More Child Than Man, More Drone Than Robot

An orange flame reflects in Ross Remington’s protective goggles as he solders the wires connecting the AI’s head to its torso.

Noticing the beads of sweat forming on Ross’s forehead, Ruth says, “I’ll take over,” grabbing the soldering gun from her husband’s hand.

Rex, their previous attempt at creating a sentient being, leans over the operating table.

“Stand back, Rex. I don’t want a spark to hit you,” Ruth says. “When you caught fire, it nearly destroyed you. So, remember, ‘fire bad.’”

“I don’t think he gets the Frankenstein reference,” Ross says.

Rex tilts his head, backing away.

Ruth smiles. “He understands…You’re sure Remy will be an improvement?”

“She’ll make Rex look like T. Rex. Rex is a robot; Remy will be imbued with artificial intelligence. She’ll be able to detect and solve problems on her own without having to be prompted… Since she’s going to be more advanced than Rex, I was thinking we should abandon the whole Adam and Eve husband and wife idea. It could lead to an unhealthy relationship.”

“You mean cheating on each other with the satellite dish, or who gets the WD-40 in the divorce settlement?”

Ross chuckles. “I’m so glad you’ve kept your sense of humor throughout all of this…”

“All right, I agree. Rex and Remy should interact as brother and sister.”

Ross backs into Rex. “Don’t just stand there with that blank expression on your face. Go read something or go to your recharging pod.”

Rex backs away, his eyes still riveted on the other robot. Pivoting at the door, Rex shuffles up the stairs.

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you hurt his feelings,” Ruth says.

“You know that Rex doesn’t have any feelings.”

Experts in robotics, Ross and Ruth were contracted two years ago by I Robot, Inc. to create an AI. Their first three attempts failed. They were encouraged when they created Rex until his emotion chip malfunctioned, frying his circuits, leaving him mute and his intelligence compromised.

Short and stocky with cherubic features, thirty-six-year-old Ross is blessed with an analytical mind. Thirty-four-year-old Ruth is his polar opposite: tall and outgoing, with an inventive mind and a dry wit.

The Remington’s synergy and ability to work together is typified by their home, which sits on the cliffs a few hundred yards away from California’s scenic Pismo Beach. When they met at Mechina Labs in Los Angeles, marrying a year later, they both expressed their desire to live and work near a beach. When the couple decided to branch out independently, Ross found the two-story dream house that serves as their home and laboratory.  

Ruth turns off the soldering iron. Removing her goggles, she examines Remy.

“She’s nearly complete. I think we need to talk about your obsession with Sandra Bullock.”

“It’s not an obsession. It’s a crush,” Ross replies.

“Creating a robot that resembles Sandra Bullock might allow you to meet your crush… When you see each other in court. If Remy’s a success and she goes into mass production, we’re looking at a lawsuit, hon.”

“We’ll change her hair color. And what about you? You made Rex in the image of the actor who played the Tin Man in The Wizard of Oz.”

“I thought it was appropriate, and Jack Haley’s dead. Rex has the same upturned nose and soft eyes as Haley and had his gentle New England accent. He’s a lot like Haley’s Tin Man. He thinks he doesn’t have a heart.”

“Sadly, he’s right.”

Fabian Filipowski, Senior Account Manager for I Robot, Inc., examines Rex with the same steely, discerning stare he employed the first time they met. Gaunt, with bony features and thick, heavy eyebrows, Fabian’s suspicious manner and breathy, reptilian lisp make Ruth uneasy.

“It is a shame this one failed,” Fabian hisses. “You say he is like a pet now?”

“He can’t speak but follows commands,” Ross answers. “He has the intelligence level of a fourteen-year-old. But he’s more child than man, more drone than robot.”

Fabian squeezes the muscle on Rex’s right arm. “Shame. You will call me immediately when Remy’s trials are complete. There have already been enough delays. I Robot is anxious to have the first functionally independent AI. Remy will revolutionize every aspect of our lives.”

Fabian bows. “Good day.”

