If A Robot Could Smile

The silent, sentient cyborg moved its limbs slowly. It stared at itself inquisitively in the mirror, its eyes shifting, retinas expanding. The sound of a piano captured its attention, the soft, subtle tones playing on its memory banks. The melody triggered a response. Mozart. It stood, gently minding the things around it. With a quick movement, it started walking across the room. Its sensors told it that the floor was made of marble, installed by a Gustavo Santana, over 15 years ago.

The piano continued playing in the next room, and the machine desired it to be closer. Its spindly hands reached forward and opened a pair of doors, decorated in white and gold flowers. Elegantly, it walked through them and the beautiful notes washed over the machine’s body.

Inside, its core wept. It registered the song to be sad, filled with deep, emotional resonance. Its exterior remained still, observing its player. The human sat at the instrument was absorbed, lost in his solitary performance. The room echoed, its high ceilings making it sound like a church. The windows were open, a great, overgrown garden on the outside.

The human brought the song to a close, the final notes hanging in the air. He turned, facing the machine watching him. An elderly man, his long white hair shadowed his face and his lifeless eyes. “I may be blind” he rasped, catching the machine’s attention. “But I would never trade music for sight, child”. The machine leant down, as if to acknowledge the statement. “You still can’t speak?” the man said. “Poor thing, we’ll have you fixed.”

The elderly man stood, his body wrapped in an aged doctor’s coat. He reached out. “Take my hand, child, I need your help to see.” The machine quickly repositioned itself to assist the man, taking his hand securely. They walked together, out of the room and down a long hallway. Sunshine poured through the windows, peeking through large vines and leaves that coated that great house. “It’s a terrible thing, child, to not see the world” said the man as they walked. “But what is wasted, is gained in other forms. Never forget that”. The machine stayed quiet, assisting.

They made their way to a flight of stairs, where the machine eased the man into a motorised chair, with odd attachments. After seating him, the chair came to life, and with its peculiar additions, it navigated itself down the stairs with the man atop. The machine followed behind, gracefully. The chair had been the man’s invention, much like the robot that followed.

An inventor, he had lost his ability to see at an early age. He did not know what he looked like, only where he had been taken by his family. He had lived in this house his entire life, surrounded by his profound talent for innovation, and at times, extraordinary compassion.

The robot and man arrived at the bottom, and the chair re-shaped itself, rolling forward. They both made their way into a giant observatory. A huge array of equipment was scattered around it, a gigantic golden telescope poking through it. A room of assorted lights, sounds and colours. The floor was covered in vines that had grown through the glass roof, snaking their way into the corners.

The old inventor dismounted his chair, getting slowly to his feet. He knew this room well, and navigated it from memory. His old hands ran across the aging equipment. The machine looked on. “I am old, child” he said quietly. “It will not be long before all this, is gone”. The machine stood silently, listening intently. “I have spent my days building to aid life, to recreate it, as best as I can”. He moved over to an old armchair, its leather worn and ripped. He sunk into it, opening an old box on a side table.

“Come, child. Sit with me” the old man said. The machine walked forward and sat on a small wooden chair opposite. “For all the years I spent building you, I gave you the ability see, hear, appreciate and know. I see now that you cannot speak, laugh or love. The most important things of all”. “Would you like these things?”.

The robot, almost motionless, bowed its head. The inventor’s eyes shone. “So, it will be”. He reached for the box and opened it, a gold vial inside. It carried a clear liquid. “This will allow you to be everything, to feel as much as we do. This is my greatest creation. Yet it bears a sacrifice, that you, and I will have to make. In order for it to work, I would need to die. And you, would need to live through someone else”.

Deep within the machine, its core felt a deep desire. It wanted to be human, to feel the grass, to be caressed by the wind. To play the piano, to know the touch of its ivory keys. It looked down at the vial, and in one movement, nodded.

The old man drew back his sleeve. “You have been my greatest friend, child. You deserve this.” The inventor slowly dipped a needle into his arm, not needing his eyes to see. The clear liquid in the vial was replaced by a black substance. “When you are ready, child, take this needle to your heart. Let it seep through you, and may you know life.” The old man’s eyes slowly closed, his breath quieted, and he was gone.

The robot sat, watching the inventor disappear. It picked up the vial. The sun shone through it, reflecting off the observatory with a thousand pinpricks of light. Silently, the machine opened its chest cavity, revealing a pulsing, robotic heart. It plunged the needle in and the heart was filled with the black fluid. It surged and the heart was beating faster. The machine lay back in the chair, its limbs dropping, going from its static pose to a figure of exhaustion. Almost human in nature.

Years passed by in the great house. The paint peeled, the rooms darkened. The sounds of the birds grew distant. The grand observatory became stained and old. The telescope looked up at the stars through thick branches, almost concealed by their leaves. After a long time, with days passing through like weary travellers, visitors began visiting the house. Stories had spread of a creator, who built machines great and small, who had once lived there. Many people came by, clutching the rusted gates on the borders of the grounds.

After months of continued visits, a young group of children were led to the manor, which had fallen into disrepair. Enjoying a night of Halloween, they stopped at the old entrance. One of the children looked up, hearing the faintest sound echoing through the gardens. It was the sound of piano, singing deep into the house. Its notes floated into the breeze, sailing into the sky. On the inside, a young inventor smiled as he played.