Tinker

It started with a beep and a whir. Life.

Light flickered into existence. It was dim at first. Then a man’s face focused into view. 

“Hello there,” said the man. “My name is Sam.”

“Hello, Sam.”

Sam let out a deep breath and leaned back in his chair, rubbing his temples and combing long, knobby, calloused fingers through shaggy dark hair.

The room was small and cluttered. Computer parts and various tools littered shelves on the far wall. There was a small desk with a large monitor a short distance off to the left. Code was scrawled on the screen. The room had one door and a small window opening out to darkness.

“It’s called a workshop,” said Sam. 

The robot’s gaze turned back to him.

“You can call it home,” Sam continued. “Well, for now that is. You’ll get out of here soon enough. Don’t worry. I just have a bit more work to do.”

Just then there was a patter of feet down the hall outside and a little voice sang out, “Dad!!”

Sam turned to the door as it cracked open, light spilling in. 

“Hey Olive, come in.”

“Are you done yet?” said the little girl, her face peering in through the light. 

Sam glanced down at his wrist watch, “Oh would you look at that.”

“Amy said I need to go to bed now. And I really want you to read me a bedtime story tonight. Please!!”

“Alright, I do owe you a few stories don’t I?” said Sam standing up and stretching his back.

“Six.”

“Six? Oh, I’m sorry honey.”

“Oh wow,” exclaimed the little girl, suddenly noticing the robot’s glowing eyes. “You got it working.” 

She pushed the door the rest of the way open and rushed in to stand staring up at the robot. 

“Just about,” said Sam, standing behind her and resting one of his large hands gently on the back of her head. “It just came online. Audio and visual appear to be working. I still have a lot of testing to do though. And then I have to get the rest of the body up and running.”

“Oh.”

“How about you come help me test it tomorrow?”

“Okay!”

“Great. Now let’s go get ready for bed.”

Sam reached behind the robot, and with a click the room blinked into nothingness. 

—

A beep. A whir. And the lights flickered back on. 

The little girl was directly in view now. She was kneeling on a stool, her feet crossed below her. She stared wide eyed at the robot, chewing her lower lip. 

“Did you name him yet?” she asked, not turning her head.

Sam was rummaging around the room.

“Not yet,” he said, turning to her. “Would you like to do the honors?… And what have I told you about sitting on that thing?”

The girl shifted on the stool, swinging her legs around to the front, butt down on the seat. She sighed and rolled her eyes, still looking at the robot. Then, sticking a finger in each side of her mouth, she pulled it taught and jammed out her tongue. Her nose scrunched. Her eyes squinted.

Sam let out a soft snort.

Opening one eye, the girl peeked at the robot. No reaction. 

“Maybe he’s a Henry… Or a Joey… No, I don’t like those. There was this kid named Joey in my class, and he was really stupid… Hmmm. I’ll think about it.”

“You do that. And take you time,” said Sam. “A name is a very important thing.”

“Now what?” the girl asked, spinning her head to face her father. 

“Now,” started Sam, sitting down and rolling over his chair, “I’m going to work on getting the rest of the body working. And I want you to do something super important. I want you to talk to him.”

“Talk about what?”

“Whatever you want. I already uploaded a bunch of data to his memory banks. But you, my dear, can teach him things that no amount of pre-programmed data can.”

— 

“I came up with a name,” said Olive.

It was a week later. She lay on her stomach on the floor now, kicking her feet, drumming them against the wall behind her. 

“Oh?” replied Sam, putting down his tools. “Well, what is it?”

Olive craned her neck up to address the robot.

“What do you think of Tinker?”

“Tinker,” repeated the robot. “Why Tinker?”

“Because, my dad, when he was building you, he always said he was tinkering. Tinkering around he called it. So I don’t know. I think it just fits. But, if you don’t like it we’ll think of something else. Okay?”

The robot paused for a moment, running through every name he had on file. Nothing compared.

“I like it,” he said finally. 

Olive beamed. 

— 

“What do you want to talk about today?” asked Olive. It was the next morning. 

“The window,” replied Tinker. 

“What about the window?”

Olive walked over to it to look out at the dark wonder of space. The light of distant stars spotted it, streaked it. 

“Why do you always look out the window?” asked Tinker. 

Olive was quiet for a moment, thinking. The click clack of Sam’s keyboard had stopped now too. His eyes passed between the two, observing. 

“Well, I guess it’s because space is so pretty,” said Olive. 

“But you have been looking out there more frequently the past two days.”

“Oh. Yeah, I’m looking for Aloris — you know, our new home. We’re getting really close, like really close.”

Tinker calculated the distance from their current location to their destination. 

“It will not be visible by the average human eye for approximately 3 days, 6 hours and 24 minutes. That is if we maintain our current path and velocity.”

“Yeah, so?” replied Olive, putting her hands on her hips.

Tinker attempted to process this question. It had come up before and he had failed to understand it.

Sam chuckled.

“It’s called anticipation,” he said. “Sometimes when humans get excited about something upcoming, they can’t stop thinking about it until it’s there.”

“Why?”

“It’s just human nature.”

There was a pause. Olive looked out the window again, biting her lower lip as she always did when deep in thought. 

Sam cleared his throat, and then said, “So, I think it’s time to get the rest of Tinker’s body up and running. Are you two ready to switch it on?”

“Yes!” exclaimed Olive, skipping the few steps back to her seat. 

“Are you ready Tinker?” Sam said.

“Yes, Sam,” the robot replied. 

Sam bent back over his keyboard, typed a series of commands, and then with a final click, raised his hands with the gusto of a spectacular performance. 

Olive giggled. 

Tinker felt a rush of presence flood through his metal body. 

This must be what they call feeling, he thought. How odd.

Raising a hand with a delicacy stark in contrast to his mechanical potential, he stared at it, watching, feeling, as he flexed each finger. 

“What do you think?” said Olive. The words burst from her mouth.

Her father shushed her gently. He stood beside her now, resting a hand on her shoulder. 

“It’s curious,” said Tinker after a moment. He brushed one finger across his other hand – smooth, metal.

It tapped it. It clinked. 

Then he took a step, his first step. It was clumsy, but the second was better. With three more steps he made it to the little window – a distance covered by little Olive in an average of 14 steps, according to Tinker’s observations.

The sight outside was that of a limitless expanse— a land where pure darkness met the brightness of light. He placed his palm against the glass. It was hard, cold. He pulled back.

“Looks like the temperature sensors are working,” said Sam. “I wanted you to feel like we feel.”

“Why?” asked the robot turning back to the man.

“I don’t really know. Curiosity, I guess.”

“Can we show him around now?” interrupted Olive, looking up at her father. “Please, please, please!”

Sam nodded and opened the door. Light streamed in.

Tinker felt a small hand grab his own and pull him forward. It was warm and delicate but strong. 

“I want to show you the greenhouse first,” Olive said. “Remember that flower I showed you? That’s where it came from. There are gonna be so many flowers on Aloris. Fields and fields of them, just you wait.”