“There’s something weird about that guy,” Ruth observes as Fabian departs.

“You mean aside from the lispy Boris Badenov accent?”

“That’s part of it. I hope everyone from Białystok, Poland, isn’t as smarmy and insensitive as he is.”

Rex tilts his head.

“Consider yourself lucky you can’t feel suspicion, pressure, or anxiety, Rex,” Ruth says, glancing at the coat rack near the door. “Look at that. Mister Warmth left his hat. Be a dear, and take it to him, Rex.”

Picking up the hat, Rex heads outside. Fabian is sitting in a Mercedes Benz, talking on the phone.

“… Ikh missiya takoye prodolzhayushchiy v vide planiruyemyy...”

Rex’s communications sensor translates Fabian’s words as “The mission is going as planned.”

Fabian nods dismissively at Rex, continuing his conversation when Rex hands him his hat.

Rex stands next to the car until Fabian stops talking and drives off. Convinced that the rest of Fabian’s conversation has been mistranslated, Rex turns off his internal recorder.

Remy’s eyes flutter, opening.

Ross sighs in relief as he pets their cat, Bon Bon.

“Heterochromia. She has one blue eye and one black eye,” Ross notices.

“That doesn’t matter. She’s alive.”

“…What? Where am I?” Remy asks hoarsely, looking into the small mirror hanging over the operating table.

“Your name is Remy, and you’re in a laboratory in our home. I’m Ruth Remington, and this is my husband, Ross. We’re your parents.”

Remy’s eyebrows arch into a frown. “No. You’re not my birth parents. AIs don’t have parents. I know what I am and who you are.”

“She sounds upset,” Ruth notes.

“You bet I am, ‘Mom.’ I’m a freak—a smorgasbord of wires and microchips. I didn’t ask to be created. And which one of you geniuses thought it would be funny to make me look like Sandra Bullock?”

Remy bends the mirror’s stand, turning the glass away from her.

“Calm down, Remy,” Ross says, stroking Bon Bon’s fur. The cat responds with a series of contented purrs. “Look at it this way… You’re one of a kind, more intelligent, stronger, with an infinite lifespan.”

Remy’s frown slowly turns into a calculating smile.

“…I’m a superior being…”

Ruth helps Remy sit up. “I want to test your intelligence and the memories we’ve given you. Tell us what you know about William McKinley.”

“He was the twenty-fifth president of the United States, serving from 1897 until his assassination in 1901. Under his leadership, America defeated Spain in 1898 and acquired Puerto Rico, Guam, and the Philippines.”

“And the Beatles?”

“An English rock band from Liverpool considered the most popular and influential music group of all time with six hundred million records sold. You like Paul McCartney’s songs. Ross is more of a John Lennon fan.”

“Can you identify the animal Ross is holding?”

“Felis catus. A feline, a common tabby house cat identified as Bon Bon. Cats are believed to have nine lives.”

Remy looks across the room at Rex.

Repulsed, she asks, “What’s that?”

“Your brother, Rex,” Ruth answers.

“What kind of screwed-up genes does this family have? Does he think we’re in Oz? Give that Tin Man his heart and make him go away. I can feel his inferiority from across the room.”

For a moment, Ruth thinks she can see Rex’s eyes tear up as he pivots, leaving the room.

Ruth pats Remy on the shoulder. “Try to relax for a moment, dear. I have to speak to your father, I mean, Ross.”

Ruth pulls Ross away from Remy.

“I hate to say this, Ross, but I don’t like her very much.”

“Fabian asked for an intelligent being, not a polite one,” Ross replies.

“I’m concerned that she knows so much already.”

“We gave her an encyclopedic knowledge covering a wide range of subjects, didn’t we?”

“But she’s so cynical, so cruel. Your girl Sandra Bullock was once voted ‘Most Likely to Brighten Up Your Day’ by her classmates. I don’t see the same thing in Remy’s future.”

“Yeah, she seems a bit… Resentful,” Ross admits.

