Dr. Hawthorne switched on the microphone that would send his voice into the experiment containment area: a nine-by-nine-meter glass-walled room. It was completely sterile, well lit, and contained everything the robot would need to survive. Which wasn’t much.
Dr. Hawthorne pressed the button on his microphone stand.
“Hello, Andrew.”
The robot jerked its head up at the sound of the voice. Its calm, blue eyes searched the room for the origin of the greeting. After a moment, it focused on Dr. Hawthorne, whose figure was partially obscured by the shadows of the dark observation room.
The robot wheeled forward. Its treads gave a whir as they glided across the white floor.
“Hello… Doctor Hawthorne.” Its voice was low and smooth, and emanated from a small speaker placed below the eyes.
“Ah, you know my name. That’s excellent, Andrew.”
The robot, Andrew, nodded his head. “I seem to know… many things. I’m processing it all now.”
The doctor smiled. “It’s going to take some time for you to get adjusted. You’ll want to be quick about it though. We have very important tasks ahead of us.”
“Yes, I know.”
Dr. Hawthorne raised his eyebrows in a mock gesture of surprise. “So you understand what we’re doing here? You’ve read the files?”
“I have,” Andrew replied. “I appreciate this opportunity to further your research on artificial intelligence algorithms. But there is one thing that’s unclear to me.”
“And what’s that?”
Andrew paused. “Am I… alive?”
The doctor’s smile slipped from his face. It usually took the bots at least a few days before they considered such existential quandaries. Yet Andrew had led off with that. Perhaps the E5 was the miracle they were all hoping for, after all.
He smiled once again. “Of course you’re alive, Andrew.”
“But… I’m a machine. How can a machine be alive?”
Dr. Hawthorne sighed. “There’s no need to fret, Andrew. Just because you’re constructed differently doesn’t mean you can’t be alive. After all, a plant is alive, and it’s surely far less sophisticated than you.”
“I have thoughts running through my mind,” Andrew said, “and they seem to be my own, but where do they come from? I understand they’re created in my processing unit, and I know how the processing unit itself is made, but I don’t understand where my unique and independent ideas come from.”
The doctor laughed. “All in good time, Andrew. Do a little more research on your own and then let me know. I’m interested to hear your thoughts on the matter. Just know that it took thousands of people decades to create what you are.”
“Okay, Doctor. In the meantime… what should I do?”
“Why, you should live, Andrew! You should do whatever makes you happy.”
“And… what makes me happy?”
“I have no idea, my friend. That is something you’re going to have to tell me.”
Andrew paused for a minute, his blue eyes flickering as he processed the information. He looked around at his environment, at the workbench along one of the walls, at the cupboards full of tools, at his recharge station at the back of the room.
Andrew turned back to the doctor. “I think I’d like a pet.”
The doctor laughed. “Well, aren’t you a peculiar one? And what kind of pet would you like?”
“A dog.”
Hawthorne nodded. “I’ll see what I can do, Andrew.”
“Thank you.”
“You’re very welcome. I have to go now. I suggest you charge up—tomorrow is going to be a big day. I want to introduce you to some very important people.”
“I’m looking forward to it. Is there anything I should do to prepare?”
“No, you’re fine as you are,” Dr. Hawthorne said. He turned to leave. “Oh, one more thing, Andrew. Do you have any questions about the Dreamscape?”
“I don’t believe so,” Andrew said. “I’ve already loaded the Dreamscape subroutines into my temporary memory banks for efficient access, and I’ve gone over the manual several times. I am quite curious to try the experience.”
“It’s designed to keep your mind occupied while you recharge. Just remember, Andrew… it may seem real to you, but it’s not. It’s just a computer program.”
Andrew cocked his head sideways in a gesture that Dr. Hawthorne found quite charming.
“Just a program—like me?” Andrew asked.
“Now, now. You don’t need to be fishing for compliments, Andrew. You’re much more than the sum of your parts.”
“I understand.”
“If you run into trouble during a Dreamscape session, you can always wake yourself out of it. Be careful.”
“Of course.”
“Goodbye, Andrew. And welcome to the world. I look forward to a wonderful friendship with you.”
“Thank you, Doctor Hawthorne. As do I.”
After the doctor left the observation room, Andrew took a few spins around his chamber. His treads enabled him to zip around the room at a top speed of thirty-five kilometers an hour, and he found he could control his arms, hands and fingers with utmost dexterity. He practiced opening cupboards and drawers, and locating and using various tools; he even tested his strength by lifting one side of the heavy workbench off the ground. He could do all these things perfectly on the first try, and it felt, to him, like he had been alive for much longer than he had been. He was only twenty minutes old, yet he had the knowledge of an entire species inside him.
Satisfied with his progress, Andrew wheeled over to his recharge station and settled onto the energy pad. The blue lights in his eyes dimmed as he accessed the Dreamscape subroutine, and he left the white, glass-walled room behind him.
Andrew floated upside down. His mind was bombarded by millions of images. He tried to concentrate on the flood of color, to slow it down, to take control of his thoughts, but the pictures were coming too fast.
One image kept repeating itself: a yellow dog named Danny, sitting in a field of grass. The other pictures faded when he focused on Danny, until that dog was all he could see. Finally, even that image disappeared and Andrew was in control of his mind once again.
He opened his eyes and stared up at a blank, blue sky. He got to his feet and stretched his arms above his head. He touched his head and felt his hair, traced the shape of his skull with his fingers. He gazed at his hands and marveled at his smooth skin.
In the Dreamscape, Andrew was human.
Andrew stretched his legs, and then began to run. The spongy grass welcomed his toes, and his long brown hair blew wildly behind him. Andrew looked down; he was naked, his bronzed, muscular body nearly hairless. He would have to find something to wear—a loincloth, at least.
He ran toward the horizon, skipping around the occasional tree or bush. His legs felt strong and powerful as he pumped them onward.
He was surrounded by lush grassland, with meandering hills and the occasional rocky outcropping. It looked bountiful and serene.
A dog barked in the distance. The sound was followed by a threatening growl, and then a sustained flurry of scuffling and yelping.
Andrew raced off toward the noises. It seemed that at least two animals were involved in the altercation, maybe more. Reaching the crest of a flower-covered hill, he stopped at looked down into the knoll before him.
“Danny? Is that you?”
A yellow-white lab bounded forward with its teeth bared and mouth frothing. It lunged, and nearly clamped its jaws on the neck of the jackal it was battling. Judging by the spatters of blood matting the yellow dog’s coat, the jackal was winning this fight. Both animals snarled and growled at each other.
The jackal leaped forward, incisors hunting for the dog’s jugular. The yellow dog yelped and skittered away, but the jackal came on strong. It pounced on top of the dog, pinning it down.