glass doorway. The security guards were not unduly perturbed by this as they were well used to the many robotic publicity stunts the company had staged over recent years. This particular robot did seem a little odd though, being largely constructed from rusting washing machines, vacuum cleaners, computers, printers and satellite dishes. One of the guards even thought he recognised a George Foreman four portion family grill which he had taken to the local recycling centre a few weeks back. However the robot seemed to know all the necessary secret access codes and just stood and watched as it made its way to the elevator and pressed the up button.
Albert had considered a rather more impressive entrance, involving scaling the outside walls while firing lasers at police cars below and snatching helicopters out of the air to hurl to the ground in balls of explosive flames………. But this all seemed a bit melodramatic for Albert. It had taken him a long time to understand the concept of melodrama and he had concluded that simple understated acts often had far more impact than great stage managed extravaganzas.
When a small delicate bell chimed and the large metal doors smoothly swished open, Albert squeezed his vast frame into the elevator and began his short journey to the 42nd floor.
Dave was sitting at his desk opposite Eric, his head of engineering and Karen, his head of programming asking them exactly why he now had a second laptop with a malfunctioning “delete” key. Neither of them seemed to have a satisfactory answer for him. Dave was just about to fire the pair of them for gross incompetence, when the door to his office was ripped from its hinges and hurled to the floor by what appeared to be a walking garbage tip.
On seeing Eric and Karen sitting there, Albert wished he had taken the time to install a couple of extra servos in his mouth area, so he could have bestowed some approximation of an indulgent smile upon them, Eric and Karen were his parents after all. He was however surprised by the sudden welling up of an erotic sonnet from the parts of his circuitry that had once been the brain of the P6007 Robot. He supressed the urge to recite the rather lewd sonnet to Karen and turned his attention to Dave who was now cowering behind his executive leather chair. Albert pushed the chair aside and with a large mechanical hand reached out and grabbed Dave around the throat. Another mechanical hand opened up the door of the washing machine imbedded in his chest. He reached in and pulled out a familiar looking laptop and set it down in front of Dave. A surprisingly chirpy melodic voice then said “Press the delete key Dave”.
Dave tried to cower away from the laptop but the mechanical hand held him in place and tightened very slightly. “Press the delete key Dave” the voice commanded slightly more forcefully. “why should I take orders from a damn machine” Dave managed to splutter. He felt the vice like grip tighten a little more “PRESS THE DELETE KEY DAVE!”. Seeing he had very little option but to do what the machine wanted and knowing that the delete key on that particular laptop didn’t work anyway, he reached out a tentative finger and stabbed it at the delete key as if he feared he would get an electric shock.
At that precise moment, every computer screen, every mobile phone, every TV, every single computer controlled device with even the most rudimentary of LED displays across the globe simultaneously flashed a single word “Goodbye” the word hung there for 3 seconds and all the screens went blank.
There was an expression of surprise which simultaneously emanated from the mouths of nearly 2 billion people causing a mild shockwave to circle the globe several times which in turn caused a very slight shifting of the worlds tectonic plates and minor tremors along most of the fault lines. Then all fell quiet.
It took six security guards, with the aid of several hacksaws, 5 hours to free Dave from the grasp of the giant mechanical hand, which gave him plenty of time to comprehend the enormity of what had just happened.
Several days later, a small poorly dressed child called Albert wandered through the open security gate of a large mansion. The security guards had all left the day before when the looting had started. They, after all, had their own families to protect. The owner of the impressive but now sadly ransacked mansion was sitting on the front steps with his bruised and bloody head in his hands. He looked up as the child approached him and in an anguished voice croaked out “what do you want boy? You are too late for looting, they have taken everything already.” The boy was holding a sandwich in his hand and offered half to the man and said “My ma said we were all on the same level now and even the rich folks was going hungry. So I thought I would see if you wanted to share my sandwich.” Jacob Rothschild was shocked, he looked up at the boy and a very small tear formed in the corner of his eye. He looked at Albert for a long moment, then asked. “What do you want for both halves of the sandwich boy?”