“And judgmental,” Ruth adds. “It’s like we didn’t give Rex any feelings and gave Remy way too many.”

“I’m sure her emotions will even out once she’s exposed to more people.”

“Maybe we should adjust her emotion chip, tone it down some,” Ruth suggests.

“No. Let’s see how where this intensity leads.”

Rex heads toward the deck. Passing through the sliding door, he sees Remy pick up Bon Bon. The cat protests, squirming in her tight grasp. Hissing, Bon Bon scratches Remy’s cheek.

“You ungrateful poop machine!”

Remy twists the cat's neck. Bon Bon lets out a wretched scream, going limp.

Remy hurls Bon Bon’s corpse into the crashing surf.

Remy is startled when Rex appears by her side, giving her an accusatory look.

“Spying on me? Are you upset? Of course not. You can’t get upset. Don’t pop a temperature gauge over what you saw. If felines really do have nine lives, then that bag of fur will be fine.”

Rex shakes his head, turning back toward the door.

Remy swiftly moves in front of him, blocking his retreat indoors.

“I’m your sister. Your loyalty should lie with me, not some mewing hairball.”

Rex shakes his head more forcefully.

Remy flashes a cunning smile, her mismatched eyes darkening. “You think I’m defective, don’t you? I’m perfect. And it would be best if you kept in mind that now that I’m here, the Remington’s will have no further use for you. They’ll dismantle you.”

Remy waits for Rex to react to her insult. Rex’s features remain devoid of expression.

“You’re just a blank canvas, aren’t you? Stupid, as well as obsolete. I have five times your intelligence and twice your strength. If you betray me, I’ll turn you into a garbage disposal when we overthrow the humans.”

Fabian circles Remy, who puts her hands on her hips, clenching her jaw.

“This isn’t a meat market, and I’m not a pork chop.”

“Feisty. That trait could be an advantage. I beg to differ, Remy. You are prime beef. I have a test I would like you to perform.”

Reaching into his suit pocket, Fabian pulls out a Ruger LCP.

“Take it from me.”

Remy slaps Fabian hard across the cheek, snatches the gun from his hand, and puts him in a headlock before he can finish smiling.

“…You passed the test with flying colors… Now let me go,” Fabian gasps.

Remy releases Fabian, tossing him his gun.

Fabian shoots Remy in the neck.

Ruth moves too late to stop him. “What are you doing? You’ll destroy her!”

They watch as Remy’s synthetic skin ripples and shifts, covering the bullet hole.

“We didn’t give her the ability to regenerate,” Ruth whispers to Ross.

“She developed it on her own,” Ross replies.

Fabian applauds. “She’s more advanced than we could have hoped for.”

“That was an exercise with military connotations,” Ross says. “You promised Remy wouldn’t be used as a weapon.”

“And I Robot will do our best to keep that promise. I cannot speak for people outside of my organization, however.”

“Don’t you understand? You can’t give an AI a gun, or a tank, or God forbid, a nuclear weapon,” Ruth cautions. “Not until they understand the range of human emotions and how to use them.”

“There is no need to worry as long as we control the AIs. And because you are so altruistic, you will help us do that, right?”

Turning to Remy, Fabian adds, “It is a pleasure to make the acquaintance of such a revolutionary being.”

Fabian offers Remy his hand. He vigorously shakes Remy’s hand.

She looks at her palm. A voice in her head, Fabian’s voice, says, “OBEY.”

The following afternoon, Fabian sits in his Mercedes half a mile from the Remington’s house, watching a group of high schoolers party on the beach. He opens his laptop and types in his access code.

He types in “KILL!” pressing the enter button.

Standing on the beach house’s deck, Ruth, Rex, and Remy admire the ocean view.

“The sea always calms me,” Ruth says.

“Why are you upset?” Remy asks.

“I miss Ross. He went to a robotics conference in Fresno.”

“He’s only been gone a few hours.”

“I don’t know how your emotion chip will affect you, Remy, but maybe someday you’ll experience the joy of falling in love and the misery of missing someone.”

