Do Androids Dream of Herding Sheep?

Sheep are some of the dumbest creatures you will ever see in your life. They sure are beautiful, but if one fluff ball starts to panic because it mistakes a twig for a snake, then all the rest of them will start bleating and bouncing about. And they don’t take care of each other. For a species that likes to live as a group, they sure don’t care if one of their buddies wanders off the trail. Not like their predator counterparts, the wolf. They are as ugly as a drunkard, but clever enough to take on a group of creatures that out number them 30 to 1. But what would a sheep even do if it had to stand up to a wolf? They might chance a kick to the knee that will give ya the smarts, but the dumb fluff would wind-up running itself into a hole. That’s why it is always best to employ the best ranch hands who will tend and protect the flock. And ain’t no better ranchers than the Series 3 Automaton unit, Tier 2 status with extended warranties and five year free repairs (for all work related damages, of course). 

They cost a pretty penny for sure, but the results speak for themselves. One Automaton can do the work of three cattlemen and only complain half as much. They don’t need food or sleep since they are solar powered, and the sheep can’t tell the difference if they are human or not. My missus still feels wary about them and refuses to let them assist with any house chores, but we’ve only had the two S3s for a few months now. She’ll change her mind once the profits start showing.

It didn’t take no time at all to train them up. The S3 isn’t the latest series out there, but all the basic functions of a tier 2 robot are what good sheep herders need. Keen eyesight. Quick response to danger. Gentle with a shearing knife. Can ride a horse. Once all the ground rules were set in place, the two bots placed themselves in a routine of complete efficiency. The owner’s manual said not to get too attached to the robots, but it didn’t say ya shouldn’t name them. So, I decided on Huck, after one of my favorite books, and Hooch, after my favorite drink.    

At first I monitored the two like a chicken hawk. It takes a lot of trust to put your 1000 bucks-a-head fur baby in another person’s hands, let alone when those hands are metal plated. Nowadays I wonder if I even need to leave the house, since I know Huck and Hooch will be taking care of all their duties. Not like they have anything else to do with their time besides those duties, right? The owner’s manual did mention providing stimulating activities outside of their main tasks to ensure cognitive growth, so I found some old books and a wooden bead maze at a dentist’s estate sale. Since the tier 2 robot is classified as a skilled worker, they are entitled to a thirty minute recharge break every 52 hours. 

I really can’t imagine what they could even be doing on those recharge breaks. I’ll spot them sometimes sitting under a tree looking up at the sky. Maybe Hooch will point towards something in the distance and Huck will nod in agreement. At least I’m pretty sure it was Hooch who was pointing, it is hard to tell the two apart from far off. The missus can’t tell them apart at all, but I explain it as Huck’s face plate has more of a mischievous smirk to it, while Hooch’s looks a bit more somber. 

I don’t ever hear them talking about other matters besides herding related things, but I recall one time Hooch asked me what it was like to sleep.

“Well,” I said, “It’s just closing your eyes, and everything is dark, and you only have your thoughts, until all the sudden you wake up, and it is morning, and it’s not dark anymore.”

“Ah,” Hooch would say in his staticky voice, “I see.” 

That was the same response they’d give to anything I told them.

“Careful not to cut too close towards the skin.”

“Ah, I see.”

“Looks like a thunderstorm is coming.”

“Ah, I see.” 

“I think my wife is cheating on me.”

“Ah, I see.”

The missus and I never had no children, but I imagine it’d go a little something like that.

A few of the other ranchers and farmers around here have started getting their own Automatons, causing a few more ranch hands to turn hostile. Andy Sherwood lost a dozen cattle when a fire broke out on their property. No one’s been arrested yet, but ain’t no use wondering who did it. Sherwood’s ranch hands were spitting venom when he handed them their last paycheck. One man took a hammer to Sherwood’s robot. Poor thing didn’t even try to protect itself, because no one instructed the machine to defend against human attacks - it only knew how to tend and protect cattle. The damage from the hammer wasn’t too bad. Sherwood decided not to press chargers, but the fire a few days after, well that was just a step too far.

I’m only slightly worried about that hatefulness spreading over to our property. Even though I never let any of my herders go, the few hands I did have didn’t want to stay at a ranch that kept robots. Disgruntled men and women talk, and their favorite place to talk is anyplace with beer. I’m not too stuck up to have a drink, but I know no good ideas ever come with a bottle of beer in hand. I’ve made sure to show Hooch and Huck how to defend themselves if anyone attacks them.

“If anyone takes a heavy object and tries to hit you with it, I want you to dodge, like this.” I show them by putting my arms to my face and jumping to the side.

“Ah, I see.”

“And if anyone tries to grab you and pull you away,” I demonstrated by jiggling Hooch’s arm. A subdued click-clack noise came from his joints. 

“Any human.” Huck affirms “Including you.”

“Well, except, of course, me. And Mrs. Dent. We are allowed to grab your arm like this, but we would only do this in an emergency.” 

“An emergency like what?” Hooch would ask.

“Um, well … I can’t think of one right now, but when I do I’ll let you know.”

“Ah, I see.” they say in unison. Before I can walk away they ask me one more question.

“If someone is attacking Huck,” asked Hooch, “and he can’t defend himself, should I defend him instead?”

“And if someone is attacking Hooch,” Huck added, “should I help him in defending himself?”

I pointed to the stoic figure standing to my right, “You take care of him,” then I turned my gaze to the robot on my left, “and you take care of him. I spent too much money to have ya ruined by some disgruntled vandals.” A rhythmic beeping chimes from their torsos. 

