Robot Relationship

Author's note: This story features characters that were introduced in Robot Amnesia and portrayed in Robot Remembrance and Robot Refuge. You are invited to acquaint yourself with them by reading those stories here on Vocal:

• Robot Amnesia
• Robot Remembrance
• Robot Refuge

Robot Relationship

Halfway across the dark-timbered, abandoned barn where we had sheltered during the hailstorm, Major Freiburg stopped mid-tug and straightened his back. He looked at the military transport concealed under a camouflage tarp, then at me with a bemused expression. "We should be using the ERIC's big winch, not struggling to drag this bot ourselves."

"The vehicle has no fuel, Sir," I reminded him. "Doing so would likely drain the batteries and we would be unable to recharge them."

He grimaced and re-gripped one of the disabled scout robot's upper limbs. I steadied myself against the troop carrier and pulled the other.

Libby followed, picking up pieces that fell off the now-inert assembly of metal and electronics. She dropped them in a bucket next to the side equipment shed door and went out.

"Hey, bull, would you like more pears?" she sing-songed. "Dad, I'm going to get some more pears, okay? It doesn't look like the hail left many on the tree."

"Wait for me," he said, adding to me, "One, two, three—"

We heaved the scout against the far wall, and the major retrieved his joule rifle from beside Libby's rucksack.

"You can stay in here, Ben. Just keep your weapon ready."

"Understood, Sir."

Seventeen minutes later, the large barn door creaked.

"It's us, Ben. We're bringing the bull," said Major Freiburg.

"Come inside, and I'll give you another one." Libby sounded more like a teenage girl than her father's cadet. "Mmm, these taste so good!" She wiped juice from the corner of her mouth with the back of her sleeve.

The bull followed willingly, focused on her armload of pears.

Her officer-father closed the door and addressed me. "If you were searching a battlefield for your twinned unit, why weren't you carrying a rifle, Sergeant? Have you been roaming these hills for thirteen years armed with only your pistol?"

"Open hostilities ceased twenty years ago, Sir. I saw no need to carry the additional weight while running a search."

"But we just had to kill that scout. Enemy units may still be active, even though this is considered no man's land."

"I suspect he overran his programming and exceeded his orders, Major, or he became stuck in a loop, like I did."

The major regarded me with a serious expression. "Even if he had gone rogue, that didn't make him any less dangerous, Ben. If anything, it probably meant he was operating with less restraint."

"Yes, Sir."

The bull snuffled Libby's arm to verify she had no more pears and lay down near the door. Libby retrieved her rucksack and sat with her back against his broad rib cage.

"Oh, he's so warm!" she said, taking out a thermal blanket and spreading it over her legs. "Dad, you should sit here, next to me."

"I will," he said. "Tonight will get chilly." Pulling the tarp aside, he climbed into the transport vehicle's driver's seat, the scale of which made him look like a child in an adult's chair. He picked up a box wrapped in brown paper and twine from the adjacent seat, looked at it briefly, and tossed it onto the dash. "Pierce Michaels. We should locate him—or a relative."

"Noted, Sir."

"Sergeant, do you think we might find fuel nearby? This truck could save us a long hike back to Freetown."

"In my search, I came across thirty-eight ERICs. All the others were burned," I said, hopping nearer to where he sat. "Fifty-seven LAVs, twenty-three main battle tanks, and forty-four jeeps—all destroyed. Also, nine downed helicopters—"

Major Freiburg interrupted. "I don't need a complete rundown. Are there any intact vehicles that might still have fuel?"

"There is a THING thirty-five miles south of here. Perhaps we could siphon from that."

"A thing?" Libby looked up in the waning light. "That's not very precise language. Are you sure you're a robot?"

Major Freiburg answered. "It's a Troop Hospital, Infantry Next-Generation. Back during the war we deployed mobile machine shops for repairing robots."

"A Troop Hospital—oh, a THING."

"That's where I was able to replace my damaged leg fourteen years ago, Sir."

"Thirty-five miles is too far. Especially with you on just one leg." The major flipped a switch and was again illuminated by green dashboard lights. He clenched his jaw and frowned. "Are there spare legs in the THING?"

"No, Major. I'll need to recover one from a Permanent Offline ANAK."

"No fuel and no leg for you." He flipped off the ignition switch, leaving us in near-darkness, and dropped out of the ERIC.

The brightest evening stars twinkled through openings where rusted roof sheets had been blown off. They were soon lost in a splash of white across the sky. I enabled night vision and surveyed the barn's interior. A small owl perched in a high window opening and watched an opossum descend silently to the floor. The marsupial paused to assure itself the humans slumbered before scuttling out the side door toward the old pear tree. Neither the red bull nor the major shifted as Libby sank to rest her head in her father's lap.

At 4:49 a.m. Major Freiburg turned his head toward where I leaned against the ERIC and asked the time. I told him.

"Wake me in an hour, Ben."

"Yes, sir," I said.

My biologic sensors indicated he remained wakeful. At 5:45 a.m. he stroked Libby's hair.

"Fifteen minutes to revelry, Cadet," he murmured.

"I like this bull. Can we take him home?"