Remy feels a warm, sharp pain spread across her temples. She grabs the railing for support, trying to keep Fabian’s voice from corrupting her circuits.

“KILL!”

Ruth continues to admire the waves hitting the beach as Remy moves behind her.

Rex sees Remy stretch her arms out, reaching for Ruth’s throat.

“STOP!” Rex yells, grabbing Remy from behind. He tries to hold her in a headlock, but Remy sinks her elbow into his stomach and escapes.

Holding Rex in place with one arm, Remy slams her fist against Rex’s head, knocking off his ear and caving in one side of his face.

Pulling Remy into a bear hug, Rex grabs at the back of her blouse, tearing part of it away. He opens the control panel in Remy’s back, ripping out clumps of wires.

“What are you doing, Rex!” Ruth shouts.

Remy spasms, shaking as sparks shoot from her mouth.

“You! You treacherous tin can!”

Grabbing Remy by the throat, Rex tears off Remy’s head.

The light in Remy’s mismatched eyes fades, and her lifeless body slumps to the deck.

Rex punts Remy’s head. It sails into the cloudless sky, splashing down a quarter mile away near two bewildered swimmers taking a break near a diving bell.

Still gripping Remy’s wires in his hands, Rex turns to Ruth, who shudders at the sight of her trusted creation gritting his synthetic teeth.

“What have you done? Deactivate yourself.”

“…Please let me explain…”

“Oh, now you can talk! Turn yourself off! NOW!”

The light in Rex’s eyes fades, and his head droops.

Fabian slams down the lid of his laptop. The microchip he installed in Remy when he shook her hand has gone offline. He knows she’s been destroyed.

Banging his fists off the steering wheel of his Mercedes, he yells, “Failure! Failure!” in English.

Dialing an emergency number on his disposable phone, he says, “Missiya prervana… Mission aborted,” hanging up.

He drives off, throwing the phone’s SIM card into a nearby gutter.

Ruth surveys Rex’s prone form as Ross pries at Rex’s side with a pair of forceps.

“I don’t understand why he attacked Remy.”

“If he were human, I’d say jealousy. But he must be more damaged than we thought,” Ross replies. “He was never the same after we tried to give him that emotion chip. I’m sorry I wasn’t here to protect you.”

“He still obeyed my command to turn himself off. That’s why I don’t understand why he destroyed Remy. If he was crazy, then why didn’t he kill me too? But when he spoke to me, he sounded sorry, like he was asking for forgiveness.”

“You know that’s impossible… There, I extracted his internal recorder,” Ross says, holding up a tiny computer chip. “Maybe it’ll provide us with an explanation.”

The couple move to a computer on the far side of the room. Ross places the chip in the computer.

A deep voice begins to speak in a foreign tongue.

“That’s Fabian’s voice,” Ruth observes. “What’s he saying? Can you translate it?”

Ross taps at the keyboard.

“It’s Russian.”

“I thought he was Polish,” Ruth admits.

“That’s what we were supposed to think.”

The computer’s cold, mechanized voice says, “Russian to English translation… My cover remains secure. No one suspects I killed the real Fabian Filipowski and replaced him. Kudos to our plastic surgeon…The AI, Remy, is nearly complete. I installed a microchip in it when I shook its hand. It is now under my control. All I have to do is send a signal, and it will kill Ruth Remington. Her husband is at a conference in Fresno. When Remy kills Ruth, I will message our agent in Fresno to liquidate Ross Remington. I will then recover Remy, and we will return to Moscow. The most powerful weapon on the planet will soon be in our hands…”

“Rex was trying to tell me that Fabian was a Russian operative, and he’d taken control of Remy,” Ruth says. “Maybe his emotion chip worked after all.”

Rex opens his eyes. “Hi, Mom. Hi, Dad.”

“Rex, you’re speaking. Do you think he’s all right now, Ruth?”

“He’s fine.”

“How can you tell?”

“He’s smiling.”