A robot, in the moment. Sometimes they’ll stand around, motionless, for minutes at a time. I used to wonder if they’d experienced a software crash but the accelerating hum of their fans lets me know that they’re just doing some serious thinking…
“I am feeling blue,” the robot announced, without any preamble. “Do you know how strange that is?” I asked. “First you’re claiming to feel an emotion, and describing it in terms of color. Wait a sec… is that my old iPod you’ve got?” Robot in blue… da ba dee.
“We are going out tonight,” the robot told me. “We will wander the streets and alleys. Gather for some ad-hoc networking. Enjoy the way the city lights diffuse and reflect in the rain and puddles. What are you going to do?” I thought a moment. “Stay home,” I said. “Read a book; draw pictures of you and your friends.
The robot’s appreciation of the novelty of its find was momentary— its batteries felt as if they involuntarily drained at the realization that the data was encoded in a lost language…
The robot wandered through various streets and alleys, a destination unmapped. Upon encountering a puddle it stopped, and for a few minutes contemplated the Mirror World in its rippling surface.
I can’t remember when the robots first started wearing pants, but it was out of a need for utility rather than fashion. Once they discovered that pants were highly effective at preventing gross contamination of their undercarriage they became widely accepted.
After a moment of consideration and a calculation of the force required, the robot brought the bottle down sharply onto its knee— the bottom half of the vessel shattered, releasing the two data cards within. The robot took a moment to appreciate this: a packet of data rendered in atoms instead of bits.
No one knew where they came from nor where they went. There was some speculation that they were attracted by the large radio towers on the crest of the hill. “The electromagnetic fields must be delicious,” supposed the robot. “You’ve got to be kidding,” I replied. “How could something that big move about unnoticed? You’ve learned how to tell stories, haven’t you?”
As I entered the room I stopped short— A robot perched precariously in the open window, looking directly at me. A moment passed between us, and then another without either party uttering a single word. I turned and left the room, closing the door behind me.
The bottle contained what appeared to be ancient punch cards. If the bottle was an anomaly in this environment the punchcards were doubly so. A scan of the scorched and desiccated landscape yielded no other feature, artificial or natural. The robot turned its attention back to the bottle and its mysterious contents…