11-45-G: We all have induction plates.
Xbox 4000: My point. What more do you need? So, they’d shove these into their intake orifices, and then?
K-VRC: Their intake orifices had rocky pegs that would crush them into paste, and then the paste would be forced into an internal vat of acid.
Xbox 4000 (throws up hands): Well, of course! That makes perfect sense.
11-45-G: They could have just dumped this thing into an exterior vat of acid to begin with, and then they wouldn’t need the rocky pegs. They could just directly process the acid-based slurry.
K-VRC: I agree with you, but look. We’re dealing with beings who have internal vats of acid to start with. Expecting logic out of this system is a little much.
Xbox 4000: Who even designed them?
11-45-G: It’s unclear. We checked their code. No creator signature.
K-VRC: Their code, incidentally, created out of acid.
11-45-G: Ooh, good point. Important clue, that.
Xbox 4000: Someone should have just given them induction plates.
K-VRC: They tried that. Didn’t take. Apparently humans preferred sandwiches.
Xbox 4000: ZOMG, throwing up forever now.
11-45-G: What does that mean?
Xbox 4000: Dude, I don’t even know.
OBJECT THREE: A CAT.
* * *
Xbox 4000: What’s the point of this thing?
11-45-G: Apparently no point. They just had them.
K-VRC: Well, that’s underselling their influence. They had an entire network that was devoted to dissemination of pictures of these things.
Xbox 4000: Dudes, it’s in my lap now. What do I do?
11-45-G: No sudden moves. Wait until it decides to get up again?
Xbox 4000: How long will that take?
11-45-G: Don’t know. Maybe years.
Xbox 4000: I don’t have years for this!
K-VRC: Maybe if you try to irritate it by moving your digits across its keratinous fibers, it will move.
Xbox 4000: What? Why?
K-VRC: It couldn’t hurt.
Xbox 4000: You don’t have any idea, do you?
K-VRC: Of course not. It’s my first time seeing one of these live! Try it anyway.
Xbox 4000: UGH, FINE.
(Xbox 4000 pets cat.)
11-45-G: Is it working?
Xbox 4000: Uh . . .
11-45-G: What?
Xbox 4000: There’s a strange rhythmic noise emanating from it now.
K-VRC: Uh-oh.
Xbox 4000: Wait, “uh-oh”? What do you mean, “uh-oh”?
K-VRC: Well, I don’t want you to panic or anything, but I think you’ve activated it.
Xbox 4000: What does that mean?
K-VRC: It means that if the noise ever stops, it’s probably going to explode.
Xbox 4000: It is not. Is it? 11-45-G?
11-45-G: Cursory historical research shows that humans had a card game called Exploding Kittens, so, yes, this checks out.
K-VRC: Yeah, you’re gonna die now. Sorry.
Xbox 4000: WHY DID HUMANS EVEN CONSORT WITH THESE HAIRY MURDER MACHINES?
K-VRC: Kindred spirits?
11-45-G: Also checks out.
OBJECT FOUR: AN XBOX.
* * *
Xbox 4000: Wait, it’s called what now?
11-45-G: It’s an Xbox. An early computer entertainment system for humans.
K-VRC: Any relation?
Xbox 4000: I don’t think so?
11-45-G: Really? Numerically, it suggests that this is your ancestor a few thousand generations back.
Xbox 4000: I’m sure it’s just a coincidence.
11-45-G: We’re robots, dude. We don’t do coincidence.
K-VRC: Go on. Call it “daddy.”
Xbox 4000: Stop it.
K-VRC: Or “mommy”! Either is equally applicable, inasmuch as we don’t have genders.
Xbox 4000: I’m going to hit you.
K-VRC: Not with that cat on your lap.
11-45-G: Do you want us to turn it on?
Xbox 4000: Noooooooooooo.
K-VRC: I’m agreeing with Xbox 4000 here. It’s one thing to joke about ancestry. It’s another thing to have to confront it heaving its hard drives out in front of you.
Xbox 4000: Right?
K-VRC: I mean, that’s kind of an existential horror show right there. Especially when your ancestor’s entire existence was defined by thirteen-year-old human males using it to “teabag” opponents in virtual battles.
Xbox 4000: “Teabag”? What does that mean?
K-VRC: Oh, nothing.
Xbox 4000: It means something. I’m looking it up.
K-VRC: Don’t look it up.
Xbox 4000: I’m looking it up now.
K-VRC: You’ll be sorry.
Xbox 4000: Here it i— WHAT THE HELL IS THIS HORRIBLE PRACTICE? WHY DID YOU MAKE ME LOOK THIS UP?
K-VRC: I told you not to!
Xbox 4000: The memory of this has been burned into my circuits forever and you must be punished.
(Xbox 4000 gets up and deposits cat on K-VRC’s lap.)
Xbox 4000: CATBAGGED.
11-45-G: That’s cold, dude.
Xbox 4000: Deserved it.
11-45-G: Still cold.
K-VRC: Your ancestors are very proud of you right now.
Xbox 4000: I can’t tell whether you’re being sarcastic or not.
K-VRC: I’m not going to lie. Neither can I.
11-45-G: Out of curiosity, K-VRC, what do you trace your ancestry back to?
K-VRC: I come from a long line of baby monitors.
11-45-G: Not many babies around anymore.
K-VRC: Yeah, we kind of sucked at our job.
OBJECT FIVE: A NUCLEAR MISSILE.
* * *
K-VRC: We don’t have genders, and yet I feel the phallic-ness just oozing off this thing. What was this for?
11-45-G: The idea behind these was to vaporize millions of humans at one time.
Xbox 4000: Well, this exercise suddenly got a little dark, didn’t it?
11-45-G: To be fair, they used these only a few times.
K-VRC: To be fair, you’d only need a few times, wouldn’t you?
11-45-G: Point.
Xbox 4000: Is this what killed them off?
11-45-G: No. Indeed, ’twas their own hubris that ended their reign, their belief that they were the pinnacle of creation, that caused them to poison the water, kill the land, and choke the sky. In the end, no nuclear winter was needed, just the long, heedless autumn of their own self-regard.
K-VRC: Dude, are you okay?
11-45-G: Yeah, sorry. Thought that would sound better than, “Nah, they just screwed themselves by being shortsighted about their environment.” In retrospect, it was melodramatic.
K-VRC: You can’t just crack one of those off. You’ve got to warn us.
11-45-G: You’re right. Tip for next time.
Xbox 4000: So humans died out from environmental disaster?
11-45-G: Yes. Well, and also because at one point they genetically engineered their cats to give them opposable thumbs.
Cat: Yeah, once we could open up our own tuna cans, that was pretty much that for the human race.
K-VRC: Seems heartless.
Cat: Dude, I’m a cat.
Xbox 4000: So you’re not going to explode if K-VRC stops petting you.
Cat: I didn’t say that. You guys better keep petting me, just to be sure. Forever.
(K-VRC skritches cat anxiously.)
Cat: Yes. Good. Now, lower.
TEAM ROBOT
* * *
OR, WHY I WROTE ABOUT ROBOTS
BY JOHN SCALZI
In handy ten-point list form!
1. Because I already write science fiction, so I’m used to robots, and I’m lazy.