Nanite City

 

Nanite City

 

By Joey Le Bard

My optical wiring must have been reconnected . Ravenous red light from the sun called Cantocc Eighteen entered my neural network greedily. The lens of the visual input device (VID) adjusted as I rotated the weathered orb to observe the surface of the rough, red planet. I could feel fine sand grinding in between the ball and socket of the VID unit and its motion stopped. The eyeball was stuck, and something popped and sparked. My vision was gone again. Internal alarms chimed rhythmically. Workers, comprised of twenty-three atoms each, were sent to remove the debris and repair the damage.

This world was called Frough Stomma by some. I couldn’t access any other names.

I could sense I still had an intact arm and hand. Trying to move them, I noticed they were imbedded in the soil-- dried mud. Servo motors whined in protest as I struggled to free myself. My head was mostly buried. I was sure my torso was in fairly good shape. Somehow, I had doubts of having legs.

I began to ponder my existence in the cool, sweet darkness. I am model Gorak1799t-5674322kli99444.nghj. I am designed for heavy labor and fully self-repairable thanks to onboard microscopic robots that keep my systems going. I was purchased by the beings of this world for a raw diamond the size and approximate shape of a medium pumpkin. Accessing-- accessing--the fruiting body of

Thunder filled my audio sensors. I understood in moments what it meant-- Perhaps the precipitation will come bathe us in liquid redemption.

I must find my way out of here.

I must explore the universe.

 

The rain was shy and self conscious at first. Like children who come to see what ground-scores are left behind when the circus has gone. A heavy drop hit my shoulder plating. Then four quick drops; rata tat tat. That seemed to be the signal for the deluge. The sky put forth with a furious effort, and the ground began to soften.

As I pulled myself out of the hole that bound me, I realized Frough Stomma was giving birth to a metal man. That thought almost caused me to make the sound I can do that approximates laughter. It sounds like grumbly feedback. It is embarrassing, even when I am the only being present. Which is never, counting the billions of micro mechanisms that inhabit my structure. The rain washed the mud from my chromed surface. Feeling down my body I noticed my left leg was gone. The right one was only gone to the knee joint. The camera unit activated just in time for me to see how low the visibility was. I did a sweep of the area to make sure there were no hostiles. Luckily, both of my arms were intact. I began to pull myself through the mud until the ground became rocky enough that I could walk using my arms. I had to find shelter.

The alpha worker informed me of a crashed ship approximately sixty kilometers to the South East. As I plodded along, the rhythm of my hands pressing down on the rocky surface infused my electronic soul with purpose. On the way there, my inner systems were being repaired. The sensors on the palms of my hands became active. The small stones were changing patterns, and I had begun to calculate their random positioning. Chaos became order. I was going into a transistor trance. The rain on my shell, the rhythm of traversing and now the changing pebbles. I spun my head in a circle scanning the horizon. There was some flora in the distance. Experiencing sensory overload, I made fists and walked on those. If only I could convince them to build wings onto me, or rockets. That would be sweet. But they were programmed with an unwavering design. Perhaps future models would allow for evolution.

The wreckage appeared to be a few years old. I dragged myself inside, out of the rain. Nesting in between two badly tattered seats, I sat still; remaining as motionless as possible was necessary for the tiny bots to do what they were created to do. The workers set forth their repairs in earnest. They siphoned atoms off of metals and plastic. Reforming matter like moving bricks. Slowly the legs were built back up. Perhaps two centimeters per hour.

The rain stopped. It was so quiet, I could hear the crackle of nano-construction. Alpha worker asked me to shutdown. I complied. I must always comply. Electric dreams occurred as my neural network powered down. Silence. An expanse of silence that stretched further than any desert, any wasteland, any desolate landscape on any world. And it was all mine.

It must have been many days later when they switched me back on. External temperature was ninety eight point four degrees Celsius. I was perfectly repaired and feeling rather spry. All the nano bots were on normal duty instead of hyper-repair mode. The fusion reactor ceramic doughnut in my chest was online; all the radiation panels were all turned inward, since there was no need to supplement power. I turned my attention toward the wrecked ship. Perhaps it could be repaired, and I could finally escape this world.

 

I must be free.

 

I had a glorious nine and a half days. Settling into the routine of repair, I found myself enjoying the thought of being a ship captain. The power plant was operational, and most engine functions were restored. There was no need to bring the life support back online. I began to grow most optimistic, the closer I grew to an operational freighter.