The major chuckled. "No, girl. When you're on a recon exercise, you don't collect livestock. Be advised, our mission objectives have shifted. We've got to repair this ANAK unit and report back to base that we killed a scout."

Libby scrambled to her feet and patted the bull. "Time to get up, bull. I'll open the door so you can go out."

"How do humans do that, Sir?" I asked.

"How do we do what?"

"Make connections with animals. I know Miss Liberty lured the bull in here with food, but he seemed to have an affinity for her before that. I saw no physical connection other than her scratching his forehead. Beyond that, I detected no radio or infrared transmissions between them. I don't believe it understands language, so I'm unclear how she seemed to communicate as clearly with the bull as I might with this transport vehicle or some other machine I could plug into or access via wireless network."

He nodded as he listened to my question. "I'm not sure how to explain it. But you aren't human, yet you and I communicate fine."

"True, but humans designed me with the capability to respond to language-based instructions. Humans didn't build animals, so they aren't designed to interface in the ways I am."

"I guess I would explain it like this—" The major hesitated, looking toward the glow in the east. "You can communicate with intelligent machines because you have a common designer. Robots, ERICs, and computer networks can exchange information because humans built that capability into them. Likewise, humans and animals share a Creator, which makes it possible for us to domesticate many of them."

"If you say so, Sir."

Major Freiburg wore a pensive expression. "We can talk philosophy another time, Sergeant. What we need to do now is locate a replacement leg for you. In addition to your database of vehicles, I assume you recorded the locations of PORs you found in the years you crisscrossed these hills."

"I have a list of Permanent Offline Robots."

He gazed up at me and scratched his stubble. "Including the one you got your left leg from?"

"Yes, Major."

Libby came in through the equipment shed door. "The bull is eating pears the storm knocked down." She shivered and ducked under her father's arm.

"Where is the nearest ANAK with a serviceable leg, Sergeant? A left leg, that is."

"Six and a half clicks northeast—as the drone flies, Sir."

"None nearer?"

"What about—" Libby paused. "What about your twin? He's just across the creek, and you said he's immobilized anyway. Could you use his leg until we come back with a transport team?"

"He—" It was my turn to hesitate. Turning from Libby's expectant expression to the major's, I finished my thought. "Jon's not POR, Sir."

"He's your twin unit, and he's nearest. Do you think he would begrudge you the use of a leg? He can't use it in his condition, and you're severely impaired without one. How else are you going to get help for him?"

Sunshine illuminated the far end of the old barn while I processed the humans' suggestion.

"We can ask him, right?" Libby asked in a hopeful tone.

"We can ask," I agreed slowly.

Down at the creek, I plunged in first, using the toolbox from the ERIC as a counterweight to keep my balance.

"I'll take that, Ben," said the major as he emerged behind me and Libby dropped from his back. "You'll have an easier time getting to the top of Hill 529 with your hands free."

All the way up the trail to the bluff looking eastward over the valley, an orange, yellow, and brown decoupage coated hummocks and battered shrubs. Above the bluff, leafless trees stood like stark sentinels. I peered upward into the forest and waited for Major Freiburg and Libby.

"Do you hear the tapped Morse code signal, Sergeant?" he asked.

"I hear nothing, Sir."

"Lead on."

I leaped over larger fallen branches and crushed smaller ones as I ascended the trail I had made during my thirteen-year search for my twin. Then I stopped and faced left. A few vines clung to trees, but the storm had torn away the ivy veil. I had a clear view of Jon. He still sat with his back to a blackened hollow trunk, with his arm outstretched to tap his Mayday message, but his head hung low. His damaged lens dangled, now suspended by only one wire.

I hopped closer. "Jon?"

He didn't respond.

I spoke more forcefully. "JN-2062011248501, report!"

Major Freiburg skirted around me and knelt to examine the reclining three meter tall robot.

"JN-2062011248501, report!" I insisted.

The major pivoted slowly, shaking his head. "He's POR, Ben."

Libby slipped her hand into mine. "I'm sorry," she said softly.

"But he's hung on so long—as bad as that hailstorm was, that couldn't have finished him."

The major grunted as he leaned Jon away from the tree trunk. "His back plate is mangled. Were you aware of that?"

"No, Sir."

He shined his pistol-mounted light. "It looks like some small animal tried to make a nest in here. It got fried." He shook his head. "And that's probably what killed this big guy."

"I understand."

"I'm sorry," Libby repeated. She looked up at me with moistened eyes. "I don't think robots have emotions like humans, but he was your twin, so I'm sorry."

"True, we don't experience human emotions. But I find that processing this loss affects me profoundly. Thank you for acknowledging that."

Major Freiburg came to attention and saluted Jon. After a moment of silence, he spoke. "What do you want to do now, Sergeant? Do you want to wait here until we return with a transport?"

"No, Sir. I need a leg, and here is a perfect match." I lowered Jon's arm and sat beside him on the trunk. "Brother, I need your leg. But I'll come back for the rest of you. And as long as I have cognitive function, you'll live on in my memories."

Author's note: The three meter tall robot Ben (BN-2062101779601) is also featured in the short story Robot Rustlers. You are invited to continue reading about him here on Vocal. Follow this link:

Robot Rustlers