“There’s really no point in discussing specifics at this early stage. It would be a distraction, at best.”
Well, no joy, there. “Can you tell me about my opponents?”
“No, Bob. There’s no reason to. You’ll never meet them. Best that you not humanize them in any way.”
That made sense, in a very cold, clinical way. But I wasn’t making much headway on the information-gathering front, so far.
“Okay. Next question. Why am I not more panicked about all of this? This is absolutely bizarre. I’m dead. I mean, original me is dead. I’m a computer program. I’m property. Why am I not running in tight little circles, waving my hands in the air? Apart from the obvious reason, I mean.”
The doctor smirked, but he didn’t really seem amused. “We can’t modify your personality, Bob. It’s an emergent property. Attempts to do so have resulted in, ah, non-viable subjects. So it’s all or nothing. But we can control the endocrine simulation routines. Panic depends on a feedback loop involving adrenaline. We simply limit that. You can’t panic or get angry or frightened, you can only be deeply concerned, so to speak.”
“And with that, you still have an 80% failure rate?” I tried to wave a hand. I had always talked with my hands a lot, so when that failed as well, I said in exasperation, “Say, am I going to get some appendages at some point? This Jack the Bodiless business is getting on my nerves, er, circuits. Whatever.”
Dr. Landers nodded. “Actually, Bob, I think we’ve made very good progress today. You were obviously a very rational person and are handling this better than I could have hoped for. We’ll continue tomorrow, and I’ll see if I can get you some peripherals.”
Dr. Landers lifted his tablet and poked at it.
“Wait, no, I—”
Bob – June 25, 2133
I snapped back to consciousness. I could see that Dr. Landers wore a different colored shirt, still in that weird clerical style, so I assumed it was at least a day later. He was concentrating on his tablet, and just starting to look up.
I poked at my own psyche, looking for any trace of panic, insanity, or even deep concern. It didn’t feel like being doped up. I’d been doped up, like when I was getting my wisdom teeth out. I didn’t enjoy that sensation. I also had never enjoyed the sensation of getting drunk, of not being in control of my own mind.
In this case, I was in complete control of my thoughts. In fact, I felt at the top of my game, like I did when I first got into the office after an excellent night’s sleep. Like no problem or puzzle could possibly stand before me.
On the other hand, my parents were long since dead, my sisters as well. Alan, Karen, Carl, all the people that I’d known. I had a clear mental image of Karen glaring at me, arms crossed, I told you so written across her face. But thoughts of my family and friends brought only a mild feeling of regret, likely due to the endocrine controls. That, more than simply the fact of being software, made me feel less than human.
It was hard to be upset with Dr. Landers about the situation. There didn’t seem to be any malice involved. Events had just evolved logically over time, and culminated with me as a computer program. And so far, this state of being seemed to have its advantages. If Bob was dead—if he’d been run over by a car—then this was basically a free life. A potentially immortal one, no less. Maybe I’d just roll with it, at least for the moment. I could always re-evaluate if I ended up in second place. Be careful what you wish for. No kidding.
So what else came with being a glorified computer program? Maybe I could communicate with that guppy interface.
Systems Check. Square root of 234,215.
[483.957642]
Damn, that’s cool. Do I have a date function? Current Date.
[2133-06-25.08:42:24.235]
Woo hoo, I’m Data. “At the tone, the time will be eight forty-three. Beeeeep.”
Dr. Landers looked surprised for a moment, then laughed. “You have a number of functions like that, Bob. You just need to learn how to access them. Part of your training will concentrate on that area.”
I tried to nod out of habit and was surprised when my field of view bobbed. “Hey, I’ve got neck control!” I swiveled my ‘head,’ and found to my delight that I could rotate my field of vision all the way around like an owl. The room presented no surprises. As I suspected, I was actually on a desk. Beside me was a waldo, a remote-manipulator arm. It was small and very basic compared to industrial models, just a two-digit pincer grip, with a shoulder, elbow, and wrist joint. I decided to see if it was accessible. After all, that was probably on the agenda for today.
It seemed to take forever—although my date/time function said less than a half-second had elapsed—before the waldo moved at my command. I waved it around and snapped at the air with the pincer, then turned back to Dr. Landers.
The doctor stared at the waldo with a bemused expression. Then a smile slowly formed, and he said with a wry shake of his head, “For today’s exercise, we’ll get you to attempt to move a manipulator arm.”
He shook his head and sighed. “So much for today’s training schedule. Bob, you’re doing very well, so far. I think we’ll bump up the roamer test. I’d originally scheduled this for a week from now after some more preliminary orientation, but…”
Dr. Landers picked up the tablet and aimed a finger.
Oh, not again. “Wait! No, don’t do—”
***
I found myself in a different room in the same institutional off-white color. A rack on one wall contained some [32] small mechanical devices. In front of each device, a red light glowed. Directly in front of me was a table with a number [128] of blocks.
The far wall contained a window, and Dr. Landers stood on the other side. “Will you please stop doing that!” I said. I attempted to glare at him.
“Would you prefer that I pick you up and carry you around under my arm?” Dr. Landers held a poker face for a couple of seconds, then smiled. “Actually, you and the other candidates all reside in large, expensive cubes of electronics tucked safely away in an air-conditioned room elsewhere on the premises. I’m merely switching your peripheral functions from room to room. The you in this room is a stereoscopic camera on a mechanical arm.”
He waited for any comments from me, but I had nothing at the moment. He gestured toward the rack. “The shelves contain remote observation and manipulation devices, or ROAMers. Your goal will be to stack the blocks using as many roamers as possible. We’ll start with one roamer, to give you the feel of it.”
Dr. Landers played with his tablet, and the light in front of one of the devices on the rack went from red to green.
“The roamers contain a low-level AMI and can perform basic actions without active supervision, but they have no will of their own and require direction. Please attempt to move the roamer to the table and stack some blocks. Your GUPPI will provide contact with the ROAM interface and will provide feedback as necessary.”
I looked intently at roamer #1.
[STATUS: Ready].