I was welding a scrap plate to the freighter’s hull when I heard the Floukkian. They were the beings that purchased me from the Omni Bot Corporation. My entire neural-network flooded with white-hot dread.

Floukkians were small and pink. They certainly did not look prepossessing. A single stalk stuck comically out of the top of their heads. It was covered with several unblinking eyes. In the center of the eyes was a gland that secreted a viscous mucus, to keep them from drying out.

 

I found myself standing still. I was unable to move.

He called to his friends that he had found me, and I dropped the welder and broke in to a dead run. The ground exploded next to me and I changed my trajectory. They seem to have found some new weapons. Most unfortunate for me. Last time they did quite a bit of damage with metal poles and big rocks. There was a flash of green light as a particle beam took my left arm and some of my torso. The internal alarms were a cacophony of immeasurable concern, or, perhaps, it was the voices of the microscopic robots that sensed their impending doom. In a flash my newly repaired legs were gone. Easy come. . . Easy. . .

As I was falling toward the succulent plant covered ground., I noticed a small sphere leave my forehead. How curious. I landed on the corner of a steel box possibly from the wreckage. It may have been a safe-- some sort of strong box, to be sure. It ruptured my fusion reactor and in a flash of heat and pressure my torso evaporated. My head shot through the air like a cannonball. It may have been an amusing, comical sight, had it not been me. I tried to take in as much of the beauty of this place as I could, as I toppled through the air. Orange sky and purple tinted clouds. Green flora and distant blue and white mountains. Warm air whistled impressively through my soon-to-be useless aural receivers. After my beautiful journey, my last flight, I found my head falling into a mass of thorns that broke and hissed as I made my way to the mossy undergrowth. I knew I knew that I knew. . . some things.

 

I was not made to be sentient.

That was an accident, and not part of my design.

Sentience is a curse.

A floukkian stood over my head. I swiveled my eye around and looked at him and did my best to imitate a pleading expression. My effort was futile. He aimed his weapon at me. It hummed and he cackled. I assume he was amused. I did my best to laugh back. It only came out as static. A crackle and a hiss.

I wish I could have done more.

There was so much more to do.

 

In a beam-flash it was over.

 

 

Epilogue:

“It is done. The robot has been destroyed.” Sghaaareloph’s voice crackled over the speaker of the wrist communicator.

Targrothu smiled as he looked over the warrantee. “Ha! ‘If this robot is destroyed within a year of the purchase date,” he read, “ Omni Bot Corporation will double your money back!’ ” He did a little dance, see-sawing his arms and shaking his little pink boo-tay-tay. “We will invest the return profits in the Rooglock Galactic Bank. We have achieved financial freedom my brothers. We will soon enter the modern age.” All the Floukkians cheered and spun their eyes about wildly. Some played with their gjooortounshlumplins.

The sphere containing the alpha nanobot landed on the wreckage of the cargo ship and released the worker drones. They began rearranging the atoms necessary to form another Gorak1799t-5674322kli99444.nghj. They were tireless in their duty. They worked as one to rebuild their civilization.

The Floukkian’s were quite mistaken. The warrantee was not broken.

As long as one nanite survived, it was enough. And since no one was ever told of the nanites’ existence, not that it would matter they’re invisible to the naked eyes, they never realized the healing potential of such a robot. That is why the Omni Bot Corporation had never, ever doubled anyone’s money back.

 

a gourd-like squash of the genus Cucurbita and the family Cucurbitaceae, native of Earth-- ritually carved to resemble a human skull. Interesting that I had that information.

Reviews

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I enjoyed this a lot. There are so many great ideas in this that I kind of wish it were longer. The clever way you ended it appears to have left it open for continuation. The idea of AI becoming sentient and attempting to flee is good, but coupling it with nano-tech I think brings things up a bit. I also like the fact that you made the robot the one with good humanistic qualities in this. It gets us liking him/it and makes us more involved with his demise.

There are some tense issues where it jumps between past and present tense but nothing major.

Some things I noticed, if you're interested (and only my opinion of course):

-Like birds that come to see what tidbits are left behind when the circus has gone

This line took me out of the story for a moment as I couldn't see this being thought by a robot without it having some sort of reference - like the pumpkin piece.

-As I pulled my self out

'myself'

A nice piece with a lot of great ideas told well. The action moves and is believable. Thanks for sharing.