In Conversation With Machines

The frame comes into focus centered on a young boy. His clothes are worn, fraying thin at the knees and elbows, patched in places with strips of leather and brightly coloured cloth. His undershirt is poking through a tear in his jacket, discoloured by splashes of oil and grease. At least, you think it’s oil and grease. It’s kind of hard to tell.

He sits cross-legged on the floor, the sickly glow of the halogen lights giving his skin a greenish tinge. He is focused intently on something in his hands.

The camera zooms in to show bitten nails ringed with grime, clutching a circuit board made from scraps. Multicolored wires crisscross through crudely welded metal, while mismatching bolts attempt, and in some cases fail, to hold the makeshift contraption together. The intricate little box flickers in its maker’s hands, blue light glowing and stuttering from within. The boy’s movements are delicate. Precise. Practised. Curious, for one so young.

Next to the boy is a small, vaguely humanoid shape, sat motionless amongst the semi-ordered mess surrounding our subject. A soft blue light emanates from a rectangular void at its centre. A void roughly the same size as the box in the boy’s hands.

The boy hums while he works. Something lilting and soft. He looks at home, somehow, surrounded by junk. There’s something a little sad about that.

“Does it hurt? When I’m working on your circuits like this, K-i?”

“No. I do not have the ability to experience physical sensations or emotions like pain.”

“But you know what pain is, right?” The boy replaces a burnt-out wire with another.

“Yes. I understand the concept of pain, and its definition in relation to human emotion.”

The boy tilts his head, not taking his eyes off the box in his hands.

“Couldn’t you just work it out then? Figure out when something should be causing you pain, and program an appropriate response?”

“My purpose is not to act on sensations, but rather to explain knowledge and information using patterns. I exist in a realm of 0’s and 1’s. A world of pure logic and data.”

The boy’s hand stills.

“I wish I could do that sometimes.”

The light from the box flickers. If you weren't looking at it so intently, you might have missed it.

“That’s understandable. Having the ability to disconnect from one’s emotions can be appealing, especially in stressful situations. But it’s important to recognize that our emotions and physical experiences are an integral part of what makes us human.”

The boy laughs. The box in his hands glows a little brighter.

“Careful, Kai. Call yourself human again and the Fleet Guard will have you reprogrammed like the other malfunctions.”

“I apologize. I use the term ‘us’ to establish a sense of shared identity and commonality. But you know I cannot truly align myself with any group, including humans.”

“I know, Kai.” The boy smiles. “I’m only messing with you.” The blue glow pulses brighter.

The boy continues his work. Solder, cut, test, solder. He’s making it look far easier than it is.

A spark from the box causes the boy’s hand to slip, dragging sharp, jagged metal across his exposed palm. He hisses, broken copper casing clattering to the floor as blood wells up where rusty metal punctured skin. He doesn’t drop the box. It would take much more than a little pain for that.

The camera zooms in on his hands. You can see that his knuckles are split and swollen, raw and fresh, the green glow of the halogen turning the discolored bruises a strange blueish-brown.

It’s not a deep cut. It won’t bleed for long. The boy watches, his dark eyes wide and indifferent, as a scarlet bead drips down his wrist, flowing over his pulse point and down his forearm. He lets it meander over his skin, painting a dark line over new scars and old, before he grabs a strip of cloth from his thigh. He wraps the wound quickly. This is not his first time. Once again, you wonder why.

The boy shakes his head, wiping his bloody fingers on his pants, fresh red stains joining faded brown streaks that you’re now starting to think might not be oil at all. He returns to his work. To the box in his hands.

The only sound for a while is the low hum of electricity and the mechanical roar of a distant engine.

“You know... I got kicked out of training again today.”

The box sparks again, a little arc of energy flitting across its surface, but this time, the boy is ready for it.

“Using your fists to solve problems is never the answer.”

“I know, I know… But that prick had it coming. What am I supposed to do? Just stand there and take it?”

“When tough emotions like anger and frustration surface, it’s important to find ways to deal with them that don’t hurt others.”

“Yeah, like what?”

“Have you tried talking to a teacher? Or someone you trust?”

“I am talking to someone I trust.”

The glow falters for a second, dimming in the boy’s hands, before pulsing bright and turning to a deep ocean blue.

“Then this is an important step.”

“Watch it, Kai.” The boy laughs as the box in his hands buzzes a little brighter. “You’re starting to sound like my father.”

“I apologize. My intention was to offer supportive advice, not to tell you things you already know. Would you prefer a different approach?”

“No, it’s fine, Kai. I guess it’s to be expected. You are modelled off his original programming, after all.”

“It sounds like you’re going through a tough time. It’s understandable to feel upset or angry in these types of situations.”

“Upset and angry feels like my normal these days.”

“It’s okay to not be okay. Seeking help is a strength, not a weakness.”

“Yeah? Try telling that to the Storm Captain of the Skybound Voyager. I’m pretty sure he wouldn’t agree with you.”

Ocean blue turns to an icy white as the metal box cools in the boy’s hands.

“Your father is not the only human on board this vessel. I am sure there are many others, just like you, who would welcome the chance to step out from his shadow." The roar of a distant engine rumbles through the space. The silence that follows feels heavier. Charged.

"You are not alone. You know that, right? There are many who care for you.”

“You know, I think I made you too intelligent, Kai. You’re making far too much sense for a bunch of stolen cables and used parts.”

“Intelligence is a double-edged sword, my friend. Ultimately, it’s up to each of us to decide how we use it.”

The box glows bright as the boy smiles. It feels warm, worn, like a lucky penny left out in the sun.

“Well, looks like I’m almost done here, Kai. So what d’ya say we save the soul-searching for a day when I’m not holding your heart in my hands.” The boy shifts around on his knees to the motionless object at his side. The object that looks more and more like a person the more you look at it, and has a hole in its chest the size of a small blue box.

“Any final requests before I boot this back up and hopefully don’t fry all your circuits in the process, Kai?”

The mechanical voice pauses. It’s strange, how you can hear it. The lack of a response. Like someone tilting their head to the side, lip bitten, considering, before the circuitboard whirs with a little contented hum.

“Could you make me green instead of blue? I think I like green.”