“It’s time for your 30 minute break anyway. Go ahead and do whatever it is you do for that time, but then I want you to unbale that hay.”

As I’m walking away I can hear their light footsteps crunch on the dry sawdust on the barn floor. They kneel in the shaved particles and start drawing lines with their pointer finger through the sand. I didn’t take the time to see what they were making, but when my missus walked by the barn later that day, the shapes were still there. She thought they looked like drawings of sheep.  

I’ve never needed to take them off the ranch so the only other robots they’ve known have been each other - unless they mingled with all the other robots on the factory floor while being assembled. That’d be pretty interesting to see. Maybe they’d even have cocktails and little finger sandwiches to pass around. 

The other day Sherwood came over with his wife and kids for dinner. Of course he wanted to check out the S3s (he has a collection of S2s to S5s). He mentioned how his higher tier Automatons need college level books to keep their cognitive processors engaged. 

“Honestly, the fancier these machines get, the more hassle they are. Geez, they are about as fussy as my kids. You have any problems like that?”

“No, they are the best helpers I’ve ever had, and they don’t need much more than a pinwheel and a cool breeze to keep them entertained.” 

After chatting about business and football the humans all stepped inside for our meal while Hooch and Huck walked the perimeter for any holes in the fence. Dessert was hot chocolate chip brownies with a scoop of vanilla ice cream; brownie provided by Mrs. Sherwood. We needed to lounge on the porch swings to let all the good food settle when a sudden scream belted out from the pasture. It was Sherwood’s boy, Tommy, and we all ran in the direction we believed it came from. We found the boy sitting on the dusty ground, cheeks damp and fists balled. Standing over him was Hooch, his glass eyes emitting a light yellow glow like they always do in the night hours.

“What’s the matter boy?” Sherwood yelled.

“It, it, it, pushed me!” Tommy stammered between sobs.

“What’s the matter with you, bot? Pushing a kid around.” Sherwood raised his arms, to push or a grab, I couldn’t tell, but just as stealthy as a bobcat, Huck bonds in between the human and Hooch. From where I was standing, it didn’t look like Huck laid a hand on the man, but Sherwood did end up falling to the ground beside his son.

“Is this the sort of home you keep, Dent?” he yelled at me. Mrs. Dent tried to reassure the Sherwoods, but I figure with all the aggression they’ve received lately because of robots, they didn’t have a lick of patience left to hear her out. 

Marching back to my robots I make sure to keep my distance without losing my authority. 

“What in the name of god were you doing to that boy?”

“I defended myself,” answered Hooch. Since it was night, his battery reserves were depleted, and it gave his voice an extended echo sound, “You told us to defend ourselves if anyone attacked us.”

“You’re telling me that boy was attacking you?”

“He threw rocks and sticks at Hooch.” answered Huck, “The throwing of objects is classified as an assault.”

“I didn’t realize I added law books to your library.”

“You have not. There are no books on the subject of state or federal law in our collection,” replied Hooch.

“That was a joke.” I said.

“Ah, I see.”

“You know what, maybe I do need a lawyer, so I can sue the company that sold you two to me.”

“Are you not happy with our performance?” Asked Huck.

“That won’t seem to matter if Andy Sherwood is serious about reporting this incident to the REF.”

“What is REF?”

“The Robotics Ethics Federation. They determine if a robot is faulty and needs dismantling.”

“Would we be considered faulty robots?”

“I have no idea how they would see this. Tommy didn’t look too hurt, but then again the federation doesn’t take stuff lightly when kids are involved.”

“Would REF consider us faulty robots for following our owner’s commands?” 

“When you put it that way, they may fine me for abusive use of an Automaton?”

“And this result would not be ideal?”

“No, it very much would not be ideal.” I pause to look at the night sky. The stars look just as crisp as ever. A part of me wonders how far into space a robot’s eyes can see. I can feel the two of them staring at me, waiting for their next command. I look back at them and wish I could tell what their computer chips of brains are thinking. 

“What would be ideal for you?” I ask each of them.

“Accomplishing the tasks you lay before us is our highest function.” they answer together. 

“Yeah, you're made to be able to serve me really well, but is that what you want to do?”

“What we want,” started one, “is the same as what you want.”

“To protect the herd,” finished the other, “and protect our owners.”

“To protect me, huh?” I had to think about this for a bit, because the truth of the matter was, I didn’t know what sort of protection I needed. With perfect timing, the alarm for the S3s break started to ring.

“How about you two take your 30 and think about how you should protect me right now.” I turned to walk to the house and even once I got to the door, I didn’t turn to see if they’d moved from that spot. 

I suppose I fell asleep in those 30 minutes, because when I woke up the sun was already cresting the horizon. I walked the grounds and couldn’t find Hooch or Huck anywhere. I asked Mrs. Dent if she heard anything unusual last night but she hadn’t. She did receive a call from the Sherwoods apologizing about the night before. They got it out of Tommy that he was trying to get the robot to play baseball with him like the robots on his own farm can do, but since Hooch had never been taught the basics of baseball, he couldn’t follow through with Tommy’s request, which annoyed Tommy and lead him to just throwing stones. This would have been great news, if I only knew how to share it with the two robots. Perhaps after 30 minutes of thinking they came to the conclusion that I would be better if they weren’t around. Or maybe they decided on what it was that they really wanted in their lives and have set out on accomplishing those goals. Either way, I think I will give them the day to sort it out for themselves. One of the main features of a Series 3 Automaton is the GPS installed in their hardware. 

If they don’t come back soon, then who will look after my sheep? There really aren’t any better herders that I’d employ to get the job done.